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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:53:27 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:53:27 -0700 |
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diff --git a/30269-h/30269-h.htm b/30269-h/30269-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f486e60 --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/30269-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11379 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of My Autobiography, by Max Müller + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + + h2 {margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + + hr {width: 20%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + height: 1px; + border: 0; + background-color: black; + color: black; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + } + + table.subjects {font-size: 90%; + width: 60%;} + + table.subjects td.leftalign {width: 35%;} + + td.subnam {text-align: left;} + + td.leftalign {text-align: left; + padding-left: 1em; + padding-right: 2em;} + + td.rightalign {text-align: right;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + p.publisher {margin-top: 2em; + text-align: center; + font-size: smaller; + margin-bottom: 3em; + text-indent: 0em; + line-height: 150%; + } + + p.copyright {margin-top: 2em; + font-size: 70%; + text-indent: 0em; + text-align: center;} + + p.ads {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: -1em; + margin-left: 1em; + } + + div.advertisements {margin-top: 4em; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: smaller; + padding: 0.5em 2.5em 0.5em 2.5em; + background-color: #FBF5E6; + color: black; + border: black solid 1px; + } + + img {border-style: none; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + + ul {list-style: none; + line-height: 150%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + right: 1%; + font-size: x-small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + font-style: normal; + letter-spacing: 0ex; + text-indent: 0em; + } + + a:link {text-decoration: none; + color: #104E8B; + background-color: inherit; + } + + a:visited {text-decoration: none; + color: #8B0000; + background-color: inherit; + } + + a:hover {text-decoration: underline;} + + a:active {text-decoration: underline;} + + .center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em;} + + .right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {margin-top: 0em; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + padding-top: 1em; + } + + .footnotes {border: dotted 1px; + padding-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 2em; + } + + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: smaller; + } + + .footnote .label {position: absolute; + right: 84%; + text-align: right; + } + + .fnanchor { vertical-align: baseline; + font-size: 80%; + position: relative; + top: -.4em; + } + + .poem {margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; + font-size: 90%; + } + + .poem br {display: none;} + + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + + .poem span.i0 {display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; + } + + .poem span.i1 {display: block; + margin-left: 1em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; + } + .poem span.i2 {display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; + } + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30269 ***</div> + +<h1>MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY</h1> + +<p class="figcenter"><a name="front" id="front"></a><a href="images/illo_frontispiece.jpg"><img src="images/illo_frontispiece_th.jpg" +alt="F. Max Müller, Aged 4" title="F. Max Müller, Aged 4" /></a></p> + +<p class="caption"><i>F. Max Müller</i><br /> + <i>Aged 4.</i></p> + + + + +<h2>MY<br /> +AUTOBIOGRAPHY</h2> + +<h3 style="padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 2em">A FRAGMENT</h3> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: 70%">BY THE</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: 110%"><span class="smcap">Rt. Hon. Professor</span> F. MAX MÜLLER, K.M.</p> + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 3em; padding-bottom: 2em"><i>WITH PORTRAITS</i></p> + +<p class="publisher">New York<br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br /> +1901</p> + +<p class="copyright"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1901, by</span><br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</p> + +<p class="copyright"> +TROW DIRECTORY<br /> +PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY<br /> +NEW YORK</p> + + + +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">For</span> some years past my father had, in the intervals +of more serious work, occupied his leisure +moments in jotting down reminiscences of his early +life. In 1898 and 1899 he issued the two volumes +of <i>Auld Lang Syne</i>, which contained recollections +of his friends, but very little about his own life and +career. In the Introductory Chapter to the Autobiography +he explains fully the reasons which led +him, at his advanced age, to undertake the task of +writing his own Life, and he began, but alas! too +late, to gather together the fragments that he had +written at different times. But even during the +last two years of his life, and after the first attack +of the illness which finally proved fatal, he would +not devote himself entirely to what he considered +mere recreation, as can be seen from such a work +as his <i>Six Systems of Indian Philosophy</i> published +in May, 1889, and from the numerous articles +which continued to appear up to the very time of +his death.</p> + +<p>During the last weeks of his life, when we all +knew that the end could not be far off, the Autobiography<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span> +was constantly in his thoughts, and his +great desire was to leave as much as possible ready +for publication. Even when he was lying in bed +far too weak to sit up in a chair, he continued to +work at the manuscript with me. I would read +portions aloud to him, and he would suggest alterations +and dictate additions. I see that we were +actually at work on this up to the 19th of October, +and on the 28th he was taken to his well-earned +rest. One of the last letters that I read to him was +a letter from Messrs. Longmans, his lifelong publishers, +urging the publication of the fragments of +the Autobiography that he had then written.</p> + +<p>My father’s object in writing his Autobiography +was twofold: firstly, to show what he considered to +have been his mission in life, to lay bare the thread +that connected all his labours; and secondly, to +encourage young struggling scholars by letting them +see how it had been possible for one of themselves, +without fortune, a stranger in a strange land, to +arrive at the position to which he attained, without +ever sacrificing his independence, or abandoning the +unprofitable and not very popular subjects to which +he had determined to devote his life.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately the last chapter takes us but little +beyond the threshold of his career. There is +enough, however, to enable us to see how from his +earliest student days his leanings were philosophical +and religious rather than classical; how the study +of Herbart’s philosophy encouraged him in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span> +work in which he was engaged as a mere student, +the Science of Language and Etymology; how his +desire to know something special, that no other philosopher +would know, led him to explore the virgin +fields of Oriental literature and religions. With +this motive he began the study of Arabic, Persian, +and finally Sanskrit, devoting himself more especially +to the latter under Brockhaus and Rückert, +and subsequently under Burnouf, who persuaded +him to undertake the colossal work of editing the +Rig-veda.</p> + +<p>The Autobiography breaks off before the end of +the period during which he devoted himself exclusively +to Sanskrit. It is idle to speculate what +course his life’s work might have taken, had he been +elected to the Boden Professorship of Sanskrit; but +he lived long enough to realize that his rejection +for that chair in 1860, which was so hard to bear at +the time, was really a blessing in disguise, as it +enabled him to turn his attention to more general +subjects, and devote himself to those philological, +philosophical, religious and mythological studies, +which found their expression in a series of works +commencing with his <i>Lectures on the Science of +Language</i>, 1861, and terminating with his <i>Contributions +to the Science of Mythology</i>, 1897,—“the +thread that connects the origin of thought +and language with the origin of mythology and religion.”</p> + +<p>As to his advice to struggling scholars, the self-depreciation,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> +which, as Professor Jowett said, is one +of the greatest dangers of an autobiography, makes +my father rather conceal the real causes of his +success in life. He even goes so far as to say, +“everything in my career came about most naturally, +not by my own effort, but owing to those circumstances +or to that environment, of which we +have heard so much of late”: or again, “it was +really my friends who did everything for me and +helped me over many a stile and many a ditch.” +No doubt in one sense this is true, but not in the +sense in which it would have been true had he, when +at the University, accepted the offer which he tells +us a wealthy cousin made him, to adopt him and +send him into the Austrian diplomatic service, and +even to procure him a wife and a title into the bargain. +The friends who helped him, men such as +Humboldt, Burnouf, Bunsen, Stanley, Kingsley, +Liddell, to mention only a few, were men whose +very friendship was the surest proof of my father’s +merits. The real secret of his success lay not in his +friends, but in himself;—in the knowledge that his +success or failure in life depended entirely on his +own efforts; in the fixity of purpose which made +him refuse all offers that would lead him from the +pathway that he had laid down for himself; and in +the unflagging industry with which he strove to +reach the goal of his ambition. “My very struggles,” +he writes, “were certainly a help to me.”</p> + +<p>When I came to examine the manuscript with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span> +a view to sending it to press, I found that there +was a good deal of work necessary before it could +be published in book form. The fragments were +in many cases incomplete; there was no division +into chapters, no connexion between the various +periods and episodes of his life; important incidents +were omitted; while, owing to the intermittent way +in which he had been writing, there were frequent +repetitions. My father was always most critical of +his own style, and would often, when correcting his +proof-sheets, alter a whole page, because a word or +a phrase displeased him, or because some new idea, +some happier mode of expression, occurred to him; +but in the case of his Autobiography, the only revision +that he was able to give, was on his deathbed, +while I read the manuscript aloud to him.</p> + +<p>My father points out how rarely the sons of great +musicians or great painters become distinguished +in the same line themselves. “It seems,” he says, +“almost as if the artistic talent were exhausted by +one generation or one individual”; and I fear that, +in my case at all events, the same remark applies +to literary talent. I have done my best to string +the fragments together into one connected whole, +only making such insertions, elisions and alterations +as appeared strictly necessary. Any deficiency in +literary style that may be noticeable in portions of +the book should be ascribed to the inexperience of +the editor.</p> + +<p>I have thought it right to insert the last chapter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span> +which I call “A Confession,” though I am not sure +that my father intended it to be included in his +Autobiography. It will, however, explain the attitude +which he observed throughout his life, in +keeping aloof, as far as possible, from the arena of +academic contention at Oxford. He was never +chosen a member of the Hebdomadal Council, he +rarely attended meetings of Convocation or Congregation; +he felt that other people, with more leisure +at their disposal, could be of more use there; but +he never refused to work for his University, when +he felt that he was able to render good service, +and he acted for years as a Curator of the Bodleian +Library and of the Taylorian Institute, and as a +Delegate of the Clarendon Press.</p> + +<p>With reference to the illustrations, it may be of +interest to readers to know that the portraits of my +grandfather and grandmother are taken from pencil-drawings +by Adolf Hensel, the husband of Mendelssohn’s +sister Fanny, herself a great musician, who, +as my father tells us in <i>Auld Lang Syne</i>, really +composed several of the airs that Mendelssohn published +as his <i>Songs without Words</i>. The last portrait +of my father is from a photograph taken soon +after his arrival in Oxford by his great friend Thomson, +afterwards Archbishop of York.</p> + +<p>Nothing now remains for me but to acknowledge +the debt that I owe personally to this book. +“Work,” my father used often to say to me, “is +the best healer of sorrow. In grief or disappointment,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span> +try hard work; it will not fail you.” And +certainly during these three sad months, I have +proved the truth of this saying. He could not have +left me a surer comfort or more welcome distraction +than the duty of preparing for press these pages, the +last fruits of that mind which remained active and +fertile to the last.</p> + +<p class="right">W. G. MAX MÜLLER.</p> + +<p><small><span class="smcap">Oxford</span>, <i>January</i>, 1901.</small></p> + + + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<table summary="table of contents"> + +<tr><td class="leftalign" style="font-size: 70%" colspan="2">CHAPTER</td><td style="font-size: 70%; text-align: center">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="rightalign"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></td><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">Introductory</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="rightalign"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></td><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">Childhood at Dessau</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="rightalign"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></td><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">School-days at Leipzig</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="rightalign"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></td><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">University</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="rightalign"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></td><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">Paris</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="rightalign"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></td><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">Arrival in England</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="rightalign"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></td><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">Early Days at Oxford</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="rightalign"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></td><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">Early Friends at Oxford</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="rightalign"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></td><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">A Confession</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td style="line-height: 50%"> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="leftalign" colspan="2"><a href="#INDEX">INDEX</a></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Page_319">319</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + +<h2><a name="LIST_OF_PORTRAITS" id="LIST_OF_PORTRAITS"></a>LIST OF PORTRAITS</h2> + + +<table summary="list of portraits"> +<tr><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">F. Max Müller, Aged Four</span></td><td class="rightalign"><i><a href="#front">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td><td class="rightalign"><span style="font-size: 60%">FACING +PAGE</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">My Father</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#father">46</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">My Mother</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#mother">58</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="leftalign"><span class="smcap">F. Max Müller, Aged Fourteen</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Max14">106</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="leftalign"><span style="padding-left: 2em; padding-right: 2.5em">"</span>" <span class="smcap" style="padding-left: 1.8em">Aged Twenty</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Max20">156</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="leftalign"><span style="padding-left: 2em; padding-right: 2.5em">"</span>" <span class="smcap" style="padding-left: 1.8em">Aged Thirty</span></td><td class="rightalign"><a href="#Max30">268</a></td></tr> +</table> + + + +<h2><a name="MY_AUTOBIOGRAPHY" id="MY_AUTOBIOGRAPHY"></a>MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY</h2> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>INTRODUCTORY</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">After</span> the publication of the second volume of +my <i>Auld Lang Syne</i>, 1899, I had a good deal +of correspondence, of public criticism, and of private +communings also with myself, whether I +should continue my biographical records in the form +hitherto adopted, or give a more personal character +to my recollections. Some of my friends +were evidently dissatisfied. “The recollections of +your friends and the account of the influence they +exercised on you,” they said, “are interesting, no +doubt, as far as they go, but we want more. We +want to know the springs, the aspirations, the +struggles, the failures, and achievements of your +life. We want to know how you yourself look at +yourself and at your past life and its various incidents.” +What they really wanted was, in fact, an +autobiography. “No one,” as a friend of mine, +not an Irishman, said, “could do that so well as +yourself, and you will never escape a biographer.” +I confess that did not frighten me very much. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +did not think the danger of a biography very imminent. +Besides, I had already revised two biographies +and several biographical notices even during +my lifetime. No sensible man ought to care +about posthumous praise or posthumous blame. +Enough for the day is the evil thereof. Our contemporaries +are our right judges, our peers have +to give their votes in the great academies and +learned societies, and if they on the whole are not +dissatisfied with the little we have done, often under +far greater difficulties than the world was aware +of, why should we care for the distant future? +Who was a greater giant in philosophy than Hegel? +Who towered higher than Darwin in natural +science? Yet in one of the best German reviews<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> +the following words of a young German biologist<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> +are quoted, and not without a certain approval: +“Darwinism belongs now to history, like that other +<i>curiosum</i> of our century, the Hegelian philosophy. +Both are variations on the theme, How can a generation +be led by the nose? and they are not calculated +to raise our departing century in the eyes of +later generations.”</p> + +<p>If I was afraid of anything, it was not so much +the severity of future judges, as the extreme kindness +and leniency which distinguish most biographies +in our days. It is true, it would not be easy +for those who have hereafter to report on our labours +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>to discover the red thread that runs through all of +them from our first stammerings to our latest murmurings. +It might be said that in my own case the +thread that connects all my labours is very visible, +namely, the thread that connects the origin of +thought and languages with the origin of mythology +and religion. Everything I have done was, no +doubt, subordinate to these four great problems, +but to lay bare the connecting links between what +I have written and what I wanted to write and never +found time to write, is by no means easy, not even +for the author himself. Besides, what author has +ever said the last word he wanted to say, and who +has not had to close his eyes before he could write +Finis to his work? There are many things still +which I should like to say, but I am getting tired, +and others will say them much better than I could, +and will no doubt carry on the work where I had to +leave it unfinished. We owe much to others, and +we have to leave much to others. For throwing +light on such points an autobiography is, no doubt, +better adapted than any biography written by a +stranger, if only we can at the same time completely +forget that the man who is described is the same +as the man who describes.</p> + +<p>“Friends,” as Professor Jowett said, “always +think it necessary (except Boswell, that great +genius) to tell lies about their deceased friend; they +leave out all his faults lest the public should exaggerate +them. But we want to know his faults,—that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +is probably the most interesting part of +him.”</p> + +<p>Jowett knew quite well, and he did not hesitate +to say so, that to do much good in this world, you +must be a very able and honest man, thinking of +nothing else day and night; and he adds, “you +must also be a considerable piece of a rogue, having +many reticences and concealments; and I believe a +good sort of roguery is never to say a word against +anybody, however much they may deserve it.”</p> + +<p>Now Professor Jowett has certainly done some +good work at Oxford, but if any one were to say +that he also was a considerable piece of a rogue, what +an outcry there would be among the sons of Balliol. +Jowett thought that the only chance of a good biography +was for a man to write memoirs of himself, +and what a pity that he did not do so in his +own case. His friends, however, who had to write +his Life were wise, and he escaped what of late has +happened to several eminent men. He escaped the +testimonials for this, and testimonials for another +life, such as they are often published in our days.</p> + +<p>Testimonials are bad enough in this life, when +we have to select one out of many candidates as +best fitted for an office, and it is but natural that +the electors will hardly ever look at them, but will +try to get their information through some other +channel. But what are called <i>post obit</i> testimonials +really go beyond everything yet known in funeral +panegyrics. Of course, as no one is asked for such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +testimonials except those who are known to have +been friends of the departed, these testimonials +hardly ever contain one word of blame. One feels +ashamed to write such testimonials, but if you are +asked, what can you do without giving offence? We +are placed altogether in a false position. Let any +one try to speak the truth and nothing but the truth, +and he will find that it is almost impossible to put +down anything that in the slightest way might seem +to reflect on the departed. The mention of the most +innocent failings in an obituary notice is sure to +offend somebody, the widow or the children, or some +dear friend. I thought that my Recollections had +hitherto contained nothing that could possibly offend +anybody, nothing that could not have been +published during the lifetime of the man to whom +it referred. But no; I had ever so many complaints, +and I gladly left out, in later editions, names which +in many cases were really of no consequence compared +with what they said and did.</p> + +<p>Surely every man has his faults and his little +and often ridiculous weaknesses, and these weaknesses +belong quite as much to a man’s character as +his strength; nay, with the suppression of the former +the latter would often become almost unintelligible.</p> + +<p>I like the biographies of such friends of mine as +Dean Stanley, Charles Kingsley, and Baron Bunsen. +But even these are deficient in those shadows +which would but help to bring out all the more clearly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +the bright points in their character. We should +remember the words of Dr. Wendell Holmes: “We +all want to draw perfect ideals, and all the coin that +comes from Nature’s mint is more or less clipped, +filed, ‘sweated,’ or bruised, and bent and worn, +even if it was pure metal when stamped, which is +more than we can claim, I suppose, for anything +human.” True, very true; and what would the departed +himself say to such biographies as are now +but too common,—most flattering pictures no doubt, +but pictures without one spot or wrinkle? In Germany +it was formerly not an uncommon thing for +the author of a book to write a self-review (Selbst-Kritik), +and these were generally far better than +reviews written by friends or enemies. For who +knows the strong and weak points of a book so well +as the author? True; but a whole life is more difficult +to review and to criticize than a single book. +Nevertheless it must be admitted that an autobiography +has many advantages, and it might be well +if every man of note, nay, every man who has something +to say for himself that he wishes posterity to +know, should say it himself. This would in time +form a wonderful archive for psychological study. +Something of the kind has been done already at +Berlin in preserving private correspondences. Of +course it is difficult to keep such archives within +reasonable limits, but here again I am not afraid +of self-laudation so much as of self-depreciation.</p> + +<p>Professor Jowett, who did not write his own biography,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +was quite right in saying that there is +great danger of an autobiography being rather self-depreciatory; +there is certainly something so nauseous +in self-praise that most people would shrink far +more from self-praise than from self-blame. There +may be some kind of subtle self-admiration even in +the fault-finding of an outspoken autobiographer; +but who can dive into those deepest depths of the +human soul? To me it seems that if an honest man +takes himself by the neck, and shakes himself, he +can do it far better than anybody else, and the +castigation, if well deserved, comes certainly with +a far better grace from himself than if administered +by others.</p> + +<p>Few men, I believe, know their real goodness and +greatness. Some of the most handsome women, so +we are assured, pass through life without ever knowing +from their looking-glass that they are handsome. +And it is certainly true that men, from sad +experience, know their weak points far better than +their good points, which they look on as no more +than natural.</p> + +<p>The Autos, for instance, described by John +Stuart Mill, has no cause to be grateful to the Autos +that wrote his biography. Mill had been threatened +by several future biographers, and he therefore +wrote the short biographical account of himself almost +in self-defence. But besides the truly miraculous, +and, if related by anybody else, hardly credible +achievements of his early boyhood and youth, his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +great achievements in later life, the influence which +he exercised both by his writings and still more by +his personal and public character, would have found +a far more eloquent and truthful interpreter in a +stranger than in Mill himself. I remember another +case where a most distinguished author tried to +escape the oil and the blessings, perhaps the opposite +also, from the hands of his future biographers. +Froude destroyed the whole of his correspondence, +and he wished particularly that all letters written +to him in the fullest confidence should be burnt,—and +they were. I think it was a pity, for I know +what valuable letters were destroyed in that <i>auto da +fé</i>; and yet when he had done all this, he seems to +have been seized with fear, and just before he returned +to Oxford as Regius Professor of Modern +History he began to write a sketch of his own life, +which was found among his papers. Interesting it +certainly was, but fortunately his best friends prevented +its publication. It would have added nothing +to what we know of him in his writings, and +would never have put his real merits in their proper +light. Besides, it came to an end with his youth and +told us little of his real life.</p> + +<p>I flattered myself that I had found the true way +out of all these difficulties, by writing not exactly +my own life, but recollections of my friends and acquaintances +who had influenced me most, and guided +me in my not always easy passage through life. +As in describing the course of a river, we cannot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +do better than to describe the shores which hem in +and divert the river and are reflected on its waves, +I thought that by describing my environment, my +friends, and fellow workers, I could best describe +the course of my own life. I hoped also that in this +way I myself could keep as much as possible in the +background, and yet in describing the wooded or +rocky shores with their herds, their cottages, and +churches, describe their reflected image on the passing +river.</p> + +<p>But now I am asked to give a much fuller account +of myself, not only of what I have seen, but +also of what I have been, what were the objects or +ideals of my life, how far I have succeeded in carrying +them out, and, as I said, how often I have failed +to accomplish what I had sketched out as my task +in life. People wished to know how a boy, born and +educated in a small and almost unknown town in +the centre of Germany, should have come to England, +should have been chosen there to edit the +oldest book of the world, the Veda of the Brahmans, +never published before, whether in India or in Europe, +should have passed the best part of his life as +a professor in the most famous and, as it was thought, +the most exclusive University in England, and +should actually have ended his days as a Member +of Her Majesty’s most honourable Privy Council. +I confess myself it seems a very strange career, yet +everything came about most naturally, not by my +own effort, but owing again to those circumstances<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +or to that environment of which we have heard so +much of late.</p> + +<p>Young, struggling men also have written to me, +and asked me how I managed to keep my head above +water in that keen struggle for life that is always +going on in the whirlpool of the learned world of +England. They knew, for I had never made any +secret of it, how poor I was in worldly goods, and +how, as I said at Glasgow, I had nothing to depend +on after I left the University, but those fingers with +which I still hold my pen and write so badly that I +can hardly read my manuscript myself. When I +arrived I had no family connections in England, +nor any influential friends, “and yet,” I was told, +“in a foreign country, you managed to reach the +top of your profession. Tell us how you did it; +and how you preserved at the same time your independence +and never forsook the not very popular +subjects, such as language, mythology, religion, and +philosophy, on which you continued to write to the +very end of your life.”</p> + +<p>I generally said that most of these questions could +best be answered from my books, but they replied +that few people had time to read all I had written, +and many would feel grateful for a thread to lead +them through this labyrinth of books, essays, and +pamphlets, which have issued from my workshop +during the last fifty years.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> +<p>All I could say was that each man must find his +own way in life, but if there was any secret about +my success, it was simply due to the fact that I had +perfect faith, and went on never doubting even +when everything looked grey and black about me. +I felt convinced that what I cared for, and what I +thought worthy of a whole life of hard work, must +in the end be recognized by others also as of value, +and as worthy of a certain support from the public. +Had not Layard gained a hearing for Assyrian +bulls? Did not Darwin induce the world to take an +interest in Worms, and in the Fertilization of Orchids? +And should the oldest book and the oldest +thoughts of the Aryan world remain despised and +neglected?</p> + +<p>For many years I never thought of appointments +or of getting on in the world in a pecuniary sense. +My friends often laughed at me, and when I think +of it now, I confess I must have seemed very +Quixotic to many of those who tried for this and +that, got lucrative appointments, married rich wives, +became judges and bishops, ambassadors and ministers, +and could hardly understand what I was driving +at with my Sanskrit manuscripts, my proof-sheets +and revises. Perhaps I did not know myself. +Still I was not quite so foolish as they imagined. +True, I declined several offers made to me which +seemed very advantageous in a worldly sense, but +would have separated me entirely from my favourite +work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> + +<p>When at last a professorship of Modern Literature +was offered me at Oxford, I made up my mind, +though it was not exactly what I should have liked, +to give up half of my time to studies required by +this professorship, keeping half of my time for the +Veda and for Sanskrit in general. This was not so +bad after all. People often laughed at me for +being professor of the most modern languages, and +giving so much of my time and labour to the most +ancient language and literature in the world. Perhaps +it was not quite right my giving up so much of +my time to modern languages, a subject so remote +from my work in life, but it was a concession which +I could make with a good conscience, having always +held that language was one and indivisible, and +that there never had been a break between Sanskrit, +Latin, and French, or Sanskrit, Gothic, and German. +One of my first lectures at Oxford was “On +the antiquity of modern languages,” so that I gave +full notice to the University as to how I meant to +treat my subject, and on the whole the University +seems to have been satisfied with my professorial +work, so that when afterwards for very good +reasons, whether financial, theological, or national, +I, or rather my friends, failed to secure a majority +in Convocation for a professorship of Sanskrit, the +University actually founded for me a Professorship +of Comparative Philology, an honour of which +I had never dreamt, and to secure which I certainly +had never taken any steps.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here is all my secret. At first, as I said, it required +faith, but it also required for many years a +perfect indifference as to worldly success. And +here again in my career as a Sanskrit scholar, mere +circumstances were of great importance. They +were circumstances which I was glad to accept, but +which I could never have created myself. It was +surely a mere accident that the Directors of the Old +East India Company voted a large sum of money +for printing the six large quartos of the Rig-veda of +about a thousand pages each. It was at the time +when the fate of the Company hung in the balance, +and when Bunsen, the Prussian Minister, made +himself <i>persona grata</i> by delivering a speech at one +of the public dinners in the City, setting forth in +eloquent words the undeniable merits of the Old +Company and the wonderful work they had +achieved. It was likewise a mere accident that I +should have become known to Bunsen, and that he +should have shown me so much kindness in my literary +work. He had himself tried hard to go to India +to discover the Rig-veda, nay, to find out whether +there was still such a thing as the Veda in India. +The same Bunsen, His Excellency Baron Bunsen, +the Prussian Minister in London, on his own accord +went afterwards to see the Chairman and the Directors +of the East India Company, and explained +to them what the Rig-veda was, and that it would +be a real disgrace if such a work were published in +Germany; and they agreed to vote a sum of money<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +such as they had never voted before for any literary +undertaking. Though after the mutiny nothing +could save them, I had at least the satisfaction of +dedicating the first volume of my edition of the +Rig-veda to the Chairman and the Directors of the +much abused East India Company,—much abused +though splendidly defended also by no less a man +than John Stuart Mill.</p> + +<p>This is what I mean by friends and circumstances, +and that is the environment which I wished +to describe in my Recollections instead of always +dwelling on what I meant to do myself and what +I did myself. Small and large things work +wonderfully together. It was the change threatening +the government of India, and a mighty change +it was, that gave me the chance of publishing the +Veda, a very small matter as it may seem in the +eyes of most people, and yet intended to bring about +quite as mighty a change in our views of the ancient +people of the world, particularly of their languages +and religions. This, too—the development of language +and religion—seems of importance to some +people who do not care two straws for the East India +Company, particularly if it helps us to learn what +we really are ourselves, and how we came to be what +we are.</p> + +<p>In one sense biographies and autobiographies are +certainly among the most valuable materials for the +historian. Biography, as Heinrich Simon, not +Henri Simon, said, is the best kind of history, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +the life of one man, if laid open before us with all +he thought and all he did, gives us a better insight +into the history of his time than any general account +of it can possibly do.</p> + +<p>Now it is quite true that the life of a quiet scholar +has little to do with history, except it may be the +history of his own branch of study, which some people +consider quite unimportant, while to others it +seems all-important. This is as it ought to be, till +the universal historian finds the right perspective, +and assigns to each branch of study and activity its +proper place in the panorama of the progress of mankind +towards its ideals. Even a quiet scholar, if he +keeps his eyes open, may now and then see something +that is of importance to the historian. While +I was living in small rooms at Leipzig, or lodging +<i>au cinquième</i> in the Rue Royale at Paris, or copying +manuscripts in a dark room of the old East India +House in Leadenhall Street, I now and then caught +glimpses of the mighty stream of history as it was +rushing by. At Leipzig I saw much of Robert +Blum who was afterwards <i>fusillé</i> at Vienna by +Windischgrätz in defiance of all international law, for +he was a member of the German Diet, then sitting +at Frankfurt. From my windows at Paris I looked +over the <i>Boulevard de la Madeleine</i>, and down on the +right to the <i>Chambre des Députés</i>, and I saw from +my windows the throne of Louis Philippe carried +along by its four legs by four women on horseback, +with Phrygian caps and red scarfs, and I saw the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +next morning from the same windows the stretchers +carrying the dead and wounded from the Boulevards +to a hospital at the back of my street. In my small +study at the East India House I saw several of the +Directors, Colonel Sykes and others, and heard +them discussing the fate of the East India Company +and of the vast empire of India too, and at the +same time the private interests of those who hoped +to be Members of the new India Council, and those +who despaired of that distinction. I was the first +to bring the news of the French Revolution in February +to London, and presented a bullet that had +smashed the windows of my room at Paris, to Bunsen, +who took it in the evening to Lord Palmerston. +After I had seen the Revolution in Paris and the +flight of the King and the Duchesse d’Orléans, I was +in time to see in London the Chartist Deputation +to Parliament, and the assembled police in Trafalgar +Square, when Louis Napoleon served as a +Special Constable, and I heard the Duke of Wellington +explain to Bunsen, that though no soldier +was seen in the streets there was artillery hidden +under the bridges, and ready to act if wanted. I +could add more, but I must not anticipate, and +after all, to me all these great events seemed but +small compared with a new manuscript of the Veda +sent from India, or a better reading of an obscure +passage. <i>Diversos diversa iuvant</i>, and it is fortunate +that it should be so.</p> + +<p>All these things, I thought, should form part of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +my Recollections, and my own little self should +disappear as much as possible. Even the pronoun +I should meet the reader but seldom, though in +Recollections it was as impossible to leave it out +altogether as it would be to take away the lens from +a photographic camera. Now I believe I have always +been most willing to yield to my friends, and +I shall in this matter also yield to them so far that +in the Recollections which follow there will be more +of my inward and outward struggles; but I must +on the whole adhere to my old plan. I could not, +if I would, neglect the environment of my life, and +the many friends that advised and helped me, and +enabled me to achieve the little that I may have +achieved in my own line of study.</p> + +<p>If my friends had been different from what they +were, should I not have become a different man +myself, whether for good or for evil? And the same +applies to our natural surroundings also. And here +I must invoke the patience of my readers, if I try +to explain in as few words as possible what I think +about <i>environment</i>, and what about <i>heredity</i> or +<i>atavism</i>.</p> + +<p>I was a thorough Darwinian in ascribing the +shaping of my career to environment, though I was +always very averse to atavism, of which we have +heard so much lately in most biographies. Even +with respect to environment, however, I could not +go quite so far as certain of our Darwinian friends, +who maintain that everything is the result of environment,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +or translated into biographical language, +that everybody is a creature of circumstances. No, +I could not go so far as that. Environment may +shape our course and may shape us, but there must +be something that is shaped, and allows itself to be +shaped. I was once seriously asked by one who +considers himself a Darwinian whether I did not +know that the Mammoth was driven by the extreme +cold of the Pleiocene Period to grow a thick fur in +his struggle for life. That he grew then a thicker +fur, I knew, but that surely does not explain the +whole of the Mammoth, with and without a thick +fur, before and after the fur. It is really a pity to +see for how many of these downright absurdities +Darwin is made responsible by the Darwinians. He +has clearly shown how in many cases the individual +may be modified almost beyond recognition by +environment, but the individual must always have +been there first. Before we had a spaniel and a +Newfoundland dog there must have been some +kind of dog, neither so small as the spaniel nor so +large as the Newfoundland, and no one would now +doubt that these two belonged to the same species +and presupposed some kind of a less modified canine +creature. It is equally true that every individual +man has been modified by his surroundings or environment, +if not to the same extent as certain animals, +yet very considerably, as in the case of Kaspar +Hauser, the man with the iron mask, or the +mutineers of the <i>Bounty</i> in the Pitcairn Islands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +But there must have been the man first, before he +could be so modified. Now it was this very individual, +my own self in fact, the spiritual self even +more than the physical, that interested my critics, +while I thought that the circumstances which +moulded that self would be of far greater interest +than the self itself. Of course all the modifications +that men now undergo are nothing if compared to +the early modifications which produced what we +speak of as racial, linguistic, or even national peculiarities. +That we are English or German, that +we are white or black, nay, if you like, that we are +human beings at all, all this has modified our self, +or our germ-plasm, far more powerfully than anything +that can happen to us as individuals now.</p> + +<p>When my friends and readers assured me that an +account of my early struggles in the battle of life +would be useful to many a young, struggling man, +all I could say was that here again it was really my +friends who did everything for me, and helped me +over many a stile, and many a ditch, nay, without +whom I should never have done whatever I did for +the Sciences of Language, of Mythology, and Religion, +in fact for Anthropology in the widest sense +of that word. My very struggles were certainly a +help to me, even my opponents were most useful to +me. The subjects on which I wrote had hardly +been touched on in England, at least from the historical +point of view which I took, and I had not +only to overcome the indifference of the public, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +to disarm as much as possible the prejudices often +felt, and sometimes expressed also, against anything +made in Germany! Now I confess I could +never understand such a prejudice among men of +science. Was I more right or more wrong because +I was born in Germany? Is scientific truth the exclusive +property of one nation, of Germany, or of +England? If I say two and two make four in German, +is that less true because it is said by a German? +and if I say, no language without thought, +no thought without language, has that anything to +do with my native country? The prejudice against +strangers and particularly against Germans is, no +doubt, much stronger now than it was at the time +when I first came to England. I had spent nearly +two years in Paris, and there too there existed then +so little of unfriendly feeling towards Germany, +that one of the best reviews to which the rising +scholars and best writers of Paris contributed was +actually called <i>Revue Germanique</i>. Who would +now venture to publish in Paris such a review and +under such a title? If there existed such an anti-German +feeling anywhere in England when I arrived +here in the year 1846, one would suppose that +it existed most strongly at Oxford. And so it did, no +doubt, particularly among theologians. With them +German meant much the same as unorthodox, and +unorthodox was enough at that time to taboo a man +at Oxford. In one of the sermons preached in these +early days at St. Mary’s, German theologians such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +as Strauss and Neander (<i>sic</i>) were spoken of as fit +only to be drowned in the German Ocean, before +they reached the shores of England. I do not add +what followed: the story is too well known. I was +chiefly amused by the juxtaposition of Strauss and +Neander, whose most orthodox lectures on the history +of the Christian Church I had attended at Berlin. +Neander was certainly to us at Berlin the very +pattern of orthodoxy, and people wondered at my +attending his lectures. But they were good and +honest lectures. He was quite a character, and I +feel tempted to go a little out of my way in speaking +of him. By birth a Jew, he became one of the +most learned Christian divines. Ever so many stories +were told of him, some true, some no doubt invented. +I saw him often walking to and from the +University to give his lectures in a large fur coat, +with high black polished boots beneath, but showing +occasionally as he walked along. It was told that +he once sent for a doctor because he was lame. The +doctor on examining his feet, saw that one boot was +covered with mud, while the other was perfectly +clean. The Professor had walked with one foot on +the pavement, with the other in the gutter, and was +far too much absorbed in his ideas to discover the +true cause of his discomfort. He lived with his +sister, who took complete care of him and saw to his +wardrobe also. She knew that he wore one pair of +trousers, and that on a certain day in the year the +tailor brought him a new pair. Great was her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +amazement when one day, after her brother had +gone to the University, she discovered his pair of +trousers lying on a chair near his bed. She at once +sent a servant to the Professor’s lecture-room to inquire +whether he had his trousers on. The hilarity +of his class may be imagined. The fact was it was +the very day on which the tailor was in the habit of +bringing the new pair of trousers, which the Professor +had put on, leaving his usual garment behind.</p> + +<p>Many more stories of his absent-mindedness were +<i>en vogue</i> about Dr. Neander, but that this man, a +pillar of strength to the orthodox in Germany, who +was looked up to as an infallible Pope, should have +his name coupled with that of Strauss certainly gave +one a little shock. Yet it was at Oxford that I +pitched my tent, chiefly in order to superintend the +printing of my Rig-veda at the University Press +there, and never dreaming that a fellowship, still +less a professorship in that ancient Tory University, +would ever be offered to me.</p> + +<p>For me to go to Oxford to get a fellowship or +professorship would have seemed about as absurd +as going to Rome to become a Cardinal or a Pope; +and yet in time I was chosen a Fellow of All Souls, +and the first married Fellow of the College, and +even a professorship was offered to me when I least +expected it. The fact is, I never thought of either, +and no one was more surprised than myself when +I was asked to act as deputy, and then as full Taylorian +Professor; no one could have mistrusted his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +eyes more than I did, when one of the Fellows of +All Soul’s informed me by letter that it was the intention +of the College to elect me one of its fellows. +My ambition had never soared so high. I was thinking +of returning to Leipzig as a <i>Privat-docent</i>, to +rise afterwards to an extraordinary and, if all went +well, to an ordinary professorship.</p> + +<p>But after these two appointments at Oxford had +secured to me what I thought a fair social and financial +position in England, I did not feel justified in attempting +to begin life again in Germany. I had not +asked for a professorship or fellowship. They were +offered me, and my ambition never went beyond +securing what was necessary for my independence. +In Germany I was supposed to have become quite +wealthy; in England people knew how small my +income really was, and wondered how I managed +to live on it. They did not suppose that I had +chiefly to depend on my pen in order to live as a +professor is expected to live at Oxford. I could +not see anything anomalous in a German holding a +professorship in England. There were several cases +of the same kind in Germany. Lassen (1800-1876), +our great Sanskrit professor at Bonn, was +a Norwegian by birth, and no one ever thought of +his nationality. What had that to do with his +knowledge of Sanskrit? Nor was I ever treated as +an alien or as intruder at Oxford, at least not at +that early time. As to myself, I had now obtained +what seemed to me a small but sufficient income<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +with perfect independence. The quiet life of a +quiet student had been from my earliest days my +ideal in life. Even at school at Dessau, when we +boys talked of what we hoped to be, I remember +how my ideal was that of a monk, undisturbed in +his monastery, surrounded by books and by a few +friends. The idea that I should ever rise to be a +professor in a university, or that any career like that +of my father, grandfather, and other members of +my family would ever be open to me, never entered +my mind then. It seemed to me almost disloyal +to think of ever taking their places. Even when I +saw that there were no longer any Protestant monks, +no Benedictines, the place of an assistant in a large +library, sitting in a quiet corner, was my highest +ambition.</p> + +<p>I do not see why it should have been so, for all +my relations and friends occupied high places in the +public service, but as I had no father to open my +eyes, and to stimulate my ambition—he having died +before I was four years old—my ideas of life and +its possibilities were evidently taken from my young +widowed mother, whose one desire was to be left +alone, much as the world tempted her, then not yet +thirty years old, to give up her mourning and to +return to society. Thus it soon became my own +philosophy of life, to be left alone, free to go my +own way, or like Diogenes, to live in my own tub. +Here we see what I call the influence of circumstances, +of surroundings, or as others call it, of environment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +This, however, is very different from +atavism, as we shall see presently. Atavism also +has been called a kind of environment, attacking us +and influencing us from the past, and as it were, +from behind, from the North in fact instead of the +South, the East, and the West, and from all the +points of the compass.</p> + +<p>But atavism means really a very different thing, +if indeed it means anything at all.</p> + +<p>I must ease my conscience once for all on this +point, and say what I feel about atavism and environment. +Environment in the shape of friends, +of locality, and other material circumstances, has +certainly influenced my life very much, and I could +never see why such a hybrid word as environment +should be used instead of surroundings or circumstances. +Creatures of circumstances would be far +better understood than creatures of environment; +but environment, I suppose, would sound more +scientific. Atavism also is a new word, instead of +family likeness, but unless carefully defined, the +word is very apt to mislead us.</p> + +<p>When it is said<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> that children often resemble +their grandfathers or grandmothers more than their +immediate parents, and that this propensity is +termed atavism, this does not seem quite correct +even etymologically, for atavus in Latin did not +mean father or grandfather, but at first great-great-great-grandfather, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>and then only ancestors; and +what should be made quite clear is that this mysterious +atavism should not be used by careful speakers, +to express the supposed influence of parents +or even grandparents, but that of more distant ancestors +only, and possibly of a whole family.</p> + +<p>Many biographers, such is the fashion now, begin +their works with a long account not only of +father and mother, but of grandparents and of ever +so many ancestors, in order to show how these determined +the outward and inward character of the +man whose life has to be written. Who would deny +that there is some truth, or at least some plausibility, +in atavism, though no one has as yet succeeded in +giving an intelligible account of it? It is supposed +to affect the moral as well as the physical peculiarities +of the offspring, and that here, too, physical and +moral qualities often go together cannot be denied. +A blind person, for instance, is generally cautious, +but happy and quite at his ease in large societies. +A deaf person is often suspicious and unhappy in +society. In inheriting blindness, therefore, a man +could well be said to have inherited cautiousness; +in inheriting deafness, suspiciousness would seem to +have come to him by inheritance.</p> + +<p>But is blindness really inherited? Is the son of a +father who has lost his eyesight blind, and necessarily +blind? We must distinguish between atavistic +and parental influences. Parental influences +would mean the influence of qualities acquired by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +the parents, and directly bequeathed to their offspring; +atavistic influences would refer to qualities +inherited and transmitted, it may be, through several +generations, and engrained in a whole family. +In keeping these two classes separate, we should +only be following Weismann’s example, who denies +altogether that acquired qualities are ever heritable. +His examples are most interesting and most important, +and many Darwinians have had to accept +his amendment. Besides, we should always consider +whether certain peculiarities are constant in a family +or inconstant. If a father is a drunkard, surely +it does not follow that his sons must be drunkards. +Neither does it follow that all the children must +be sober if the parents are sober. Of course, in +ordinary conversation both parental and ancestral +influences seem clear enough. But if a child is said +to favour his mother, because like her he has blue +eyes and fair hair, what becomes of the heritage +from the father who may have brown eyes and dark +hair? Whatever may happen to the children, there +is always an excuse, only an excuse is not an explanation. +If the daughter of a beautiful woman +grows up very plain, the Frenchman was no doubt +right when he remarked, <i>C’était alors le père qui +n’était pas bien</i>, and if the son of a teetotaller +should later in life become a drunkard, the conclusion +would be even worse. In fact, this kind of +atavistic or parental influence is a very pleasant +subject for gossips, but from a scientific point of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +view, it is perfectly futile. If it is not the father, +it is the mother; if it is not the grandmother, it is +the grandfather; in fact, family influences can always +be traced to some source or other, if the whole +pedigree may be dug up and ransacked. But for +that very reason they are of no scientific value whatever. +They can neither be accounted for, nor can +they be used to account for anything themselves. +Even of twins, though very like each other in many +respects, one may be phlegmatic, the other passionate. +Some scientists, such as Weismann and others, +have therefore denied, and I believe rightly, that +any acquired characters, whether physical or mental, +can ever be inherited by children from their +parents. Whatever similarity there is, and there is +plenty, is traced back by him to what he calls the +germ-plasm, working on continuously in spite of all +individual changes. If that germ-plasm is liable to +certain peculiar modifications in the father or grandfather, +it is liable to the same or similar modifications +in the offspring, that is, if the father could become +a drunkard, so could the son, only we must not +think that the <i>post hoc</i> is here the same as the +<i>propter hoc</i>. If we compare the germ-plasm to the +molecules constituting the stem or branches of a +vine, its grapes and leaves in their similarity and +their variety would be comparable to the individuals +belonging to the same family, and springing +from the same family tree. But then the grape we +see would not be what the grape of last year, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +the grape immediately preceding it on the same +branch, had made it, though there can be no doubt +that the antecedent possibilities of the new grape +were the same as those of the last. If one grape is +blue, the next will be blue too, but no one would say +that it was blue because the last grape was blue. +The real cause would be that the molecules of the +protoplasm have been so affected by long continued +generation, that some of the peculiar qualities of +the vine have become constant.</p> + +<p>The child of a negro must always be a negro; +his peculiarities are constant, though it may be quite +true that the negro and other races are not different +species, but only varieties rendered constant by immense +periods of time. What the cause of these +constant and inconstant peculiarities may be, not +even Weismann has yet been able to explain satisfactorily.</p> + +<p>The deafness of my mother and the prevalence of +the misfortune in numerous members of her family +acted on me as a kind of external influence, as something +belonging to the environment of my life; it +never frightened me as an atavistic evil. It justified +me in being cautious and in being prepared for +the worst, and so far it may be said to have helped +in shaping or narrowing the course of my life. Fortunately, +however, this tendency to deafness seems +now to have exhausted itself. In my own generation +there is one case only, and the next two generations, +children and grandchildren of mine, show no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +signs of it. If, on the other hand, my son was congratulated +when entering the diplomatic service, on +being the son of his father, it is clear that the difference +between inherited and acquired qualities, +so strongly insisted on by Weismann, had not been +fully appreciated by his friends. Besides, my own +power of speaking foreign languages has always +been very limited, and I have many times declined +the compliment of being a second Mezzofanti.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> I +worked at languages as a musician studies the nature +and capacities of musical instruments, though +without attempting to perform on every one of +them. There was no time left for acquiring a practical +familiarity with languages, if I wanted to carry +on my researches into the origin, the nature and +history of language. My own study of languages +could therefore have been of very little use to me, +nor did my son himself perceive such an advantage +in learning to converse in French, Spanish, Turkish, +&c. The facts were wrong, and the theory of +atavism perfectly unreasonable as applied to such +a case.</p> + +<p>If the theory of atavism were stretched so far, it +would soon do away with free will altogether. That +heredity has something to do with our moral character, +no one would deny who knows the influence +of our national, nay even of racial character. We +are Aryan by heredity; we might be Negroes or +Chinese, and share in their tendencies. Animals +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>also have their instincts. Only while animals, like +serpents for instance, would never hesitate to follow +their innate propensity, man, when he feels the +power of what we may call inherited human instinct, +feels also that he can fight against it, and preserve +his freedom, even while wearing the chains of his +slavery. This may have removed some of Dr. Wendell +Holmes’ scruples in writing his powerful story, +<i>Elsie Venner</i>, and may likewise quiet the fears of +his many critics.</p> + +<p>I believe that language also—our own inherited +language—exercises the most powerful influence on +our reason and our will, far more powerful than we +are aware of.</p> + +<p>A Greek speaking Greek and a Roman speaking +Latin would certainly have been very different +beings from the Romance and French descendants +of a Horace or a Cicero, and this simply on account +of the language which they had to speak, whether +Greek, Latin, French, or Spanish. We cannot tell +whether the original differentiation of language, +symbolized by the story of the Tower of Babel, took +place before or after the racial differentiation of +men. Anyhow it must have taken place in quite +primordial times. Without speaking positively on +this point, I certainly hold as strongly as ever that +language makes the man, and that therefore for +classificatory purposes also language is far more useful +than colour of skin, hair, cranial or gnathic peculiarities. +Whether it be true that with every new<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +language we speak we become new men, certain it +is that language prepares for us channels in which +our thoughts have to run, unless they are so powerful +as to break all dams and dykes, and to dig for +themselves new beds.</p> + +<p>For a long time people would not see that languages +can be classified; and as languages always +presuppose speakers of language, these speakers +also can be classified accordingly. It is quite true +that some of these Aryan speakers may in some +cases have Negro blood and Negro features, as when +a Negro becomes an English bishop. Conquered +tribes also may in time have learnt to speak the language +of their conquerors, but this too is exceptional, +and if we call them Aryas, we do not commit +ourselves to any opinion as to their blood, their +bones, or their hair. These will never submit to +the same classification as their speech, and why +should they? Nor should it be forgotten that +wherever a mixture of language takes place, mixed +marriages also would most likely take place at the +same time. But whatever confusion may have +arisen in later times in language and in blood, no +language could have arisen without speakers, and +we mean by Aryas no more than speakers of Aryan +languages, whatever their skulls or their hair may +have been. An Octoroon, and even a Quadroon, +may have blonde waving hair, but if he speaks +English he would be classified as Aryan, if Berber +as a Negro. But who is injured by such a classification?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +Let blood and skulls and hair and jaws be +classified by all means, but let us speak no longer +of Aryan skulls or Semitic blood. We might as well +speak of a prognathic language.</p> + +<p>While fully admitting, therefore, the influence +which family, nationality, race, and language exercise +on us, it should be clearly perceived that habits +acquired by our parents are not heritable, that the +sons of drunkards need not be drunkards, as little +as the sons of sober people must be sober. But +though biographers may agree to this in general +they seem inclined, to hold out very strongly for +what are called <i>special talents in certain families</i>. +This subject is decidedly amusing, but it admits of +no scientific treatment, as far as I can see.</p> + +<p>The grandfather of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy +for instance, though not a composer, was evidently +a man of genius, a philosopher of considerable +intellectual capacity and moral strength. The +father of the composer was a rich banker at Berlin, +and he used to say: “When I was young I was the +son of the great Mendelssohn, now that I am old, +I am the father of the great Mendelssohn; then what +am I?” Even a poor man to become a rich banker +must be a kind of genius, and so far the son may +be said to have come of a good stock. But the great +musical talent that was developed in the third generation +both in Felix and his sisters, failed entirely +in his brother, who, to save his life, could never +have sung “God save the Queen.” In the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +theatrical performances of the whole family for +which Felix composed the music, and his sister +Fanny (Hensel) some of the songs, the unmusical +brother—was it not Paul?—had generally to be +provided with some such part as that of a night +watchman, and he managed to get through his song +with as much credit as the <i>Nachtwächter</i> in the +little town of Germany, where he sang or repeated, +as I well remember, in his cracked voice:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Hört, ihr Herren, und lasst euch sagen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Die Glock’ hat zwölf geschlagen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wahret das Feuer und auch das Licht,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dass Keinem kein Schade geschicht.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Listen, gents, and let me tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clock struck twelve by its last knell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch o’er the fire and o’er the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That no one suffer any plight.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">I have known in my life many musicians and their +families, but I remember very few instances indeed, +where the son of a distinguished musician was a +great musician himself. If the children take to +music at all they may become very fair musicians, +but never anything extraordinary. The Bach family +may be quoted against me, but music, before +Sebastian Bach, was almost like a profession, and +could be learned like any other handicraft.</p> + +<p>Nor are the cases of painters being the sons of +great painters, or of poets being the sons of great +poets, more numerous. It seems almost as if the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +artistic talent was exhausted by one generation or +one individual, so that we often see the sons of +great men by no means great, and if they do anything +in the same line as their fathers, we must remember +that there was much to induce them to +follow in their steps without admitting any atavistic +influences.</p> + +<p>For the present, I can only repeat the conclusion +I arrived at after weighing all the arguments of +my friends and critics, namely, to continue my +Recollections much as I began them, to try to explain +what made me what I am, to describe, in fact, +my environment; though as my years advance, and +my labours and plans grow wider and wider, I shall, +no doubt, have to say a great deal more about myself +than in the volumes of <i>Auld Lang Syne</i>. In +fact, my Recollections will become more and more +of an autobiography, and the I and the Autos will +appear more frequently than I could have wished.</p> + +<p>In an autobiography the painter is of course supposed +to be the same as the sitter, but quite apart +from the metaphysical difficulties of such a supposition, +there is the physical difficulty when the +writer is an old man, and the model is a young boy. +Is the old man likely to be a fair judge of the young +man, whether it be himself or some one else? As +a rule, old men are very indulgent, while young +men are apt to be stern and strict in their judgments. +The very fact that they often invent excuses +for themselves shows that they feel that they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +want excuses. The words of the Preacher, vii. 16: +“Be not righteous over much; neither make thyself +over wise: why shouldest thou destroy thyself? +Be not over much wicked, neither be thou foolish: +why shouldest thou die before thy time?” are evidently +the words of an old man when judging of +himself or of others. A young man would have +spoken differently. He would have made no allowance; +for anything like compassion for an erring +friend is as yet unknown to him. In an autobiography +written by an old man there is therefore +a double danger, first the indulgence of the old man, +and secondly the kindly feeling of the writer towards +the object of his remarks.</p> + +<p>All these difficulties stand before me like a mountain +wall. And it seems better to confess at once +that an old man writing his own life can never be +quite just, however honest he tries to be. He may +be too indulgent, but he may also be too strict and +stern. To say, for instance, of a man that he has +not kept his promise, would be a very serious charge +if brought against anybody else. Yet my oldest +friend in the world knows how many times he has +made a promise to himself, and has not only not +kept it but has actually found excuses why he did +not keep it. The more sensitive our conscience becomes, +the more blameworthy many an act of our +life seems to be, and what to an ordinary conscience +is no fault at all, becomes almost a sin under a +fiercer light.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>This changes the moral atmosphere of youth +when painted by an old man, but the physical +atmosphere also assumes necessarily a different hue. +Whether we like it or not, distance will always lend +enchantment to the view. If the azure hue is inseparable +from distant mountains and from the distant +sky, we need not wonder that it veils the distant +paradise of youth. A man who keeps a diary +from his earliest years, and who as an old man simply +copies from its yellow pages, may give us a very +accurate black and white image of what he saw as +a boy, but as in old faded photographs, the life and +light are gone out of them, while unassisted memory +may often preserve tints of their former reality. +There is life and light in such recollections, but +I am willing to admit that memory can be very +treacherous also. Thus in my own case I can vouch +that whatever I relate is carefully and accurately +transcribed from the tablets of my memory, as I +see them now, but though I can claim truthfulness +to myself and to my memory, I cannot pretend to +photographic accuracy. I feel indeed for the historian +who uses such materials unless he has learnt +to make allowance for the dim sight of even the most +truthful narrators.</p> + +<p>I doubt whether any historian would accept a +statement made thirty years after the event without +independent confirmation. I could not give the +date of the battle of Sadowa, though I well remember +reading the full account of it in the <i>Times</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +from day to day. I can of course get at the date +from historical books, and from that kind of artificial +memory which arises by itself without any +<i>memoria technica</i>. There is a favourite German +game of cards called Sixty-six, and it was reported +that when the French in 1870 shouted <i>À Berlin</i>, +the then Crown-Prince who had won the battle of +Sadowa, or Königgrätz, said: “Ah, they want another +game of Sixty-six!” that is they want a battle +like that of Sadowa. In this way I shall always +remember the date of that decisive battle. But I +could not give the date of the Crimean battles nor +a trustworthy account of the successive stages of +that war. I doubt whether even my old friend, Sir +William H. Russell, could do that now without referring +to his letters in the <i>Times</i>. After thirty +years no one, I believe, could take an oath to the accuracy +of any statement of what he saw or heard +so many years ago.</p> + +<p>All then that I can vouch for is that I read my +memory as I should the leaves of an old MS. from +which many letters, nay, whole words and lines have +vanished, and where I am often driven to decipher +and to guess, as in a palimpsest, what the original +uncial writing may have been. I am the first to +confess that there may be flaws in my memory, +there may be before my eyes that magic azure which +surrounds the distant past; but I can promise that +there shall be no invention, no <i>Dichtung</i> instead of +<i>Wahrheit</i>, but always, as far as in me lies, truth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +I know quite well that even a certain dislocation of +facts is not always to be avoided in an old memory. +I know it from sad experience. As the spires of +a city—of Oxford for instance—arrange themselves +differently as we pass the old place on the railway, +so that now one and now the other stands in the +centre and seems to rise above the heads of the rest, +so it is with our friends and acquaintances. Some +who seemed giants at one time assume smaller proportions +as others come into view towering above +them. The whole scenery changes from year to +year. Who does not remember the trees in our +garden that seemed like giants in our childhood, but +when we see them again in our old age, they have +shrunk, and not from old age only?</p> + +<p>And must I make one more confession? It is +well known that George the Fourth described the +battle of Waterloo so often that at last he persuaded +himself that he had been present, in fact that he +had won that battle. I also remember Dr. Routh, +the venerable president of Magdalen College, who +died in his hundredth year, and who had so often +repeated all the circumstances of the execution of +Charles I, that when Macaulay expressed a wish to +see him, he declined “because that young man has +given quite a wrong account of the last moments of +the king,” which he then proceeded to relate, as if +he had been an eye-witness throughout.</p> + +<p>Are we not liable to the same hallucination, +though, let us hope, in a more mitigated form?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +Have we never told a story as if it were our own, +not from any wish to deceive, but simply because it +seemed shorter and easier to do so than to explain +step by step how it reached us? And after doing +that once or twice, is there not great danger of our +being surprised at somebody else claiming the story +as his own, or actually maintaining that it was he +who told it to us?</p> + +<p>Not very long ago I remember reading in a journal +a story of the Duke of Wellington. His servant +had been sent before to order dinner for him at an +out-of-the-way hotel, and in order to impress the +landlord with the dignity of his coming guest, he +had recited a number of the Duke’s titles, which +were very numerous. The landlord, thinking that +the Duke of Vittoria, the Prince of Waterloo, the +Marquis of Torres Vedras, and all the rest, were +friends invited to dine with the Duke of Wellington, +ordered accordingly a very sumptuous banquet +to the great dismay of the real Duke. This may +or may not be a very old and a very true story; +all I know is that much the same thing was told at +Oxford of Dr. Bull, who was Canon of Christ +Church, Canon of Exeter, Prebendary of York, +Vicar of Staverton, and lastly, the Rev. Dr. Bull +himself. Dinner was provided for each of these +persons, and we are told that the reverend pluralist +had to eat all the dishes on the table and pay for +them. This also may have been no more than one +of the many “Common-roomers” which abounded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +in Oxford when Common Rooms were more frequented +than they are now. But what I happen to +know as a fact is that Dean Stanley received no less +than four invitations to a hall at Blenheim, addressed +A. P. Stanley, Esq., the Rev. A. P. Stanley, +Canon Stanley, Professor Stanley, all evidently +copied from some books of reference.</p> + +<p>I may perhaps claim one advantage in trying to +describe what happened to myself in my passage +through life. From the earliest days that I can +recollect, I felt myself as a twofold being—as a +subject and an object, as a spectator and as an actor. +I suppose we all talk to ourselves, and say to our +better and worse selves, O thou fool! or, Well done, +my boy! Well this inward conversation began with +me at a very early time, and left the impression +that I was the coachman, but at the same time the +horse too which he drove and sometimes whipped +very cruelly. And this phase of thought, or rather +this state of feeling, seems soon to have led me on +to another view which likewise dates from a very +early time, though it afterwards vanished. As a +little boy, when I could not have the same toys +which other boys possessed, I could fully enjoy what +they enjoyed, as if they had been my own. There +is a German phrase, “Ich freue mich in deiner +Seele,” which exactly expressed what I often felt. +It was not the result of teaching, still less of reasoning—it +was a sentiment given me and which certainty +did not leave me till much later in life, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +competition, rivalry, jealousy, and envy seemed to +accentuate my own I as against all other I’s or +Thou’s. I suppose we all remember how the sight +of a wound of a fellow creature, nay even of a dog, +gives us a sharp twitch in the same part of our own +body. That bodily sympathy has never left me, I +suffer from it even now as I did seventy years ago. +And is there anybody who has not felt his eyes moisten +at the sudden happiness of his friends? All this +seems to me to account, to a certain extent at least, +for that feeling of identity with so-called strangers, +which came to me from my earliest days, and has +returned again with renewed strength in my old age. +The “know thyself,” ascribed to Chilon and other +sages of ancient Greece, gains a deeper meaning +with every year, till at last the I which we looked +upon as the most certain and undoubted fact, vanishes +from our grasp to become the Self, free from +the various accidents and limitations which make +up the I, and therefore one with the Self that underlies +all individual and therefore vanishing I’s. +What that common Self may be is a question to be +reserved for later times, though I may say at once +that the only true answer given to it seems to me +that of the Upanishads and the Vedanta philosophy. +Only we must take care not to mistake the moral +Self, that finds fault with the active Self, for the +Highest Self that knows no longer of good or evil +deeds.</p> + +<p>Long before I had worked and thought out this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +problem as the fundamental truth of all philosophy, +it presented itself to me as if by intuition, long before +I could have fathomed it in its metaphysical +meaning. I had just heard of the death of a dear +little child, and was standing in our garden, looking +at a rose-bush, covered in summer with hundreds +of rose-buds and rose-flowers. While I was looking +I broke off one small withered bud from the midst +of a large cluster of roses, and after I had done so +a question came to me, and I said to myself, What +has happened? Is it only that one small bud is dead +and gone, or have not all the other roses been +touched by the breath of death that fell on it? +Have they not all suffered from the death of their +sister, for they all spring from the same stem, they +all have their life from the same source? And if +one rose suffers, must not all the others suffer with +it? Then all the buds and flowers of the cluster +seemed to me to become one, as it were a family +of roses, and each single bud seemed but the repetition +of the same thing, the manifestation of the +same thought, namely the thought of the rose. But +my eyes were carried still further, and the stem +from which the bunch of roses sprang was lost with +other stems in a branch, and it was that branch on +which all the roses of the branchlets and stems depended, +and without which they could not flower +or exist. The single roses thus became identified +with the branch from which they had sprung, and +by which they lived. I wondered more and more,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +and after another look all the branches with all their +branchlets became absorbed in the stem, and the +stem was the tree, and the tree sprang from a seed, +or as it is now called, the protoplasm; but beyond +that seed there was nothing else that the eye could +see or the mind could grasp. And while this vision +floated before my eyes I thought of my little friend, +and the home from which she had been broken off, +and the same vision which had changed the rose-bush +with all its flowers, and buds, and branchlets, +and branches, into a stem and a tree, and at last into +one invisible germ and seed, seemed now to change +my little friend and her brothers and sisters, her +parents too and all her family, into one being which, +like an old oak tree, started from an invisible stem, +or an invisible seed, or from an invisible thought, +and that divine thought was man, as the other divine +thought had been rose.</p> + +<p>Perhaps I did not see it so fully then as I see it +now, and I certainly did not reason about it. I +simply felt that in the death of my little friend, +something of myself had gone, though she was +no relation, but only a stray human friend. We see +many things as children which we cannot see as +grown-up men and women, for, as Longfellow said, +“the thoughts of youth are long long thoughts.” +Nay, I feel convinced that He who spoke the parable +of the vine had seen the same vision when He +said: “I am the vine, ye are the branches. Abide +in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +fruit of itself except it abide in the vine, no more +can ye, except ye abide in Me.” And it is on this +vision, or this parable of the vine, that immediately +afterwards follows the lesson, “Love one another, +as I have loved you.” In loving one another we +are in truth loving the others as ourselves, as one +with ourselves; and while we are loving Him who +is the vine, we are loving the branches, ourselves—aye, +even our own little selves.</p> + +<p>Such vague visions or intuitions often remain +with us for life, but while they seem to be the same, +they vary as we vary ourselves. We imagine we +saw their deepest meaning from the first, but, like +a parable, they gain in meaning every time they +come back to us.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Deutsche Rundschau</i>, Feb., 1900, p. 249.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Driesch, <i>Biologisches Centralblatt</i>, 1896, p. 335.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> As giving a clear and complete abstract of my writings I +may now recommend M. Montcalm’s <i>L’origine de la Pensée et +de la Parole</i>, Paris, 1900.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> <i>Oxford Dictionary</i>, s. v.; J. Rennie, <i>Science of Gardening</i>, +p. 113.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> <i>Science of Language</i>, vol. i. p. 24 (1861).</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>CHILDHOOD AT DESSAU</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> a small town such as Dessau was when I lived +there as a child and as a boy, one lived as in an +enchanted island. The horizon was very narrow, +and nothing happened to disturb the peace of the +little oasis. The Duchy was indeed a little oasis +in the large desert of Central Germany. The landscape +was beautiful: there were rivers small and +large—the Mulde and the Elbe; there were magnificent +oak forests; there were regiments of firs standing +in regular columns like so many grenadiers; +there were parks such as one sees in England only. +The town, the capital of the Duchy of Anhalt-Dessau, +had been cared for by successive rulers—men +mostly far in advance of their time—who had read +and travelled, and brought home the best they could +find abroad. Their old castle, centuries old, over-awed +the town; it was by far the largest building, +though there were several other smaller places in +the town for members of the ducal family. All the +public buildings, theatres, libraries, schools, and barracks, +had been erected by the Dukes, as well as several +private residences intended for some of the higher +officials. The whole town was, in fact, the creation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +of the Dukes; the whole ground on which it stood +had been originally their property, but it was mostly +held as freehold by those who had built their +own private houses on it. No one would have built +a house on leasehold land, and several of the houses +were of so substantial a character that one saw they +had been intended to last for more than ninety-nine +years. The same family often remained in their +house for generations, and the different stories +were occupied by three generations at the same +time—by grandparents, parents, and children. In +this small town I was born on December 6, 1823. +My father, Wilhelm Müller, was Librarian of the +Ducal Library, and one of the most popular poets in +Germany. A national monument was erected to +his memory at Dessau in the year 1891, nearly a +hundred years after his birth.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a name="father" id="father"></a><a href="images/illo046.jpg"><img src="images/illo046_th.jpg" +alt="My father" title="My father" /></a></p> + +<p class="caption"><small>MY FATHER</small></p> + +<p>What a blessing it would be if such a rule were +followed with all great men, who seem so great at +the time of their death, and who, a hundred years +later, are almost forgotten, or at all events appreciated +by a small number of admirers only. This +Monument- and Society-mania is indeed becoming +very objectionable, for if for some time there has +been no room for tombs and statues in Westminster +Abbey, there will soon be no room for them in the +streets of London. The result is that many of the +people who walk along the Thames Embankment, +particularly foreigners, often ask, “Cur?” when +looking at the human idols in bronze and marble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +put up there; while historians, remembering the +really great men of England, would ask quite as +often, “Cur non?” There is a curious race of people, +who, as soon as a man of any note dies, are +ready to found anything for him—a monument, a +picture, a school, a prize, a society—to keep alive +his memory. Of course these societies want presidents, +members of council, committees, secretaries, +&c., and at last, subscriptions also. Thus it has +happened that the name of founder (<i>Gründer</i>) has +assumed, particularly in Germany, a perfume by no +means sweet. Those who are asked to subscribe to +such testimonials know how disagreeable it is to +decline to give at least their name, deeply as they +feel that in giving it they are offending against all +the rules of historical perspective. I should not +say that my father was one of the great poets of +Germany, though Heine, no mean critic, declared +that he placed his lyric poetry next to that of +Goethe. Besides, he was barely thirty-three when +he died. He had been a favourite pupil of F. A. +Wolf, and had proved his classical scholarship by +his <i>Homerische Vorschule</i>, and other publications. +His poems became popular in the true sense of the +word, and there are some which the people in the +street sing even now without being aware of the +name of their author. Schubert’s compositions also +have contributed much to the wide popularity of his +<i>Schöne Müllerin</i> and his <i>Winterreise</i>, so that +though it might truly be said of him that he wanted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +no monument in bronze or stone, it seemed but +natural that a small town like Dessau should wish +to honour itself by honouring the memory of one +of its sons. In the company of Mendelssohn, the +philosopher, and of F. Schneider, the composer, a +monument of my father in the principal street of +his native town, and before the school in which he +had been a pupil and a teacher, could hardly seem +out of place. That the Greek Parliament voted the +Pentelican marble for the poet of the <i>Griechenlieder</i>, +as it had done for Lord Byron, was another +inducement for his fellow citizens to do honour to +their honoured poet. He died when I was hardly +four years old, so that my recollection of him is +very faint and vague, made up, I believe, to a great +extent, of pictures, and things that my mother told +me. I seem to remember him as a bright, sunny, +and thoroughly joyful man, delighted with our little +naughtinesses. One book I still possess which +he bought for me and which was to be the first book +of my library. It was a small volume of Horace, +printed by Pickering in 1820. It has now almost +vanished among the 12,000 big volumes that form +my library, but I am delighted that I am still able, +at seventy-six, to read it without spectacles. I +think I remember my father taking my sister and +me on his knees, and telling us the most delightful +stories, that set us wondering and laughing and +crying till we could laugh and cry no longer. He +had been a fellow worker with the brothers Grimm,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +and the stories he told were mostly from their collection, +though he knew how to embellish them +with anything that could make a child cry and +laugh.</p> + +<p>People have little idea how great and how lasting +an influence such popular stories about kings and +queens, and princesses and knights, about ogres and +witches, about men that have been changed into +animals, and about animals that talk and behave +like human beings, exercise on the imagination of +young children. While we listened, a new world +seemed to open before us, and anything like doubt +as to the reality of these beings never existed. +What was reality or unreality to young children +of four and five? How few people know what real +reality is, even after they have reached the age of +fifty or sixty. For children, such names as reality +and unreality do not exist, nor the ideas which they +express. They listen to what their father tells them, +and they cannot see any difference between what +he tells them of Frederick Barbarossa, of Romulus +and Remus suckled by a wolf, or of the dwarfs that +guarded the coffin of Schneewittchen.</p> + +<p>Some people, however, have thought that from +an educational point of view, a belief in this imaginary +world must be mischievous. I doubt it, +and it would be easy to show that originally these +stories and fables were really meant to inculcate +right and good principles. Luther declared that he +would not lose these wonderful stories of his tender<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +childhood for any sum of money, and Camerarius +(<i>Fabulae Aesopeae</i>, p. 406, Lipsiae, 1570) speaks of +these German fables as filling the minds of the people, +and particularly of children, with terror, hope, +and religion. The oldest collections in which some +of these Aesopean fables occur, the Pantschatantra +and Hitopadesa in Sanskrit, were distinctly intended +for the education of princes, and though they may +make the young listeners inclined to be superstitious, +such superstitiousness is not likely to last long. +Children delight in <i>Märchen</i> as in a kind of pantomime, +and when the curtain has fallen on that fairy +world they often think of it as of a beautiful dream +that has passed away. The stories are certainly +more impressive than the proverbs and wise saws +which many of them were meant to illustrate, without +always saying, <i>haec fabula docet</i>. Even if some +of these stories touch sometimes on what may not +seem to us quite correct, it is done to make children +laugh rather at the silliness than cry at the downright +wickedness of some of the heroes. It is by no means +uncommon, for instance, that a good-for-nothing +fellow succeeds, while his virtuous companions fail. +But there is either a reason for it, or the injustice +provokes the indignation of children, long before +they have learnt that in real life also virtue does not +always receive its reward, while falsehood often +prospers, at least for a time. There is no harm, I +think, in a certain dreaminess in children. I remember +that I have often laughed with all my heart<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +at Rumpelstilzchen, and shed bitter tears at Brüderchen +and Schwesterchen. I seemed to see brother +and sister driven into the wood, the brother being +changed into a deer, and the sister sleeping with her +head on his warm fur, till at last the deer was killed +by a huntsman, and the little sister had to travel on +quite alone in the forest. Of course in the end she +became a princess, and the brother a prince who +married a queen, and all ended in great joy and +jubilation in which we all joined. How good for +children that they should for a time at least have +lived in such a dreamland, in which truthfulness +was as a rule rewarded, and falsehood punished in +the end.</p> + +<p>It was like a recollection of a Paradise, and such +a recollection, even if it brought out the contrast between +the dream-world and the real world, would +often set children musing on what ought and what +ought not to be. They did not long believe in +Dornröschen and Schneewittchen, they learnt but +too soon that Dornröschen and Schneewittchen +belonged to another world. They may even have +come to learn that Dornröschen (thorn-rose) and +Schneewittchen (snow-white) were meant originally +for the sleep or death of nature in her snow-white +shroud, and the return of the sun; but woe to the +boy who on first learning these stories should have +declared that they were mere bosh, or, as Sir Walter +Scott says, the detritus of nature-myths.</p> + +<p>My father’s father, whom I never knew, seems<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +not to have been distinguished in any way. He +was, however, a useful tradesman and a respected +citizen of Dessau, and, as I see, the founder of the +first lending library in that small town. He married +a second time, a rich widow, chiefly, as I was told, +to enable him to give his son, my father, a liberal +education. She grew to be very old, and I well remember +her, to me, forbidding and terrifying appearance. +She quite belonged to a past generation, +and when I saw her again after having been in +England, she asked me whether I had seen Napoleon +who had been taken prisoner and sent to England, +but had lately escaped and resumed his throne +in Paris. She evidently mixed up the two Napoleons, +and I did not contradict her. To me her conversation +was interesting as showing how little the +traditions of the people can be relied on, and how +easily, by the side of real history, a popular history +could grow up. After all, the poems of Charlemagne +besieging Jerusalem owed their origin very +likely to some similar confusion in the minds of old +women. My sister and I were always terrified when +we were sent to visit her, for with her dishevelled +grey hair, her thin white face, and her piercing +eyes, she was to us the old grandmother, or the +witch of Grimm’s stories; and the language she +used was such that, if we repeated it at home, we +were severely reprimanded. She knew very little +about my father, but her memory about her first +husband and about her own youth and childhood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +was very clear, though not always edifying. Her +stories about ghosts, witches, ogres, nickers, and the +whole of that race were certainly enough to frighten +a child, and some of them clung to me for a very +long time. On my mother’s side my relations were +more civilized, and they had but little social intercourse +with my grandmother and her relatives. My +mother’s father was von Basedow, the President, +that is Prime Minister of the Duchy of Anhalt-Dessau, +a position in which he was succeeded by his +eldest son, my uncle. He was the first man in the +town; the Duke and he really ruled the Duchy exactly +as they pleased. There was no check on them +of any kind, and yet no one, as far as I know, ever +complained of any tyranny. My grandfather’s +father again was the famous reformer of public education +in Germany. He (1723-1790) had to brave +the conservative and clerical parties throughout the +country. His home at Hamburg was burnt in a +riot, and it was then that he migrated to Dessau, to +become the founder of the <i>Philanthropinum</i>, and +at the same time the path-breaker for men such as +Pestalozzi (1746-1827) and Froebel (1782-1852). +Considering his lifelong struggles, he deserved a +better monument at Dessau than he has found there. +No doubt he was a passionate and violent man, and +his outbreaks are still remembered at Dessau, while +his beneficial activity has almost been forgotten. I +was often told that I took after my mother’s family, +whatever that may mean, and this was certainly the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +case in outward appearance, though I hope not in +temper. My great grandfather, the Pedagogue as +he was called, was a friend of Goethe’s, and is mentioned +in his poems.</p> + +<p>My childhood at home was often very sad. My +mother, who was left a widow at twenty-eight with +two children, my sister and myself, was heart-broken. +The few years of her married life had been +most bright and brilliant. My father was a rising +poet, and such was his popularity that he was able +to indulge his tastes as he liked, whether in travelling +or in making his house a pleasant centre of social +life. Contemporaries and friends of my father, particularly +Baron Simolin, a very intimate friend, +who spent the Christmas of 1825 in our house, have +written of the bright gaiety, the whole-hearted enjoyment +of life that reigned there, and have told +how, though his income was to say the least of it +small, Wilhelm Müller’s home was the rallying-point +for all the cultivated, scientific, and artistic +society of Dessau, who felt attracted by the simple +and unaffected yet truly genial disposition of the +master of the house.</p> + +<p>It would be interesting to know how much an +author could make at that time by his pen. Publishers +seem to have been far more liberal then than +they are now. The circumstances were different. +The number of writers was of course much smaller, +and the sale of really popular books probably much +larger. Anyhow, my father, whose salary was minute,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +seems to have been able to enjoy the few years +of his married life in great comfort. The thought +of saving money, however, seems never to have entered +his poetical mind, and after his unexpected +death, due to paralysis of the heart, it was found +that hardly any provision had been made for his +family. Even the life insurance, which is obligatory +on every civil servant, and the pension granted +by the Duke, gave my mother but a very small income, +fabulously small, when one considers that she +had to bring up two children on it. It has been a +riddle to me ever since how she was able to do it.</p> + +<p>However, it was done, and could only have been +done in a small town like Dessau, where education +was as good as it was cheap, and where very little +was expected by society. We must also take into +account the very low prices which then ruled at +Dessau with regard to almost all the necessaries of +life. I see from the old newspapers that beef sold +at about threepence a pound (two groschen), mutton +at about twopence. Wine was sold at seven to eight +groschen a bottle, a better sort for twelve to fourteen +groschen—a groschen being about a penny. People +drank mostly beer, and this was sold under Government +inspection at two to three groschen per quart. +Fish was equally cheap, and such, at the beginning +of the century, was the abundance of salmon caught +in the Elbe, and even in the Mulde at Dessau, that +it was stipulated as in Scotland, that servants should +not have salmon more than twice or thrice in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +week. The lowest price for salmon was then twopence +halfpenny a pound. As a boy I can remember +seeing the salmon in large numbers leap over +a weir in the very town of Dessau, and though they +had travelled for so many miles inland, the fish was +very good, though not so good as Severn salmon. +Game also was very cheap, and sold for not much +more than mutton, nay, at certain times it was given +away; it could not be exported. Corn was sold at +three shillings per <i>Scheffel</i>, and by corn was chiefly +meant rye. No one took wheaten bread, and the +bread was therefore called brown bread and black +bread. White bread was only taken with coffee, +and peasants in the villages would not have touched +it, because it was not supposed to make such strong +bones as rye-bread. With such prices we can understand +that a salary of £300 was considered sufficient +for the highest officers of state.</p> + +<p>My mother’s relations, who were all high in the +public service, my grandfather, as I said, being the +Duke’s chief minister, made life more easy and +pleasant for us; but for many years my mother +never went into society, and our society consisted +of members of our own family only. All I remember +of my mother at that time was that she took her +two children day after day to the beautiful <i>Gottesacker</i> +(God’s Acre), where she stood for hours at +our father’s grave, and sobbed and cried. It was a +beautiful and restful place, covered with old acacia +trees. The inscription over the gateway was one of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +my earliest puzzles. <i>Tod ist nicht Tod, ist nur +Veredlung menschlicher Natur</i> (Death is not +death, ’tis but the ennobling of man’s nature). On +each side there stood a figure, representing the +genius of sleep and the genius of death. All this +was the work of the old Duke, Leopold Friedrich +Franz, who tried to educate his people as he had educated +himself, partly by travel, partly by intercourse +with the best men he could attract to Dessau.</p> + + +<p class="figcenter"><a name="mother" id="mother"></a><a href="images/illo058.jpg"><img src="images/illo058_th.jpg" +alt="My mother" title="My mother" /></a></p> + +<p class="caption"><small>MY MOTHER</small></p> + +<p>At home the atmosphere was certainly depressing +to a boy. I heard and thought more about death +than about life, though I knew little of course of +what life or death meant. I had but few pleasures, +and my chief happiness was to be with my mother. +I shared her grief without understanding much +about it. She was passionately devoted to her +children, and I was passionately fond of her. What +there was left of life to her, she gave to us, she lived +for us only, and tried very hard not to deprive our +childhood of all brightness. She was certainly most +beautiful, and quite different from all other ladies +at Dessau, not only in the eyes of her son, but as +it seemed to me, of everybody. Then she had a +most perfect voice, and when I first began music +she helped and encouraged me in every possible way. +We played <i>à quatre mains</i>, and soon she made me +accompany her when she sang. As far as I can +recollect, I was never so happy as when I could +be with her. She read so much to us that I was +quite satisfied, and saw perhaps less of my young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +friends than I ought. When my mother said she +wished to die, and to be with our father, I feel +sure that my sister and I were only anxious that she +should take us with her, for there were few golden +chains that bound us as yet to this life. I see her +now, sitting on a winter’s evening near the warm +stove, a candle on the table, and a book from which +she read to us in her hands, while the spinning-wheel +worked by the servant-maid in the corner went on +humming all the time. She read Paul Gerhard’s +translation of St. Bernard’s:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Salve caput cruentatum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Totum spinis coronatum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Conquassatum, vulneratum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arundine verberatum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Facies sputis illita.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Voll Schmerz und voller Hohn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Haupt zu Spott gebunden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mit einer Dornenkron,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Haupt sonst schön gezieret<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mit höchster Ehr und Zier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jetzt aber hoch schimpfiret:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gegrüsset seist du mir!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Though the German translation does not come +near the powerful majesty of the original, yet such +was the effect produced on me that I saw the bleeding +head before my eyes, and cried and cried until +my mother had to comfort me by assuring me that +the sufferer was now in Heaven and that it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +was only a song to be sung in church. How +deeply such scenes seem engraved on the memory; +how vividly they return when the rubbish of many +years is swept away and all is again as it was then, +and the <i>caput cruentatum</i> looks down on us once +more, as it did then, with the human eyes full of +divine love, so truly human that one could say with +St. Bernard, “Tuum caput huc inclina, in meis +pausa brachiis.” But willingly as I listened to these +readings at home, and full as my heart was of love to +Christ, I suffered intensely when I was taken to +church as a young boy. It was a very large church, +and in winter bitterly cold. Even though I liked +the singing, the long sermon was real torture to me. +I could not understand a word of it, and being thinly +clad my teeth would have chattered if I had not +been told that it was wrong “to make a noise in +church.” Oh! what misery is inflicted on childhood +by this enforced attendance at church. When +a church can be warmed the suffering is less intense, +but a huge whitewashed church that feels like an +ice-cellar is about the worst torture that human +ingenuity could have invented to make children +hate the very name of church. These early impressions +often remain for life, and the worst of it is +that the idea remains in the minds of children, and +of grown-up people too, that by going to church +and repeating the same prayers over and over again, +and listening to long and often dreary sermons, they +are actually doing a service to God (<i>Gottesdienst</i>).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +Why does no new prophet arise and say in the name +of God, as David did in the name of Jehovah, +“Sermons and long prayers ‘thou didst not desire’”?</p> + +<p>Many years later I had to discuss the same question +with Keshub Chunder Sen, the Indian Reformer. +He wanted to know what kind of service +should be adopted by his new church, the Brahmo +Somaj; his friends thought of sermons, singing, and +processions with flags and flowers through the streets. +“No,” I said to him, “service of God should be +service of men; if you want divine service, let it +be a real service, such as God would approve of. +Let other people go to church, to their mosques or +their temples, but take you your own friends on +certain days of the week to whatever you like to +call your meeting-place, and after a short prayer +or a few words of advice send some of them to the +poorest streets in the city, others to the prisons, +others to the hospitals. Let them pray with all who +wish to pray, but let them speak words of true love +and comfort also, and when they can, let them help +them with their alms. That would be a real Divine +Service and a divine Sunday for you, and you +would all come home, it may be sadder, but certainly +wiser and better men.”</p> + +<p>I am afraid he did not agree with me. He did +not think that true religion was to visit the poor and +the afflicted. That might do for a practical people +like the English, but the Hindu wanted something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +else, he wanted some outward show and ceremony +for the people, and at the same time some silent +communion with God. Who can tell what different +people understand by religion? and who can +prescribe the spiritual food that is best for them? +“Only,” I said, “do not call it practical to encourage +millions of people to waste hours and hours in +mere repetition, and to spend millions and millions +in supplying this cold comfort, when next door to +the magnificent cathedral there are squalid streets, +and squalid houses, and squalid beds to lie and +die on.”</p> + +<p>The religious and devotional element is very +strong in Germany, but the churches are mostly +empty. A German keeps his religion for weekdays +rather than for Sunday. When the German +regiments marched, and when they made ready for +battle, they did not sing ribald songs, they sang the +songs of Luther and Paul Gerhard, which they +knew by heart and which strengthened them to +face death as it ought to be faced.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, while enforced attendance at church +was apt to produce the strongest aversion in the +young heart against anything that was called religion, +religious instruction both at home and at +school too was excellent, and undid much of the mischief +that had been done during cold winter days. +True religious sentiments can be planted in the soul +at home only, by a mother better even than by a +father. The sense of a divine presence everywhere,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +πἁντα πλἡρη θεὡν, once planted in the heart +of a child remains for life. Of course the child +soon begins to argue, and says to his mother that +God cannot be at the same time in two rooms. But +only let a mother show to the child the rays of the +sun in the sky, in the streets, and in every corner of +the house, and it will begin to understand that nothing +can be hid from the eyes of Him who is greater +than the sun. And when a child doubts whether +the voice of conscience can be the voice of God, and +asks how he could hear that voice without seeing +the speaker, ask him only whose voice it can be that +tells him not to do what he himself wishes to do, +and not to say what he could say without any fear +of men; and his idea of God will be raised from that +of a visible being like the sun, to the concept of a +presence that never vanishes, that is not only without, +in the sky, in the mountains, and in the storm, +but nearer also within, in the sense of fear, in the +sense of shame, and in the hope of pardon and love.</p> + +<p>At school our religious teaching was chiefly historical +and moral. There was no difficulty in finding +proper teachers for that, and there were no +attempts on the part of parents to interfere with +religious instruction or to demand separate teaching +for each sect. It is true that religious sects are not +so numerous in Germany as they are in England. +Some, though by no means all, children of Roman +Catholic and Jewish parents were allowed to be absent +from religious lessons. But most parents knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +that the history of the Jewish religion would be +taught at school in so impartial and truly historical +a spirit as never to offend Jewish children. Respect +for historical truth, and an implanted sense of the +reverence due to children, would keep any teacher +from making the history of the Christian Church, +whether before or after the Reformation, an excuse +for offending one of the little ones committed +to his care. If Jews or Roman Catholics wished +for any special religious instruction it was given +by their own priests or Rabbis, and was given without +any interference on the part of the Government. +But such was at my time the state of public +feeling that I hardly knew at school who among my +young friends were Roman Catholics, or Lutherans, +or Reformed. I must admit, however, that the +very name of Luther might have offended Roman +Catholics. He was represented to us as a perfect +saint, almost as inspired and infallible. His hymns +sung in church seemed to us little different from the +Psalms of David, and I well remember what a shock +it gave me when at Oxford, much later in life, I +heard Luther spoken of like any other mortal, nay, +as a heretic, and a most dangerous heretic too. +When I was a boy I remember that in some places +the same building had to be used for Protestant +and Roman Catholic services. All that, I am +afraid, is now changed, and the old liberal and tolerant +feeling then prevailing on all sides is now often +stigmatized as indifference, and by other ugly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +names. It should really be called the golden age +of Christianity, and this so-called indifference +should be classed among the highest Christian virtues, +and as the fullest realization of the spirit of +Christ.</p> + +<p>Thus we grew up from our earliest youth, being +taught to look upon Christianity as an historical +fact, on Christ and His disciples as historical characters, +on the Old and New Testaments as real historical +books. Though we did not understand as +yet the deeper meaning of Christ and of His words, +we had at least nothing to unlearn in later times, or +to feel that our parents had ever told us what they +themselves could not have held to be true. Our +simple faith was not shaken by mere questions of +criticism, or by the problem how any human being +could take upon himself to declare any book to be +revealed, unless he claimed for himself a more than +human insight. The simplest rules of logic should +make such a declaration impossible, whatever the +sacred book may be to which it is applied. Granted +that the Pope was infallible, how could the Cardinals +know that he was, unless they claimed for themselves +the same or even greater infallibility? It is +far more easy to be inspired than to know some one +else is or was inspired; the true inspiration is, and +always has been, the spirit of truth within, and this +is but another name for the spirit of God. It is truth +that makes inspiration, not inspiration that makes +truth. Whoever knows what truth is, knows also<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +what inspiration is: not only <i>theopneustos</i>, blown +into the soul by God, but the very voice of God, +the real presence of God, the only presence in which +we, as human beings, can ever perceive Him.</p> + +<p>How often have I in later life tried to explain +this to my friends in France and in England who +endured mental agonies before they could arrive +at the simple conclusion that revelation can never +be objective, but must always be subjective. I may +return to this question at a later period of my life, +when I had to discuss with Renan, at Paris, with +Froude, Kingsley, and Liddon, in England, and +tried to show how entirely self-made some of their +difficulties were. At present I have only to explain +how it was that I had never to extricate myself from +a net in which so many honest thinkers find themselves +entangled without any fault of their own; +as Samson, when he awoke, found himself bound +with seven green withs and had to break them with +all his might before he could hope to escape from +the Philistines. The Philistines never bound me. +During my early school-days these difficulties did +not exist, but I have often been grateful in after life +that the seven locks of my head have never been +woven with the web.</p> + +<p>I remember a number of small events in my +school-life at Dessau, but though they were full of +interest to me, nay, full of meaning, and not without +an influence on my later life, they would have no +meaning and no interest for others, and may remain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +as if they had never been. The influence which +music exercised on my mind, and, I believe, on my +heart also, I have related in my <i>Musical Recollections</i>. +The image of those passing years, though its +general tone was melancholy, chiefly owing to my +mother’s melancholy, seemed to me at the time +free from all unhappiness. My work at school and +at home was not too heavy; I was fond of it, and +very fond of books. Books were scarce then, and +whoever possessed a new and valuable book was expected +to lend it to his friends in the little town. +If a man was known to possess, say, Goethe’s works +or Jean Paul’s works, the consequence was that one +went to him or to her to ask for the loan of them. +And not only books, but paper and pens also were +scarce. The first steel pens came in when I was +still in the lower school, and bad as they were they +were looked upon as real treasures by the schoolboys +who possessed them. Paper was so dear that +one had to be very sparing in its use. Every margin +and cover was scribbled over before it was +thrown away, and I felt often so hampered by the +scarcity of paper that I gladly accepted a set of +copybooks instead of any other present that I +might have asked for on my birthday or at +Christmas. I am sorry to say I have had to suffer +all my life from the inefficiency of our writing +master, or maybe from the fact that my thoughts +were too quick for my pen. In other subjects I did +well, but though I was among the first in each class,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +I was by no means cleverer than other boys. In +the lower school work was more like conversation +or like hearing news from our teachers. The idea +of effort did not yet exist. The drudgery began, +however, when I entered the upper school, the +gymnasium, and learnt the elements of Latin and +Greek. Though our teachers were very conscientious, +they tried to make our work no burden to us, +and the constant change of places in each class kept +up a lively rivalry among the boys, though I am +not sure that it did not make me rather ambitious +and at times conceited. Still, I had few enemies, +and it seemed of much more consequence who could +knock down another boy than who could gain a +place above him. I feel sure I could have done a +great deal more at school than I did, but it was +partly my music and partly my incessant headaches +that interfered with my school work.</p> + +<p>I remember as a boy that certain streets were inhabited +exclusively by Jewish families. A large +number of Jews had been received at Dessau by +a former Duke; but though he granted them leave +to settle at Dessau when they were persecuted in +other parts of Germany, he stipulated that they +should only settle in certain streets. These streets +were by no means the worst streets of the town; +on the contrary they showed greater comfort and +hardly any of the squalor which disgraced the Jewish +quarters in other towns in Germany. As children +we were brought up without any prejudice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +against the Jews, though we had, no doubt, a certain +feeling that they were tolerated only, and were +not quite on the same level with ourselves. We also +felt the religious difficulty sometimes very strongly. +Were not the Jews the murderers of Christ? and +had they not said: “the blood be on us and on our +children”? But as we were told that it was wrong +to harbour feelings of revenge, we boys soon forgot +and forgave, and played together as the best friends. +I remember picking up a number of Jewish words +which would not have been understood anywhere +else. I was hardly aware that they were Jewish and +used them like any other words. But I once gave +great offence to my friend Professor Bernays, who +was a Jew. He had uttered some quite incredible +statement, and I exclaimed, “Sind Sie denn ganz +maschukke?”—Hebrew for “mad.” I meant no +harm, but he was very much hurt.</p> + +<p>I knew several Jewish families, and received +much kindness from them as a boy. Many of these +families were wealthy, but they never displayed +their wealth, and in consequence excited no envy. +All that is changed now. The children of the Jews +who formerly lived in a very quiet style at Dessau, +now occupy the best houses, indulge in most expensive +tastes, and try in every way to outshine their +non-Jewish neighbours. They buy themselves +titles, and, when they can, stipulate for stars and +orders as rewards for successful financial operations, +carried out with the money of princely personages.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +Hence the revulsion of feeling all over Germany, +or what is called Anti-Semitism, which has assumed +not only a social but a political significance. I doubt +whether there is anything religious in it, as there +was when we were boys. The Anti-Semitic hatred +is the hatred of money-making, more particularly +of that kind of money-making which requires no +hard work, but only a large capital to begin with, +and boldness and astuteness in speculating, that is +in buying and selling at the right moment. The +sinews of war for that kind of financial warfare were +mostly supplied by the fathers and grandfathers of +the present generation. Sometimes, no doubt, the +capital was lost, and in those cases it must be said +that the Jewish speculator disappears from the stage +without a sigh or a cry. He begins again, and if +he should have to do what his grandfather did, walk +from house to house with a bag on his back, he does +not whine.</p> + +<p>One cannot blame the Jews or any other speculators +for using their opportunities, but they must +not complain either if they excite envy, and if that +envy assumes in the end a dangerous character. +The Jews, so far from suffering from disabilities, +enjoy really certain privileges over their Christian +competitors in Germany. They belong to a <i>regnum</i>, +but also to a <i>regnum in regno</i>. They have, so to +say, our Sunday and likewise their Sabbath. Jew +will always help Jew against a Christian; and again +who can blame them for that? All one can say is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +that they should not complain of their unpopularity, +but take into account the risk they are running. +No one hated the Jews such as they were in Dessau +fifty years ago. They had their own schools and +synagogues, and no one interfered with them when +they built their bowers in the streets at the time +of their Feast of Tabernacles, and lived, feasted, +and slept in them to keep up the memory of their +sojourning in the desert. They indulged in even +more offensive practices, such as, for instance, putting +three stones in the coffins to be thrown by the +dead at the Virgin Mary, her husband, and their +Son. No one suspected or accused them of kidnapping +Christian children, or offering sacrifices with +their blood. They were known too well for that. +Conversions of Jews were not infrequent, and converted +Jews were not persecuted by their former +co-religionists as they are now. Even marriages +between Christians and Jews were by no means +uncommon, particularly when the young Jewesses +were beautiful or rich, still better if they were both. +Disgraceful as the Anti-Semitic riots have been in +Germany and Russia, there can be no doubt that +in this as in most cases both sides were to blame, +and there is little prospect of peace being re-established +till many more heads have been broken.</p> + +<p>What helped very much to keep the peace in the +small town of Dessau, as it did all over Germany, +nay, all over the world, till about the year 1848, +was the small number of newspapers. In my childhood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +and youth their number was very small. In +Dessau I only knew of one, which was then called +the <i>Wochenblatt</i>, afterwards the <i>Staatsanzeiger</i>. +At that time newspapers were really read for the +news which they contained, not for leading or misleading +articles and all the rest. What a happy +time it was when a newspaper consisted of a sheet, +or half a sheet in quarto, with short paragraphs +about actual events, which had often taken place +weeks and months before. A battle might have +been fought in Spain or Turkey, in India or +China, and no one knew of it till some official +information was vouchsafed by the respective +Governments or by Jewish bankers. War-correspondents +or regular reporters did not exist, and +the old telegraphic dispatches were sent by wooden +telegraphs fixed on high towers, which from a distance +looked like gallows on which a criminal was +hanging and gesticulating with arms and feet. +Anybody who watched these signals could decipher +them far more easily than a hieroglyphic inscription.</p> + +<p>The peace of Europe, nay, of the whole world, +was then in the keeping of sovereigns and their +ministers, and Prince Metternich might certainly +take some credit for having kept what he called the +Thirty Years’ Peace. Shall we ever, as long as +there are newspapers, have peace again—peace between +the great nations of the world, and peace at +home between contending parties, and peace in our +mornings at home which are now so ruthlessly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +broken in upon, nay, swallowed up by those paper-giants, +most unwelcome yet irresistible callers, just +when we want to settle down to a quiet day’s work? +It is no use protesting against the inevitable, nor +can we quite agree with those who maintain that no +newspaper carries the slightest weight or exercises +the smallest influence on home or foreign politics. +A very influential statesman and wise thinker used +to say that we should never have had Christianity +if newspapers had existed at the time of Augustus. +When unsuccessful <i>littérateurs</i> or bankrupt bankers’ +clerks were the chief contributors to the newspapers, +their influence might have been small; but +when Bismarcks turned journalists, and Gortchakoffs +prompted, newspapers could hardly be called +<i>quantités négligeables</i>.</p> + +<p>The horizon of Dessau was very narrow, but +within its bounds there was a busy and happy life. +Everybody did his work honestly and conscientiously. +There were, of course, two classes, the educated +and the uneducated. The educated consisted of the +members of the Government service, the clergy, the +schoolmasters, doctors, artists, and officers; the uneducated +were the tradesmen, mechanics, and +labourers. The trade was mostly in the hands of +Jews, it had become almost a Jewish monopoly. +When one of these tradesmen went bankrupt, there +was a commotion over the whole town, and I remember +being taken to see one of these bankrupt +shops, expecting to find the whole house broken up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +and demolished, and being surprised to see the +tradesman standing whole, and sound, and smiling, +in his accustomed place. My etymological tastes +must have developed very early, for I had asked +why this poor Jew was called a bankrupt, and had +been duly informed that it was because his bank +had been broken, <i>banca rotta</i>, which of course I +took in a literal sense, and expected to see all the +furniture broken to pieces. The commercial relations +of our Dessau tradesmen did not extend much +beyond Leipzig, Berlin, possibly Hamburg and +Cologne. If a burgher of Dessau travelled to these +or to more distant parts the whole town knew of it +and talked about it, whereas a journey to Paris or +London was an event worthy to be mentioned and +discussed in the newspapers. These old newspapers +are full of curious information. We find that +if a person wished to travel to Cologne or further, +he advertised for a companion, and it was for the +Burgomaster to make the necessary arrangements +for him.</p> + +<p>French was studied and spoken, particularly at +Court, but English was a rare acquirement, still +more Italian or Spanish. There was, however, a +small inner circle where these languages were studied, +chiefly in order to read the master-works of +modern literature. And this was all the more creditable +because there were no good teachers to be found +at Dessau, and people had to learn what they wished +to learn by themselves, with the help of a grammar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +and dictionary. We learnt French at school, +but the result was deplorable. As in all public +schools, the French master who had to teach the language +at the Ducal Gymnasium could not keep +order among the boys. He of course spoke French, +but that was all. He did not know how to teach, +and could not excite any interest in the boys, who +insisted on pronouncing French as if it were German. +The poor man’s life was made a burden to +him. His name was Noel, and he had all the pleasing +manners of a Frenchman, but that served only +to rouse the antagonism of the young barbarians. +The result was that we learnt very little, and I was +sent to an old Jew to learn French and a little English. +That old Jew, called Levy Rubens, was a +perfect gentleman. He probably had been a commercial +traveller in his early days, though no one +knew exactly where he came from or how he had +learnt languages. He had taught my father and +grandfather and he was delighted to teach the third +generation. He certainly spoke French and English +fluently, but with the strongest Jewish accent, +and this was inherited by all his pupils at Dessau. +I feel ashamed when I think of the tricks we played +the old man—putting mice into his pockets, upsetting +inkstands over his table, and placing crackers +under his chairs. But he never lost his temper; he +never would have dared to punish us as we deserved; +but he went on with his lesson as if nothing had happened. +He took his small pay, and was satisfied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +when his lessons were over and he could settle down +to his long pipe and his books. He lived quite alone +and died quite alone, a hardworking, honest, poor +Jew, not exactly despised or persecuted, but not +treated with the respect which he certainly deserved, +and which he would have received if he had not +been a Jew.</p> + +<p>Our public school was as good as any in Germany. +These small duchies generally followed the example +of Prussia, and they carried out the instructions +issued by the Ministry of Education at Berlin according +to the very letter. Besides, several of the +reigning dukes had taken a very warm and personal +interest in popular education, and at the beginning +of the century the eyes of the whole of Germany, +nay, of Europe, were turned towards the educational +experiments carried on by my great-grandfather, +Basedow,<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> at the so-called Philanthropinum at Dessau +under the patronage of the Duke and of several +of the more enlightened sovereigns of Europe, such +as the Empress Catherine of Russia, the King of +Denmark, the Emperor Joseph of Austria, Prince +Adam Czartoryski, &c. Even after Basedow’s +death the interest in education was kept alive in +Dessau, and all was done that could be done in so +small a town to keep the different schools—elementary, +middle-class, and high schools—on the highest +possible level of efficiency.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> +<p>Bathing was a very healthful recreation, though +I very nearly came to grief from trusting to my +seniors. They could swim and I could not yet. But +while bathing with two of my friends in a part of +the river which was safe, they swam along and asked +me to follow them. Having complete confidence +in them I jumped in from the shore, but very soon +began to sink. My shouts brought my friends back, +and they rescued me, not without some difficulty, +from drowning.</p> + +<p>In an English school the influence of the master +is, of course, more constant, because one of the masters +is always within call, while in Germany he is +visible during school-hours only. If a master is +fond of his pupils, and takes an interest in them +individually, he can do them more good than parents +at home, or the teacher at a day school. The boys +at a German school are, no doubt, a very mixed +crew, but that cannot be helped. This mixture of +classes may be a drawback in some respects, but +from an educational point of view the sons of very +rich parents are by no means more valuable than the +poor boys. Far from it. Many of the evils of +schoolboy life come from the sons of the rich, while +the sons of poor parents are generally well behaved. +But for all that, there was a rough and rude tone +among some of the boys at school, arising from defects +in the education at home, and this sometimes +embittered what ought to be the happiest time of +life, particularly in the case of delicate boys. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +son of a Minister has often to sit by the side of the +son of a wealthy butcher, and the very fact that he +is the son of a gentleman often exposes the more +refined boy to the bullying of his muscular neighbour. +I was fortunate at school. I could hold my +own with the boys, and as to the masters, several of +them had known my father or had been his pupils, +and they took a personal interest in me.</p> + +<p>I remember more particularly one young master +who was very kind to me, and took me home for +private lessons and for giving me some good advice. +There was something sad and very attractive about +him, and I found out afterwards that he knew that +he was dying of consumption, and that besides that +he was liable to be prosecuted for political liberalism, +which at that time was almost like high treason. +I believe he was actually condemned and sent +to prison like many others, and he died soon after +I had left Dessau. His name was Dr. Hönicke, and +he was the first to try to impress on me that I ought +to show myself worthy of my father, an idea which +had never entered my mind before, nay, which at +first I could hardly understand, but which, nevertheless, +slumbered on in my mind till years afterwards +it was called out and became a strong influence +for the whole of my life. I still have some +lines which he wrote for my album. They were +the well-known lines from Horace, which, at the +time, I had great difficulty in construing, but which +have remained graven in my memory ever since:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Fortes creantur fortibus et bonis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Est in iuvencis est in equis patrum<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Virtus nec imbellem feroces<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Progenerant aquilae columbam.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rectique cultus pectora roborant;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Utcunque defecere mores,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dedecorant bene nata culpae.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In my childhood I had to pass through the ordinary +illnesses, but it was the faith in our doctor that +always saved me. The doctor was to my mind the +man who was called in to make me well again, and +while my mother was agitated about her only son, +I never dreamt of any danger. The very idea of +death never came near me till my grandfather died +(1835), but even then I was only about twelve years +old, and though I had seen much of him, particularly +during the years that my mother lived again in +his house, yet he was too old to take much share in +his grandchildren’s amusements. He left a gap, no +doubt, in our life, but that gap was filled again with +new figures in the life of a boy of twelve. He was +only sixty-one years old when he died, and yet my +idea of him was always that of a very old man. +Everything was done for him, his servant dressed +him every morning, he was lifted into his carriage +and out of it, and he certainly lived the life of an +invalid, such as I should not consent to own to at +seventy-six. He made no secret that he cared more +for the son of his son who was the heir, and was to +perpetuate the name of von Basedow, than for the son<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +of his daughter. He was very fond of driving and +of shooting, and he frequently took my cousin out +shooting with him. When my cousin came home +with a hare he had shot, I confess I was sometimes +jealous, but I was soon cured of my wish to go with +my grandfather into the forest. Once when I was +with him in his little carriage, my grandfather, not +being able to see well, had the misfortune to kill a +doe which had come out with her two little ones. +The misery of the mother and afterwards of her +two young ones, was heart-rending, and from that +day on I made up my mind never to go out shooting, +and never to kill an animal. And I have kept +my word, though I was much laughed at. It may +be that later in life and after my grandfather’s death +I had little opportunity of shooting, but the cry of +the doe and the whimpering of the young ones who +tried to get suck from their dead mother have remained +with me for life.</p> + +<p>My grandfather, though he aged early, remained +in harness as Prime Minister to the end of his life, +and it was his great desire to benefit his country by +new institutions. It was he who, at the time when +people hardly knew yet what railroads meant, succeeded +in getting the line from Berlin to Halle +and Leipzig to pass by Dessau. He offered to build +the bridge across the Elbe and to give the land and +the wood for the sleepers gratis, and what seemed at +the time a far too generous offer has proved a blessing +to the duchy, making it as it were the centre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +of the great railway connecting Berlin, Leipzig, +Magdeburg, the Elbe, Hanover, Bremen, nay, +Cologne also, the Rhine, and Western Europe. He +was in his way a good statesman, though we are too +apt to measure a man’s real greatness by the circumstances +in which he moves.</p> + +<p>As far back as I can remember I was a martyr +to headaches. No doctor could help me, no one +seemed to know the cause. It was a migraine, and +though I watched it carefully I could not trace it +to any fault of mine. The idea that it came from +overwork was certainly untrue. It came and went, +and if it was one day on the right side it was always +the next time on the left, even though I was free +from it sometimes for a week or a fortnight, or +even longer. It was strange also that it seldom +lasted beyond one day, and that I always felt particularly +strong and well the day after I had been +prostrate. For prostrate I was, and generally quite +unable to do anything. I had to lie down and try +to sleep. After a good sleep I was well, but when +the pain had been very bad I found that sometimes +the very skin of my forehead had peeled off. In +this way I often lost two or three days in a week, +and as my work had to be done somehow, it was +often done anyhow, and I was scolded and punished, +really without any fault of my own. After all remedies +had failed which the doctor and nurses prescribed +(and I well remember my grandmother using +massage on my neck, which must have been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +about 1833 to 1835) I was handed over to Hahnemann, +the founder of homeopathy. Hahnemann +(born 1755) had been practising as doctor at Dessau +as early as 1780—that is somewhat before my +time—but had left it, and when in 1820 he had +been prohibited by the Government from practising +and lecturing at Leipzig, he took refuge once more +in the neighbouring town of Coethen. From there +he paid visits to Dessau as consulting physician, and +after I had explained to him as well as I could all +the symptoms of my chronic headache, he assured +my mother that he would cure it at once. He was +an imposing personality—a powerful man with a +gigantic head and strong eyes and a most persuasive +voice. I can quite understand that his personal influence +would have gone far to effect a cure of many +diseases. People forget too much how strong a curative +power resides in the patient’s faith in his doctor, +in fact how much the mind can do in depressing and +in reinvigorating the body. I shall never forget +in later years consulting Sir Andrew Clarke, and +telling him of ever so many, to my mind, most serious +symptoms. I had lost sleep and appetite, and +imagined myself in a very bad state indeed. He +examined me and knocked me about for full three +quarters of an hour, and instead of pronouncing my +doom as I fully expected, he told me with a bright +look and most convincing voice that he had examined +many men who had worked their brains too +much, but had never seen a man at my time of life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +so perfectly sound in every organ. I felt young and +strong at once, and meeting my old friend Morier +on my way home, we ate some dozens of oysters together +and drank some pints of porter without the +slightest bad effect. In fact I was cured without a +pill or a drop of medicine.</p> + +<p>And who does not know how, if one makes up +one’s mind at last to have a tooth pulled out, the +pain seems to cease as soon as we pull the bell at +the dentist’s?</p> + +<p>However, Hahnemann did not succeed with me. +I swallowed a number of his silver and gold globules, +but the migraine kept its regular course, right +to left and left to right, and this went on till about +the year 1860. Then my doctor, the late Mr. Symonds +of Oxford, told me exactly what Hahnemann +had told me—that he would cure me, if I would +go on taking some medicine regularly for six months +or a year. He told me that he and his brother had +made a special study of headaches, and that there +were ever so many kinds of headache, each requiring +its own peculiar treatment. When I asked him to +what category of headaches mine belonged, I was +not a little abashed on being told that my headache +was what they called the Alderman’s headache. +“Surely,” I said, “I don’t overeat, or overdrink.” +I had thought that mine was a mysterious nervous +headache, arising from the brain. But no, it seemed +to be due to turtle soup and port wine. However, +the doctor, seeing my surprise, comforted me by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +telling me that it was the nerves of the head which +affected the stomach, and thus produced indirectly +the same disturbance in my digestion as an aldermanic +diet. Whether this was true or was only +meant as a <i>solatium</i> I do not know. But what I do +know is, that by taking the medicine regularly for +about half a year, the frequency and violence of my +headaches were considerably reduced, while after +about a year they vanished completely. I was a new +being, and my working time was doubled.</p> + +<p>One lesson may be learnt from this, namely, that +the English system of doctoring is very imperfect. +In England we wait till we are ill, then go to a doctor, +describe our symptoms as well as we can, pay +one guinea, or two, get our prescription, take drastic +medicine for a month and expect to be well. My +German doctor, when he saw the prescription of my +English doctor, told me that he would not give it to +a horse. If after a month we are not better we go +again; he possibly changes our medicine, and we +take it more or less regularly for another month. +The doctor cannot watch the effect of his medicine, +he is not sure even whether his prescriptions have +been carefully followed; and he knows but too well +that anything like a chronic complaint requires a +chronic treatment. The important thing, however, +was that my headaches yielded gradually to the +continued use of medicine; it would hardly have +produced the desired effect if I had taken it by fits +and starts. All this seems to me quite natural; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +though my English doctor cured me, and my German +doctors did not, I still hold that the German +system is better. Most families have their doctor +in Germany, who calls from time to time to watch +the health of the old and young members of the +family, particularly when under medical treatment, +and receives his stipulated annual payment, which +secures him a safe income that can be raised, of +course, by attendance on occasional patients. Perhaps +the Chinese system is the best; they pay their +doctor while they are well, and stop payment as +long as they are ill. I know the unanswerable argument +which is always thrown at my head whenever +I suggest to my friends that there are some things +which are possibly managed better in Germany than +in England. If my remarks refer to the study and +practice of medicine I am asked whether more men +are killed in England than in Germany; if I refer +to the study and practice of law I am assured that +quite as many murderers are hanged in England +as in Germany; and if I venture to hint that the +study of theology might on certain points be improved +at Oxford, I am told that quite as many +souls are saved in England as in Germany, nay, +a good many more. As I cannot ascertain the facts +from trustworthy statistics, I have nothing to reply; +all I feel is that most nations, like most individuals, +are perfect in their own eyes, but that those are +most perfect who are willing to admit that there is +something to be learnt from their neighbours.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>But to return to Hahnemann. He was very kind +to me, and I looked up to him as a giant both in +body and in mind. But he could not deliver me +from my enemy, the ever recurrent migraine. The +cures, however, both at Dessau and at Coethen, +where he had been made a <i>Hofrath</i> by the reigning +Duke, were very extraordinary. Hahnemann remained +in Coethen till 1835, and in that year, when +he was eighty, he married a young French lady, +Melanie d’Hervilly, and was carried off by her to +Paris, where he soon gained a large practice, and +died in 1843, that is at the age of eighty-eight. +Much of his success, I feel sure, was due to his +presence and to the confidence which he inspired. +How do I know that Sir Andrew Clarke, seeing +that I was in low spirits about my health, did not +think it right to encourage me, and by encouraging +me did certainly make me feel confident about myself, +and thus raised my vitality, my spirits, or +whatever we like to call it? “Thy faith hath made +thee whole” is a lesson which doctors ought not +to neglect.</p> + +<p>How little we know the effect of the environment +in which we grow up. My old granny has drawn +deeper furrows through my young soul than all my +teachers and preachers put together. I am not +going to add a chapter to that most unsatisfactory +of all studies, child-psychology. It is an impossible +subject. The victim—the child—cannot be interrogated +till it is too late. The influences that work<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +on the child’s senses and mind cannot be determined; +they are too many, and too intangible. The observers +of babies, mostly young fathers proud of +their first offspring, remind me always of a very +learned friend of mine, who presented to the Royal +Society most laborious pages containing his lifelong +observations on certain deviations of the magnetic +needle, and who had forgotten that in making these +observations he always had a pair of steel spectacles +on his nose. However, I have nothing to say against +these observations, nor against their more or less +successful interpretations. But the real harm begins +when people imagine that in studying the ways +of infants they can discover what man was like in +his original condition, whether as a hairy or a hairless +creature. To imagine that we can learn from +the way in which children begin to use our old +words, how the primitive language of mankind was +formed, seems to me like imagining that children +playing with counters would teach us how and for +what purpose the first money was coined. There +is no doubt a grain of truth in this infantile psychology, +but it requires as many caveats as that which +is called ethnological psychology, which makes us +see in the savages of the present day the representation +of the first ancestors of our race, and would +teach us to discover in their superstitions the antecedents +of the mythology and religion of the Aryan +or Semitic races. The same philosophers who constantly +fall back on heredity and atavism in order<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +to explain what seems inexplicable in the beliefs +and customs of the Brahmans, Greeks, or Romans, +seem quite unconscious of the many centuries that +must needs have passed over the heads of the +Patagonians of the present day as well as of the +Greeks at the time of Homer. They look upon +the Patagonians as the <i>tabula rasa</i> of humanity, +and they forget that even if we admitted that the +ancestors of the Aryan race had once been more +savage than the Patagonians, it would not follow +that their savagery was identical with that of the +people of Tierra del Fuego. Why should not the +distance between Patagonian and Vedic Rishis have +been at least as great as that between Vedic Rishis +and Homeric bards? If there are ever so many +kinds of civilized life, was there only one and the +same savagery?</p> + +<p>To take, for instance, the feeling of fear; is it +likely that we shall find out whether it is innate in +human nature or acquired and intensified in each +generation, by shaking our fists in the face of a +little baby, to see whether it will wink or shrink or +shriek? Some children may be more fearless than +others, but whether that fearlessness arises from +ignorance or from stolidity is again by no means +easy to determine. A burnt child fears the fire, +an unburnt child might boldly grasp a glowing +coal, but all this would not help us to determine +whether fear is an innate or an acquired tendency +or habit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>All I can say for myself is that my young life +and even my later years were often rendered miserable +by the foolish stories of one of my grandmothers, +and that I had to make a strong effort of +will before I could bring myself to walk across a +churchyard in the dark. This shows how much our +character is shaped by circumstances, even when +we are least aware of it. I did not believe in ghosts +and I was not a coward, but I felt through life a +kind of shiver in dark passages and at the sound of +mysterious noises, and the mere fact that I had +to make an effort to overcome these feelings shows +that something had found its way into my mental +constitution that ought never to have been there, +and that caused me, particularly in my younger +days, many a moment of discomfort.</p> + +<p>All such experiences constitute what may be +called the background of our life. My first ideas +of men and women, and of the world at large, that +is of the unknown world, were formed within the +narrow walls of Dessau, for Dessau was still surrounded +by walls, and the gates of the city were +closed every night, though the fears of a foreign +enemy were but small. Of course the views of life +prevailing at Dessau were very narrow, but they +were wide enough for our purposes. Though we +heard of large towns like Dresden or Berlin, and +of large countries like France and Italy, my real +world was Dessau and its neighbourhood. We had +no interests outside the walls of our town or the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +frontiers of our duchy. If we heard of things that +had happened at Leipzig or Berlin, in Paris or London, +they had no more reality for us than what we +had read about Abraham, or Romulus and Remus, +or Alexander the Great. To us the pulse of the +world seemed to beat in the <i>Haupt- und Residenzstadt</i> +of Dessau, though we knew perfectly well +how small it was in comparison with other towns.</p> + +<p>And this, too, has left its impression on my +thoughts all through life, if only by making everything +that I saw in later life in such towns as Leipzig, +Berlin, Paris, and London, appear quite overwhelmingly +grand. Boys brought up in any of +these large towns start with a different view of the +world, and with a different measure for what they +see in later life. I do not know that they are to be +envied for that, for there is pleasure in admiration, +pleasure even in being stunned by the first sight of +the life in the streets of Paris or London. I certainly +have been a great admirer all my life, and +I ascribe this disposition to the small surroundings +of my early years at Dessau.</p> + +<p>And so it was with everything else. Having admired +our Cavalier-Strasse, I could admire all the +more the Boulevards in Paris, and Regent Street +in London. Having enjoyed our small theatre, I +stood aghast at the Grand Opera, and at Drury +Lane. This power of admiration and enjoyment +extended even to dinners and other domestic amusements. +Having been brought up on very simple<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +fare, I fully enjoyed the dinners which the Old East +India Company gave, when we sat down about +400 people, and, as I was told, four pounds was paid +for each guest. I mention this because I feel that +not only has the Spartan diet of my early years +given me a relish all through life for convivial entertainments, +even if not quite at four pounds a +head, but that the general self-denial which I had +to exercise in my youth has made me feel a constant +gratitude and sincere appreciation for the small +comforts of my later years.</p> + +<p>I remember the time when I woke with my +breath frozen on my bedclothes into a thin sheet of +ice. We were expected to wash and dress in an +attic where the windows were so thickly frozen as +to admit hardly any light in the morning, and +where, when we tried to break the ice in the jug, +there were only a few drops of water left at the bottom +with which to wash. No wonder that the ablutions +were expeditious. After they were performed +we had our speedy breakfast, consisting of +a cup of coffee and a <i>semmel</i> or roll, and then we +rushed to school, often through the snow that had +not yet been swept away from the pavement. We +sat in school from eight to eleven or twelve, rushed +home again, had our very simple dinner, and then +back to school, from two to four. How we lived +through it I sometimes wonder, for we were thinly +clad and often wet with rain or snow; and yet we +enjoyed our life as boys only can enjoy it, and had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +no time to be ill. One blessing this early roughing +has left me for life—a power of enjoying many +things which to most of my friends are matters of +course or of no consequence. The background of +my life at Dessau and at Leipzig may seem dark, +but it has only served to make the later years of my +life all the brighter and warmer.</p> + +<p>The more I think about that distant, now very +distant past, the more I feel how, without being +aware of it, my whole character was formed by it. +The unspoiled primitiveness of life at Dessau as it +was when I was at school there till the age of twelve, +would be extremely difficult to describe in all its +details. Everybody seemed to know everybody and +everything about everybody. Everybody knew +that he was watched, and gossip, in the best sense of +the word, ruled supreme in the little town. Gossip +was, in fact, public opinion with all its good and all +its bad features. Still the result was that no one +could afford to lose caste, and that everybody behaved +as well as he could. I really believe that the +private life of the people of Dessau at the beginning +of the century was blameless. The great evils +of society did not exist, and if now and then there +was a black sheep, his or her life became a burden +to them. Everybody knew what had happened, and +society being on the whole so blameless, was all the +more merciless on the sinners, whether their sins +were great or small. So from the very first my idea +was that there were only two classes—one class quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +perfect and pure as angels, the other black sheep, +and altogether unspeakable. There was no transition, +no intermediate links, no shading of light and +dark. A man was either black or white, and this +rigid rule applied not only to moral character, but +intellectual excellence also was measured by the +same standard. A work of art was either superlatively +beautiful, or it was contemptible. A man of +science was either a giant or a humbug. Some +people spoke of Goethe as the greatest of all poets +and philosophers the world had ever known; others +called him a wicked man and an overvalued +poet.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> + +<p>It is dangerous, no doubt, to go through life with +so imperfect a measure, and I have for a long time +suffered from it, particularly in cases where I ought +to have been able to make allowance for small failings. +But as I had been brought up to approach +people with a complete trust in their rectitude, and +with an unlimited admiration of their genius, it +took me many years before I learnt to make allowance +for human weaknesses or temporary failures. +I have lost many a charming companion and excellent +friend in my journey through life, because I +weighed them with my rusty Dessau balance. I +had to learn by long experience that there may be +a spot, nay, several spots on the soft skin of a peach, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>and yet the whole fruit may be perfect. I acted +very much like the merchant who tested a whole +field of rice by the first handful of grains, and who, +if he found one or two bad grains, would have nothing +to do with the whole field. I had to learn what +was, perhaps, the most difficult lesson of all, that a +trusted friend could not always be trusted, and yet +need not therefore be altogether a reprobate. What +was most difficult for me to digest was an untruth: +finding out that one who professed to be a friend +had said and done most unfriendly things behind +one’s back. Still, in a long life one finds out that +even that may not be a deadly sin, and that if we +are so loth to forgive it, it is partly because the falsehood +affected our own interests. Thus only can we +explain how a man whom we know to have been +guilty of falsehoods towards ourselves may be looked +upon as perfectly honest, straightforward, and trustworthy, +by a large number of his own friends. We +see this over and over again with men occupying +eminent positions in Church and State. We see +how a prime minister or an archbishop is represented +by men who know him as a liar and a hypocrite, +while by others he is spoken of as a paragon of honour +and honesty, and a true Christian. My narrow +Dessau views became a little widened when I went +to school at Leipzig; still more when I spent two +years and a half at the University of Leipzig, and +afterwards at Berlin. Still, during all this time I +saw but little of what is called society, I only knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +of people whom I loved and of people whom I disliked. +There was no room as yet for indifferent +people, whom one tolerates and is civil to without +caring whether one sees them again or not. Of the +simplest duties of society also I was completely ignorant. +No one ever told me what to say and what to +do, or what not to say and what not to do. What I +felt I said, what I thought right I did. There was, in +fact, in my small native town very little that could be +called society. One lived in one’s family and with +one’s intimate friends without any ceremony. It +is a pity that children are not taught a few rules +of life-wisdom by their seniors. I know that the +Jews do not neglect that duty, and I remember being +surprised at my young Jewish friends at Dessau +coming out with some very wise saws which evidently +had not been grown in their own hot-houses, +but had been planted out full grown by their seniors. +The only rules of worldly wisdom which I remember, +came to me through proverbs and little verses +which we had either to copy or to learn by heart, +such as:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Wer einmal lügt, dem glaubt man nicht<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und wenn er auch die Wahrheit spricht.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Morgenstunde hat Gold im Munde.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Kein Faden ist so fein gesponnen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Er kommt doch endlich an die Sonnen.”<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Jeder ist seines Glückes Schmied.”<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></div></div> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">Some lines which hung over my bed I have carried +with me all through life, and I still think they are +very true and very terse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Im Glück nicht jubeln und im Sturm nicht zagen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Das Unvermeidliche mit Würde tragen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Das Rechte thun, am Schönen sich erfreuen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Das Leben lieben und den Tod nicht scheuen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und fest an Gott und bessere Zukunft glauben,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heisst leben, heisst dem Tod sein Bitteres rauben.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">Still, all this formed a very small viaticum for a +journey through life, and I often thought that a few +more hints might have preserved me from the painful +process of what was called rubbing off one’s +horns. Again and again I had to say to myself, +“That would have done very well at home, but +it was a mistake for all that.” My social rawness +and simplicity stuck to me for many years, just as +the Dessau dialect remained with me for life; at +least I was assured by my friends that though I +had spoken French and English for so many years, +they could always detect in my German that I came +from Dessau or Leipzig.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Johann Bernhard Basedow, von seinem Urenkel, F. M. M. +(Essays, Band IV).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> That this was not only the case at Dessau, may be seen by +a number of contemporary reviews of Goethe’s works republished +some years ago and the exact title of which I cannot find.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>SCHOOL-DAYS AT LEIPZIG</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was certainly a poor kind of armour in which +I set out from Dessau. My mother, devoted as she +was to me, had judged rightly that it was best +for me to be with other boys and under the supervision +of a man. I had been somewhat spoiled by +her passionate love, and also by her passionate severity +in correcting the ordinary naughtinesses of +a boy. So having risen from form to form in the +school at Dessau, I was sent, at the age of twelve, +to Leipzig, to live in the house of Professor Carus +and attend the famous Nicolai-Schule with his +son, who was of the same age as myself and who +likewise wanted a companion. It was thought +that there would be a certain emulation between +us, and so, no doubt, there was, though we +always remained the best of friends. The house +in which we lived stood in a garden and was really +an orthopaedic institution for girls. There were +about twenty or thirty of these young girls living +in the house or spending the day there, and their +joyous company was very pleasant. Of course the +names and faces of my young friends have, with +one or two exceptions, vanished from my memory,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +but I was surprised when a few years ago (1895) I +was staying with Madame Salis-Schwabe at her delightful +place on the Menai Straits, and discovered +that we had known each other more than fifty years +before in the house of Professor Carus at Leipzig. +Though we had met from time to time, we never +knew of our early meeting at Leipzig, till in comparing +notes we discovered how we had spent a +whole year in the same house and among the same +friends. Hers has been a life full of work and +entirely devoted to others. To the very end of her +days she was spending her large income in founding +schools on the system recommended by Froebel, +not only in England, but in Italy. She died at +Naples in 1896, while visiting a large school that +had been founded by her with the assistance of the +Italian Government. Her own house in Wales was +full of treasures of art, and full of memorials of +her many friends, such as Bunsen, Renan, Mole, +Ary Scheffer, and many more. How far her charity +went may be judged by her being willing to +part with some of the most precious of Ary Scheffer’s +pictures, in order to keep her schools well endowed, +and able to last after her death, which she +felt to be imminent.</p> + +<p>Public schools are nearly all day schools in Germany. +The boys live at home, mostly in their own +families, but they spend six hours every day at +school, and it is a mistake to imagine that they are +not attached to it, that they have no games together,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +and that they do not grow up manly or independent. +Most schools have playgrounds, and in +summer swimming is a favourite amusement for +all the boys. There were two good public schools +at Leipzig, the Nicolai School and the Thomas +School. There was plenty of <i>esprit de corps</i> in +them, and often when the boys met it showed itself +not only in words but in blows, and the discussions +over the merits of their schools were often +continued in later life. I was very fortunate in +being sent to the Nicolai School, under Dr. Nobbe +as head master. He was at the same time Professor +at the University of Leipzig, and is well known in +England also as the editor of Cicero. He was very +proud that his school counted Leibniz<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> among its +former pupils. He was a classical scholar of the +old school. During the last three years of our +school life we had to write plenty of Latin and +Greek verse, and were taught to speak Latin. The +speaking of Latin came readily enough, but the +verses never attained a very high level. Besides +Nobbe we had Forbiger, well known by his books +on ancient geography, and Palm, editor of the same +Greek Dictionary which, in the hands of Dr. Liddell, +has reached its highest perfection. Then there +was Funkhänel, known beyond Germany by his +edition of the Orations of Demosthenes, and his +studies on Greek orators. We were indeed well off +for masters, and most of them seemed to enjoy their +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>work and to be fond of the boys. Our head master +was very popular. He was a man of the old German +type, powerfully built, with a large square +head, very much like Luther, and, strange to say, +when in 1839 a great Luther festival was celebrated +all over Germany, he published a book in which +he proved that he was a direct descendant of Luther.</p> + +<p>The school was carried on very much on the old +plan of teaching chiefly classics, but teaching them +thoroughly. Modern languages, mathematics, and +physical science had a poor chance, though they +clamoured for recognition. Latin and Greek verse +were considered far more important. In the two +highest forms we had to speak Latin, and such as +it was it seemed to us much easier than to speak +French. Hebrew was also taught as an optional +subject during the last four years, and the little I +know of Hebrew dates chiefly from my school-days. +Schoolboys soon find out what their masters think +of the value of the different subjects taught at +school, and they are apt to treat not only the subjects +themselves but the teachers also according +to that standard. Hence our modern language and +our physical science masters had a hard time of it. +They could not keep their classes in order, and it +was by no means unusual for many of the boys +simply to stay away from their lessons. The old +mathematical master, before beginning his lesson, +used to rub his spectacles, and after looking round +the half empty classroom, mutter in a plaintive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +voice: “I see again many boys who are not here +to-day.” When the same old master began to lecture +on physical science, he told the boys to bring +a frog to be placed under a glass from which the +air had been extracted by an air-pump. Of course +every one of the twenty or thirty boys brought +two or three frogs, and when the experiment was +to be made all these frogs were hopping about the +lecture-room, and the whole army of boys were hopping +after them over chairs and tables to catch +them. No wonder that during this tumult the master +did not succeed with his experiment, and when +at last the glass bowl was lifted up and we were +asked to see the frog, great was the joy of all the +boys when the frog hopped out and escaped from +the hands of its executioner. Such was the wrath +excited by these new-fangled lectures among the +boys that they actually committed the vandalism of +using one of the forms as a battering-ram against +the enclosure in which the physical science apparatus +was kept, and destroyed some of the precious +instruments supplied by Government. Severe punishments +followed, but they did not serve to make +physical science more popular.</p> + +<p>We certainly did very well in Greek and Latin, +and read a number of classical texts, not only critically +at school, but also cursorily at home, having to +give a weekly account of what we had thus read +by ourselves. I liked my classics, and yet I could +not help feeling that there was a certain exaggeration<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +in the way in which every one of them was +spoken of by our teachers, nay, that as compared to +German poets and prose writers they were somewhat +overpraised. Still, it would have been very conceited +not to admire what our masters admired, and +as in duty bound we went into the usual raptures +about Homer and Sophocles, about Horace and +Cicero. Many things which in later life we learn +to admire in the classics could hardly appeal to the +taste of boys. The directness, the simplicity and +originality of the ancient, as compared with modern +writers, cannot be appreciated by them, and I well +remember being struck with what we disrespectful +boys called the cheekiness of Horace expecting +immortality (<i>non omnis moriar</i>) for little poems +which we were told were chiefly written after Greek +patterns. We had to admit that there were fewer +false quantities in his Latin verses than in our own, +but in other respects we could not see that his odes +were so infinitely superior to ours. His hope of +immortality has certainly been fulfilled beyond +what could have been his own expectations. With +so little of ancient history known to him, his idea +of the immortality of poetry must have been far +more modest in his time than in our own. He may +have known the past glories of the Persian Empire, +but as to ancient literature, there was nothing for +him to know, whether in Persia, in Babylonia, in +Assyria, or even in Egypt, least of all in India. +Literary fame existed for him in Greece only, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +in the Roman Empire, and his own ambition could +therefore hardly have extended beyond these limits. +The exaggeration in the panegyrics passed on everything +Greek or Latin dates from the classical +scholars of the Middle Ages, who knew nothing +that could be compared to the classics, and who +were loud in praising what they possessed the +monopoly of selling. Successive generations of +scholars followed suit, so that even in our time it +seemed high treason to compare Goethe with +Horace, or Schiller with Sophocles. Of late, however, +the danger is rather that the reaction should +go too far and lead to a promiscuous depreciation +even of such real giants as Lucretius or Plato. The +fact is that we have learnt from them and imitated +them, till in some cases the imitations have equalled +or even excelled the originals, while now the taste +for classical correctness has been wellnigh supplanted +by an appetite for what is called realistic, +original, and extravagant.</p> + +<p>With all that has been said or written against +making classical studies the most important element +in a liberal education, or rather against retaining +them in their time-honoured position, nothing +has as yet been suggested to take their place. +For after all, it is not simply in order to learn two +languages that we devote so large a share of our +time to the study of Greek and Latin; it is in order +to learn to understand the old world on which our +modern world is founded; it is in order to think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +the old thoughts, which are the feeders of our own +intellectual life, that we become in our youth the +pupils of Greeks and Romans. In order to know +what we are, we have to learn how we have come +to be what we are. Our very languages form an +unbroken chain between us and Cicero and Aristotle, +and in order to use many of our words intelligently, +we must know the soil from which they +sprang, and the atmosphere in which they grew up +and developed.</p> + +<p>I enjoyed my work at school very much, and +I seem to have passed rapidly from class to class. +I frequently received prizes both in money and in +books, but I see a warning attached to some of them +that I ought not to be conceited, which probably +meant no more than that I should not show when I +was pleased with my successes. At least I do not +know what I could have been conceited about. +What I feel about my learning at school is that it +was entirely passive. I acquired knowledge such +as it was presented to me. I did not doubt whatever +my teachers taught me, I did not, as far as I +can recollect, work up any subject by myself. I +find only one paper of mine of that early time, and, +curiously enough, it was on mythology; but it contains +no inkling of comparative mythology, but +simply a chronological arrangement of the sources +from which we draw our knowledge of Greek mythology. +I see also from some old papers, that I +began to write poetry, and that twice or thrice I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +was chosen at great festivities to recite poems written +by myself. In the year 1839 three hundred +years had passed since Luther preached at Leipzig +in the Church of St. Nicolai, and the tercentenary +of this event was celebrated all over Germany. My +poem was selected for recitation at a large meeting +of the friends of our school and the notables of the +town, and I had to recite it, not without fear and +trembling. I was then but sixteen years of age.</p> + +<p>In the next year, 1840, Leipzig celebrated the +invention of printing in 1440. It was on this occasion +that Mendelssohn wrote his famous <i>Hymn +of Praise</i>. I formed part of the chorus, and I well +remember the magnificent effect which the music +produced in the Church of St. Thomas. Again a +poem of mine was selected, and I had to recite it +at a large gathering in the Nicolai-Schule on July +18, 1840.</p> + +<p>On December 23 another celebration took place +at our school, at which I had to recite a Latin poem +of mine, <i>In Schillerum</i>. Lastly, there was my +valedictory poem when I left the school in 1841, +and a Latin poem “Ad Nobbium,” our head master.</p> + +<p>I have found among my mother’s treasures the +far too often flattering testimonial addressed to her +by Professor Nobbe on that occasion, which ends +thus: “I rejoice at seeing him leave this school +with testimonials of moral excellence not often +found in one of his years—and possessed of knowledge +in more than one point, first-rate, and of intellectual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +capacities excellent throughout. May his +young mind develop more and more, may the fruits +of his labours hereafter be a comfort to his mother +for the sorrows and cares of the past.”</p> + +<p>It was rather hard on me that I had to pass my +examination for admission to the University (<i>Abiturienten-Examen</i>) +not at my own school, but at +Zerbst in Anhalt. This was necessary in order to +enable me to obtain a scholarship from the Anhalt +Government. The schools in Anhalt were modelled +after the Prussian schools, and laid far more stress +on mathematics, physical science, and modern languages +than the schools in Saxony. I had therefore +to get up in a very short time several quite new +subjects, and did not do so well in them as in Greek +and Latin. However, I passed with a first class, and +obtained my scholarship, small as it was. It was +only the other day that I received a letter from a +gentleman who was at school at Zerbst when I came +there for my examination. He reminds me that +among my examiners there were such men as Dr. +Ritter, the two Sentenis, and Professor Werner, and +he says that he watched me when I came upstairs +and entered the locked room to do my paper work. +My friend’s career in life had been that of Director +of a Life Insurance Company, probably a more +lucrative career than what mine has been.</p> + + +<p class="figcenter"><a name="Max14" id="Max14"></a><a href="images/illo106.jpg"><img src="images/illo106_th.jpg" +alt="Max Müller, Aged 14" title="Max Müller, Aged 14" /></a></p> + +<p class="caption"> +<i>F. Max Müller</i><br /> +<i>Aged 14.</i></p> + +<p>During my stay at Leipzig, first in the house of +Professor Carus, and afterwards as a student at the +University, my chief enjoyment was certainly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +music. I had plenty of it, perhaps too much, but +I pity the man who has not known the charm of it. +At that time Leipzig was really the centre of music +in Germany. Felix Mendelssohn was there, and +most of the distinguished artists and composers of +the day came there to spend some time with him +and to assist at the famous Gewandhaus Concerts. +I find among my letters a few descriptions of concerts +and other musical entertainments, which even +at present may be of some interest. I was asked +to be present at some concerts where quartettes and +other pieces were performed by Mendelssohn, +Hiller, Kaliwoda, David, and Eckart. Liszt also +made his triumphant entry into Germany at Leipzig, +and everybody was full of expectation and excitement. +His concert had been advertised long +before his arrival. It was to consist of an Overture +of Weber’s; a Cavatina from <i>Robert le Diable</i>, +sung by Madame Schlegel; a Concerto of Weber’s, +to be played by Liszt, the same which I had shortly +before heard played by Madame Pleyel; Beethoven’s +Overture to <i>Prometheus</i>; Fantasia on <i>La +Juive</i>; Schubert’s <i>Ave Maria</i> and <i>Serenade</i>, as +arranged by Liszt. I was the more delighted because +I had myself played some of these pieces. +But suddenly there appeared a placard stating that +Liszt, on hearing that tickets were sold at one +thaler (three shillings), had declared he would play +a few pieces only and without an orchestra. In spite +of that disappointment, the whole house was full,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +the staircase crowded from top to bottom, and when +we had pushed our way through, we found that +about 300 places had been retained for one and a +half thalers (four shillings and sixpence), while +tickets at the box-office were sold for two thalers +(six shillings). Nevertheless, I managed to get a +very good place, by simply not seeing a number of +ladies who were pushing behind me. When Liszt +appeared there was a terrible hissing—he looked +as if petrified, glanced like a demon at the public, +but nevertheless began to play the Scherzo and +Finale of the Pastoral Symphony. Then there +burst out a perfect thunder of applause, and all +seemed pacified, while Madame Schmidt sang a +song accompanied by a certain Mr. Kermann. As +soon as that was over, a new storm of hisses arose, +which was meant for this Mr. Kermann, who was a +pupil, but at the same time the man of business of +Liszt. He and three other men had made all arrangements, +and Liszt knew nothing about them, +as he cared very little for the money, which went +chiefly to his managers. A Fantasia by Liszt followed, +and lastly a <i>Galop Chromatique</i>—but the +public would not go away, and at length Liszt was +induced to play <i>Une grande Valse</i>. It was no +doubt a new experience; but I could not go into +ecstasies like others, for after all it was merely mechanical, +though no doubt in the highest perfection. +The day after Liszt advertised that his original Programme +would be played, but at six o’clock Professor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +Carus, with whom I lived, was called to see Liszt, +who was said to be ill; the fact being he had only +sold fifty tickets at the raised prices. Many +strangers who had come to Leipzig to hear him went +away, anything but pleased with the new musical +genius. At one concert, where he appeared in Magyar +costume, the ladies offered him a golden laurel +wreath and sword. He had just published his arrangement +of <i>Adelaida</i>, which he promised to play +in one of the concerts.</p> + +<p>Another very musical family at Leipzig was that +of Professor Fröge. He was a rich man, and had +married a famous singer, Fräulein Schlegel. One +evening the <i>Sonnambula</i> was performed in their +house, which had been changed into a theatre. She +acted the Sonnambula, and her singing as well as +her acting was most finished and delightful. Mendelssohn +was much in their house, and made her +sing his songs as soon as they were written and before +they were published. They were great friends, +the bond of their friendship being music. He +actually died when playing while she was singing. +People talked as they always will talk about what +they cannot understand, but they evidently did not +know either Mendelssohn or Madame Fröge.</p> + +<p>The house of Professor Carus was always open +to musical geniuses, and many an evening men like +Hiller, Mendelssohn, David, Eckart, &c., came +there to play, while Madame Carus sang, and sang +most charmingly. I too was asked sometimes to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +play at these evening parties. I see that Ernst gave +a concert at Leipzig, and no doubt his execution was +admirable. Still, I could not understand what +David meant when he declared that after hearing +Ernst he would throw his own instrument into the +fire.</p> + +<p>Mendelssohn, who was delighted with Liszt—and +no one could judge him better than he—gave a +soirée in honour of him. About 400 people were +invited—I among the rest, being one of the tenors +who sang in the Oratorio that Hiller was then rehearsing +for the first performance. I think it was +the <i>Destruction of Babylon</i>. There was a complete +orchestra at Mendelssohn’s party, and we heard a +symphony of Schubert (posthumous), Mendelssohn’s +psalm “As the hart pants,” and his overture +<i>Meeresstille und glückliche Fahrt</i>. After that +there was supper for all the guests, and then followed +a chorus from his <i>St. Paul</i>, and a triple concerto +of Bach, played on three pianofortes by Mendelssohn, +Liszt, and Hiller. It was a difficult piece—difficult +to play and difficult to follow. Lastly, +Liszt played his new fantasia on <i>Lucia di Lammermoor</i>, +and his arrangement of the <i>Erlkönig</i>. All +was really perfect; and hearing so much music, I +became more and more absorbed in it. I even gave +some concerts with Grabau, a great violoncellist, at +Merseburg, and at a Count Arnim’s, a very rich +nobleman near Merseburg, who had invited Liszt +for one evening and paid him 100 ducats. This<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +seemed at that time a very large sum, almost senseless. +As a ducat was about nine shillings, it was +after all only £45, which would not seem excessive +at present for an artist such as Liszt.</p> + +<p>I also heard Thalberg at Leipzig. They all came +to see Mendelssohn, and I believe did their best to +please him. At that time my idea of devoting myself +altogether to the study of music became very +strong; and as Professor Carus married again, I proposed +to leave Leipzig, and to enter the musical +school of Schneider at Dessau. But nothing came +of that, and I think on the whole it was as well.</p> + +<p>While at school at Leipzig I had but little opportunity +of travelling, for my mother was always +anxious to have me home during the holidays, and +I was equally anxious to be with her and to see my +relations at Dessau. Generally I went in a wretched +carriage from Leipzig to Dessau. It was only seven +German miles (about thirty-five English miles), but +it took a whole day to get there; and during part +of the journey, when we had to cross the deep and +desert-like sands, walking on foot was much more +expeditious than sitting inside the carriage. But +then we paid only one thaler for the whole journey, +and sometimes, in order to save that, I walked on +foot the whole way. That also took me a whole day; +but when I tried it the first time, being then quite +young and rather delicate in health, I had to give +in about an hour before I came to Dessau, my legs +refusing to go further, and my muscles being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +cramped and stiff from exertion, I had to sit down +by the road. During one vacation I remember exploring +the valley of the Mulde with some other +boys. We travelled for about a fortnight from village +to village, and lived in the simplest way. A +more ambitious journey I took in 1841 with a friend +of mine, Baron von Hagedorn. He was a curious +and somewhat mysterious character. He had been +brought up by a great-aunt of mine, to whom he +was entrusted as a baby. No one knew his parents, +but they must have been rich, for he possessed a +large fortune. He had a country place near Munich, +and he spent the greater part of the year in +travelling about, and amusing himself. He had +been brought up with my mother and other members +of our family, and he took a very kind interest +in me. I see from my letters that in 1841 he +took me from Dessau to Coethen, Brunswick, and +Magdeburg. At Brunswick we saw the picture gallery, +the churches, and the tomb of Schill, one of +the German volunteers in the War of Independence +against France. We also explored Hildesheim, saw +the rose-tree planted, as we were told, by Charlemagne; +then proceeded to Göttingen, and saw its +famous library. We passed through Minden, where +the Fulda and Werra join, and arrived late at Cassel. +From Cassel we explored Wilhelmshöhe, the +beautiful park where thirty years later Napoleon +III was kept as a prisoner.</p> + +<p>Hagedorn, with all his love of mystery and occasional<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +exaggeration, was certainly a good friend +to me. He often gave me good advice, and was +more of a father to me than a mere friend. He +was a man of the world; and he forgot that I never +meant to be a man of the world, and therefore his +advice was not always what I wanted. He was +also a great friend of my cousin who was married +to a Prince of Dessau, and they had agreed among +themselves that I should go to the Oriental +Academy at Vienna, learn Oriental languages, and +then enter the diplomatic service. As there were +no children from the Prince’s marriage, I was to +be adopted by him, and, as if the princely fortune +was not enough to tempt me, I was told that even a +wife had been chosen for me, and that I should +have a new name and title, after being adopted by +the Prince. To other young men this might have +seemed irresistible. I at once said no. It seemed +to interfere with my freedom, with my studies, with +my ideal of a career in life; in fact, though everything +was presented to me by my cousin as on a +silver tray, I shook my head and remained true to +my first love, Sanskrit and all the rest. Hagedorn +could not understand this; he thought a brilliant +life preferable to the quiet life of a professor. Not +so I. He little knew where true happiness was to +be found, and he was often in a very melancholy +mood. He did not live long, but I shall never forget +how much I owed him. When I went to Paris, +he allowed me to live in his rooms. They were,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +it is true, <i>au cinquième</i>, but they were in the best +quarter of Paris, in the Rue Royale St. Honoré, +opposite the Madeleine, and very prettily furnished. +This kept me from living in dusty lodgings in the +Quartier Latin, and the five flights of stairs may +have strengthened my lungs. I well remember +what it was when at the foot of the staircase I saw +that I had forgotten my handkerchief and had to +toil up again. But in those days one did not know +what it meant to be tired. Whether my friends +grumbled, I cannot tell, but I myself pitied some +of them who were old and gouty when they arrived +at my door out of breath.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> His own spelling of his name.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>UNIVERSITY</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> order to enable me to go to the University, my +mother and sister moved to Leipzig and kept house +for me during all the time I was there—that is, +for two years and a half. In spite of the <i>res angusta +domi</i>, I enjoyed my student-life thoroughly, while +my home was made very agreeable by my mother +and sister. My mother was full of resource, and +she was wise enough not to interfere with my freedom. +My sister, who was about two years older +than myself, was most kind-hearted and devoted +both to me and to our mother. There was nothing +selfish in her, and we three lived together in perfect +love, peace, and harmony. My sister enjoyed what +little there was of society, whereas I kept sternly +aloof from it. She was much admired, and soon +became engaged to a young doctor, Dr. A. Krug, +the son of the famous professor of philosophy at +Leipzig, whose works, particularly his <i>Dictionary of +Philosophy</i>, hold a distinguished place in the history +of German philosophy. He was a thorough patriot, +and so public spirited that he thought it right to +leave a considerable sum of money to the University, +without making sufficient provision for his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +children. However, the young married couple +lived happily at Chemnitz, and my sister was proud +in the possession of her children. It was the sudden +death of several of these children that broke her +heart and ruined her health; she died very young. +Standing by the grave of her children, she said to +me shortly before her death, “Half of me is dead +already, and lies buried there; the other half will +soon follow.”</p> + +<p>Of society, in the ordinary sense of the word, I +saw hardly anything. I am afraid I was rather a +bear, and declined even to invest in evening dress. +I joined a student club which formed part of the +<i>Burschenschaft</i>, but which in order to escape prosecution +adopted the title of <i>Gemeinschaft</i>. I went +there in the evening to drink beer and smoke, and +I made some delightful acquaintances and friendships. +What fine characters were there, often behind +a very rough exterior! My dearest friend was +Prowe, of Thorn in East Prussia—so honest, so +true, so straightforward, so over-conscientious in the +smallest things. He was a classical scholar, and +later on entered the Prussian educational service. +As a master at the principal school at Thorn his +time was fully occupied, and of course he was cut +off there from the enlivening influences of literary +society. Still he kept up his interest in higher questions, +and published some extremely valuable books +on Copernicus, a native of Thorn, for which he +received the thanks of astronomers and historians,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +and flattering testimonials from learned societies. +We met but seldom later in life, and my own life +in England was so busy and full that even our correspondence +was not regular. But I met him once +more at Ems with a charming wife, and decidedly +happy in his own sphere of activity. These early +friendships form the distant landscape of life on +which we like to dwell when the present ceases to +absorb all our thoughts. Our memory dwells on +them as a golden horizon, and there remains a constant +yearning which makes us feel the incompleteness +of this life. After all, the number of our true +friends is small; and yet how few even of that small +number remain with us for life. There are other +faces and other names that rise from beyond the +clouds which more and more divide us from our +early years.</p> + +<p>There were some wild spirits among us who fretted +at the narrow-minded policy which went by the +name of the Metternich system. Repression was +the panacea which Metternich recommended to all +the governments of Germany, large and small. +No doubt the system of keeping things quiet secured +to Germany and to Europe at large a thirty +years’ peace, but it could not prevent the accumulation +of inflammable material which, after several +threatenings, burst forth at last in the conflagration +of 1848. Among my friends I remember +several who were ready for the wildest schemes in +order to have Germany united, respected abroad,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +and under constitutional government at home. +Splendid fellows they were, but they either ended +their days within the walls of a prison, or had to +throw up everything and migrate to America. +What has become of them? Some have risen to the +surface in America, others have yielded to the inevitable +and become peaceful citizens at home; nay, +I am grieved to say, have even accepted service +under Government to spy on their former friends +and fellow-dreamers. But not a few saw the whole +of their life wrecked either in prison or in poverty, +though they had done no wrong, and in many cases +were the finest characters it has been my good fortune +to know. They were before their time, the +fruit was not ripe as it was in 1871, but Germany +certainly lost some of her best sons in those miserable +years; and if my father escaped this political +persecution, it was probably due to the influence of +the reigning Duke and the Duchess, a Princess of +Prussia, who knew that he was not a dangerous man, +and not likely to blow up the German Diet.</p> + +<p>I myself got a taste of prison life for the offence +of wearing the ribbon of a club which the police +regarded with disfavour. I cannot say that either +the disgrace or the discomfort of my two days’ +durance vile weighed much with me, as my friends +were allowed free access to me, and came and drank +beer and smoked cigars in my cell—of course at my +expense—but what I dreaded was the loss of my +stipendium or scholarship, which alone enabled me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +to continue my studies at Leipzig, and which, as +a rule, was forfeited for political offences. On my +release from prison I went to the Rector of the +University and explained to him the circumstances +of the case—how I had been arrested simply for +membership of a suspected club. I assured him +that I was innocent of any political propaganda, and +that the loss of my stipendium would entail my +leaving the University. Much to my relief, the old +gentleman replied: “I have heard nothing about +this; and if I do, how am I to know that it refers to +you, there are many Müllers in the University?” +Fortunately the distinctive prefix Max had not yet +been added to my name.</p> + +<p>I must confess that I and my boon companions +were sometimes guilty of practices which in more +modern days, and certainly at Oxford or Cambridge, +would be far more likely to bring the culprits into +collision with the authorities than mere membership +of societies in which comparatively harmless +political talk was indulged in.</p> + +<p>Duelling was then, as it is now, a favourite pastime +among the students; and though not by nature +a brawler, I find that in my student days at Leipzig +I fought three duels, of two of which I carry the +marks to the present day.</p> + +<p>I remember that on one occasion before the introduction +of cabs we hired all the sedan-chairs in Leipzig, +with their yellow-coated porters, and went in +procession through the streets, much to the astonishment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +of the good citizens, and annoyance also, as +they were unable to hire any means of conveyance +till a peremptory stop was put to our fun. Not content +with this exploit, when the first cabs were introduced +into Leipzig, thirty or forty being put on +the street at first, I and my friends secured the use +of all of them for the day, and proceeded out into +the country. The inhabitants who were eagerly +looking forward to a drive in one of the new conveyances +were naturally annoyed at finding themselves +forestalled, and the result was that a stop +was put to such freaks in future by the issue of a +police regulation that nobody was allowed to hire +more than two cabs at a time.</p> + +<p>Very innocent amusements, if perhaps foolish, +but very happy days all the same; and it must be +remembered that we had just emerged from the +strict discipline of a German school into the unrestricted +liberty of German university life.</p> + +<p>It is in every respect a great jump from a German +school to a German university. At school a +boy even in the highest form, has little choice. All +his lessons are laid down for him; he has to learn +what he is told, whether he likes it or not. Few +only venture on books outside the prescribed curriculum. +There is an examination at the end of every +half-year, and a boy must pass it well in order to +get into a higher form. Boys at a public school +(gymnasium), if they cannot pass their examination +at the proper time, are advised to go to another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +school, and to prepare for a career in which classical +languages are of less importance.</p> + +<p>I must say at once that when I matriculated at +Leipzig, in the summer of 1841, I was still very +young and very immature. I had determined to +study philology, chiefly Greek and Latin, but the +fare spread out by the professors was much too +tempting. I read Greek and Latin without difficulty; +I often read classical authors without ever +attempting to translate them; I also wrote and +spoke Latin easily. Some of the professors lectured +in Latin, and at our academic societies Latin was +always spoken. I soon became a member of the +classical seminary under Gottfried Hermann, and +of the Latin Society under Professor Haupt. Admission +to these seminaries and societies was obtained +by submitting essays, and it was no doubt a +distinction to belong to them. It was also useful, +for not only had we to write essays and discuss them +with the other members, generally teachers, and +with the professor, but we could also get some useful +advice from the professor for our private studies. +In that respect the German universities do very +little for the students, unless one has the good fortune +to belong to one of these societies. The young +men are let loose, and they can choose whatever +lectures they want. I still have my <i>Collegien-Buch</i>, +in which every professor has to attest what lectures +one has attended. The number of lectures on various +subjects which I attended is quite amazing, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +I should have attended still more if the honorarium +had not frightened me away. Every professor +lectured <i>publice</i> and <i>privatim</i>, and for the more +important courses, four lectures a week, he charged +ten shillings, for more special courses less or nothing. +This seems little, but it was often too much for me; +and if one added these honoraria to the salary of a +popular professor, his income was considerable, and +was more than the income of most public servants. +I have known professors who had four or five hundred +auditors. This gave them £250 twice a year, +and that, added to their salary, was considered a +good income at that time. All this has been much +changed. Salaries have been raised, and likewise +the honoraria, so that I well remember the case of +Professor von Savigny, who, when he was chosen +Minister of Justice at Berlin, declared that he would +gladly accept if only his salary was raised to what +his income had been as Professor of Law. Of +course, professors of Arabic or Sanskrit were badly +off, and <i>Privatdocenten</i> (tutors) fared still worse, +but the <i>professores ordinarii</i>, particularly if they +lectured on an obligatory subject and were likewise +examiners, were very well off. In fact, it struck me +sometimes as very unworthy of them to keep a +<i>famulus</i>, a student who had to tell every one who +wished to hear a distinguished professor once or +twice, that he would not allow him to come a third +time.</p> + +<p>One great drawback of the professorial system is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +certainly the small measure of personal advice that +a student may get from the professors. Unless he +is known to them personally, or has gained admission +to their societies or seminaries, the young student +or freshman is quite bewildered by the rich +fare in the shape of lectures that is placed before +him. Some students, no doubt, particularly in their +early terms, solve this difficulty by attending none +at all, and there is no force to make them do so, except +the examinations looming in the distance. But +there are many young men most anxious to learn, +only they do not know where to begin. I open my +old <i>Collegien-Buch</i> and I find that in the first term +or Semester I attended the following lectures, and +I may say I attended them regularly, took careful +notes, and read such books as were recommended +by the professors. I find</p> + +<table class="subjects" summary="list of subjects"> +<tr><td class="rightalign">1.</td><td class="subnam">The first book of Thucydides</td><td class="leftalign">Gottfried Hermann.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">2.</td><td class="subnam">On Scenic Antiquities</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">3.</td><td class="subnam">On Propertius</td><td class="leftalign">P. M. Haupt.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">4.</td><td class="subnam">History of German Literature</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">5.</td><td class="subnam">The Ranae of Aristophanes</td><td class="leftalign">Stallbaum.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">6.</td><td class="subnam">Disputatorium (in Latin)</td><td class="leftalign">Nobbe.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">7.</td><td class="subnam">Aesthetics</td><td class="leftalign">Weisse.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">8.</td><td class="subnam">Anthropology</td><td class="leftalign">Lotze.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">9.</td><td class="subnam">Systems of Harmonic Composition</td><td class="leftalign">Fink.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">10.</td><td class="subnam">Hebrew Grammar</td><td class="leftalign">Fürst.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">11.</td><td class="subnam">Demosthenes</td><td class="leftalign">Westermann.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">12.</td><td class="subnam">Psychology</td><td class="leftalign">Heinroth.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>This was enough for the summer half-year. Except +Greek and Latin, the other subjects were entirely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +new to me, and what I wanted was to get an +idea of what I should like to study. It may be +interesting to add the other Semesters as far as I +have them in my <i>Collegien-Buch</i>.</p> + +<table class="subjects" summary="list of subjects"> +<tr><td class="rightalign">13.</td><td class="subnam">Aeschyli Persae</td><td class="leftalign">Hermann.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">14.</td><td class="subnam">On Criticism</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">15.</td><td class="subnam">German Grammar</td><td class="leftalign">Haupt.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">16.</td><td class="subnam">Walther von der Vogelweide</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">17.</td><td class="subnam">Tacitus, Agricola, and De Oratoribus</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">18.</td><td class="subnam">On Hegel</td><td class="leftalign">Weisse.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">19.</td><td class="subnam">Disputatorium (Latin)</td><td class="leftalign">Nobbe.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">20.</td><td class="subnam">Modern History</td><td class="leftalign">Wachsmuth.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">21.</td><td class="subnam">Sanskrit Grammar</td><td class="leftalign">Brockhaus.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">22.</td><td class="subnam">Latin Society</td><td class="leftalign">Haupt.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Then follows the summer term of 1842.</p> + +<table class="subjects" summary="list of subjects"> +<tr><td class="rightalign">23.</td><td class="subnam">Pindar</td><td class="leftalign">Hermann.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">24.</td><td class="subnam">Nibelungen</td><td class="leftalign">Haupt.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">25.</td><td class="subnam">Nala</td><td class="leftalign">Brockhaus.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">26.</td><td class="subnam">History of Oriental Literature</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">27.</td><td class="subnam">Arabic Grammar</td><td class="leftalign">Fleischer.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">28.</td><td class="subnam">Latin Society</td><td class="leftalign">Haupt.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">29.</td><td class="subnam">Plauti Trinumus</td><td class="leftalign">Becker.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Winter term, 1842.</p> + +<table class="subjects" summary="list of subjects"> +<tr><td class="rightalign">30.</td><td class="subnam">Prabodha Chandrodaya</td><td class="leftalign">Brockhaus.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">31.</td><td class="subnam">History of Indian Literature</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">32.</td><td class="subnam">Aristophanes’ Vespae</td><td class="leftalign">Hermann.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">33.</td><td class="subnam">Plauti Rudens</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">34.</td><td class="subnam">Greek Syntax</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">35.</td><td class="subnam">Juvenal</td><td class="leftalign">Becker.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">36.</td><td class="subnam">Metaphysics and Logic</td><td class="leftalign">Weisse.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">37.</td><td class="subnam">Philosophy of History</td><td class="leftalign">The same.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">38.</td><td class="subnam">Greek and Latin Seminary</td><td class="leftalign">Hermann & Klotze.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">39.</td><td class="subnam">Latin Society</td><td class="leftalign">Haupt.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">40.</td><td class="subnam">Philosophical Society</td><td class="leftalign">Weisse.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">41.</td><td class="subnam">Philosophical Society</td><td class="leftalign">Drobisch.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Summer term, 1843.</p> + +<table class="subjects" summary="list of subjects"> +<tr><td class="rightalign">42.</td><td class="subnam">Greek and Latin Seminary</td><td class="leftalign">Hermann & Klotze.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">43.</td><td class="subnam">Philosophical Society</td><td class="leftalign">Drobisch.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">44.</td><td class="subnam">Philosophical Society</td><td class="leftalign">Weisse.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">45.</td><td class="subnam">Soma-deva</td><td class="leftalign">Brockhaus.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">46.</td><td class="subnam">Hitopadesa</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">47.</td><td class="subnam">History of Greeks and Romans</td><td class="leftalign">Wachsmuth.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">48.</td><td class="subnam">History of Civilization</td><td class="leftalign">The same.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">49.</td><td class="subnam">History after the Fifteenth Century</td><td class="leftalign">Flathe.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">50.</td><td class="subnam">History of Ancient Philosophy</td><td class="leftalign">Niedner.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Winter term, 1843-4.</p> + +<table class="subjects" summary="list of subjects"> +<tr><td class="rightalign">51.</td><td class="subnam">Rig-veda</td><td class="leftalign">Brockhaus.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">52.</td><td class="subnam">Elementa Persica</td><td class="leftalign">Fleischer.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="rightalign">53.</td><td class="subnam">Greek and Latin Seminary</td><td class="leftalign">Hermann & Klotze.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Here my <i>Collegien-Buch</i> breaks off, the fact being +that I was preparing to go to Berlin to hear +the lectures of Bopp and Schelling.</p> + +<p>It will be clear from the above list that I certainly +attempted too much. I ought either to have devoted +all my time to classical studies exclusively, or +carried on my philosophical studies more systematically. +I confess that, delighted as I was with Gottfried +Hermann and Haupt as my guides and teachers +in classics, I found little that could rouse my +enthusiasm for Greek and Latin literature, and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +always required a dose of that to make me work +hard. Everything seemed to me to have been done, +and there was no virgin soil left to the plough, no +ruins on which to try one’s own spade. Hermann +and Haupt gave me work to do, but it was all in +the critical line—the genealogical relation of various +MSS., or, again, the peculiarities of certain +poets, long before I had fully grasped their general +character. What Latin vowels could or could not +form elision in Horace, Propertius, or Ovid, was a +subject that cost me much labour, and yet left very +small results as far as I was personally concerned. +One clever conjecture, or one indication to show +that one MS. was dependent on the other, was rewarded +with a Doctissime or Excellentissime, but +a paper on Aeschylus and his view of a divine +government of the world received but a nodding +approval.</p> + +<p>They certainly taught their pupils what accuracy +meant; they gave us the new idea that MSS. are +not everything, unless their real value has been discovered +first by finding the place which they occupy +in the pedigree of the MSS. of every author. They +also taught us that there are mistakes in MSS. which +are inevitable, and may safely be left to conjectural +emendation; that MSS. of modern date may be and +often are more valuable than more ancient MSS., +for the simple reason that they were copied from +a still more ancient MS., and that often a badly +written and hardly legible MS. proves more helpful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +than others written by a calligraphist, because it is +the work of a scholar who copied for himself and +not for the market. All these things we learnt and +learnt by practical experience under Hermann and +Haupt, but what we failed to acquire was a large +knowledge of Greek and Latin literature, of the +character of each author and of the spirit which +pervaded their works. I ought to have read in +Latin, Cicero, Tacitus, and Lucretius; in Greek, +Herodotus, Thucydides, Plato, and Aristotle; but +as I read only portions of them, my knowledge of +the men themselves and their objects in life remained +very fragmentary. For instance, my real +acquaintance with Plato and Aristotle was confined +to a few dialogues of the former and some of the +logical works of the latter. The rest I learnt from +such works as Ritter and Preller’s <i>Historia Philosophiae +Graecae et Romanae ex fontium locis contexta</i>, +and from the very useful lectures of Niedner +on the history of ancient philosophy. However, I +thought I had to do what my professors told me, +and shaped my reading so that they should approve +of my work.</p> + +<p>This must not be understood as in any way disparaging +my teachers. Such an idea never entered +my head at the time. People have no idea in England +what kind of worship is paid by German students +to their professors. To find fault with +them or to doubt their <i>ipse dixit</i> never entered our +minds. What they said of other classical scholars<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +from whom they differed, as Hermann did from +Otfried Müller, or Haupt from Orelli, was gospel, +and remained engraved on our memory for a long +time. Once when attending Hermann’s lectures, +another student who was sitting at the same table +with me made disrespectful remarks about old Hermann. +I asked him to be quiet, and when he went +on with his foolish remarks, I could only stop him +by calling him out. As soon as the challenge was +accepted he had of course to be quiet, and a few +days after we fought our duel without much damage +to either of us. I only mention this because it +shows what respect and admiration we felt for our +professor, also because it exemplifies the usefulness +of duelling in a German university, where after a +challenge not another word can be said or violence +be threatened even by the rudest undergraduate. A +duel for a Greek conjecture may seem very absurd, +but in duels of this kind all that is wanted is really +a certain knowledge of fencing, care being taken +that nothing serious shall happen. And yet, though +that is so, the feeling of a possible danger is there, +and keeps up a certain etiquette and a certain proper +behaviour among men taken from all strata of society. +Nor can I quite deny that when I went in +the morning to a beautiful wood in the neighbourhood +of Leipzig, certain misgivings were difficult +to suppress. I saw myself severely wounded, possibly +killed, by my antagonist, and carried to a house +where my mother and sister were looking for me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +This went off when I met the large assembly of +students, beautifully attired in their club uniforms, +the beer barrels pushed up on one side, the surgeon +and his instruments waiting on the other. There +were ever so many, thirty or forty couples I think, +waiting to fight their duels that morning. Some +fenced extremely well, and it was a pleasure to look +on; and when one’s own turn came, all one thought +of was how to stand one’s ground boldly, and how +to fence well. Some of the combatants came on +horseback or in carriages, and there was a small +river close by to enable us to escape if the police +should have heard of our meeting. For popular as +these duels are, they are forbidden and punished, +and the severest punishment seemed always to be +the loss of our uniforms, our arms, our flags, and +our barrels of beer. However, we escaped all interference +this time, and enjoyed our breakfast in the +forest thoroughly, nothing happening to disturb the +hilarity of the morning.</p> + +<p>Not being satisfied with what seemed to me a +mere chewing of the cud in Greek and Latin, I +betook myself to systematic philosophy, and even +during the first terms read more of that than of +Plato and Aristotle. I belonged to the philosophical +societies of Weisse, of Drobisch, and of Lotze, +a membership in each of which societies entailed a +considerable amount of reading and writing.</p> + +<p>At Leipzig, Professor Drobisch represented the +school of Herbart, which prided itself on its clearness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +and logical accuracy, but was naturally less attractive +to the young spirits at the University who +had heard of Hegel’s Idea and looked to the dialectic +process as the solution of all difficulties. I +wished to know what it all meant, for I was not +satisfied with mere words. There is hardly a word +that has so many meanings as Idea, and I doubt +whether any of the raw recruits, just escaped from +school, and unacquainted with the history of philosophy, +could have had any idea of what Hegel’s +Idea was meant for. Yet they talked about it very +eloquently and very positively over their glasses of +beer; and anybody who came from Berlin and could +speak mysteriously or rapturously about the Idea +and its evolution by the dialectic process, was listened +to with silent wonder by the young Saxons, +who had been brought up on Kant and Krug. The +Hegelian fever was still very high at that time. It +is true Hegel himself was dead (1831), and though +he was supposed to have declared on his deathbed +that he left only one true disciple, and that that +disciple had misunderstood him, to be a Hegelian +was considered a <i>sine qua non</i>, not only among +philosophers, but quite as much among theologians, +men of science, lawyers, artists, in fact, in every +branch of human knowledge, at least in Prussia. +If Christianity in its Protestant form was the +state-religion of the kingdom, Hegelianism was its +state-philosophy. Beginning with the Minister of +Instruction down to the village schoolmaster, everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +claimed to be a Hegelian, and this was supposed +to be the best road to advancement. Though +Altenstein, who was then at the head of the Ministry +of Instruction, began to waver in his allegiance +to Hegel, even he could not resist the rush of public +and of official opinion. It was he who, when a +new professor of philosophy was recommended to +him either by Hegel himself or by some of his followers, +is reported to have said: “Gentlemen, I +have read some of the young man’s books, and I +cannot understand a word of them. However, you +are the best judges, only allow me to say that you +remind me a little of the French officer who told +his tailor to make his breeches as tight as possible, +and dismissed him with the words: ‘Enfin, si je peux +y entrer, je ne les prendrai pas.’ This seems to me +very much what you say of your young philosopher. +If I can understand his books, I am not to take +him.” This Hegelian fever was very much like what +we have passed through ourselves at the time of the +Darwinian fever; Darwin’s natural evolution was +looked upon very much like Hegel’s dialectic process, +as the general solvent of all difficulties. The +most egregious nonsense was passed under that +name, as it was under the name of evolution. Hegel +knew very well what he meant, so did Darwin. But +the empty enthusiasm of his followers became so +wild that Darwin himself, the most humble of all +men, became quite ashamed of it. The master, of +course, was not responsible for the folly of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +so-called disciples, but the result was inevitable. +After the bow had been stretched to the utmost, a +reaction followed, and in the case of Hegelianism, +a complete collapse. Even at Berlin the popularity +of Hegelianism came suddenly to an end, and after +a time no truly scientific man liked to be called a +Hegelian. These sudden collapses in Germany are +very instructive. As long as a German professor +is at the head of affairs and can do something for +his pupils, his pupils are very loud in their encomiums, +both in public and in private. They not only +exalt him, but help to belittle all who differ from +him. So it was with Hegel, so it was at a later time +with Bopp, and Curtius, and other professors, particularly +if they had the ear of the Minister of Education. +But soon after the death of these men, particularly +if another influential star was rising, the +change of tone was most sudden and most surprising; +even the sale of their books dwindled down, +and they were referred to only as landmarks, showing +the rapid advance made by living celebrities. +Perhaps all this cannot be helped, as long as human +nature is what it is, but it is nevertheless painful +to observe.</p> + +<p>I had the good fortune of becoming acquainted +with Hegelianism through Professor Christian +Weisse at Leipzig, who, though he was considered +a Hegelian, was a very sober Hegelian, a critic quite +as much as an admirer of Hegel. He had a very +small audience, because his manner of lecturing was +certainly most trying and tantalizing. But by being<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +brought into personal contact with him one was +able to get help from him wherever he could give +it. Though Weisse was convinced of the truth of +Hegel’s Dialectic Method, he often differed from +him in its application. This Dialectic Method consisted +in showing how thought is constantly and irresistibly +driven from an affirmative to a negative +position, then reconciles the two opposites, and from +that point starts afresh, repeating once more the +same process. Pure being, for instance, from which +Hegel’s ideal evolution starts, was shown to be the +same as empty being, that is to say, nothing, and +both were presented as identical, and in their identity +giving us the new concept of Becoming (<i>Werden</i>), +which is being and not-being at the same +time. All this may appear to the lay reader rather +obscure, but could not well be passed over.</p> + +<p>So far Weisse followed the great thinker, and +I possess still, in his own writing, the picture of a +ladder on which the intellect is represented as climbing +higher and higher from the lowest concept to +the highest—a kind of Jacob’s ladder on which the +categories, like angels of God, ascend and descend +from heaven to earth. We must remember that the +true Hegelian regarded the Ideas as the thoughts +of God. Hegel looked upon this evolution of +thought as at the same time the evolution of Being, +the Idea being the only thing that could be said to +be truly real. In order to understand this, we must +remember that the historical key to Hegel’s Idea<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +was really the Neo-Platonic or Alexandrian Logos. +But of this Logos we ignorant undergraduates, sitting +at the feet of Prof. Weisse, knew absolutely +nothing, and even if the Idea was sometimes placed +before us as the Absolute, the Infinite, or the Divine, +it was to us, at least to most of us, myself included, +<i>vox et praeterea nihil</i>. We watched the wonderful +evolutions and convolutions of the Idea in its Dialectic +development, but of the Idea itself or himself +we had no idea whatever. It was all darkness, a vast +abyss, and we sat patiently and wrote down what +we could catch and comprehend of the Professor’s +explanations, but the Idea itself we never could lay +hold of. It would not have been so difficult if the +Professor had spoken out more boldly. But whenever +he came to the relation of the Idea to what we +mean by God, there was always even with him, who +was a very honest man, a certain theological hesitation. +Hegel himself seems to shrink occasionally +from the consequence that the Idea really stands in +the place of God, and that it is in the self-conscious +spirit of humanity that the ideal God becomes first +conscious of himself. Still, that is the last word of +Hegel’s philosophy, though others maintain that +the Idea with Hegel was the thought of God, and +that human thought was but a repetition of that +divine thought. With Hegel there is first the evolution +of the Idea in the pure ether of logic from +the simplest to the highest category. Then follows +Hegel’s Philosophy of Nature, that is, the evolution<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +of the Idea in nature, the Idea having by the +usual dialectic process negatived itself and entered +into its opposite (<i>Anderssein</i>), passing through a +new process of space and time, and ending in the +self-conscious human soul. Thus nature and spirit +were represented as dominated by the Idea in its +logical development. Nature was one manifestation +of the Idea, History the other, and it became the +task of the philosopher to discover its traces both in +the progress of nature and in the historical progress +of thought.</p> + +<p>And here it was where the strongest protests began +to be heard. Physical Science revolted, and Historical +Research soon joined the rebellion. Professor +Weisse also, in spite of his great admiration for +Hegel, protested in his Lectures against this idealization +of history, and showed how often Hegel, if he +could not find the traces he was looking for in the +historical development of the Idea, was misled by +his imperfect knowledge of facts, and discovered +what was not there, but what he felt convinced +ought to have been there. Nowhere has this become +so evident as in Hegel’s <i>Philosophy of Religion</i>. +The conception was grand of seeing in the +historical development of religion a repetition of +the Dialectic Progress of the Idea. But facts are +stubborn things, and do not yield even to the supreme +command of the Idea. Besides, if the historical +facts of religion were really such as the Dialectic +Process of the Idea required, these facts are no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +longer what they were before 1831, and what would +become then of the Idea which, as he wrote in his +preface to his <i>Metaphysics</i>, could not possibly be +changed to please the new facts? It was this part +of Weisse’s lectures, it was the protest of the historical +conscience against the demands of the Idea, that +interested me most. I see as clearly the formal +truth as the material untruth of Hegel’s philosophy. +The thorough excellence of its method and the desperate +baldness of its results, strike me with equal +force. Though I did not yet know what kind of +thing or person the Idea was really meant for, I +knew myself enough of ancient Greek philosophy +and of Oriental religions to venture to criticize +Hegel’s representation and disposition of the facts +themselves. I could not accept the answer of my +more determined Hegelian friends, <i>Tant pis pour +les faits</i>, but felt more and more the old antagonism +between what ought to be and what is, between +the reasonableness of the Idea, and the unreasonableness +of facts. I found a strong supporter in +a young Privat-Docent who at that time began his +brilliant career at Leipzig, Dr. Lotze. He had made +a special study of mathematics and physical science, +and felt the same disagreement between facts and +theories in Hegel’s <i>Philosophy of Nature</i> which +had struck me so much in reading his <i>Philosophy of +Religion</i>. I joined his philosophical society, and I +lately found among my old papers several essays +which I had written for our meetings. They amused<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +me very much, but I should be sorry to see them +published now. It is curious that after many +years I, as a Delegate of the University Press +at Oxford, was instrumental in getting the first +English translation of Lotze’s <i>Metaphysics</i> published +in England; and it is still more curious that +Mark Pattison, the late Rector of Lincoln, should +have opposed it with might and main as a useless +book which would never pay its expenses. I stood +up for my old teacher, and I am glad to say to the +honour of English philosophers, that the translation +passed through several editions, and helped not +a little to establish Lotze’s position in England and +America. He died in 1881.</p> + +<p>It is extraordinary how the young minds in German +universities survive the storms and fogs +through which they have to pass in their academic +career. I confess I myself felt quite bewildered for +a time, and began to despair altogether of my reasoning +powers. Why should I not be able to understand, +I asked myself, what other people seemed +to understand without any effort? We speak the +same language, why should we not be able to think +the same thought? I took refuge for a time in history—the +history of language, of religion, and of +philosophy. There was a very learned professor at +Leipzig, Dr. Niedner, who lectured on the History +of Greek Philosophy, and whose <i>Manual for the +History of Philosophy</i> has been of use to me +through the whole of my life. Socrates said of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +Heraclitus: “What I have understood of his book +is excellent, and I suppose therefore that even what +I have not understood is so too; but one must be a +Delian swimmer not to be drowned in it.” I tried +for a long time to follow this advice with regard +to Hegel and Weisse, and though disheartened did +not despair. I understood some of it, why should +not the rest follow in time? Thus, I never gave up +the study of philosophy at Leipzig and afterwards +at Berlin, and my first contributions to philosophical +journals date from that early time, when I was a +student in the University of Leipzig. My very earliest, +though very unsuccessful, struggles to find an +entrance into the mysteries of philosophy date even +from my school-days.</p> + +<p>I remember some years before, when I was quite +young, perhaps no more than fifteen years of age, +listening with bated breath to some professors at +Leipzig who were talking very excitedly about philosophy +in my presence. I had no idea what was +meant by philosophy, still less could I follow when +they began to discuss Kant’s <i>Kritik der reinen Vernunft</i>. +One of my friends, whom I looked up to as +a great authority, confessed that he had read the +book again and again, but could not understand the +whole of it. My curiosity was much excited, and +once, while he was taking a walk with me, I asked +him very timidly what Kant’s book was about, and +how a man could write a book that other men could +not understand. He tried to explain what Kant’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +book was about, but it was all perfect darkness before +my eyes; I was trying to lay hold of a word +here and there, but it all floated before my mind like +mist, without a single ray of light, without any +way out of all that maze of words. But when at last +he said he would lend me the book, I fell on it and +pored over it hour after hour. The result was the +same. My little brain could not take in the simplest +ideas of the first chapters—that space and time were +nothing by themselves; that we ourselves gave the +form of space and time to what was given us by the +senses. But though defeated I would not give in; +I tried again and again, but of course it was all in +vain. The words were here and I could construe +them, but there was nothing in my mind which the +words could have laid hold on. It was like rain +on hard soil, it all ran off, or remained standing in +puddles and muddles on my poor brain.</p> + +<p>At last I gave it up in despair, but I had fully +made up my mind that as soon as I went to the +University I would find out what philosophy really +was, and what Kant meant by saying that space and +time were forms of our sensuous intuition. I see +that, accordingly, in the summer of 1841, I attended +lectures on Aesthetics by Professor Weisse, on +Anthropology by Lotze, and on Psychology by Professor +Heinroth, and I slowly learnt to distinguish +between what was going on within me, and what I +had been led to imagine existed outside me, or at +least quite independent of me. But before I had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +got a firm grasp of Kant, of his forms of intuition, +and the categories of the understanding, I was +thrown into Hegelianism. This, too, was at first +entire darkness, but I was not disheartened. I attended +Professor Weisse’s lectures on Hegel in the +winter of 1841-2, and again in the winter of +1842-3 I attended his lectures on Logic and Metaphysics, +and on the Philosophy of History. He took +an interest in me, and I felt most strongly attracted +by him. Soon after I joined his Philosophical Society, +and likewise that of Professor Drobisch. In +these societies every member, when his turn came, +had to write an essay and defend it against the professor +and the other members of the society. All this +was very helpful, but it was not till I had heard a +course of lectures on the History of Philosophy, by +Professor Niedner, that my interest in Philosophy +became strong and healthy. While Weisse was a +leading Hegelian philosopher, and Drobisch represented +the opposite philosophy of Herbart, Niedner +was purely historical, and this appealed most to my +taste. Still, my philosophical studies remained very +disjointed. At last I was admitted to Lotze’s Philosophical +Society also, and here we chiefly read and +discussed Kant’s <i>Kritik</i>. Lotze was then quite a +young man, undecided as yet himself between +physical science and pure philosophy.</p> + +<p>Weisse was certainly the most stirring lecturer, +but his delivery was fearful. He did not read his +lectures, as many professors did, but would deliver<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +them <i>extempore</i>. He had no command of language, +and there was a pause after almost every sentence. +He was really thinking out the problem while he +was lecturing; he was constantly repeating his sentences, +and any new thought that crossed his mind +would carry him miles away from his subject. It +happened sometimes in these rhapsodies that he contradicted +himself, but when I walked home with +him after his lecture to a village near Leipzig +where he lived, he would readily explain how it +happened, how he meant something quite different +from what he had said, or what I had understood. +In fact he would give the whole lecture over again, +only much more freely and more intelligibly. I +was fully convinced at that time that Hegel’s philosophy +was the final solution of all problems; I +only hesitated about his philosophy of history as applied +to the history of religion. I could not bring +myself to admit that the history of religion, nor +even the history of philosophy as we know it from +Thales to Kant, was really running side by side +with his Logic, showing how the leading concepts +of the human mind, as elaborated in the Logic, had +found successive expression in the history and development +of the schools of philosophy as known +to us. Weisse was strong both in his analysis of +concepts and in his knowledge of history, and +though he taught Hegel as a faithful interpreter, +he always warned us against trusting too much in +the parallelism between Logic and History. Study<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +the writings of the good philosophers, he would +say, and then see whether they will or will not fit +into the Procrustean bed of Hegel’s Logic. And +this was the best lesson he could have given to +young men. How well founded and necessary the +warning was I found out myself, the more I studied +the religion and philosophies of the East, and then +compared what I saw in the original documents with +the account given by Hegel in his <i>Philosophy of +Religion</i>. It is quite true that Hegel at the time +when he wrote, could not have gained a direct or +accurate knowledge of the principal religions of the +East. But what I could not help seeing was that +what Hegel represented as the necessity in the +growth of religious thought, was far away from the +real growth, as I had watched it in some of the +sacred books of these religions. This shook my +belief in the correctness of Hegel’s fundamental +principles more than anything else.</p> + +<p>At that time Herbart’s philosophy, as taught by +Drobisch at Leipzig, came to me as a most useful +antidote. The chief object of that philosophy is, +as is well known, the analysing and clearing, so to +speak, of our concepts. This was exactly what I +wanted, only that occupied as I was with the problems +of language, I at once translated the object of +his philosophy into a definition of words. Henceforth +the object of my own philosophical occupations +was the accurate definition of every word. +All words, such as reason, pure reason, mind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +thought, were carefully taken to pieces and traced +back, if possible, to their first birth, and then +through their further developments. My interest +in this analytical process soon took an historical, +that is etymological, character in so far as I tried +to find out why any words should now mean exactly +what, according to our definition, they ought +to mean. For instance, in examining such words +as <i>Vernunft</i> or <i>Verstand</i>, a little historical retrospect +showed that their distinction as reason and +understanding was quite modern, and chiefly due to +a scientific definition given and maintained by the +Kantian school of philosophy. Of course every +generation has a right to define its philosophical +terms, but from an historical point of view Kant +might have used with equal right <i>Vernunft</i> for +<i>Verstand</i>, and <i>Verstand</i> for <i>Vernunft</i>. Etymologically +or historically both words have much the +same meaning. <i>Vernunft</i>, from <i>Vernehmen</i>, meant +originally no more than perception, while <i>Verstand</i> +meant likewise perception, but soon came to imply +a kind of understanding, even a kind of technical +knowledge, though from a purely etymological +standpoint it had nothing that fitted it more for +carrying the meaning, which is now assigned to it +in German in distinction to <i>Vernunft</i>, than understanding +had as distinguished from reason. It +requires, of course, a very minute historical research +to trace the steps by which such words as +reason and understanding diverge in different directions,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +in the language of the people and in philosophical +parlance. This teaches us a very important +distinction, namely that between the popular +development of the meaning of a word, and its +meaning as defined and asserted by a philosopher +or by a poet in the plenitude of his power. Etymological +definition is very useful for the first stages +in the history of a word. It is useful to know, for +instance, that <i>deus</i>, God, meant originally bright, +bright whether applied to sky, sun, moon, stars, +dawn, morning, dayspring, spring of the year, and +many other bright objects in nature, that it thus +assumed a meaning common to them all, splendid, +or heavenly, beneficent, powerful, so that when in +the Veda already we find a number of heavenly +bodies, or of terrestrial bodies, or even of periods of +time called Devas, this word has assumed a more +general, more comprehensive, and more exalted +meaning. It did not yet mean what the Greeks +called θεοἱ or gods, but it meant something common +to all these θεοἱ, and thus could naturally rise +to express what the Greeks wanted to express by +that word. There was as yet no necessity for defining +deva or θεὁς, when applied to what was +meant by gods, but of course the most opposite +meanings had clustered round it. While a philosophical +Greek would maintain that θεὁς meant +what was one and never many, a poetical Greek or +an ordinary Greek would hold that it meant what +was by nature many. But while in such a case<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +philosophical analysis and historical genealogy +would support each other, there are ever so many +cases where etymological analysis is as hopeless as +logical analysis. Who is to define <i>romantic</i>, in +such expressions as romantic literature. Etymologically +we know that romantic goes back finally +to Rome, but the mass of incongruous meanings +that have been thrown at random into the caldron +of that word, is so great that no definition could +be contrived to comprehend them all. And how +should we define <i>Gothic</i> or <i>Romanic</i> architecture, +remembering that as no Goths had anything to do +with pointed arches, neither were any Romans responsible +for the flat roofs of the German churches +of the Saxon emperors.</p> + +<p>Enough to show what I meant when I said that +Professor Drobisch, in his Lectures on Herbart, +gave one great encouragement in the special work +in which I was already engaged as a mere student, +the Science of Language and Etymology. If Herbart +declared philosophy to consist in a thorough +examination (<i>Bearbeitung</i>) of concepts, or conceptual +knowledge, my answer was, Only let it be +historical, nay, in the beginning, etymological; I +was not so foolish as to imagine that a word as used +at present, meant what it meant etymologically. +<i>Deus</i> no longer meant brilliant, but it should be +the object of the true historian of language to prove +how <i>Deus</i>, having meant originally brilliant, came +to mean what it means now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>For a time I thought of becoming a philosopher, +and that sounded so grand that the idea of preparing +for a mere schoolmaster, teaching Greek and +Latin, seemed to me more and more too narrow a +sphere. Soon, however, while dreaming of a chair +of philosophy at a German University, I began to +feel that I must know something special, something +that no other philosopher knew, and that induced +me to learn Sanskrit, Arabic, and Persian. I had +only heard what we call in German the chiming, +not the striking of the bells of Indian philosophy; +I had read Frederick Schlegel’s explanatory book +<i>Über die Sprache und Weisheit der Indier</i> (1808), +and looked into Windischmann’s <i>Die Philosophie +im Fortgange der Weltgeschichte</i> (1827-1834). +These books are hardly opened now—they are antiquated, +and more than antiquated; they are full of +mistakes as to facts, and mistakes as to the conclusions +drawn from them. But they had ushered new +ideas into the world of thought, and they left on +many, as they did on me, that feeling which the digger +who prospects for minerals is said to have, that +there must be gold beneath the surface, if people +would only dig. That feeling was very vague as +yet, and might have been entirely deceptive, nor did +I see my way to go beyond the point reached by +these two dreamers or explorers. The thought remained +in the rubbish-chamber of my mind, and +though forgotten at the time, broke forth again +when there was an opportunity. It was a fortunate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +coincidence that at that very time, in the winter of +1841, a new professorship was founded at Leipzig +and given to Professor Brockhaus. Uncertain as +I was about the course I had to follow in my studies, +I determined to see what there was to be learnt in +Sanskrit. There was a charm in the unknown, and, +I must confess, a charm also in studying something +which my friends and fellow students did not know. +I called on Professor Brockhaus, and found that +there were only two other students to attend his +lectures, one Spiegel, who already knew the elements +of Sanskrit, and who is still alive in Erlangen,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> +as a famous professor of Sanskrit and Zend, +though no longer lecturing, and another, Klengel; +both several years my seniors, but both extremely +amiable to their younger fellow student. Klengel +was a scholar, a philosopher, and a musician, and +though after a term or two he had to give up his study +of Sanskrit, he was very useful to me by his good advice. +He encouraged me and praised me for my +progress in Sanskrit, which was no doubt more rapid +than his own, and he confirmed me in my conviction +that something might be made of Sanskrit by the +philologist and by the philosopher. It should not +be forgotten that at that time there was a strong +prejudice against Sanskrit among classical scholars. +The number of men who stood up for it, though it +included names such as W. von Humboldt, F. and +A. W. von Schlegel, was still very small. Even +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>Herder’s and Goethe’s prophetic words produced +little effect. It is said that when the Government +had been persuaded, chiefly by the two Humboldts, +to found a chair of Sanskrit at the University of +Würzburg, and had nominated Bopp as its first +occupant, the philological faculty of the University +protested against such a desecration, and the appointment +fell through. It is true, no doubt, that +in their first enthusiasm the students of Sanskrit had +uttered many exaggerated opinions. Sanskrit was +represented as the mother of all languages, instead +of being the elder sister of the Aryan family. The +beginning of all language, of all thought, of all religion +was traced back to India, and when Greek +scholars were told that Zeus existed in the Veda +under the name of Dyaus, there was a great flutter +in the dovecots of classical scholarship. Many of +these enthusiastic utterances had afterwards to be +toned down. How we did enjoy those enthusiastic +days, which even in their exaggerated hopes were +not without some use. Problems such as the beginning +of language, of thought, of mythology and +religion, were started with youthful hope that the +Veda would solve them all, as if the Vedic Rishis +had been present at the first outburst of roots, of +concepts, nay, that like Pelops and other descendants +of Zeus, those Vedic poets had enjoyed daily +intercourse with the gods, and had been present at +the mutilation of Ouranos, or at the over-eating of +Kronos. We may be ashamed to-day of some of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +the dreams of the early spring of man’s sojourn on +earth, but they were enchanting dreams, and all +our thoughts of man’s nature and destiny on earth +were tinged with the colours of a morning that +threw light over the grey darkness which preceded +it. It was delightful to see that Dyaus meant originally +the bright sky, something actually seen, but +something that had to become something unseen. +All knowledge, whether individual or possessed by +mankind at large, must have begun with what the +senses can perceive, before it could rise to signify +something unperceived by the senses. Only after +the blue aether had been perceived and named, was +it possible to conceive and speak of the sky as active, +as an agent, as a god. Dyaus or Zeus might thus +be called the most sublime, he who resides in the +aether, αἰθἑρι ναἱων ὑψἱζυγος, the heavenly one, or +οὐρἁνιος ὕπατος and ὕψιστος, the highest, and at +last <i>Iupiter Optimus Maximus</i>, a name applied +even to the true God. When Zeus had once become +like the sky, all seeing or omniscient (ἐπὁψιος), +would he not naturally be supposed to see, not only +the good, but the evil deeds of men also, nay, their +very thoughts, whether pure or criminal? And if +so, would he not be the avenger of evil, the watcher +of oaths (ὅρκιος), the protector of the helpless +(ἱκἑσιος)? Yet, if conceived, as for a long time all +the gods were conceived and could only be conceived, +namely, as human in their shape, should we +not necessarily get that strange amalgamation of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +human being doing superhuman work—hurling the +thunderbolt, shouting in thunder, hidden by dark +clouds, and smiling in the serene blue of the sky +with its brilliant scintillations? All this and much +more became perfectly intelligible, the step from +the visible to the invisible, from the perceived to +the conceived, from nature to nature’s gods, and +from nature’s god to a more sublime unseen and +spiritual power. All this seemed to pass before our +very eyes in the Veda, and then to be reflected in +Homer and Pindar.</p> + +<p>Some details of this restored picture of the world +of gods and men in early times, nay, in the very +spring of time, may have to be altered, but the picture, +the eidyllion remained, and nothing could curb +the adventurous spirit and keep it from pushing forward +and trying to do what seemed to others almost +impossible, namely, to watch the growth of the human +mind as reflected in the petrifactions of language. +Language itself spoke to us with a different +voice, and a formerly unsuspected meaning.</p> + +<p>We knew, for instance, that <i>ewig</i> meant eternal, +but whence eternal. Nothing eternal was ever seen, +and it seemed to the philosopher that eternal could +be expressed by a negation only, by a negation of +what was temporary. But we now learnt that <i>ewig</i> +was derived in word and therefore in thought from +the Gothic <i>aiwar</i>, time. <i>Ewigkeit</i> was therefore +originally time, and “for all time” came naturally +to mean “for all eternity.” Eternity also came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +from <i>aeternus</i>, that is <i>aeviternus</i>, for time, i. e. for +all time, and thus for eternity, while <i>aevum</i> meant +life, lifetime, age. But now came the question, if +<i>aevum</i> shows the growth of this word, and its origin, +and how it arrives in the end at the very opposite +pole, life and time coming to mean eternity, could +we not by the same process discover the origin and +growth of such short Greek words as ἀεἱ and aἰeἱ? +It seems almost impossible, yet remembering that +<i>aevum</i> meant originally life, we find in Vedic Sanskrit +<i>eva</i>, course, way, life, the same as <i>aevum</i>, +while the Sanskrit <i>âyush</i>, likewise derived from <i>i</i>, +to go, forms its locative <i>âyushi</i>. <i>Âyushi</i>, or originally +<i>âyasi</i>, would mean “in life, in time,” and +turned into Greek would regularly become then +aἰeἱ, lifelong, or ever. It was not difficult to find +fault with this and other etymologies, and to ask for +an explanation of αἰἑν and αἰἑς, as derived from +the same word <i>âyus</i>. It is curious that people will +not see that etymologies, and particularly the +gradual development in the form and meaning of +words, can hardly ever be a matter of mathematical +certainty.</p> + +<p>Historical, nay, even individual, influences come +in which prevent the science of language from becoming +purely mechanical. Pott, and Curtius, and +others stood up against Bopp and Grimm, maintaining +that there could be nothing irregular in language, +particularly in phonetic changes. If this +means no more than that under the same circumstances<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +the same changes will always take place, it +would be of course a mere truism. The question +is only whether we can ever know all the circumstances, +and whether there are not some of these +circumstances which cause what we are apt to call +irregularities. When Bopp said that Sanskrit <i>d</i> corresponds +to a Greek δ, but often also to a Greek θ, +I doubt whether this is often the case. All I say is, +if <i>deva</i> corresponds to θεὁς, we must try to find the +reason or the circumstances which caused so unusual +a correspondence. If no more is meant than +that there must be a reason for all that seems irregular, +no one would gainsay that, neither Bopp +nor Grimm, and no one ever doubted that as a principle. +But to establish these reasons is the very +difficulty with which the Science of Language has +to deal.</p> + +<p>There is no word that has not an etymology, only +if we consider the distance of time that separates us +from the historical facts we are trying to account +for, we should sometimes be satisfied with probabilities +and not always stipulate for absolute certainty. +Many of Bopp’s, Grimm’s, and Pott’s etymologies +have had to be surrendered, and yet our +suzerainty over that distant country which they +conquered, over the Aryan home, remains. If +there is an etymology containing something irregular, +and for which no reason has as yet been found, +we must wait till some better etymology can be suggested, +or a reason be found for that apparent irregularity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +If the etymological meaning of <i>duhitar</i>, +daughter, as milkmaid, is doubted, let us have a +better explanation, not a worse; but the general +picture of the early family among the Aryans +“somewhere in Asia” is not thereby destroyed. +The father, Sk. <i>pitar</i>, remains the protector or +nourisher, though the <i>i</i> for <i>a</i> in <i>pater</i> and πατἡρ +is irregular. The mother, <i>mâtar</i>, remains the +bearer of children, though <i>mâ</i> is no longer used in +that sense in any of the Aryan languages. <i>Pati</i> +is the lord, the strong one—therefore the husband; +<i>vadhû</i>, the yoke-fellow, or the wife as brought +home, possibly as carried off by force. <i>Vis</i> or <i>vesa</i> +is the home, οἰκος or <i>vicus</i>, what was entered for +shelter. <i>Svasura</i>, ἑκυρὁς, <i>Socer</i>, the father-in-law, +is the old man of the <i>svas</i>, the <i>famuli</i>, or the family, +or the clients, though the first <i>s</i> is irregular, and +can be defended only on the ground of mistaken +analogy. <i>Bhrâtar</i>, <i>frater</i>, brother, was the supporter; +<i>svastar</i>, <i>soror</i>, sister, the comforter, &c.</p> + +<p>What do a few objections signify? The whole +picture remains, as if we could look into the <i>vesa</i>, +the οἰκος the <i>veih</i>, the home, the village of the +ancient Aryans, and watch them, the <i>svas</i>, the +people, in their mutual relations. Even compound +words, such as <i>vis-pati</i>, lord of a family or a village, +have been preserved to the present day in the Lithuanian +<i>Veszpats</i>, lord, whether King or God. It +is enough for us to see that the relationship between +husband and wife, between parents and children,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +between brothers and sisters, nay, even between +children-in-law and parents-in-law, had been +recognized and sanctified by names. That there +are, and always will be, doubts and slight differences +of opinion on these prehistoric thoughts and words, +is easily understood. We were pleased for a long +time to see in <i>vidua</i>, widow, the Sanskrit <i>vidua</i>, +i. e. without a man or a husband. We now derive +<i>vi-dhavâ</i>, widow, from <i>vidh</i>, to be separated, to +be without (cf. <i>vido</i> in <i>divido</i>, and Sk. <i>vidh</i>), but +the picture of the Aryan family remains much the +same.</p> + +<p>When these and similar antiquities were for the +first time brought to light by Bopp, Grimm, and +Pott, what wonder that we young men should have +jumped at them, and shouted with delight, more +even than the diggers who dug up Babylonian +palaces or Egyptian temples! No one did more for +these antiquarian finds and restorations than A. +Kuhn, a simple schoolmaster, but afterwards a most +distinguished member of the Berlin Academy. +How often did I sit with him in his study as he +worked, surrounded by his Greek, Latin, and Sanskrit +books. In later times also, when I had made +some discoveries myself as to the mythological +names or beings identical in Vedic and Greek writings, +how pleasant was it to see him rub his hands +or shake his head. Long before I had published my +identifications they were submitted to him, and he +communicated to me his own guesses as I communicated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +mine to him. Kuhn would never appropriate +what belonged to anybody else, and even in cases +where we agreed, he would always make it clear +that we had both arrived independently at the same +result.</p> + +<p>It is in the nature of things that every new generation +of scholars should perfect their tools, and +with these discover flaws in the work left by their +predecessors. Still, what is the refined chiselling of +later scholars compared with the rough-hewn stones +of men like Bopp or Grimm? If the Cyclopean +stones of the Pelasgians are not like the finished +works of art by Phidias, what would the Parthenon +be without the walls ascribed to the Cyclops? It +is the same in all sciences, and we must try to be +just, both to the genius of those who created, and +to the diligence of those who polished and refined.</p> + +<p>For all this, however, I met with but small +sympathy and encouragement at Leipzig; nay, I +had to be very careful in uttering what were supposed +to be heretical or unscholarlike opinions in +the seminary of Gottfried Hermann, or in the Latin +society of Haupt. The latter particularly, though +he knew very well how much light had been spread +on the growth of language by the researches of +Bopp, Grimm, and Pott, and though Grimm was +his intimate friend of whom he always spoke with +real veneration, could not bear his own pupils dabbling +in this subject. And of course at that time +my knowledge of comparative philology was a mere<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +dabbling. If he could discover a false quantity in +any etymology, great was his delight, and his sarcasm +truly withering, particularly as it was poured +out in very classical Latin. Gottfried Hermann +was a different character. He saw there was a new +light and he would not turn his back to it. He +knew how lightly his antagonist, Otfried Müller, +valued Sanskrit in his mythological essays, and he +set to work, and in one of his last academical programs +actually gave the paradigms of Sanskrit verbs +as compared with those of Greek. He saw that the +coincidences between the two could not be casual, +and if they were so overwhelming in the mere termination +of verbs, what might we not expect in words +and names, even in mythological names? He by no +means discouraged me, nay, he was sorry to lose +me, when in my third year I went to Berlin. He +showed me great kindness on several occasions, and +when the time came to take my degree of M.A. and +Ph.D., he, as Dean of the Faculty, invited me to +return to Leipzig, offering me an exhibition to cover +the expenses of the Degree.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a name="Max20" id="Max20"></a><a href="images/illo156.jpg"><img src="images/illo156_th.jpg" +alt="Max Müller, Aged 20" title="Max Müller, Aged 20" /></a></p> + +<p class="caption"><small>F. MAX MÜLLER</small><br /> +<i>Aged Twenty</i></p> + +<p>My wish to go to Berlin arose partly from a desire +to hear Bopp, but yet more from a desire to +make the acquaintance of Schelling. My inclination +towards philosophy had become stronger and +stronger; I had my own ideas about the mythological +as a necessary form of ancient philosophy, and +when I saw that the old philosopher had advertised +his lectures or lecture on mythology, I could not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +resist, and went to Berlin in 1844. I must say at +once that Professor Bopp, though he was extremely +kind to me, was at that time, if not old—he was only +fifty-three—very infirm. In his lectures he simply +read his <i>Comparative Grammar</i> with a magnifying +glass, and added very little that was new. He lent +me some manuscripts which he had copied in Latin +in his younger days, but I could not get much help +from him when I came to really difficult passages. +This, I confess, puzzled me at the time, for I looked +on every professor as omniscient. The time comes, +however, when we learn that even at fifty-three a +man may have forgotten certain things, nay, may +have let many books and new discoveries even in +his own subject pass by, because he has plenty to do +with his own particular studies. We remember the +old story of the professor who, when charged by a +young and rather impertinent student with not +knowing this or that, replied: “Sir, I have forgotten +more than you ever knew.” And so it is +indeed. Human nature and human memory are +very strong during youth and manhood, but even at +fifty there is with many people a certain decline of +mental vigour that tells chiefly on the memory. +Things are not exactly forgotten, but they do not +turn up at the right time. They just leave a certain +knowledge of where the missing information can +be found; they leave also a kind of feeling that the +ground is not quite safe and that we must no longer +trust entirely to our memory. In one respect this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +feeling is very useful, for instead of writing down +anything, trusting to our memory as we used to do, +we feel it necessary to verify many things which +formerly were perfectly clear and certain in our +memory without such reference to books.</p> + +<p>I remember being struck with the same thing in +the case of Professor Wilson, the well-known Oxford +Professor of Sanskrit. He was kind enough to +read with me, and I certainly was often puzzled, +not only by what he knew, but also by what he had +forgotten. I feel now that I misjudged him, and +that his open declaration, “I don’t know, let us +look it up,” really did him great honour. I still +have in my possession a portion of Pânini’s Vedic +grammar translated by him. I put by the side of it +my own translation, and he openly acknowledged +that mine, with the passages taken from the Veda, +was right. There was no humbug about Wilson. +He never posed as a scholar; nay, I remember his +saying to me more than once, “You see, I am not a +scholar, I am a gentleman who likes Sanskrit, and +that is all.” He certainly did like Sanskrit, and he +knew it better than many a professor, but in his own +way. He had enjoyed the assistance of really +learned Pandits, and he never forgot to record their +services. But he had himself cleared the ground—he +had really done original work. In fact, he had +done nothing but original work, and then he was +abused for not having always found at the first trial +what others discovered when standing on his shoulders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +Again, he was found fault with for not having +had a classical education. His education was, +I believe, medical, but when once in the Indian +Civil Service, he made himself useful in many ways, +educational and otherwise. When he left India he +was Master of the Mint. Such a man might not +know Greek and Latin like F. A. von Schlegel, or +any other professor, but he knew his own subject, +and it is simply absurd if classical scholars imagine +that anybody can carry on his Greek and Latin and +at the same time make himself a perfect scholar in +Sanskrit. Such a feeling is natural among small +schoolmasters, but it is dying out at last among real +scholars. I have known very good Sanskrit scholars +who knew no Greek at all, and very little Latin. +And I have also known Greek scholars who knew +no Sanskrit and yet attempted comparisons between +the two. When Lepsius was made a Member of +the Berlin Academy, Lachmann, who ought to have +known better, used to say of him: “He knows +many things which nobody knows, but he also is +ignorant of many things which everybody knows.” +Such remarks never speak well for the man who +makes them.</p> + +<p>Another disadvantage from which the aged +scholar suffers is that he is blamed for not having +known in his youth what has been discovered in his +old age, and is still violently assailed for opinions +he may have uttered fifty years ago. When quite +a young man I wrote, at Baron Bunsen’s request, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +long letter on the Turanian Languages. It was published +in 1854, but it still continues to be criticized +as if it had been published last year. Of course, +considering the rapid advance of linguistic studies, +a great part of that letter became antiquated long +ago; but at the time of its first appearance it contained +nearly all that could then be known on these +allophylian, that is, non-Aryan and non-Semitic +languages; and I may, perhaps, quote the opinion +of Professor Pott, no mean authority at that time, +who, after severely criticizing my letter, declared +that it belonged to the most important publications +that had appeared on linguistic subjects for many +years. And yet, though I have again and again +protested that I could not possibly have known in +1854 what has been discovered since as to a number +of these Turanian languages, everybody who writes +on any of them seems to be most anxious to show +that in 1894 he knows more than I did in 1854. No +astronomer is blamed for not having known the +planet Neptune before its discovery in 1846, or for +having been wrong in accounting for the irregularities +of Saturn. But let that pass; I only share the +fate of others who have lived too long.</p> + +<p>After all, all our knowledge, whatever show we +may make of it, is very imperfect, and the more +we know the better we learn how little it is that we +do know, and how much of unexplored country +there is beyond the country which we have explored. +We must judge a man by what he has done—by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +his own original work. There are many scholars, +and very useful they are in their own way, but if +their books are examined, one easily finds the stores +from which they borrowed their materials. They +may add some notes of their own and even some corrections, +particularly corrections of the authors from +whom they have borrowed most; but at the end +where is the fresh ore that they have raised; where +is the gold they have extracted and coined? There +are cases where the original worker is quite forgotten, +whereas the retailers flourish. Well, facts are +facts, whether known or not known, and the triumphal +chariot of truth has to be dragged along +by many hands and many shoulders.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Herr Geheimrath von Spiegel now lives at Munich.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>PARIS</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> stay in Paris from March, 1845, to June, +1846, was a very useful intermezzo. It opened my +mind and showed me a new world; showed me, in +fact, that there was a world besides Germany, +though even of Germany and German society I had +seen as yet very little. I had been working away +at school and university, but with the exception of +my short stay in Berlin, I had little experience of +men and manners outside the small sphere of Dessau +and Leipzig.</p> + +<p>I had been at Berlin some nine months when, +in December, 1844, my old friend Baron Hagedorn +came to see me, and invited me to spend some time +with him in Paris. He had his own apartments +there, and promised to look after me. At the same +time my cousin, Baroness Stolzenberg, whom I have +mentioned before as wishing me to enter the Austrian +diplomatic service, offered to send me to England +at her expense as a teacher. I hesitated for +some days between these two offers. I knew that +my own patrimony had been nearly spent at Leipzig +and Berlin, and the time had come for me to +begin to support myself; and how was I to do that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +in Paris? On the other hand, I had long felt that +for continuing my Sanskrit studies a stay in Paris, +and later perhaps in London also, was indispensable. +I had also to consider the feelings of my mother, +whose whole heart was absorbed in her only son. +However, Sanskrit, and my love of an independent +life won the day, and I decided to accept Hagedorn’s +proposal. My mind once made up, I wanted to be +off at once, but Hagedorn could not fix the exact +time when he would be free to leave, and told me to +keep myself in readiness to start whenever he found +himself free to go. I accordingly went to stay with +my mother and my married sister at Chemnitz, and +indulged in idleness and the unwonted dissipations +of parties, dances, and long skating expeditions. +At last, feeling I could not afford to wait any longer, +I went off to Dessau to see Hagedorn, and found +to my great disappointment that he was detained +by important legal business in connection with his +property near Munich, and could not yet fix a date +for his departure. So it was settled that I was to +go on to Paris without him, and instal myself in his +apartment, 25, Rue Royale St. Honoré.</p> + +<p>I got my passport wherein I was carefully described +with all my particular marks, and started +off on my foreign travels. At first all went well. +I stopped a few days at Bonn, and again at Brussels, +where I had my first experience of hearing a +foreign language spoken round me, and found that +my French was sadly deficient. But from Brussels<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +on, my experiences were anything but agreeable. +The journey to Paris took twenty-four hours, +and we travelled day and night without any stop +for meals. Most of the passengers were well provided +with food and wine, but had it not been for +the kindness of some old ladies, my fellow-travellers, +I should really have starved. When we crossed the +frontier the luggage of all passengers was carefully +examined. But the <i>douanier</i>, in trying to open my +portmanteau, broke the lock, and then began a fearful +cursing and swearing. I was perfectly helpless. +I could hardly understand what the French +<i>douaniers</i> said, still less make them understand +what I had to say. They had done the damage, but +would do nothing to remedy it. The train would +not wait, and I should certainly have been left behind +if the other travellers had not taken my part, +and I was allowed to go on to Paris. I looked a +mere boy, very harmless, not at all the clever smuggler +the officials took me to be. If they had forced +the portmanteau open they would have found nothing +but the most essential wearing apparel and a few +books and papers all in Sanskrit.</p> + +<p>But my miseries were not yet over, on the contrary, +they became much worse. On my arrival in +Paris I got a <i>fiacre</i> and told the man to drive to +25, Rue St. Honoré; <i>Royale</i> I considered of no importance; +but, alas! at the right number of the +Rue St. Honoré, the <i>concierge</i> stared at me, telling +me that no Baron Hagedorn lived there. Try<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +Faubourg St. Honoré, they said, but here the same +thing happened. And all this was on a rainy afternoon, +I being tired out with travelling and fasting, +and perfectly overwhelmed by the immensity of +Paris. I knew nobody at Paris, having trusted for +all such things to Baron Hagedorn, in fact I was +<i>au désespoir</i>. Then as I was driving along the +Boulevard des Italiens, looking out of window, I +saw a familiar figure—a little hunchback whom I +had known at Dessau, where he studied music under +Schneider. It was M. Gathy, a man well known by +his musical writings, particularly his <i>Dictionary of +Music</i>. I shrieked Gathy! Gathy! and he was as +much surprised when he recognized the little boy +from Dessau, as I was when in this vast Paris I +discovered at last a face which I knew. I jumped +out of my carriage, told Gathy all that had happened +to me, being all the time between complete +despair and perfect delight. He knew Hagedorn +and his rooms very well. It was the Rue Royale +St. Honoré. The <i>concierge</i> was quite prepared for +my arrival, and took us both to the rooms which +were <i>au cinquième</i>, but large and extremely well +furnished. I was so tired that I lay down on the +sofa, and called out in my best French, <i>Donnez-moi +quelque chose à manger et à boire</i>. This was +not so easily done as said, but at last, after toiling +up and down five flights of stairs, he brought me +what I wanted; I restored myself in the true sense +of the word, and then began to discuss the most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +necessary matters with M. Gathy. He was the most +charming of men, half German, half French, full +of <i>esprit</i>, and, what was more important to me, full +of real kindness and love. As soon as I saw him I +felt I was safe, and so I was, though I had still some +battles to fight. First of all, I had taken but little +money with me, looking upon Hagedorn as my +banker. Fortunately I remembered the name of +one of his friends, about whom Hagedorn had often +spoken to me and who was in Rothschild’s Bank. +I went there to find that he was away, but another +gentleman there told me that I could have as much +as I liked till Hagedorn or his friend came back. +So I was lucky, unlucky as I had been before.</p> + +<p>The next step I had to consider was what I should +do for my breakfast, luncheon, and dinner. Breakfast +I could have at home, but for the other meals I +had to go out and get what I wanted wherever I +could. It was not always what I wanted, for it had +to be cheap, and even a dinner <i>à deux francs</i> in the +Palais Royal seemed to me extravagant. I became +more knowing by-and-by, and discovered smaller +and simpler restaurants, where Frenchmen dined +and had arranged for a less showy but more wholesome +diet.</p> + +<p>The impression that my first experience of life +in one of the great capitals of the world made on +me is still fresh in my memory. My principal +amusement at first was to go on voyages of discovery +through the town. The beauty of the city<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +itself, and the rush and crowd in the streets delighted +me, and I remember specially a few days +after my arrival, when I went to watch “le tout +Paris” going out to the races at Longchamps, that I +was so struck by the difference between these streets +full of equipages of all sorts, ladies in resplendent +dresses, and well-groomed gentlemen, and the quiet +streets that I had been accustomed to in Dessau +and Leipzig, that I could hardly keep myself from +laughing out loud. However, when the novelty +wore off there was another contrast that struck me, +and made me more inclined to cry this time than to +laugh, and that was, that while at home I knew +almost every face I passed, here in these crowds I +was a stranger and knew no one, and I suffered +cruelly from the solitude at first.</p> + +<p>I began my work, however, at once, and on the +third day after my arrival I was at the Bibliothèque +Royale armed with a letter of introduction from +Humboldt, and the very next day was already at +work collating the MSS. of the <i>Kathaka Upanishad</i>. +I had also to devote some hours daily to the +study of French; for, much as I grudged these +hours, I fully realized that in order to get full advantage +from my stay in Paris, I must first master +French.</p> + +<p>Next came the great question, how to make the +acquaintance of Burnouf. I did not know the +world. I did not know whether I should write to +him first, in what language, and to what address. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +knew Burnouf from his books, and I felt a desperate +respect for him. After a time Gathy discovered +his address for me, and I summoned up courage to +call on him. My French was very poor as yet, but +I walked in and found a dear old gentleman in his +<i>robe de chambre</i>, surrounded by his books and his +children—four little daughters who were evidently +helping him in collecting and alphabetically arranging +a number of slips on which he had jotted down +whatever had struck him as important in his reading +during the day. He received me with great civility, +such as I had not been accustomed to before. He +spoke of some little book which I had published, +and inquired warmly after my teachers in Germany, +such as Brockhaus, Bopp, and Lassen. He told +me I might attend his lectures in the Collège de +France, and he would always be most happy to give +me advice and help.</p> + +<p>I at once felt perfect trust in the man, and was +really <i>aux cieux</i> to have found such an adviser. He +was, indeed, a fine specimen of the real French +savant. He was small, and his face was decidedly +German, with the <i>tête carrée</i> which one sees so +often in Germany, only lighted up by a constant +sparkle, which is distinctively French. I must +have seemed very stupid to him when I tried to +explain to him what I really wanted to do in Paris. +He told me himself afterwards that he could not +make me out at first. I wanted to study the Veda, +but I had told him at the same time that I thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +the Vedic hymns very stupid, and that I cared +chiefly for their philosophy, that is, the Upanishads. +This was really not true, but it came up first in conversation, +and I thought it would show Burnouf +that my interest in the Veda was not simply philological, +but philosophical also. No doubt at first I +chiefly copied the Upanishads and their commentaries, +but Burnouf was not pleased. “We know +what is in the Upanishads,” he used to say, “but we +want the hymns and their native comments.” I +soon came to understand what he meant; I carefully +attended his lectures, which were on the hymns of +the Rig-veda and opened an entirely new world to +my mind. We had the first book of the Rig-veda +as published by Rosen, and Burnouf’s explanations +were certainly delightful. He spoke freely and conversationally +in his lectures, and one could almost assist +at the elaboration of his thoughts. His audience +was certainly small; there was nothing like Renan’s +eloquence and wit. But Burnouf had ever so many +new facts to communicate to us. He explained to +us his own researches, he showed us new MSS. +which he had received from India, in fact he did +all he could to make us fellow workers. Often did +he tell us to look up some passage in the Veda, to +compare and copy the commentaries, and to let him +have the result of our researches at the next lecture. +All this was very inspiriting, particularly as Burnouf, +upon examining our work, was very generous +in his approval, and quite ready, if we had failed, to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +point out to us new sources that should be examined. +He never asserted his own authority, and if ever +we had found out something which he had not +known before, he was delighted to let us have the +full credit for it. After all, it was a new and unknown +country, that had to be explored and mapped +out, and even a novice might sometimes find a grain +of gold.</p> + +<p>His select class contained some good men. There +were Barthélemy St. Hilaire, the famous translator +of Aristotle, and for a time Minister of Foreign +Affairs in France, the Abbé Bardelli, R. Roth, Th. +Goldstücker, and a few more.</p> + +<p>Barthélemy St. Hilaire was a personal friend of +Burnouf, and came to the Collège de France not so +much to learn Sanskrit as to hear Burnouf’s lucid +exposition of ancient Indian religion and philosophy. +Bardelli was a regular Italian Abbé, studying +Sanskrit at Paris, but chiefly interested in Coptic. +He was, like St. Hilaire, much my senior, but we +became great friends, and he once confided to me +what had certainly puzzled me—his reasons for becoming +an ecclesiastic. He had been deeply in love +with a young lady; his love was returned, but he +was too poor to marry, and she was persuaded and +almost forced to marry a rich man. Dear old Abbé, +always taking snuff while he told me his agonies, +and then finishing up by saying that he became a +priest so as to put an end for ever to his passion. +Who would have suspected such a background to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +his jovial face? I don’t know how it was that people, +much my seniors, so often confided to me their +secret sufferings. I may have to mention some +other cases, and I feel that after my friends are +gone, and so many years have passed over their +graves, there is no indiscretion in speaking of their +confidences. It may possibly teach us to remember +how much often lies buried under a grave bright +with flowers. I saw Bardelli’s own grave many +years later in the famous cemetery at Pisa. R. Roth +and Th. Goldstücker were both strenuous Sanskrit +scholars. Both owed much to Burnouf, Roth even +more than Goldstücker, though the latter has perhaps +more frequently spoken of what he owed to +Burnouf. Roth was my senior by several years, +and engaged in much the same work as myself. But +we never got on well together. It is curious from +what small things and slight impressions our likes +and dislikes are often formed. I have heard men +give as a reason for disliking some one, that he had +forgotten to pay half a cab-fare. So in Roth’s case, +I never got over a most ordinary experience. He +and two other young students and myself, having +to celebrate some festal occasion, had ordered a good +luncheon at a restaurant. To me with my limited +means this was a great extravagance, but I could +not refuse to join. Roth, to my great surprise and, +I may add, being very fond of oysters, annoyance, +took a very unfair share of that delicacy, and whenever +I met him in after life, whether in person or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +in writing, this incident would always crop up in +my mind; and when later on he offered to join me +in editing the Rig-veda, I declined, perhaps influenced +by that early impression which I could not +get rid of. I blame myself for so foolish a prejudice, +but it shows what creatures of circumstance +we are.</p> + +<p>With Goldstücker I was far more intimate. He +was some years older than myself and quite independent +as far as money went. He knew how small +my means were, and would gladly have lent me +money. But through the whole of my life I never +borrowed from my friends, or in fact from anybody, +though I was forced sometimes when very hard up +for ready money, and when I knew that money was +due to me but had not arrived when I expected it, +to apply to some friend for a temporary advance. I +will try and recall the lines in which I once applied +to Gathy for such a loan.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Versuch’ ich’s wohl, mein herzgeliebter Gathy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mit schmeichelndem Sonnet Sie anzupumpen?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ich bitte nicht um schwere Goldesklumpen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ich bitte nur um etliche Ducati.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auch zahl’ ich wieder ultimo Monati.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Auf Wiedersehn bei Morel und Frascati<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und Nachsicht für den Brief, den allzu plumpen!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zwar reiche Nabobs sind die braven Inder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doch arme Teufel die Indianisten!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reich sind hienieden schon die Heiden-Kinder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doch selig werden nur die armen Christen!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reimsucher bin ich, doch kein Reimefinder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und <i>sans critique</i> sind all die Sanscritisten.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This kind of negotiating a loan I have to confess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +to, but the idea of borrowing money, without knowing +when I could repay it, never entered my mind. +Relations who could have helped me I had none, +and nothing remained to me but to work for others. +Indeed my want of money soon began to cause me +very serious anxiety in Paris. Little as I spent, my +funds became lower and lower. I did not, like many +other scholars, receive help from my Government. +I had mapped out my course for myself, and instead +of taking to teaching on leaving the University, had +settled to come to Paris and continue my Sanskrit +studies, and it was in my own hands whether I +should swim or sink. It was, indeed, a hard struggle, +far harder than those who have known me in +later life would believe. All I could do to earn a +little money was to copy and collate MSS. for other +people. I might indeed have given private lessons, +but I have always had a strong objection to that +form of drudgery, and would rather sit up a whole +night copying than give an hour to my pupils. My +plan was as follows: to sit up the whole of one night, +to take about three hours’ rest the next night, but +without undressing, and then to take a good night’s +rest the third night, and start over again. It was a +hard fight, and cannot have been very good for me +physically, but I do not regret it now.</p> + +<p>Often did I go without my dinner, being quite +satisfied with boiled eggs and bread and butter, +which I could have at home without toiling down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +and toiling up five flights of stairs that led to my +room. Sometimes I went with some of my young +friends <i>hors de la barrière</i>, that is, outside Paris, +outside the barrier where the <i>octroi</i> has to be paid +on meat, wine, &c. Here the food was certainly +better for the price I could afford to pay, but the society +was sometimes peculiar. I remember once seeing +a strange lady sitting not very far from me, +who was the well-known Louve of Eugène Sue’s +<i>Mystères de Paris</i>. One of my companions on +these expeditions was Karl de Schloezer, who was +then studying Arabic in Paris. He was always +cheerful and amusing, and a delightful companion. +He knew much more of the world than I did, and +often surprised me by his diplomatic wisdom. “Let +us stand up for each other,” he said one day; “you +say all the good you can of me, I saying all the good +I can of you.” I became very fierce at the time, +charging him with hypocrisy and I do not know +what. He, however, took it all in good part, and +we remained friends all the time he was at Paris, +and indeed to the day of his death. He was very +fond of music, but I was, perhaps, the better performer +on the pianoforte. He had invited me, a +violin, and violoncello, to play some of Mozart’s and +Beethoven’s Sonatas. Alas! when we found that +he murdered his part, I sat down and played the +whole evening, leaving him to listen, not, I fear, in +the best of moods. He took his revenge, however; +and the next time he asked me and the two other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +musicians to his room, we found indeed everything +ready for us to play, but our host was nowhere to +be found. He maintained that he had been called +away; I am certain, however, that the little trick +was played on purpose.</p> + +<p>He afterwards entered the Prussian diplomatic +service and was the protégé of the Princess of Prussia, +afterwards the Empress of Germany. That was +enough to make Bismarck dislike him, and when +Schloezer served as Secretary of Legation under +Bismarck as Ambassador at St. Petersburg, he committed +the outrage of challenging his chief to a duel. +Bismarck declined, nor would it, according to diplomatic +etiquette, have been possible for him not to +decline. Later on, however, Schloezer was placed +<i>en disponibilité</i>, that is to say, he was politely dismissed. +He had to pay a kind of farewell visit to +Bismarck, who was then omnipotent. Being asked +by Bismarck what he intended to do, and whether +he could be of any service to him, Schloezer said +very quietly, “Yes, your Excellency, I shall take +to writing my Memoirs, and you know that I have +seen much in my time which many people will be +interested to learn.” Bismarck was quiet for a time, +looking at some papers, and then remarked quite +unconcernedly, “You would not care to go to the +United States as Minister?” “I am ready to go +to-morrow,” replied Schloezer, and having carried +his point, having in fact outwitted Bismarck, he +started at once for Washington. Bismarck knew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +that Schloezer could wield a sharp pen, and there +was a time when he was sensitive to such pen-pricks. +They did not see much of each other afterwards, +but, owing to the protection of the Empress, Schloezer +was later accredited as Prussian envoy to the +Pope, and died too soon for his friends in beautiful +Italy.</p> + +<p>One of my oldest friends at Paris was a Baron +d’Eckstein, a kind of diplomatic agent who knew +everybody in Paris, and wrote for the newspapers, +French and German. He had, I believe, a pension +from the French Government, and was, as a Roman +Catholic, strongly allied with the Clerical Party. +This did not concern me. What concerned me was +his love of Sanskrit and the ancient religion of +India. He would sit with me for hours, or take me +to dine with him at a restaurant, discussing all the +time the Vedas and the Upanishad and the Vedanta +philosophy. There are several articles of his written +at this time in the <i>Journal Asiatique</i>, and I was +especially grateful to him, for he gave me plenty +of work to do, particularly in the way of copying +Sanskrit MSS. for him, and he paid me well and so +helped me to keep afloat in Paris. Knowing as he +did everybody, he was very anxious to introduce +me to his friends, such as George Sand, Lamennais, +the Comtesse d’Agoult (Daniel Stern), Lamartine, +Victor Hugo, and others; but I much preferred +half an hour with him or with Burnouf to paying +formal visits. I heard afterwards many unkind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +things about Baron d’Eckstein’s political and clerical +opinions, but though in becoming a convert to +Roman Catholicism he may have shown weakness, +and as a political writer may have been influenced +by his near friends and patrons, I never found him +otherwise than kind, tolerant, and trustworthy. His +life was to have been written by Professor Windischmann, +but he too died; and who knows what +may have become of the curious memoirs which he +left? At the time of the February revolution in +1848, he was in the very midst of it. He knew +Lamartine, who was the hero of the day, though of +a few days only. He attended meetings with Lamartine, +Odilon, Barrot, and others, and he assured +me that there would be no revolution, because nobody +was prepared for it.</p> + +<p>Lamartine who had been asked by his friends, +all of them royalists and friends of order, whether +he would, in case of necessity, undertake to form +a ministry under the Duchesse d’Orléans as regent, +scouted such an idea at first, but at last promised +to be ready if he were wanted. The time came sooner +than he expected, and the Duchesse d’Orléans +counted on him when she went to the Chamber and +her Regency was proclaimed. Lamartine was then +so popular that he might have saved the situation. +But the mob broke into the Chamber, shots were +fired, and there was no Lamartine. The Duchesse +d’Orléans had to fly, and fortunately escaped under +the protection of the Duc de Nemours, the only son<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +of Louis Philippe then in Paris, and the dynasty +of the Orléans was lost—never to return. Baron +d’Eckstein lost many of his influential friends at +that time, possibly his pension also, but he had +enough to live upon, and he died at last as a very +old man in a Roman Catholic monastery, a most +interesting and charming man, whose memoirs +would certainly have been very valuable.</p> + +<p>But to return to Burnouf, I never can adequately +express my debt of gratitude to him. He was of +the greatest assistance to me in clearing my thoughts +and directing them into one channel. “Either one +thing or the other,” he said. “Either study Indian +philosophy and begin with the Upanishads and Sankara’s +commentary, or study Indian religion and +keep to the Rig-veda, and copy the hymns and +Sâyana’s commentary, and then you will be our +great benefactor.” A great benefactor! that was +too much for me, a mere dwarf in the presence of +giants. But Burnouf’s words confirmed me more +and more in my desire to give myself up to the +Veda.</p> + +<p>Burnouf told me not only what Vedic MSS. there +were at the Bibliothèque Royale, he also brought +me his own MSS. and lent them to me to copy, with +the condition, however, that I should not smoke +while working at them. He himself did not smoke, +and could not bear the smell of smoke, and he +showed me several of his MSS. which had become +quite useless to him, because they smelt of stale<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +tobacco smoke. I did all I could to guard these +sacred treasures against such profanation.</p> + +<p>Another and even more useful warning came to +me from Burnouf. “Don’t publish extracts from +the commentary only,” he said; “if you do, you +will publish what is easy to read, and leave out what +is difficult.” I certainly thought that extracts +would be sufficient, but I soon found out that here +also Burnouf was right, though there was always +the fear that I should never find a publisher for so +immense a work. This fear I confided to Burnouf, +but he always maintained his hopeful view. “The +commentary must be published, depend upon it, +and it will be,” he said.</p> + +<p>So I stuck to it and went on copying and collating +my Sanskrit MSS., always trusting that a publisher +would turn up at the proper time. I had, of +course, to do all the drudgery for myself, and I soon +found out that it was not in human nature, at least +not in my nature, to copy Sanskrit from a MS. even +for three or four hours without mistakes. To my +great disappointment I found mistakes whenever +I collated my copy with the original. I found that +like the copyists of classical MSS. my eye had +wandered from one line to another where the same +word occurred, that I had left out a word when the +next word ended with the same termination, nay +that I had even left out whole lines. Hence I had +either to collate my own copy, which was very tedious, +or invent some new process. This new process<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +I discovered by using transparent paper, and thus +tracing every letter. I had some excellent <i>papier +végétal</i> made for me, and, instead of copying, traced +the whole Sanskrit MS. This had the great advantage +that nothing could be left out, and that +when the original was smudged and doubtful I +could carefully trace whatever was clear and visible +through the transparent paper. At first I confess +my work was slow, but soon it went as rapidly as +copying, and it was even less fatiguing to the eyes +than the constant looking from the MS. to the copy, +and from the copy to the MS. But the most important +advantage was, that I could thus feel quite +certain that nothing was left out, so that even now, +after more than fifty years, these tracings are as useful +to me as the MS. itself. There was room left +between the lines or on the margin to note the various +readings of other MSS.; in fact, my materials +grew both in extent and in value.</p> + +<p>Still there remained the question of a publisher. +To print the Rig-veda in six volumes quarto of about +a thousand pages each, and to provide the editor +with a living wage during the many years he would +have to devote to his task, required a large capital. +I do not know exactly how much, but what I do +know is that, when a second edition of the text of +the Veda in four volumes was printed at the expense +of the Maharajah of Vizianagram, it cost that +generous and patriotic prince four thousand pounds, +though I then gave my work gratuitously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + +<p>While I was working at the Bibliothèque Royale, +Humboldt had used his powerful influence with the +king of Prussia, Frederick William IV, to help me +in publishing my edition of the Rig-veda in Germany. +Nothing, however, came of that plan; it +proved too costly for any private publisher, even +with royal assistance.</p> + +<p>Then came a vague offer from St. Petersburg. +Boehtlingk, the great Sanskrit scholar, as a member +of the Imperial Russian Academy, invited me +to come to St. Petersburg and print the Veda there, +in collaboration with himself, and at the expense of +the Academy. Burnouf and Goldstücker both +warned me against accepting this offer, but, hopeless +as I was of getting my Veda published elsewhere, +I expressed my willingness to go on condition that +some provision should be made for me before I +decided to migrate to Russia, as I possessed absolutely +nothing but what I was able to earn myself. +Boehtlingk, I believe, suggested to the Academy +that I should be appointed Assistant Keeper of the +Oriental Museum at St. Petersburg, but his colleagues +did not apparently consider so young a man, +and a mere German scholar, a fit candidate for so responsible +a post. Boehtlingk wished me to send him +all my materials, and he would get the MSS. of the +Rig-veda and of Sâyana’s commentary from the Library +of the East India Company, and Paris. No +definite proposition, however, came from the Imperial +Academy, but an announcement of Boehtlingk’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +appeared in the papers in January, 1846, to +the effect that he was preparing, in collaboration +with Monsieur Max Müller of Paris, a complete +edition of the Rig-veda.</p> + +<p>All this, I confess, began to frighten me. For +me, a poor scholar, to go to St. Petersburg without +any official invitation, without any appointment, +seemed reckless, and though I have no doubt that +Boehtlingk would have done his best for me, yet +even he could only suggest private lessons, and that +was no cheerful outlook. The Academy would do +nothing for me unless I joined Boehtlingk, but at +last offered to buy my materials, on which I had +spent so much labour and the small fund at my disposal. +If the Academy could have got the necessary +MSS. from Paris and London, I should have been +perfectly helpless. Boehtlingk could have done +the whole work himself, in some respects better +than I, because he was my senior, and besides, he +knew Pânini, the old Indian grammarian who is +constantly referred to in Sâyana’s Commentary, +better than I did. With all these threatening clouds +around me, my decision was by no means easy.</p> + +<p>It was Burnouf’s advice that determined me to +remain quietly in Paris. He warned me repeatedly +against trusting to Boehtlingk, and promised, if I +would only stay in Paris, to give me his support +with Guizot, who was then Minister for Foreign +Affairs, and very much interested in Oriental +studies.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>Boehtlingk seems never to have forgiven me, +and he and several of his friends were highly displeased +at my ultimate success in securing a publisher +for the Rig-veda in England. Their language +was most unbecoming, and they tried, and +actually urged other Sanskrit scholars, to criticize +my edition, though I must say to their credit that +they afterwards confessed that it was all that could +be desired.</p> + +<p>Many years later, Boehtlingk published a violent +attack on me, entitled <i>F. Max Müller als Mythendichter</i>, +but I thought it unnecessary to take up the +dispute, and preferred to leave my friends to judge +for themselves between me and this propounder of +accusations, the legitimacy of which he was utterly +unable to establish. However, as I discovered later +that he accused me of having acted discourteously +towards the Imperial Academy of St. Petersburg, +with whom I had never had any direct dealings, +and stated that he had prevented that illustrious +body from ever making me a corresponding member, +I thought it right to offer an explanation to the +Secretary, and I have in my possession his reply, +in which he wrote that there was no foundation +whatever for Professor Boehtlingk’s statements.</p> + +<p>However, the outcome of it was that I did not go +to St. Petersburg, but went on with my work at the +Library in Paris, till one day I found it necessary to +run over to London, to copy and collate certain +MSS., and there I found the long-sought-for benefactors,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +who were to enable me to carry out the work +of my life.</p> + +<p>Of course, during my stay in Paris there was no +idea of my going into society, or of buying tickets +for theatres or concerts. I went out to dinner at +some small restaurant, but otherwise I remained at +home, and viewed Paris life from my high windows, +looking out on the Chambre des Députés on one +side, the Madeleine close to me on the left, and the +Porte St. Martin far away at the end of the Boulevards. +Baron d’Eckstein, as I have said, was willing +to introduce me into society, but I refused his +kind offers. In fact, I was more or less of a bear, +and I now regret having missed meeting many interesting +characters, and having kept aloof from +others, because my interests were absorbed elsewhere. +Burnouf asked me sometimes to his house; +so did a Monsieur Troyer, who had been in India +and published some Sanskrit texts, and whose +daughter, the Duchesse de Wagram, made much of +me, as she was very fond of music. There were +some German families also, some rich, some poor, +who showed me great kindness.</p> + +<p>I was too much oppressed with cares and anxieties +about my life and my literary plans to think +much of society and enjoyment. Even of the +students and student life I saw but little, though I +was actually attending lectures with them. I must +say, however, that the little I did see of student +life in Paris gave me a very different idea from what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +is generally thought of their vagaries and extravagances. +A Frenchman, if he once begins to work, +can work and does work very hard. I remember +seeing several instances of this, but it is possible +that I may have seen the pick of the Quartier Latin +only. One who was then a young man, preparing +for the Church, but already with an eye to higher +flights, was Renan. At first he still looked upon +all young Germans with suspicion, but this feeling +soon disappeared. I remember him chiefly at the +Bibliothèque Royale, where he had a very small +place in the Oriental Department. Hase, the Greek +scholar, Reinaud, the Arabist, and Stanislas Julien, +the Sinologue, were librarians then. Hase, a German +by birth, was most obliging, but he was greatly +afraid of speaking German, and insisted on our +always speaking French to him. Often did he call +Renan to fetch MSS. for me: “Renan,” he would +call out very loudly, “allez chercher, pour Monsieur +Max Müller, le manuscrit sanscrit, numéro +...,” and then followed a pause, till he had translated +“1637” into French. In later years Renan +and I became great friends, but we German scholars +were often puzzled at his great popularity, which +certainly was owing to his style more even than to +his scholarship. Some time later, when I was already +established in England, we had a little controversy, +and I printed a rather fierce attack on his +<i>Grammaire Sémitique</i>. But we were intimate +enough for me to show him my pamphlet, and when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +he wrote to me, “Pardonnez-moi, je n’ai pas compris +ce que vous vouliez dire,” I suppressed the +pamphlet, though it was printed, and we remained +friends for life. He translated my first article on +Comparative Mythology, and I had a number of +most interesting letters from him. It was his wife +who did the translation, while he revised it. That +French pamphlet is very scarce now; my own +pamphlet was entirely suppressed; even I myself +can find no copy of it among the rubbish of my early +writings, and what I regret most, I threw away his +letters, not thinking how interesting they would +become in time.</p> + +<p>With all my work, however, I found time to attend +some lectures at the Collège de France, and +to make the acquaintance of some distinguished +French <i>savants</i> of the <i>Institut</i>. I went there with +Burnouf, or Stanislas Julien, or Reinaud, little +dreaming that I should some day belong to the same +august body. Many of my young French friends, +who afterwards became <i>Membres de l’Institut</i>, rose +to that dignity much later. I was made not only a +corresponding, but a real member of the Académie +des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres in 1869, before +my friends, such as G. Perrot 1874, Michel Bréal +1875, Gaston Paris 1876, and Jules Oppert 1881, +occupied their well-merited academical <i>fauteuils</i>. +The struggle when I was elected in 1869 was a +serious one; it was between Mommsen and myself, +between classical and Oriental scholarship, and for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +once Oriental scholarship carried the day. Mommsen, +however, was elected in 1895, and there can be +little doubt that his strong and outspoken political +antipathies had something to do with the late date +of his election.</p> + +<p>I am sorry to say that one result of my seeing +so little of French life was that my French did not +make such progress as I expected. Though I was +able to express myself <i>tant bien que mal</i>, I have +always felt hampered in a long conversation. Of +course, the French themselves have always been +polite enough to say that they could not have detected +that I was a German, but I knew better than +that, and never have I, even in later years, gained +a perfect conversational command of that difficult +language.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">While</span> working in Paris I constantly felt the +want of some essential MSS. which were at the Library +of the East India Company in London, and +my desire to visit England consequently grew +stronger and stronger; but I had not the wherewithal +to pay for the journey, much less for a stay +of even a fortnight in London. At last (June, +1846) I thought that I had scraped together enough +to warrant my starting. At that time I had never +seen the sea, and I was very desirous of doing so. +I well remember my unbounded rapture at my first +sight of the silver stream, and like Xenophon’s +Greeks I could have shouted, θἁλαττα, θἁλαττα. +Once on board my rapture soon collapsed and was +succeeded by that well-known feeling of misery +which I have so frequently experienced since then, +and I huddled myself up in a corner of the deck.</p> + +<p>There a young fellow-traveller saw the poor +bundle of misery, and tried to comfort me, and +brought me what he thought was good for me, not, +however, without a certain merry twinkle in his eye +and a few kindly jokes at my expense. We landed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +at the docks in London, a real drizzly day, rain and +mist, and such a crowd rushing on shore that I +missed my cheerful friend and felt quite lost. In +addition to all this a porter had run away with my +portmanteau, which contained my books and MSS., +in fact all my worldly goods. At that moment my +young friend reappeared, and seeing the plight I +was in, came to my assistance. “You stay here,” +he said, “and I will arrange everything for you;” +and so he did. He fetched a four-wheeler, put my +luggage on the top, bundled me inside, and drove +with me through a maze of London streets to his +rooms in the Temple. Then, still knowing nothing +about me, he asked me to spend the night in his +rooms, gave me a bed and everything else I wanted +for the night. The next morning he took me out to +look for lodgings, which we found in Essex Street, +a small street leading out of the Strand.</p> + +<p>The room which I took was almost entirely filled +by an immense four-post bed. I had never seen +such a structure before, and during the first night +that I slept in it, I was in constant fear that the top +of the bed would fall and smother me as in the +German <i>Märchen</i>. When the landlady came in to +see me in the morning, after asking how I had slept, +the first thing she said was, “But, sir, don’t you +want another ‘pillar’?” I looked bewildered, and +said: “Why, what shall I do with another pillar? +and where will you put it?” She then touched the +pillows under my head and said, “Well, sir, you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +shall have another ‘pillar’ to-morrow.” “How +shall I ever learn English,” I said to myself, “if +a ‘pillar’ means really a soft pillow?”</p> + +<p>But to return to my unknown friend, he came +every day to show me things which I ought to see +in London, and brought me tickets for theatres and +concerts, which he said were sent to him. His name +was William Howard Russell, endeared to so many, +high and low, under the name of “Billy” Russell, +the first and most brilliant war-correspondent of +<i>The Times</i> during the Crimean War. He remained +my warm and true friend through life, and even +now when we are both cripples, we delight in meeting +and talking over very distant days.</p> + +<p>I had come over to London expecting to stay +about a fortnight, but I had been there working +at the Library in Leadenhall Street for nearly a +month, and my work was far from done, when I +thought that I ought to call and pay my respects to +the Prussian Minister, Baron Bunsen. I little +thought at the time when I was ushered into his +presence that this acquaintance was to become the +turning-point of my life. If I owed much to Burnouf, +how can I tell what I owed to Bunsen? I +was amazed at the kindness with which from the +very first he received me. I had no claim whatever +on him, and I had as yet done very little as a scholar. +It is true that he had known my father in Italy, and +that Humboldt, with his usual kindness, had written +him a strong letter of recommendation on my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +behalf, but that was hardly sufficient reason to account +for the real friendship with which he at once +honoured me.</p> + +<p>Baroness Bunsen, in the life of her husband, +writes: “The kindred mind, their sympathy of +heart, the unity in highest aspirations, a congeniality +in principles, a fellowship in the pursuit of +favourite objects, which attracted and bound Bunsen +to his young friend (i. e. myself), rendered this +connexion one of the happiest of his life.” I am +proud to think it was so.</p> + +<p>At first the chief bond between us was that I +was engaged on a work which as a young man he +had proposed to himself as the work of his life, +namely, the <i>editio princeps</i> of the Rig-veda. Often +has he told me how, at the time when he was prosecuting +his studies at Göttingen, the very existence +of such a book was unknown as yet in Germany. +The name of Veda had no doubt been known, and +there was a halo of mystery about it, as the oldest +book of the world. But what it was and where it +was to be found no one could tell. Mr. Astor, a +pupil of Bunsen’s at Göttingen, had arranged to +take Bunsen to India to carry on his researches +there. But Bunsen waited and waited in Italy, till +at last, after maintaining himself by giving private +lessons, he went to Rome, was taken up by Brandes +and Niebuhr, the Prussian Ambassador there, became +the friend of the future Frederick William +IV, and thus gradually drifted into diplomacy, giving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +up all hopes of discovering or rescuing the +Rig-veda.</p> + +<p>People have hardly any idea now, how, in spite +of the East India Company conquering and governing +India, India itself remained a <i>terra incognita</i>, +unapproachable by the students of England and of +Europe. That there were literary treasures to be +discovered in India, that the Brahmans were the +depositaries of ancient wisdom, was known through +the labours of some of the most eminent servants +of the East India Company. It had been known +even before, through the interesting communications +of Roman Catholic missionaries in India, that +the manuscripts themselves, at least those of the +Veda, were not forthcoming. Even as late as the +times of Sir W. Jones, Colebrooke, and Professor +Wilson, the Brahmans were most unwilling to part +with MSS. of the Veda, except the Upanishads. +Professor Wilson told me that once, when examining +the library of a native Râjah, he came across +some MSS. of the Rig-veda, and began turning +them over; but “I observed,” he said, “the ominous +and threatening looks of some of the Brahmans +present, and thought it wiser to beat a retreat.” +Dr. Mill had known of a gentleman who +had a very sacred hymn of the Veda, the Gayatri, +printed at Calcutta. The Brahmans were furious +at this profanation, and when the gentleman died +soon after, they looked upon his premature death +as the vengeance of the offended gods. Colebrooke,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +however, was allowed to possess himself of several +most valuable Vedic MSS., and he found Brahmans +quite ready to read with him, not only the +classical texts, but also portions of the Veda. +“They do not even,” he writes, “conceal from us +the most sacred texts of the Veda.” His own +essays on the Veda appeared in the <i>Asiatic Researches</i> +as early as 1801. But people went on +dreaming about the Veda, instead of reading Colebrooke’s +essays.</p> + +<p>It was curious, however, that at the time when +I prepared my edition of the Rig-veda, Vedic +scholarship was at a very low ebb in Bengal itself, +and there were few Brahmans there who knew +the whole of the Rig-veda by heart, as they still +did in the South of India. Manuscripts were never +considered in India as of very high authority; they +were always over-ruled by the oral traditions of +certain schools. However, such manuscripts, good +and bad, but mostly bad, existed, and after a time +some of them reached England, France, and even +Germany. Portions of those in Berlin and Paris +I had copied and collated, so that I could show +Bunsen the very book which he had been in search +of in his youth. This opened his heart to me as +well as the doors of his house. “I am glad,” he +said, “to have lived to see the Veda. Whatever +you want, let me know; I look upon you as myself +grown young again.” And he did help me, +as only a father can help his son.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>Perhaps he expected too much from the Veda, +as many other people did at that time, and before +the <i>verba ipsissima</i> were printed. As the oldest +book that ever was composed, the Veda was supposed +to give us a picture of what man was in his +most primitive state, with his most primitive ideas, +and his most primitive language. Everybody interested +in the origin and the first development of +language, thought, religion, and social institutions, +looked forward to the Veda as a new revelation. +All such dreams, natural enough before the Veda +was known, were dispersed by my laying sacrilegious +hands on the Veda itself, and actually publishing +it, making it public property, to the dismay +of the Brahmans in India, and to the delight of all +Sanskrit scholars in Europe. The learned essays +of Colebrooke in India, and the extracts published +by Rosen, the Oriental librarian of the British +Museum, might indeed have taught people that +the Veda was not a book without any antecedents, +that it would not tell us the secrets of Adam and +Eve, or of Deukalion and Pyrrha. I myself had +both said and written that the Veda, like an old +oak tree, shows hundreds and thousands of circles +within circles; and yet I was afterwards held +responsible for having excited the wildest hopes +among archaeologists, when I had done my best, +if not to destroy them, at all events to reduce them +to their proper level. Schelling seemed quite disappointed +when I showed him some of the translations<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +of the hymns of the Rig-veda; and Bunsen, +who was still under Schelling’s influence, had evidently +expected a great many more of such philosophical +hymns as the famous one beginning:</p> + +<p>“There was not nought nor was there aught at +that time.”</p> + +<p>To the scholar, no doubt, the Veda remained +and always will remain the oldest of real books, +that has been preserved to us in an almost miraculous +way. By book, however, as I often explained, +I mean a book divided into chapters and verses, +having a beginning and an end, and handed down +to us in an alphabetic form of writing. China +may have possessed older books in a half phonetic, +half symbolic writing; Egypt certainly possessed +older hieroglyphic inscriptions and papyri; Babylon +had its cuneiform monuments; and certain +portions of the Old Testament may have existed +in a written form at the time of Josiah, when Hilkiah, +the high priest, found the law book in the +sanctuary (2 Kings xxii. 8). But the Veda, with +its ten books or <i>Mandalas</i>, its 1017 hymns or +<i>Suktas</i>, with every consonant and vowel and accent +plainly written, was a different thing. It may +safely be called a book. No doubt it existed for a +long time, as it does even at present, in oral tradition, +but as it was in tradition, so it was when +reduced to writing, and in either form I doubt +whether any other real book can rival it in antiquity. +More important, however, than the purely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +chronological antiquity of the book, is the antiquity +or primitiveness of the thoughts which it contains. +If the people of the Veda did not turn out to be +quite such savages as was hoped and expected, +they nevertheless disclosed to us a layer of thought +which can be explored nowhere else. The Vedic +poets were not ashamed of exposing their fear that +the sun might tumble down from the sky, and +there are no other poets, as far as I know, who still +trembled at the same not quite unnatural thought. +Nor do I find even savages who still wonder and +express their surprise that black cows should produce +white milk. Is not that childish enough for +any ancient or modern savage? Mere chronology +is here of as little avail as with modern savages, +whose customs and beliefs, though known as but +of yesterday, are represented to us as older than +the Veda, older than Babylonian cylinders, older +than anything written. When certain modern +savages recognize the relationship of paternity, +maternity, and consanguinity, this is called very +ancient. If they admit traditional restrictions as +to marriage, food, the treatment of the dead, nay, +even a life to come, this too, no doubt, may be +very old; but it may be of yesterday also. There +are even quite new gods, whose genesis has been +watched by living missionaries. The great difficulty +in all such researches is to distinguish between +what is common to human nature, and what +is really inherited or traditional. All such questions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +have only as yet been touched upon, and they +must wait for their answer till real scholars will +take up the study of the language of living savages, +in the same scholarlike spirit in which they have +taken up the study of Vedic and Babylonian savages. +But we must have patience and learn to +wait. It has been a favourite idea among anthropologists +that the savage races inhabiting parts of +India give us a correct idea of what the Aryans +of India were before they were civilized. It may +safely be said of this as of other mere ideas, that it +may be true, but that there is no evidence to show +that it is true. At all events it takes much for +granted, and neglects, as it would seem, the very +lessons which the theory of evolution has taught +us. It is the nature of evolution to be continuous, +and not to proceed <i>per saltum</i>. Therein lies the +beauty of genealogical evolution that we can recognize +the fibres which connect the upper strata with +the lower, till we strike the lowest, or at least that +which contains what seem to be the seeds and +germs of early thoughts, words, and acts. We can +trace the most modern forms of language back to +Sanskrit, or rather to that postulated linguistic +stratum of which Sanskrit formed the most prominent +representative, just as we can trace the French +<i>Dieu</i> back to Latin <i>Deus</i> and Sanskrit <i>Devas</i>, the +brilliant beings behind the phenomena of nature; +and again behind them, <i>Dyaus</i>, the brilliant sky, +the Greek <i>Zeus</i>, the Roman <i>Iovis</i> and <i>Iuppiter</i>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +the most natural of all the Aryan gods of nature. +This is real evolution, a real causal nexus between +the present and the past. It used to be called +history or pragmatic history, whether we take history +in the sense of the description of evolution, +or in that of evolution itself. History has generally +to begin with the present, to go back to the +past, and to point out the palpable steps by which +the past became again and again the present. Evolution, +on the contrary, prefers to begin with the +distant past, to postulate formations, even if they +have left no traces, and to speak of those almost +imperceptible changes by which the postulated past +became the perceptible present, as not only necessary, +but as real. Perhaps the difference is of no +importance, but the historical method seems certainly +the more accurate, and the more satisfactory +from a purely scientific point of view.</p> + +<p>In all such evolutionary researches language has +always been the most useful instrument, and the +study of the science of language may truly be said +to have been the first science which was treated +according to evolutionary or historical principles. +Here, too, no doubt, intermediate links which must +have existed, are sometimes lost beyond recovery, +and when we arrive at the very roots of language, +we feel that there may have been whole aeons +before that radical period. Here science must +recognize her inevitable horizons, but here again +no surviving literary monument could carry us so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +far as the Veda. Hence its supreme importance +for Aryan philology—for the philology of the +most important languages of historical mankind. +Other languages, whether Babylonian or Accadian, +whether Hottentot or Maori, may be, for all we +know, much more ancient or much more primitive; +but, as scientific explorers, we can only speak of +what we know, and we must renounce all conjectures +that go beyond facts.</p> + +<p>In all these researches no one took a livelier +interest and encouraged me more than Bunsen. +When some of my translations of the Vedic hymns +seemed fairly satisfactory, I used to take them to +him, and he was always delighted at seeing a little +more of that ancient Aryan torso, though at the +time he was more specially interested in Egyptian +chronology and archaeology. Often when I was +alone with him did we discuss the chronological +and psychological dates of Egyptian and Aryan +antiquity. Kind-hearted as he was, Bunsen could +get very excited, nay, quite violent in arguing, +and though these fits soon passed off, yet it made +discussions between His Excellency the Prussian +Minister and a young German scholar somewhat +difficult. At that time much less was known of +the earliest Egyptian chronology than is now. +But I was never much impressed by mere dates. +If a king was supposed to have lived 5,000 years +before our era, “What is that to us?” I used to +say, “He sits on his throne <i>in vacuo</i>, and there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +is nothing to fix him by, nothing contemporary +which alone gives interest to history. In India we +have no dates; but whatever dates and names of +kings and accounts of battles the Egyptian inscriptions +may give us, as a book there is nothing so +old in Egypt as the Veda in India. Besides, we +have in the Veda thoughts; and in the chronology +of thought the Veda seems to me older than even +the Book of the Dead.”</p> + +<p>As to the actual date of the Veda, I readily +granted that chronologically it was not so old as +the pyramids, but supposing it had been, would +that in any way have increased its value for our +studies? If we were to place it at 5000 <small>B. C.</small>, I +doubt whether anybody could refute such a date, +while if we go back beyond the Veda, and come +to measure the time required for the formation of +Sanskrit and of the Proto-Aryan language I doubt +very much whether even 5,000 years would suffice +for that. There is an unfathomable depth in +language, layer following after layer, long before +we arrive at roots, and what a time and what an +effort must have been required for their elaboration, +and for the elaboration of the ideas expressed +in them.</p> + +<p>Our battles waxed sometimes very fierce, but we +generally ended by arriving at an understanding. +As a young man, Bunsen had clearly perceived the +importance of the Veda for an historical study of +mankind and the growth of the human mind, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +he was not discouraged when he saw that it gave +us less than had been expected. “It is a fortress,” +he used to say, “that must be besieged and taken, +it cannot be left in our rear.” But he little knew +how much time it would take to approach it, to +surround it, and at last to take it. It has not been +surrendered even now, and will not be in my time. +It is true there are several translations of the whole +of the Rig-veda, and their authors deserve the highest +credit for what they have done. People have +wondered why I have not given one of them in +my Sacred Books of the East. I thought it was +more honest to give, in co-operation with Oldenburg, +specimens only in vols. xxxii and xlvi of that +series, and let it be seen in the notes how much +uncertainty there still is, and how much more of +hard work is required, before we can call ourselves +masters of the old Vedic fortress.</p> + +<p>Bunsen’s interest in my work, however, took a +more practical turn than mere encouragement. It +was no good encouraging me to copy and collate +Sanskrit MSS. if they were not to be published. +He saw that the East India Company were the +proper body to undertake that work. Bunsen’s +name was a power in England, and his patronage +was the very best introduction that I could have +had. It was no easy task to persuade the Board +of Directors—all strictly practical and commercial +men—to authorize so considerable an expenditure, +merely to edit and print an old book that none<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +of them could understand, and many of them had +perhaps never even heard of. Bunsen pointed out +what a disgrace it would be to them, if some other +country than England published this edition of the +Sacred Books of the Brahmans.</p> + +<p>Professor Wilson, Librarian of the Company, +also gave my project his support, and at last, not +quite a year after my arrival in England, after a +long struggle and many fears of failure, it was +settled that the East India Company were to bear +the cost of printing the Veda, and were meanwhile +to enable me to stay in London, and prepare +my work for press.</p> + +<p>I had already been working five years copying +and collating, and my first volume of the Rig-veda +was progressing, but it was only when all was +settled that I realized how much there was still +to do, and that I should have very hard work indeed +before the printing could begin. I must enter +into some details to show the real difficulties I +had to face.</p> + +<p>I felt convinced that the first thing to do was to +publish a correct text of the Rig-veda. That was +not so difficult, though it brought me the greatest +kudos. The MSS. were very correct, and the text +could easily be restored by comparing the Pada +and Sanhitâ texts, i. e. the text in which every word +was separated, and the text in which the words +were united according to the rules of Sandhi. Anybody +might have done that, yet this, as I said, was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +the part of my work for which I have received the +greatest praise.</p> + +<p>When my edition of the Rig-veda containing +text and commentary was nearly finished, another +scholar, who had assisted me in my work, and who +had always had the use of my MSS., my Indices, +in fact of the whole of my <i>apparatus criticus</i>, +published a transcript of the text in Latin letters, +and thus anticipated part of the last volume of my +edition. His friends, who were perhaps not mine, +seemed delighted to call him the first editor of the +Rig-veda, though they ceased to do so when they +discovered misprints or mistakes of my own edition +repeated in his. He himself was far above +such tactics. He knew, and they knew perfectly +well that, whatever the <i>vulgus profanum</i> may +think, my real work was the critical edition of +Sâyana’s commentary on the Rig-veda. I had determined +that this also should be edited according +to the strictest rules of criticism. I knew what an +amount of labour that would involve, but I refused +to yield to the pressure of my colleagues to proceed +more quickly but less critically.</p> + +<p>Sâyana quotes a number of Sanskrit works +which, at the time when I began my edition, had +not yet been edited. Such were the Nirukta, the +glossary of the Rig-veda; the Aitareya-brâhmana, +a very old explanation of the Vedic sacrifice; the +Âsvalâyana Sûtras, on the ceremonial; and sundry +works of the same character. Sâyana generally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +alludes very briefly only to these works and presupposes +that they are known to us, so that a short +reference would suffice for his purposes. To find +such references and to understand them required, +however, not only that I should copy these works, +which I did, but that I should make indices and +thus be able to find the place of the passages to +which he alluded. This I did also, but over and +over again was I stopped by some short enigmatical +reference to Pânini’s grammar or Yaska’s glossary, +which I could not identify. All these references +are now added to my edition, and those who will +look them up in the originals, will see what kind +of work it was which I had to do before a single +line of my edition could be printed. How often +was I in perfect despair, because there was some +allusion in Sâyana which I could not make out, +and which no other Sanskrit scholar, not even +Burnouf or Wilson, could help me to clear up. It +often took me whole days, nay, weeks, before I +saw light. A good deal of the commentary was +easy enough. It was like marching on the high +road, when suddenly there rises a fortress that has +to be taken before any further advance is to be +thought of. In the purely mechanical part other +men could and did help me. But whenever any +real difficulty arose, I had to face it by myself, +though after a time I gladly acknowledged that +here, too, their advice was often valuable to me. +In fact I found, and all my assistants seemed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +have found out the same, that if they were useful +to me, the work they did for me was useful to +them, and I am proud to say that nearly all of +them have afterwards risen to great prominence in +Sanskrit scholarship. From time to time I also +worked at interpreting and translating some of the +Vedic hymns, though I had always hoped that +this part of the work would be taken up by other +scholars.</p> + +<p>Bunsen was also my social sponsor in London, +and my first peeps into English society were at the +Prussian Legation. He often invited me to his +breakfast and dinner parties, and when I saw for +the first time the magnificent rooms crowded with +ministers, and dukes, and bishops, and with ladies +in their grandest dresses, I was as in a dream, and +felt as if I had been lifted into another world. +Men were pointed out to me such as Sir Robert +Peel, the Duke of Wellington, Van der Weyer, +the Belgian Minister, Thirlwall, Bishop of St. +David’s and author of the <i>History of Greece</i>, +Archdeacon Hare, Frederick Maurice, and many +more whom I did not know then, though I came +to know several of them afterwards. Anybody +who had anything of his own to produce was welcome +in Bunsen’s house, and among the men whom +I remember meeting at his breakfast parties, were +Rawlinson, Layard, Hodgson, Birch, and many +more. Those breakfast parties were then quite a +new institution to me, and it is curious how entirely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +they have gone out of fashion, though Sir +Harry Inglis, Member for Oxford, Gladstone, +Member for Oxford, Monckton Milnes (afterwards +Lord Houghton), kept them up to the last, while +in Oxford they survived perhaps longer than anywhere +else. They had one great advantage, people +came to them quite fresh in the morning; but they +broke too much into the day, particularly when, +as at Oxford, they ended with beer, champagne, +and cigars, as was sometimes the case in undergraduates’ +rooms.</p> + +<p>How I was able to swim in that new stream, I +can hardly understand even now. I had been +quite unaccustomed to this kind of society, and +was ignorant of its simplest rules. Bunsen, however, +was never put out by my gaucheries, but +gave me friendly hints in feeling my way through +what seemed to me a perfect labyrinth. He told +me that I had offended people by not returning +their calls, or not leaving a card after having dined +with them, paying the so-called digestion-visit to +them. How should I know? Nobody had ever +told me, and I thought it obtrusive to call. Nor +did I know that in England to touch fish with a +knife, or to help yourself to potatoes with a fork, +was as fatal as to drop or put in an <i>h</i>. Nor did I +ever understand why to cut crisp pastry on your +plate with a knife was worse manners than to +divide it with a fork, often scattering it over your +plate and possibly over the table-cloth. I must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +confess also that fish-knives always seemed to me +more civilized than forks in dividing fish, but fish-knives +did not exist when I first came to England. +The really interesting side of all this is to watch +how customs change—come in and go out—and by +what a slow and imperceptible process they are discarded. +Let us hope it is by the survival of the +fittest. When I first went to Oxford everybody +took wine with his neighbours, now it is only at +such conservative colleges as my own—All Souls—that +the old custom still survives. But then we +have not even given up wax candles yet, and we +look upon gas as a most objectionable innovation.</p> + +<p>Another great difficulty I had was in writing +letters and addressing my friends properly as Sir, +or Mr. Smith, or Smith. I was told that the rule +was very simple and that you addressed everybody +exactly as they addressed you. What was the consequence? +When I received an invitation to dine +with the Bishop of Oxford who addressed me as +“My dear Sir,” I wrote back “My dear Sir,” and +said that I should be very happy. How Samuel +Wilberforce must have chuckled when he read my +epistle. But how is any stranger to know all the +intricacies of social literature, particularly if he is +wrongly informed by the highest authorities. I +must confess that even later in life I have often +been puzzled as to the right way of addressing my +friends. There is no difficulty about intimate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +friends, but as one grows older one knows so many +people more or less intimately, and according to +their different characters and stations in life, one +often does not know whether one offends by too +great or too little familiarity. I was once writing +to a very eminent man in London who had been +exceedingly friendly to me at Oxford, and I addressed +him as “My dear Professor H.” At the +end of his answer he wrote, “Don’t call me Professor.” +All depends on the tone in which such +words are said. I imagined that living in fashionable +society in London, he did not like the somewhat +scholastic title of Professor which, in London +particularly, has always a by-taste of diluted omniscience +and conceit. I accordingly addressed +him in my next letter as “My dear Sir,” and this, +I am sorry to say, produced quite a coldness and +stiffness, as my friend evidently imagined that I +declined to be on more intimate terms with him, +the fact being that through life I have always been +one of his most devoted admirers. I did my best +to conform to all the British institutions, as well +as I could, though in the beginning I must no +doubt have made fearful blunders, and possibly +given offence to the truly insular Briton. Bunsen +seemed to delight in asking me whenever he had +Princes or other grandees to lunch or dine with +him.</p> + +<p>One day he took me with him to stay at Hurstmonceux +with Archdeacon Hare, and a delightful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +time it was. There were books in every room, on +the staircase, and in every corner of the house, and +the Archdeacon knew every one of them, and as +soon as a book was mentioned, he went and fetched +it. He generally knew the very place at which the +passage that was being discussed, occurred, and excelled +even the famous dog, which at one of these +literary breakfast parties—I believe in Hallam’s +house—was ordered on the spur of the moment to +fetch the fifth volume of Gibbon’s <i>History</i>, and +at once climbed up the ladder and brought down +from the shelf the very volume in which the disputed +passage occurred. He had been taught this +one trick of fetching a certain volume from the +shelves of the library, and the conversation was +turned and turned till it was brought round to a +passage in that very volume. The guests were, no +doubt, amazed, but as it was before the days of +Darwin and Lubbock, it led to no more than a +good laugh. I was surprised and delighted at the +honesty with which the Archdeacon admitted the +weak points of the Anglican system, and the dangers +which threatened not only the Church, but the +religion of England. The real danger, he evidently +thought, came from the clergy, and their hankering +after Rome. “They have forgotten their history,” +he said, “and the sufferings which the sway +of a Roman priesthood has inflicted for centuries +on their country.” I think it was he who told me +the story of a young Romanizing curate, who declared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +that he could never see what was the use of +the laity.</p> + +<p>One day when I called on Bunsen with my +books, and I frequently called when I had something +new to show him, he said: “You must come +with me to Oxford to the meeting of the British +Association.” This was in 1847. Of course I did +not know what sort of thing this British Association +was, but Bunsen said he would explain it all +to me, only I must at once sit down and write a +paper. He, Bunsen, was to read a paper on the +“Results of the recent Egyptian Researches in +reference to Asiatic and African Ethnology and +the Classification of Languages,” and he wanted +Dr. Karl Meyer and myself to support him, the +former with a paper on Celtic Philology, and myself +with a paper on the Aryan and Aboriginal +Languages of India. I assured him that this was +quite beyond me. I had hardly been a year in +England, and even if I could write, I knew but +too well that I could not read a paper before a +large audience. However, Bunsen would take no +refusal. “We must show them what we have done +in Germany for the history and philosophy of language,” +he said, “and I reckon on your help.” +There was no escape, and to Oxford I had to go. +I was fearfully nervous, for, as Prince Albert was +to be present, ever so many distinguished people +had flocked to the meeting, and likewise some not +very friendly ethnologists, such as Dr. Latham,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +and Mr. Crawford, known by the name of the Objector +General. Our section was presided over by +the famous Dr. Prichard, the author of that classical +work, <i>Researches into the Physical History of +Mankind</i>, in five volumes, and it was he who protected +me most chivalrously against the somewhat +frivolous objections of certain members, who were +not over friendly towards Prince Albert, Chevalier +Bunsen, and all that was called German in +scholarship. All, however, went off well. Bunsen’s +speech was most successful, and it is a pity +that it should be buried in the <i>Transactions of the +British Association for 1847</i>. At that time it was +considered a great honour that his speech should +appear there <i>in extenso</i>. When Bunsen declared +that he would not give it, unless Dr. Meyer’s paper +and my own were published in the <i>Transactions</i> +at the same time, there was renewed opposition. +I was so little proud of my own essay, that I should +much rather have kept it back for further improvement, +but printed it was in the <i>Transactions</i>, and +much canvassed at the time in different journals.</p> + +<p>I have always been doubtful about the advantages +of these public meetings, so far as any scientific +results are concerned. Everybody who pays a +guinea may become a member and make himself +heard, whether he knows anything on the subject +or not. The most ignorant men often occupy the +largest amount of time. Some people look upon +these congresses simply as a means of advertising<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +themselves, and I have actually seen quoted among +a man’s titles to fame the fact that he had been a +member of certain congresses. Another drawback +is that no one, not even the best of scholars, is +quite himself before a mixed audience. Whereas +in a private conversation a man is glad to receive +any new information, no one likes to be told in +public that he ought to have known this or that, or +that every schoolboy knows it. Then follows generally +a squabble, and the best pleader is sure to +have the laughter on his side, however ignorant he +may be of the subject that is being discussed. But +Dr. Prichard was an excellent president and moderator, +and though he had unruly spirits to deal +with, he succeeded in keeping up a certain decorum +among them. Dr. Prichard’s authority stood very +high, and justly so, and his <i>Researches into the +Physical History of Mankind</i> still remain unparalleled +in ethnology. His careful weighing of +facts and difficulties went out of fashion when the +theory of evolution became popular, and every +change from a flea to an elephant was explained by +imperceptible degrees. He dealt chiefly with what +was perceptible, with well-observed facts, and +many of the facts which he marshalled so well, +require even now, in these post-Darwinian days I +should venture to say, renewed consideration. Like +all great men, he was wonderfully humble, and +allowed me to contradict him, who ought to have +been proud to listen and to learn from him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>But though I cannot say that the result of these +meetings and wranglings was very great or valuable, +I spent a few most delightful days at Oxford, +and I could not imagine a more perfect state of +existence than to be an undergraduate, a fellow, +or a professor there. A kind of silent love sprang +up in my heart, though I hardly confessed it to +myself, much less to the object of my affections. +I knew I had to go back to be a University tutor +or even a master in a public school in Germany, +and that was a hard life compared with the freedom +of Oxford. To be independent and free to +work as I liked, that was everything to me, but +how I ever succeeded in realizing my ideal, I +hardly know. At that time I saw nothing but a +life of drudgery and severe struggle before me, but +I did not allow myself to dwell on it; I simply +worked on, without looking either right or left, +behind or before.</p> + +<p>While at Oxford on this my first flying visit, I +had a room in University College, the very college +in which my son was hereafter to be an undergraduate. +My host was Dr. Plumptre, the Master +of the College, a tall, stiff, and to my mind, very +imposing person. He was then Vice-Chancellor, +and I believe I never saw him except in his cap +and gown and with two bedels walking before him, +the one with a gold, the other with a silver poker +in his hands. We have no Esquire bedels any +longer! All the professors, too, and even the undergraduates,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +dressed in their mediaeval academic +costume, looked to me very grand, and so different +from the German students at Leipzig or still more +at Jena, walking about the streets in pink cotton +trousers and dressing-gowns. It seemed to me +quite a different world, and I made new discoveries +every day. Being with Bunsen I was invited to +all the official dinners during the meeting of the +British Association, and here, too, the Vice-Chancellor +acted his part with becoming dignity. He +never unbent; he never indulged in a joke or +joined in the laughter of his neighbours. When +I remarked on his immovable features, I was told +that he slept in starched sheets—and I believed it. +At one of these dinners, Prince Louis Lucien Bonaparte +caused a titter during a speech about the +freedom which people enjoyed in England. “In +France,” he said, “with all the declamations about +<i>Liberté</i>, <i>Égalité</i>, <i>Fraternité</i>, there is very little +freedom, and, with all the trees of <i>liberté</i> which +are being planted along the boulevards, there is +very little of real liberty to be found there!” +“But you in England,” he finished, “you have your +old tree of liberty, which is always flowering and +showering <i>peas</i> on the whole world.” He wanted +to say peace. We tried to look solemn but failed, +and a suppressed laugh went round till it reached +the Vice-Chancellor. There it stopped. He was +far too well bred to allow a single muscle of his +face to move. “He throws a cold blanket on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +everything,” my neighbour said; and my knowledge +of English was still so imperfect that I accepted +many of these metaphorical remarks in their +literal sense, and became more and more puzzled +about my host. It was evidently a pleasure to my +friends to see how easily I was taken in. On the +walls of the houses at Oxford I saw the letters F. P. +about ten feet from the ground. Of course it was +meant for Fire Plug, but I was told that it marked +the height of the Vice-Chancellor, whose name +was Frederick Plumptre.</p> + +<p>My visit to Oxford was over all too soon, and +I returned to London to toil away at my Sanskrit +MSS. in the little room that had been assigned to +me in the Old East India House in Leadenhall +Street. That building, too, in which the reins of +the mighty Empire of India were held, mostly by +the hands of merchants, has vanished, and the +place of it knoweth it no more. However, I +thought little of India, I only thought of the library +at the East India House, a real Eldorado for +an eager Sanskrit student, who had never seen such +treasures before. I saw little else there, I only +remember seeing Tippoo Sahib’s tiger which held +an English soldier in his claws, and was regularly +wound up for the benefit of visitors, and then uttered +a loud squeak, enough to disturb even the +most absorbed of students. I felt quite dazed by +all the books and manuscripts placed at my disposal, +and revelled in them every day till it became<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +dark, and I had to walk home through Ludgate +Hill, Cheapside, and the Strand, generally carrying +ever so many books and papers under my arms. +I knew nobody in the city, and no one knew me; +and what did I care for the world, as long as I had +my beloved manuscripts?</p> + +<p>In March, 1848, I had to go over to Paris to +finish up some work there, and just came in for the +revolution. From my windows I had a fine view of +all that was going on. I well remember the pandemonium +in the streets, the aspect of the savage +mob, the wanton firing of shots at quiet spectators, +the hoisting of Louis Philippe’s nankeen trousers on +the flag-staff of the Tuileries. When bullets began +to come through my windows, I thought it time to +be off while it was still possible. Then came the +question how to get my box full of precious manuscripts, +&c., belonging to the East India Company, +to the train. The only railway open was the line to +Havre, which had been broken up close to the station, +but further on was intact, and in order to get +there we had to climb three barricades. I offered +my <i>concierge</i> five francs to carry my box, but his +wife would not hear of his risking his life in the +streets; ten francs—the same result; but at the sight +of a louis d’or she changed her mind, and with an +“Allez, mon ami, allez toujours,” dispatched her +husband on his perilous expedition. Arrived in +London I went straight to the Prussian Legation, +and was the first to give Bunsen the news of Louis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +Philippe’s flight from Paris. Bunsen took me off +to see Lord Palmerston, and I was able to show +him a bullet that I had picked up in my room as +evidence of the bloody scenes that had been enacted +in Paris. So even a poor scholar had to play his +small part in the events that go to make up history.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>EARLY DAYS AT OXFORD</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> had been settled that my edition of the Rig-veda +should be printed at the Oxford University +Press, and I found that I had often to go there +to superintend the printing. Not that the printers +required much supervision, as I must say that the +printing at the University Press was, and is, excellent—far +better than anything I had known in +Germany. In providing copy for a work of six volumes, +each of about 1000 pages, it was but natural +that <i>lapsus calami</i> should occur from time to +time. What surprised me was that several of these +were corrected in the proof-sheets sent to me. At +last I asked whether there was any Sanskrit scholar +at Oxford who revised my proof-sheets before they +were returned. I was told there was not, but +that the queries were made by the printer himself. +That printer was an extraordinary man. His right +arm was slightly paralysed, and he had therefore +been put on difficult slow work, such as Sanskrit. +There are more than 300 types which a printer must +know in composing Sanskrit. Many of the letters +in Sanskrit are incompatible, i. e. they cannot follow +each other, or if they do, they have to be modified.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +Every <i>d</i>, for instance, if followed by a <i>t</i>, is changed +to <i>t</i>; every <i>dh</i> loses its aspiration, becomes likewise +<i>t</i>, or changes the next <i>t</i> into <i>dh</i>. Thus from <i>budh</i> + +<i>ta</i>, we have <i>Buddha</i>, i. e. awakened. In writing +I had sometimes neglected these modifications, but +in the proof-sheets these cases were always either +queried or corrected. When I asked the printer, +who did not of course know a word of Sanskrit, +how he came to make these corrections, he said: +“Well, sir, my arm gets into a regular swing from +one compartment of types to another, and there +are certain movements that never occur. So if +I suddenly have to take up types which entail a +new movement, I feel it, and I put a query.” An +English printer might possibly be startled in the +same way if in English he had to take up an <i>s</i> +immediately following an <i>h</i>. But it was certainly +extraordinary that an unusual movement of the +muscles of the paralysed arm should have led to the +discovery of a mistake in writing Sanskrit. In +spite of the extreme accuracy of my printer, however, +I saw, that after all it would be better for +myself, and for the Veda, if I were on the spot, and +I decided to migrate from London to Oxford.</p> + +<p>My first visit had filled me with enthusiasm for +the beautiful old town, which I regarded as an ideal +home for a student. Besides, I found that I was +getting too gay in London, and in order to be able +to devote my evenings to society, I had to get up +and begin work soon after five. May, therefore,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +saw me established for the first time in Oxford, in +a small room in Walton Street. The moving of my +books and papers from London did not take long. +At that time my library could still be accommodated +in my portmanteau, it had not yet risen to 12,000 +volumes, threatening to drive me out of my house. +A happy time it was when I possessed no books +which I had not read, and no one sent books to +me which I did not want, and yet had to find a +place for in my rooms, and to thank the author for +his kindness.</p> + +<p>I at once found that my work went on more +rapidly at Oxford than in London, though if I +had expected to escape from all hospitality I certainly +was not allowed to do that. Accustomed as +I was to the Spartan diet of a German <i>convictorium</i>, +or a dinner at the Palais Royal <i>à deux francs</i>, the +dinners to which I was invited by some of the Fellows +in Hall, or in Common Room, surprised me not +a little. The old plate, the old furniture, and the +whole style of living, impressed me deeply, particularly +the after-dinner railway, an ingenious invention +for lightening the trouble of the guests who +took wine in Common Room. There was a small +railway fixed before the fireplace, and on it a wagon +containing the bottles went backwards and forwards, +halting before every guest till he had helped himself. +That railway, I am afraid, is gone now; and +what is more serious, the pleasant, chatty evenings +spent in Common Room are likewise a thing of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +past. Married Fellows, if they dine in Hall, return +home after dinner, and junior Fellows go to their +books or pupils. In my early Oxford days, a married +Fellow would have sounded like a solecism. +The story goes that married Fellows were not entirely +unknown, and that you could hold even a fellowship, +if you could hold your tongue. Young +people, however, who did not possess that gift of +silence, had often to wait till they were fifty, before +a college living fell vacant, and the quinquagenarian +Fellow became a young husband and a young vicar.</p> + +<p>What impressed me, however, even more than +the great hospitality of Oxford, was the real friendliness +shown to an unknown German scholar. After +all, I had done very little as yet, but the kind words +which Bunsen and Dr. Prichard had spoken about +me at the meeting of the British Association, had +evidently produced an impression in my favour far +beyond what I deserved. I must have seemed a +very strange bird, such as had never before built +his nest at Oxford. I was very young, but I looked +even younger than I was, and my knowledge of +the manners of society, particularly of English +society, was really nil. Few people knew what I +was working at. Some had a kind of vague impression +that I had discovered a very old religion, +older than the Jewish and the Christian, which contained +the key to many of the mysteries that had +puzzled the ancient, nay, even the modern world. +Frequently, when I was walking through the streets<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +of Oxford, I observed how people stared at me, and +seemed to whisper some information about me. +Tradespeople did not always trust me, though I +never owed a penny to anybody; when I wanted +money I could always make it by going on faster +with printing the Rig-veda, for which I received +four pounds a sheet. This seemed to me then a +large sum, though many a sheet took me at first +more than a week to get ready, copy, collate, understand, +and finally print. If I was interested in any +other subject, my exchequer suffered accordingly—but +I could always retrieve my losses by sitting up +late at night. Poor as I was, I never had any cares +about money, and when I once began to write in +English for English journals, I had really more than +I wanted. My first article in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> +appeared in October, 1851.</p> + +<p>At that time the idea of settling at Oxford, of +remaining in this academic paradise, never entered +my head. I was here to print my Rig-veda and +work at the Bodleian; that I should in a few years +be an M.A. of Christ Church, a Fellow of the most +exclusive of colleges, nay, a married Fellow—a being +not even invented then—and a professor of the +University, never entered into my wildest dreams. +I could only admire, and admire with all my heart. +Everything seemed perfect, the gardens, the walks +in the neighbourhood, the colleges, and most of all +the inhabitants of the colleges, both Fellows and +undergraduates. My ideas were still so purely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +continental that I could not understand how the +University could do such a thing as incorporate a +foreign scholar—could, in fact, govern itself without +a Minister of Education to appoint professors, +without a Royal Commissioner to look after the +undergraduates and their moral and political sentiments. +And here at Oxford I was told that the +Government did not know Oxford, nor Oxford the +Government, that the only ruling power consisted +in the Statutes of the University, that professors and +tutors were perfectly free so long as they conformed +to these statutes, and that certainly no minister +could ever appoint or dismiss a professor, except the +Regius professors. “If we want a thing done,” my +friends used to explain to me, “we do it ourselves, +as long as it does not run counter to the statutes.”</p> + +<p>But Oxford changes with every generation. It is +always growing old, but it is always growing young +again. There was an old Oxford four hundred years +ago, and there was an old Oxford fifty years ago. +To a man who is taking his M.A. degree, Oxford, as +it was when he was a freshman, seems quite a thing +of the past. By the public at large no place is supposed +to be so conservative, so unchanging, nay, so +stubborn in resisting new ideas, as Oxford; and yet +people who knew it forty or fifty years ago, like +myself, find it now so changed that, when they look +back they can hardly believe it is the same place. +Even architecturally the streets of the University +have changed, and here not always for the better.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +Architects unfortunately object to mere imitation of +the old Oxford style of building; they want to produce +something entirely their own, which may be +very good by itself, but is not always in harmony +with the general tone of the college buildings. I +still remember the outcry against the Taylor Institution, +the only Palladian building at Oxford, and yet +everybody has now grown reconciled to it, and even +Ruskin lectured in it, which he would not have done, +if he had disapproved of its architecture. He would +never lecture in the Indian Institute, and wrote me a +letter sadly reproving me for causing Broad Street to +be defaced by such a building, when I had had absolutely +nothing to do with it. He was very loud in his +condemnation of other new buildings. He abused +even the New Museum, though he had a great deal +to do with it himself. He had hoped that it would +be the architecture of the future, but he confessed +after a time that he was not satisfied with the +result.</p> + +<p>In his days we still had the old Magdalen Bridge, +the Bodleian unrestored, and no trams. Ruskin was +so offended by the new bridge, by the restored +Bodleian, and by the tram-cars, that he would go +ever so far round to avoid these eyesores, when he +had to deliver his lectures; and that was by no +means an easy pilgrimage. There was, of course, +no use in arguing with him. Most people like the +new Magdalen Bridge because it agrees better with +the width of High Street; they consider the Bodleian<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +well restored, particularly now that the new +stone is gradually toning down to the colour of the +old walls, and as to tram-cars, objectionable as they +are in many respects, they certainly offend the eye +less than the old dirty and rickety omnibuses. The +new buildings of Merton, in the style of a London +police-station, offended him deeply, and with more +justice, particularly as he had to live next door to +them when he had rooms at Corpus.</p> + +<p>These new buildings could not be helped at Oxford. +The stone, with which most of the old colleges +were built, was taken from a quarry close to Oxford, +and began to peel off and to crumble in a very curious +manner. Artists like these chequered walls, and +by moonlight they are certainly picturesque, but +the colleges had to think of what was safe. My own +college, All Souls, has ever so many pinnacles, and +we kept an architect on purpose to watch which of +them were unsafe and had to be restored or replaced +by new ones. Every one of these pinnacles cost us +about fifty pounds, and at every one of our meetings +we were told that so many pinnacles had been tested, +and wanted repairing or replacing. Many years +ago, when I was spending the whole Long Vacation +at Oxford, I could watch from my windows a man +who was supposed to be testing the strength of +these pinnacles. He was armed with a large crowbar, +which he ran with all his might against the +unfortunate pinnacle. I doubt whether the walls +of any Roman castellum could have resisted such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +a ram. I spoke to some of the Fellows, and when +the builder made his next report to us, we rather +objected to the large number of invalids. He was +not to be silenced, however, so easily, but told us +with a very grave countenance that he could not +take the responsibility, as a pinnacle might fall any +day on our Warden when he went to chapel. This, +he thought, would settle the matter. But no, it +made no impression whatever on the junior Fellows, +and the number of annual cripples was certainly +very much reduced in consequence.</p> + +<p>It is true that Oxford has always loved what is +old better than what is new, and has resisted most +innovations to the very last. A well-known liberal +statesman used to say that when any measure of +reform was before Parliament, he always rejoiced to +see an Oxford petition against it, for that measure +was sure to be carried very soon. It should not +be forgotten, however, that there always has been +a liberal minority at Oxford. It is still mentioned +as something quite antediluvian, that Oxford, that +is the Hebdomadal Council, petitioned against the +Great Western Railway invading its sacred precincts; +but it is equally true that not many years +later it petitioned for a branch line to keep the University +in touch with the rest of the world.</p> + +<p>Many things, of course, have been changed, and +are changing every year before our very eyes; but +what can never be changed, in spite of some recent +atrocities in brick and mortar, is the natural beauty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +of its gardens, and the historical character of its +architecture. Whether Friar Bacon, as far back +as the thirteenth century, admired the colleges, +chapels, and gardens of Oxford, we do not know; +and even if we did, few of them could have been +the same as those which we admire to-day. We +must not forget that Greene’s <i>Honourable History +of Friar Bacon</i> does not give us a picture of what +Oxford was when seen by that famous philosopher, +who is sometimes claimed as a Fellow of Brasenose +College, probably long before that College existed; +but what is said in that play in praise of the University, +may at least be taken as a recollection of what +Greene saw himself, when he took his degree as +Bachelor of Arts in 1578. In his play of the <i>History +of Friar Bacon</i>, Greene introduces the Emperor +of Germany, Henry II, 1212-50, as paying +a visit to Henry III of England, 1216-73, and he +puts into his mouth the following lines, which, +though they cannot compare with Shelley’s or Mat +Arnold’s, are at all events the earliest testimony to +the natural attractions of Oxford. Anyhow, Shelley’s +and Mat Arnold’s lines are well known and are +always quoted, so that I venture to quote Greene’s +lines, not for the sake of their beauty, but simply +because they are probably known to very few of my +readers:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Trust me, Plantagenet, these Oxford schools<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are richly seated near the river-side:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountains full of fat and fallow deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The battling<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> pastures lade with kine and flocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The town gorgeous with high built colleges,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scholars seemly in their grave attire.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The mountains round Oxford we must accept as +a bold poetical licence, whether they were meant for +Headington Hill or Wytham Woods. The German +traveller, Hentzner, who described Oxford in 1598, +is more true to nature when he speaks of the wooded +hills that encompass the plain in which Oxford lies.</p> + +<p>But while the natural beauty of Oxford has always +been admired and praised by strangers, the +doctors and professors of the old University have +not always fared so well at the hands of English +and foreign critics. I shall not quote from Giordano +Bruno, who visited England in 1583-5, and calls Oxford +“the widow of true science<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a>,” but Milton +surely cannot be suspected of any prejudice against +Oxford. Yet he writes in 1656 in a letter to Richard +Jones: “There is indeed plenty of amenity +and salubrity in the place when you are there. +There are books enough for the needs of a University: +if only the amenity of the spot contributed so +much to the genius of the inhabitants as it does to +pleasant living, nothing would seem wanting to the +happiness of the place.”</p> + +<p>These ill-natured remarks about the Oxford Dons +seem to go on to the very beginning of our century. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>The buildings and gardens are praised, but by way +of contrast, it would seem, or from some kind of +jealousy, their inhabitants are always treated with +ridicule. Not long ago a book was published, +<i>Memoirs of a Highland Lady</i>. Though published +in 1898, it should be remembered that the memoirs +go back as far as 1809. Nor should it be forgotten +that at that time the authoress was hardly more +than thirteen years of age, and certainly of a very +girlish, not to say frivolous, disposition. She stayed +some time with the then Master of University, +Dr. Griffith, and for him, it must be said, she always +shows a certain respect. But no one else at Oxford +is spared. She arrived there at the time of Lord +Grenville’s installation as Chancellor of the University. +Though so young, she was taken to the Theatre, +and this is her description of what she saw and +heard:—“It was a shock to me; I had expected to +be charmed with a play, instead of being nearly set +to sleep by discourses in Latin from a pulpit. There +were some purple, and some gold, some robes and +some wigs, a great crowd, and some stir at times, +while a deal of humdrum speaking and dumb show +was followed by the noisy demonstrations of the students, +as they applauded or condemned the honours +bestowed; but in the main I tired of the heat and +the mob, and the worry of these mornings, and so, +depend upon it, did poor Lord Grenville, who sat +up in the chair of state among the dignitaries, like +the Grand Lama in his temple guarded by his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +priests.” One thing only she was delighted with, +that was the singing of Catalani at one of the concerts. +Yet even here she cannot repress her remark +that she sang “Gott safe the King.” She evidently +was a flippant young lady or child, and with her +sister, who afterwards joined her at Oxford, seems +to have found herself quite a fish out of water in +the grave society of the University.</p> + +<p>The room in the Master’s Lodge which appalled +her most and seems to have been used as a kind +of schoolroom, was the Library, full of Divinity +books, but without curtains, carpet, or fireplace. +Here they had lessons in music, drawing, arithmetic, +history, geography, and French. “And the Master,” +she adds, “opened to us what had been till +then a sealed book, the New Testament, so that this +visit to Oxford proved really one of the fortunate +chances of my life.”</p> + +<p>This speaks well for the young lady, who in later +life seems to have occupied a most honoured and +influential position in Scotch society. But Oxford +society evidently found no favour in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Her uncle and aunt, as she tells us, were frequently +out at dinner with other Heads of Houses, +for there was, of course, no other society. These +dinners seem to have been very sumptuous, though +their own domestic life was certainly very simple. +For breakfast they had tea, and butter on their +bread, and at dinner a small glass of ale, college +home-brewed ale. “How fat we got!” she exclaims.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +The Master seems to have been a man of refined +taste, fond of drawing, and what was called poker-painting; +he was given also to caricaturing, and +writing of squibs. The two young ladies were evidently +fond of his society, but of the other Oxford +society she only mentions the ultra-Tory politics, +and the stupidity and frivolity of the Heads of +Houses. “The various Heads,” she writes, “with +their respective wives, were extremely inferior to +my uncle and aunt. More than half of the Doctors +of Divinity were of humble origin, the sons of small +gentry or country clergy, or even of a lower grade. +Many of these, constant to the loves of their youth, +brought ladies of inferior manners to grace what +appeared to them so dignified a station. It was not +a good style; there was little talent, and less polish, +and no sort of knowledge of the world. And yet +the ignorance of this class was less offensive than +the assumption of another, when a lady of high +degree had fallen in love with her brother’s tutor, +and got him handsomely provided for in the Church, +that she might excuse herself for marrying him. Of +the lesser clergy, there were young witty ones—odious; +young learned ones—bores; and elderly +ones—pompous; all, however, of all grades, kind +and hospitable. But the Christian pastor, humble, +gentle, considerate, and self-sacrificing, had no representative, +as far as I could see, among these dealers +in old wines, rich dinners, fine china, and massive +plate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>”</p> + +<p>“The religion of Oxford appeared in those days +to consist in honouring the King and his Ministers, +and in perpetually popping in and out of chapel. +Chapel was announced by the strokes of a big hammer, +beaten on every staircase half an hour before +by a scout. The education was suited to Divinity. +A sort of supervision was said to be kept over the +young, riotous community, and to a certain extent +the Proctors of the University and the Deans of the +different colleges did see that no very open scandal +was committed. There were rules that had in a +general way to be obeyed, and lectures that had to +be attended, but as for care to give high aims, provide +refining amusements, give a worthy tone to +the character of responsible beings, there was none +ever even thought of. The very meaning of the +word ‘education’ did not appear to be understood. +The college was a fit sequel to the school. The +young men herded together; they lived in their +rooms, and they lived out of them, in the neighbouring +villages, where many had comfortable establishments.... +All sorts of contrivances were resorted +to to enable the dissipated to remain out all +night, to shield a culprit, to deceive the dignitaries.” +This was in 1809, and even later.</p> + +<p>And yet with all this, and while we are told that +those who attended lectures were laughed at, it +seems strange that the best divines, and lawyers, +and politicians of the first half of our century, some +of whom we may have known ourselves, must have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +been formed under that system. We can hardly +believe that it was as bad as here described, and we +must remember that much of the <i>Memoirs</i> of this +Scotch lady can have been written from memory +only, and long after the time when she and her +sister lived at University College. Life there, no +doubt, may have been very dull, as there were no +other young ladies at Oxford, and it cannot have +been very amusing for these young girls to dine +with sixteen Heads of Houses, all in wide silk +cassocks, scarves and bands, one or two in powdered +wigs, so that, as we are told, they often went home +crying. All intercourse with the young men was +strictly forbidden, though it seems to have been +not altogether impossible to communicate, from the +garden of the Master’s Lodge, with the young men +bending out of the college windows, or climbing +down to the gardens.</p> + +<p>One of these young men, who was at University +College at the same time, might certainly not have +been considered a very desirable companion for +these two Scotch girls. It was no other than +Shelley. What they say of him does not tell us +much that is new, yet it deserves to be repeated. +“Mr. Shelley,” we read, “afterwards so celebrated, +was half crazy. He began his career with every +kind of wild prank at Eton. At University he was +very insubordinate, always infringing some rule, the +breaking of which he knew could not be overlooked. +He was slovenly in his dress, and when spoken to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +about these and other irregularities, he was in the +habit of making such extraordinary gestures, expressive +of his humility under reproof, as to overset +first the gravity and then the temper of the lecturing +tutor. When he proceeded so far as to paste up +atheistical squibs on the chapel doors, it was considered +necessary to expel him privately, out of +regard to Sir Timothy Shelley, the father, who +came up at once. He and his son left Oxford together.”</p> + +<p>No one would recognize in this picture the University +of Oxford, as it is at present. <i>Nous avons +changé tout cela</i> might be said with great truth by +the Heads of Houses, the Professors, and Fellows +of the present day. And yet what the Highland +lady, or rather the Highland girl, describes, refers +to times not so long ago but that some of the men +we have known might have lived through it. How +this change came about I cannot tell, though I can +bear testimony to a few survivals of the old state of +things.</p> + +<p>The Oxford of 1848 was still the Oxford of the +Heads of Houses and of the Hebdomadal Board. +That board consisted almost entirely of Heads of +Houses, and a most important board it was, considering +that the whole administration of the University +was really in its hands. The colleges, on +the other hand, were very jealous of their independence; +and even the authority of the Proctors, +who represented the University as such, was often<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +contested within the gates of a college. It is +wonderful that this old system of governing the +University through the Heads of Houses should +have gone on so long and so smoothly. Having +been trusted by the Fellows of his own society with +considerable power in the administration of his own +college, it was supposed that the Head would prove +equally useful in the administration of the University. +A Head of a House became at once a +member of the Council. And, on the whole, they +managed to drive the coach and horses very well. +But often when I had to take foreigners to hear +the University Sermon, and they saw a most extraordinary +set of old gentlemen walking into St. +Mary’s in procession, with a most startling combination +of colours, black and red, scarlet and pink, on +their heavy gowns and sleeves, I found it difficult +to explain who they were. “Are they your professors?” +I was asked. “Oh, no,” I said, “the +professors don’t wear red gowns, only Doctors of +Divinity and of Civil Law, and as every Head of +a House must have something to wear in public, +he is invariably made a Doctor.” I remember one +exception only, and at a much later time, namely, +the Master of Balliol, who, like Canning at the +Congress of Vienna, considered it among his most +valued distinctions never to have worn the gown +of a D.C.L. or D.D. It is well known that when +Marshal Blücher was made a Doctor at Oxford he +asked, in the innocence of his heart, that General<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +Gneisenau, his right-hand man, might at least be +made a chemist. He certainly had mixed a most +effective powder for the French army under Napoléon.</p> + +<p>“But,” my friend would ask, “have you no +<i>Senatus Academicus</i>, have you no faculties of professors +such as there are in all other Christian universities?” +“Yes and no,” I said. “We have +professors, but they are not divided into faculties, +and they certainly do not form the <i>Senatus Academicus</i>, +or the highest authority in the University.”</p> + +<p>It seems very strange, but it is nevertheless a +fact, that as soon as a good tutor is made a professor, +he is considered of no good for the real teaching +work of the colleges. His lectures are generally deserted; +and I could quote the names of certain professors +who afterwards rose to great eminence, but +who at Oxford were simply ignored and their lecture-rooms +deserted. The real teaching or coaching +or cramming for examination is left to the tutors +and Fellows of each college, and the examinations +also are chiefly in their hands. Many undergraduates +never see a professor, and, as far as the teaching +work of the University is concerned, the professorships +might safely be abolished. And yet, as +I could honestly assure my foreign friends, the best +men who take honour degrees at Oxford are quite +the equals of the best men at Paris or Berlin. The +professors may not be so distinguished, but that is +due to a certain extent to the small salaries attached<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +to some of the chairs. England has produced great +names both in science and philosophy and scholarship, +but these have generally drifted to some more +attractive or lucrative centres. When I first came to +Oxford one professor received £40 a year, another +£1,500, and no one complained about these inequalities. +A certain amount of land had been left by a +king or bishop for endowing a certain chair, and +every holder of the chair received whatever the endowment +yielded. The mode of appointing professors +was very curious at that time. Often the elections +resembled parliamentary elections, far more +regard being paid to political or theological partisanship +than to scientific qualifications. Every M.A. +had a vote, and these voters were scattered all over +the country. Canvassing was carried on quite +openly. Travelling expenses were freely paid, and +lists were kept in each college of the men who could +be depended on to vote for the liberal or the conservative +candidate. Imagine a professor of medicine +or of Greek being elected because he was a liberal! +Some appointments rested with the Prime +Minister, or, as it was called, the Crown; and it was +quoted to the honour of the Duke of Wellington, +that he, when Chancellor of the University, once +insisted that the electors should elect the best man, +and they had to yield, though there were electors +who would declare their own candidate the best +man, whatever the opinion of really qualified judges +might be. All this election machinery is much improved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +now, though an infallible system of electing +the best men has not yet been discovered. One single +elector, who is not troubled by too tender a conscience, +may even now vitiate a whole election; to +say nothing of the painful position in which an +elector is placed, if he has to vote against a personal +friend or a member of his own college, particularly +when the feeling that it is dishonourable to disclose +the vote of each elector is no longer strong enough +to protect the best interests of the University.</p> + +<p>It took me some time before I could gain an insight +into all this. The old system passed away +before my very eyes, not without evident friction +between my different friends, and then came the +difficulty of learning to understand the working of +the new machinery which had been devised and +sanctioned by Parliament. Reformers arose even +among the Heads of Houses, as, for instance, Dr. +Jeune, the Master of Pembroke College, who was +credited with having <i>rajeuni l’ancienne université</i>. +But he was by no means the only, or even the +chief actor in University reform. Many of my +personal friends, such as Dr. Tait, afterwards Archbishop +of Canterbury, the Rev. H. G. Liddell, afterwards +Dean of Christ Church, Professor Baden-Powell, +and the Rev. G. H. S. Johnson, afterwards +Dean of Wells, with Stanley and Goldwin Smith +as Secretaries, did honest service in the various +Royal and Parliamentary Commissions, and spent +much of their valuable time in serving the University<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +and the country. I could do no more than answer +the questions addressed to me by the Commissioners +and by my friends, and this is really all the +share I had at that time in the reform of the University, +or what was called Germanizing the English +Universities. At one time such was the unpopularity +of these reformers in the University itself +that one of them asked one of the junior professors +to invite him to dinner, because the Heads of Houses +would no longer admit him to their hospitable +boards.</p> + +<p>Certainly to have been a member of the much +abused Hebdomadal Board, and a Head of a College +in those pre-reform days must have been a delightful +life. Before the days of agricultural distress the income +of the colleges was abundant; the authority of +the Heads was unquestioned in their own colleges; +not only undergraduates, but Fellows also had to +be submissive. No junior Fellow would then have +dared to oppose his Head at college meetings. +If there was by chance an obstreperous junior, he +was easily silenced or requested to retire. The +days had not yet come when a Master of Trinity +ventured to remark that even a junior Fellow +might possibly be mistaken. Colleges seemed to +be the property of the Heads, and in some of them +the Fellows were really chosen by them, and the +rest of the Fellows after some kind of examination. +The management of University affairs was likewise +entirely in the hands of the Heads of Colleges, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +it was on rare occasions only that a theological question +stirred the interest of non-resident M.A.s, and +brought them to Oxford to record their vote for or +against the constituted authorities. Men like the +Dean of Christ Church, Dr. Gaisford, the Warden +of Wadham, Dr. Parsons, and the Provost of Oriel, +Dr. Hawkins, were in their dominions supreme, till +the rebellious spirit began to show itself in such men +as Dr. Jeune, Professor Baden-Powell, A. P. Stanley, +Goldwin Smith and others.</p> + +<p>Nor were there many very flagrant abuses under +the old régime. It was rather the want of life that +was complained of. It began to be felt that Oxford +should take its place as an equal by the side of +foreign Universities, not only as a high school, but +as a home of what then was called for the first +time “original research.” There can be no question +that as a teaching body, as a high school at the +head of all the public schools in England, Oxford +did its duty nobly. A man who at that time could +take a Double First was indeed a strong man, well +fitted for any work in after life. He would not +necessarily turn out an original thinker, a scholar, +or a discoverer in physical science, but he would +know what it was to know anything thoroughly. +To take honours at the same time in classics and +mathematics required strength and grasp, and the +effort was certainly considerable, as I found out +when occasionally I read a Greek or Latin author +with a young undergraduate friend. What struck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +me most was the accurate knowledge a candidate +acquired of special authors and special books, but +also the want of that familiarity with the language, +Greek or Latin, which would enable him to read +any new author with comparative ease. The young +men whom I knew at the time they went in for +their final examination, were certainly well grounded +in classics, and what they knew they knew thoroughly.</p> + +<p>The personal relations existing between undergraduates +and their tutors were very intimate. +A tutor took a pride in his pupils, and often became +their friend for life. The teaching was almost +private teaching, and the idea of reading a written +lecture to a class in college did not exist as yet. +It was real teaching with questions and answers; +while lectures, written and read out, were looked +down upon as good enough for professors, but entirely +useless for the schools. The social tone of the +University was excellent. Many of the tutors and +of the undergraduates came of good families, and +the struggle for life, or for a college living, or college +office, was not, as yet, so fierce as it became +afterwards. College tutors toiled on for life, and +certainly did their work to the last most conscientiously. +There was perhaps little ambition, little +scheming or pushing, but the work of the University, +such as the country would have it, was well done. +If the Honour-Lists were small, the number of utter +failures also was not very large.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> + +<p>For a young scholar, like myself, who came to +live at Oxford in those distant days, the peace and +serenity of life were most congenial, though several +of my friends were among the first who began to +fret, and wished for more work to be done and for +better use to be made of the wealth and the opportunities +of the University. My impression at that +time was the same as it has been ever since, that +a reform of the Universities was impossible till the +public schools had been thoroughly reformed. The +Universities must take what the schools send them. +There is every year a limited number of boys from +the best schools who would do credit to any University. +But a large number of the young men +who are sent up to matriculate at Oxford are not +up to an academic standard. Unless the colleges +agree to stand empty for a year or two, they cannot +help themselves, but have to keep the standard of +the matriculation examination low, and in fact do, +to a great extent, the work that ought to have been +done at school. Think of boys being sent up to +Oxford, who, after having spent on an average six +years at a public school, are yet unable to read a line +of Greek or Latin which they have not seen before. +Yet so it was, and so it is, unless I am very much misinformed. +It is easy for some colleges who keep up +a high standard of matriculation to turn out first-class +men; the real burden falls on the colleges and +tutors who have to work hard to bring their pupils up +to the standard of a pass degree, and few people have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +any idea how little a pass degree may mean. Those +tutors have indeed hard work to do and get little +credit for it, though their devotion to their college +and their pupils is highly creditable. Fifty years +ago even a pass degree was more difficult than it is +now, because candidates were not allowed to pass in +different subjects at different times, but the whole +examination had to be done all at once, or not +at all.</p> + +<p>I had naturally made it a rule at Oxford to stand +aloof from the conflict of parties, whether academical, +theological, or political. I had my own work to +do, and it did not seem to me good taste to obtrude +my opinions, which naturally were different from +those prevalent at Oxford. Most people like to wash +their dirty linen among themselves; and though I +gladly talked over such matters with my friends who +often consulted me, I did not feel called upon to join +in the fray. I lived through several severe crises at +Oxford, and though I had some intimate friends on +either side, I remained throughout a looker on.</p> + +<p>Seldom has a University passed through such a +complete change as Oxford has since the year 1854. +And yet the change was never violent, and the +University has passed through its ordeal really rejuvenated +and reinvigorated. It has been said that +our constitution has now become too democratic, +and that a University should be ruled by a Senatus +rather than by a Juventus. This is true to a certain +extent. There has been too much unrest, too constant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +changes, and a lack of continuity in the studies +and in the government of the University. Every +three years a new wave of young masters came in, +carried a reform in the system of teaching and +examining, and then left to make room for a new +wave which brought new ideas, before the old ones +had a fair trial. Senior members of the University, +heads of houses and professors, have no more voting +power than the young men who have just taken +their degrees, nay, have in reality less influence than +these young Masters, who always meet together and +form a kind of compact phalanx when votes are to +be taken. There was even a Non-placet club, ready +to throw out any measure that seemed to emanate +from the reforming party, or threatened to change +any established customs, whether beneficial or otherwise +to the University. The University, as such, +was far less considered than the colleges, and money +drawn from the colleges for University purposes +was looked upon as robbery, though of course the +colleges profited by the improvement of the University, +and the interests of the two ought never to +have been divided, as little as the interests of an +army can be divided from the interests of each +regiment.</p> + +<p>When I came to Oxford there was still practically +no society except that of the Heads of Houses, and +there were no young ladies to grace their dinners. +Each head took his turn in succession, and had twice +or three times during term to feed his colleagues.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +These dinners were sumptuous repasts, though they +often took place as early as five. To be invited to +them was considered a great distinction, and, though +a very young man, I was allowed now and then to +be present, and I highly appreciated the honour. +The company consisted almost entirely of Heads of +Houses, Canons, and Professors; sometimes there +was a sprinkling of distinguished persons from London, +and even of ladies of various ages and degrees. +I confess I often sat among them, as we say in German, +<i>verrathen und verkauft</i>. After dinner I saw +a number of young men streaming in, and thought +the evening would now become more lively. But +far from it. These young men with white ties and +in evening dress stood in their scanty gowns huddled +together on one side of the room. They received +a cup of tea, but no one noticed them or +spoke to them, and they hardly dared to speak +among themselves. This, as I was told, was called +“doing the perpendicular,” and they must have felt +much relieved when towards ten o’clock they were +allowed to depart, and exchange the perpendicular +for a more comfortable position, indulging in songs +and pleasant talk, which I sometimes was invited to +join.</p> + +<p>At that time I remember only very few houses +outside the circle of Heads of Houses, where there +was a lady and a certain amount of social life—the +houses of Dr. Acland, Dr. Greenhill, Professor +Baden-Powell, Professor Donkin, and Mr. Greswell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +In their houses there was less of the strict academical +etiquette, and as they were fond of music, particularly +the Donkins, I spent some really delightful +evenings with them. Nay, as I played on the +pianoforte, even the Heads of Houses began to +patronize music at their evening parties, though no +gentleman at that time would have played at Oxford. +I being a German, and Professor Donkin +being a confirmed invalid, we were allowed to play, +and we certainly had an appreciative, though not +always a silent, audience.</p> + +<p>In one respect, the old system of Oxford Fellowships +was still very perceptible in the society of the +University. No Fellows were allowed to marry, +and the natural consequence was that most of them +waited for a college living, a professorship or librarianship, +which generally came to them when they +were no longer young men. Headships of colleges +also had so long to be waited for that most of them +were generally filled by very senior and mostly unmarried +men. Besides, headships were but seldom +given for excellence in scholarship, science, or even +divinity, but for the sake of personal popularity, +and for business habits. Some of the Fellows gave +pleasant and, as I thought, very Lucullic dinners +in college; and I still remember my surprise when +I was asked to the first dinner in Common Room at +Jesus College. My host was Mr. Ffoulkes, who +afterwards became a Roman Catholic, and then an +Anglican clergyman again. The carpets, the curtains,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +the whole furniture and the plate quite confounded +me, and I became still more confounded +when I was suddenly called upon to make a speech +at a time when I could hardly put two words together +in English.</p> + +<p>The City society was completely separated from +the University society, so that even rich bankers +and other gentlemen would never have ventured to +ask members of the University to dine.</p> + +<p>Considering the position then held by the Heads +of Houses, I feel I ought to devote some pages to +describing some of the most prominent of them. +At my age I may well hold to the maxim <i>seniores +priores</i>, and will therefore begin with Dr. Routh, +the centenarian President of Magdalen, as, though, +the headship of a house seems to be an excellent prescription +for longevity, there was no one to dispute +the venerable doctor’s claim to precedence in this +respect. He was then nearly a hundred years old, +and he died in his hundredth year, and obtained his +wish to have the <i>C, anno centesimo</i>, on his gravestone, +for, though tired of life, he often declared, so +I was told, that he would not be outdone in this respect +by another very old man, who was a dissenter; +he never liked to see the Church beaten. I might +have made his personal acquaintance, some friends +of the old President offering to present me to him. +But I did not avail myself of their offer, because +I knew the old man did not like to be shown as +a curiosity. When I saw him sitting at his window<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +he always wore a wig, and few had seen him without +his wig and without his academic gown. He was +certainly an exceptional man, and I believe he stood +alone in the whole history of literature, as having +published books at an interval of seventy years. +His edition of the <i>Enthymemes</i> and <i>Gorgias of +Plato</i> was published in 1784, his papers on the +<i>Ignatian Epistles</i> in 1854. His <i>Reliquia Sacra</i> +first appeared in 1814, and they are a work which +at that time would have made the reputation of any +scholar and divine. His editions of historical works, +such as Burnet’s <i>History of his own Time</i> and the +<i>History of the reign of King James</i>, show his considerable +acquaintance with English history. I have +already mentioned how he used to speak of events +long before his time, such as the execution of +Charles I, as if he had been present; nor did he +hesitate to declare that even Bishop Burnet was a +great liar. He certainly had seen many things +which connected him with the past. He had seen +Samuel Johnson mounting the steps of the Clarendon +building in Broad Street, and though he had +not himself seen Charles I when he held his Parliament +at Oxford, he had known a lady whose mother +had seen the king walking round the Parks at Oxford.</p> + +<p>However, we must not forget that many stories +about the old President were more or less mythical, +as indeed many Oxford stories are. I was told +that he actually slept in wig, cap and gown, so that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +once when an alarm of fire was raised in the quadrangle +of his College, he put his head out of window +in an incredibly short time, fully equipped as above. +Many of these stories or “Common-Roomers” as +they were called, still lived in the Common Rooms +in my time, when the Fellows of each College assembled +regularly after dinner, to take wine and +dessert, and to talk on anything but what was called +<i>Shop</i>, i. e. Greek and Latin. No one inquired about +the truth of these stories, as long as they were well +told. In a place like Oxford there exists a regular +descent, by inheritance, of good stories. I remember +stories told of Dr. Jenkins, as Master of Balliol, +and afterwards transferred to his successor, Mr. +Jowett. Bodleian stories descended in like manner +from Dr. Bandinell to Mr. Coxe, and will probably +be told of successive librarians till they become +quite incongruous. I am old enough to have +watched the descent of stories at Oxford, just as +one recognizes the same furniture in college rooms +occupied by successive generations of undergraduates. +To me they sometimes seem threadbare like +the old Turkish carpets in the college rooms, but I +never spoil them by betraying their age, and, if +well told, I can enjoy them as much as if I had +never heard them before.</p> + +<p>Dr. Hawkins, Provost of Oriel, was quite a representative +of Old Oxford, and a well-known character +in the University. I had been introduced to +him by Baron Bunsen, and he showed me much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +hospitality. I was warned that I should find him +very stiff and forbidding. His own Fellows called +him the East-wind. But though he certainly was +condescending, he treated me with great urbanity. +He had a very peculiar habit; when he had to +shake hands with people whom he considered his +inferiors, he stretched out two fingers, and if some +of them who knew this peculiarity of his, tendered +him two fingers in return, the shaking of hands +became rather awkward. One of the Fellows of his +college told me that, as long as he was only a Fellow, +he never received more than two fingers; when, +however, he became Head Master of a school, he +was rewarded with three fingers, or even with the +whole hand, but, as soon as he gave up this place, +and returned to live in college, he was at once reduced +to the statutable two fingers. I don’t recollect +exactly how many fingers I was treated to, and +I may have shaken them with my whole hand. +Anyhow, I am quite conscious now of how many +times I must have offended against academic etiquette. +How, for instance, is a man to know that +people who live at Oxford during term-time never +shake hands except once during term? I doubt, in +fact, whether that etiquette existed when I first +came to Oxford, but it certainly had existed for +some time before I discovered it.</p> + +<p>Dr. Jenkins, Master of Balliol, was also the hero +of many anecdotes. It was of him that it was first +told how he once found fault with an undergraduate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +because, whenever he looked out of window, he +invariably saw the young man loitering about in +the quad; to which the undergraduate replied: +“How very curious, for whenever I cross the quad, +I always see you, Sir, looking out of window.” He +had a quiet humour of his own, and delighted in +saying things which made others laugh, but never +disturbed a muscle of his own face. One of his +undergraduates was called Wyndham, and he had +to say a few sharp words to him at “handshaking,” +that is, at the end of term. After saying all he +wanted, he finished in Latin: “Et nunc valeas +Wyndhamme,”—the last two syllables being pronounced +with great emphasis. The Master’s regard +for his own dignity was very great. Once, when +returning from a solitary walk, he slipped and fell. +Two undergraduates seeing the accident ran to assist +him, and were just laying hands on him to lift +him up, when he descried a Master of Arts coming. +“Stop,” he cried, “stop, I see a Master of Arts +coming down the street.” And he dismissed the +undergraduates with many thanks, and was helped +on to his legs by the M.A.</p> + +<p>Accidents, or slips of the tongue, will happen to +everybody, even to a Head of a House. One of +these old gentlemen, Dr. Symons, of Wadham, +when presiding at a missionary meeting, had to +introduce Sir Peregrine Maitland, a most distinguished +officer, and a thoroughly good man. When +dilating on the Christian work which Sir Peregrine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +had done in India, he called him again and again +Sir Peregrine Pickle. The effect was most ludicrous, +for everybody was evidently well acquainted +with <i>Roderick Random</i>, and Sir Peregrine had great +difficulty in remaining serious when the Chairman +called on Sir Peregrine Pickle once more to address +his somewhat perplexed audience.</p> + +<p>But whatever may be said about the old Heads +of Houses, most of them were certainly gentlemen +both by birth and by nature. They are forgotten +now, but they did good in their time, and much of +their good work remains. If I consider who were +the Dean and Canons and Students I met at Christ +Church when I first became a member of the House, +I should have to give a very different account from +that given by the Highland lady in her <i>Memoirs</i>. +The Dean of Christ Church, who received me, who +proposed me for the degree of M.A., and afterwards +allowed me to become a member of the House, was +Dr. Gaisford, a real scholar, though it may be of +the old school. He was considered very rough and +rude, but I can only say he showed me more of real +courtesy in those days than anybody else at Oxford. +He was, I believe, a little shy, and easily put out +when he suspected anybody, particularly the young +men, of want of consideration. I can quite believe +that when an undergraduate, in addressing him, +stepped on the hearthrug on which he was standing, +he may have said: “Get down from my hearthrug,” +meaning, “keep at your proper distance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>” +I can only say that I never found him anything but +kind and courteous. It so happened that he had +been made a Member of the Bavarian Academy, +and I, though very young, had received the same +distinction as a reward for my Sanskrit work, and +the Dean was rather pleased when he heard it. +When I asked him whether he would put my name +on the books of the House, he certainly hesitated +a little, and asked me at last to come again next +day and dine with him. I went, but I confess +I was rather afraid that the Dean would raise difficulties. +However, he spoke to me very nicely, +“I have looked through the books,” he said, “and +I find two precedents of Germans being members +of the House, one of the name of Wernerus, and +another of the name of Nitzschius,” or some such +name. “But,” he continued, smiling, “even if +I had not found these names, I should not have +minded making a precedent of your case.” People +were amazed at Oxford when they heard of the +Dean’s courtesy, but I can only repeat that I never +found him anything but courteous.</p> + +<p>Most of the Heads of Houses asked me to dine +with them by sending me an invitation. The Dean +alone first came and called on me. I was then +living in a small room in Walton Street in which +I worked, and dined, and smoked. My bedroom +was close by, and I generally got up early, and +shaved and finished my toilet at about 11 o’clock. +I had just gone into my bedroom to shave, my face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +was half covered with lather, when my landlady +rushed in and told me the Dean had called, and +my dogs were pulling him about. The fact was +I had a Scotch terrier with a litter of puppies in +a basket, and when the Dean entered in full academical +dress, the dogs flew at him, pulling the +sleeves of his gown and barking furiously. Covered +with lather as I was, I had to rush in to quiet the +dogs, and in this state I had to receive the Very Rev. +the Dean, and explain to him the nature of the work +that brought me to Oxford. It was certainly awkward, +but in spite of the disorder of my room, in +spite also of the tobacco smoke of which the Dean +did not approve, all went off well, though, I confess, +I felt somewhat ashamed. In the same interview +the Dean asked me about an Icelandic Dictionary +which had been offered to the press by Cleasby and +Dasent. “Surely it is a small barbarous island,” +he said, “and how can they have any literature?” +I tried, as well as I could, to explain to the Dean the +extent and the value of Icelandic literature, and +soon after the press, which was then the Dean, accepted +the Dictionary which was brought out later +by Dr. Vigfusson, in a most careful and scholarlike +manner. It might indeed safely be called his Dictionary, +considering how many dictionaries are +called, not after the name of the compiler or compilers, +but after that of their editor.</p> + +<p>This Dr. Vigfusson was quite a character. He +was perfectly pale and bloodless, and had but one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +wish, that of being left alone. He came to Oxford +first to assist Dr. Dasent, to whom Cleasby, when +he died, had handed over his collections; but afterwards +he stayed, taking it for granted that the +University would give him the little he wanted. +But even that little was difficult to provide, as there +were no funds that could be used for that purpose, +however uselessly other funds might seem to be +squandered. That led to constant grumbling on +his part. Ever so many expedients were tried to +satisfy him, but none quite succeeded. At last +he fell ill and died, and when he was a patient at +the Acland Home, where the nurses did all they +could for him, he several times said to me when +I sat with him, that he had never been so happy in +his life as in that Home. I sometimes blame myself +for not having seen more of him at Oxford. But +he always seemed to me full of suspicions and very +easily offended, and that made any free intercourse +with him difficult and far from pleasant. Perhaps +it was my fault also. He may have felt that he +might have claimed a professorship of Icelandic +quite as well as I, and he may have grudged my +settled position in Oxford, my independence and my +freedom. Whenever we did work together, I always +found him pleasant at first, but very soon +he would become wayward and sensitive, do what +I would, and I had to let him go his own way, as +I went mine.</p> + +<p>I remember dining with the famous Dr. Bull,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +Canon of Christ Church, who certainly managed to +produce a dinner that would have done credit to +any French chef. He was one of the last pluralists, +and many stories were told about him. One story, +which however was perfectly true, showed at all +events his great sagacity. A well-known banker +had been for years the banker of Christ Church. +Dr. Bull who was the College Bursar had to transact +all the financial business with him. No one +suspected the banking house which he represented. +Dr. Bull, however, the last time he invited him to +dinner, was struck by his very pious and orthodox +remarks, and by the change of tone in his conversation, +such as might suit a Canon of Christ Church, +but not a luxurious banker from London. Without +saying a word, Dr. Bull went to London next day, +drew out all the money of the college, took all his +papers from the bank, and the day after, to the dismay +of London, the bank failed, the depositors lost +their money, but Christ Church was unhurt.</p> + +<p>Another of the Canons of Christ Church at that +time had spent half a century in the place, and read +the lessons there twice every day. Of course he +knew the prayer-book by heart, and as long as he +could see to read there was no harm in his reading. +But when his eyesight failed him and he had to +trust entirely to his memory, he would often go +from some word in the evening prayer to the same +word in the marriage service, and from there to +the burial service, with an occasional slip into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +baptism. The result of it was that he was no +longer allowed to read the service in Chapel except +during Long Vacation when the young men were +away. I frequently stayed at Oxford during vacation, +and thought of course that the evening service +would never end, till at last I was asked to name +the child, and then I went home.</p> + +<p>One Sunday I remember going to chapel, and +after prayers had begun the following conversation +took place, loud enough to be heard all through +the chapel. Enter old Canon preceded by a beadle. +He goes straight to his stall, and finding it occupied +by a well-known D.D. from London, who is deeply +engaged in prayer, he stands and looks at the interloper, +and when that produces no effect, he says +to the beadle: “Tell that man this is my stall; tell +him to get out.”</p> + +<p>Beadle: “Dr. A.’s compliments, and whether you +would kindly occupy another stall.”</p> + +<p>D.D.: “Very sorry; I shall change immediately.”</p> + +<p>Old Canon settles in his stall, prayers continue, +and after about ten minutes the Canon shouts: +“Beadle, tell that man to dine with me at five.”</p> + +<p>Beadle: “Dr. A.’s compliments, and whether you +would give him the pleasure of your company at +dinner at five.”</p> + +<p>D.D.: “Very sorry, I am engaged.”</p> + +<p>Beadle: “D.D. regrets he is engaged.”</p> + +<p>Old Canon: “Oh, he won’t dine!”</p> + +<p>The cathedral was very empty, and fortunately<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +this conversation was listened to by a small congregation +only. I can, however, vouch for it, as +I was sitting close by and heard it myself.</p> + +<p>Bodley’s Library, too, was full of good stories, +though many of them do not bear repeating. When +I first began to work there, Dr. Bandinell was +Bodleian Librarian. Working in the Bodleian was +then like working in one’s private library. One +could have as many books and MSS. as one desired, +and the six hours during which the Library was +open were a very fair allowance for such tiring +work as copying and collating Sanskrit MSS. I +well remember my delight when I first sat down +at my table near one of the windows looking into +the garden of Exeter. It seemed a perfect paradise +for a student. I must confess that I slightly altered +my opinion when I had to sit there every day +during a severe winter without any fire, shivering +and shaking, and almost unable to hold my pen, till +kind Mr. Coxe, the sub-librarian, took compassion +on me and brought me a splendid fur that had been +sent him as a present by a Russian scholar, who had +witnessed the misery of the Librarian in this Siberian +Library. Now all this is changed. The Library +is so full of students, both male and female, that +one has difficulty in finding a place, certainly in +finding a quiet place; and all sorts of regulations +have been introduced which have no doubt become +necessary on account of the large number of readers, +but which have completely changed, or as some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +would say, improved the character of the place. As +to one improvement, however, there can be no two +opinions. The Library and the reading-room, the +so-called Camera, are now comfortably warmed, +and students may in the latter place read for twelve +hours uninterruptedly, and not be turned out as +we were by a warning bell at four o’clock. And +woe to you if you failed to obey the warning. One +day an unfortunate reader was so absorbed in his +book that he did not hear the bell, and was locked +in. He tried in vain to attract attention from the +windows, for it was no pleasant prospect to pass +a night among so many ghosts. At last he saw +a solitary woman, and shouted to her that he was +locked in. “No,” she said, “you are not. The +Library is closed at four.” Whether he spent the +night among the books is not known. Let us hope +that he met with a less logical person to release him +from his cold prison.</p> + +<p>Dr. Bandinell ruled supreme in his library, and +even the Curators trembled before him when he told +them what had been the invariable custom of the +Library for years, and could not be altered. And, +curiously enough, he had always funds at his disposal, +which is not the case now, and whenever +there was a collection of valuable MSS. in the +market he often prided himself on having secured +it long before any other library had the money +ready. Now and then, it is true, he allowed himself +to be persuaded by a plausible seller of rare books<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +or MSS., but generally he was very wary. He was +not always very courteous to visitors, and still less so +to his under-librarians. The Oriental under-librarian +Professor Reay, in particular, who was old and +somewhat infirm, had much to suffer from him, and +the language in which he was ordered about was +such as would not now be addressed to any menial. +And yet Professor Reay belonged to a very good +family, though Dr. Bandinell would insist on calling +him Ray, and declared that he had no right to +the e in his name. In revenge some people would +give him an additional i and call him Dr. Bandinelli, +which made him very angry, because, as he would +say to me, “he had never been one of those dirty +foreigners.” Silence was enjoined in the library, +but the librarian’s voice broke through all rules of +silence. I remember once, when Professor Reay +had been looking for ever so long to find his spectacles +without which he could not read the Arabic +MSS., and had asked everybody whether they had +seen them, a voice came at last thundering through +the library: “You left your spectacles on my chair, +you old ——, and I sat on them!” There was +an end of spectacles and Arabic MSS. after that. +There were two men only of whom Dr. Bandinell +and H. O. Coxe also were afraid, Dr. Pusey, who +was one of the Curators, and later on, Jowett, the +Master of Balliol.</p> + +<p>There was a vacancy in the Oriental sub-librarianship, +and a very distinguished young Hebrew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +scholar, William Wright, afterwards Professor at +Cambridge, was certainly by far the best candidate. +But as ill-luck—I mean ill-luck for the Library—would +have it, he had given offence by a lecture at +Dublin, in which he declared that the people of +Canaan were Semitic, and not, as stated in Genesis, +the children of Ham. No one doubts this now, and +every new inscription has confirmed it. Still a +strong effort was made to represent Dr. Wright as +a most dangerous young man, and thus to prevent +his appointment at Oxford. The appointment was +really in the hands of Dr. Bandinell; and after I +had frankly explained to him the motives of this +mischievous agitation against Dr. Wright, and assured +him that he was a scholar and by no means +given to what was then called “free-handling of the +Old Testament,” he promised me that he would +appoint him and no one else. However, poor man, +he was urged and threatened and frightened, and +to my great surprise the appointment was given to +some one else, who at that time had given hardly +any proofs of independent work as a Semitic scholar, +though he afterwards rendered very good and honest +service. I did not disguise my opinion of what +had happened; and for more than a year Dr. Bandinell +never spoke to me nor I to him, though we +met almost daily at the library. At last the old +man, evidently feeling that he had been wrong, +came to tell me that he was sorry for what had happened, +but that it was not his fault: after this, of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +course, all was forgotten. Dr. Wright had a much +more brilliant career opened to him, first at the +British Museum, and then as professor at Cambridge, +than he could possibly have had as sub-librarian +at Oxford. He always remained a scholar, and +never dabbled in theology.</p> + +<p>Some very heated correspondence passed at the +time, and I remember keeping the letters for a long +while. They were curious as showing the then state +of theological opinion at Oxford; but I have evidently +put the correspondence away so carefully +that nowhere can I find it now. Let it be forgotten +and forgiven.</p> + +<p>Many, if not all, of the stories that I have written +down in this chapter may be legendary, and +they naturally lose or gain as told by different people. +Who has not heard different versions of the +story of a well-known Canon of Christ Church in +my early days, who, when rowing on the river, saw +a drowning man laying hold of his boat and nearly +upsetting it. “Providentially,” he explained, “I +had brought my umbrella, and I had presence of +mind enough to hit him over the knuckles. He let +go, sank, and never rose again.” Nobody, I imagine, +would have vouched for the truth of this +story, but it was so often repeated that it provided +the old gentleman with a nickname, that stuck to +him always.</p> + +<p>I could add more Oxford stories, but it seems almost +ill-natured to do so, and I could only say in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +most cases <i>relata refero</i>. When I first came here +Oxford and Oxford society were to me so strange +that I probably accepted many similar stories as +gospel truth. My young friends hardly treated me +quite fairly in this respect. I had many questions +to ask, and my friends evidently thought it great +fun to chaff me and to tell me stories which I naturally +believed, for there were many things which +seemed to me very strange, and yet they were true +and I had to believe them. The existence of Fellows +who received from £300 to £800 a year, as a +mere sinecure for life, provided they did not marry, +seemed to me at first perfectly incredible. In Germany +education at Public Schools and Universities +was so cheap that even the poorest could manage +to get what was wanted for the highest employments, +particularly if they could gain an exhibition +or scholarship. But after a man had passed his examinations, +the country or the government had +nothing more to do with him. “Swim or drown” +was the maxim followed everywhere; and it was +but natural that the first years of professional life, +whether as lawyers, medical men, or clergymen, +were years of great self-denial. But they were also +years of intense struggle, and the years of hunger +are said to have accounted for a great deal of excellent +work in order to force the doors to better employment. +To imagine that after the country had +done its duty by providing schools and universities, +it would provide crutches for men who ought to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +learn to walk by themselves, was beyond my comprehension, +particularly when I was told how large +a sum was yearly spent by the colleges in paying +these fellowships without requiring any <i>quid pro +quo</i>.</p> + +<p>Having once come to believe that, and several +other to me unintelligible things at Oxford, I was +ready to believe almost anything my friends told +me. There are some famous stone images, for instance, +round the Theatre and the Ashmolean Museum. +They are hideous, for the sandstone of which +they are made has crumbled away again and again, +but even when they were restored, the same brittle +stone was used. They are in the form of Hermae, +and were planned by no less an architect than Sir +Christopher Wren. When I asked what they were +meant for, I was assured quite seriously that they +were images of former Heads of Houses. I believed +it, though I expressed my surprise that the stone-mason +who made new heads, when the old showed +hardly more than two eyes and a nose, and a very +wide mouth, should carefully copy the crumbling +faces, because, as I was informed, he had been told +to copy the former gentlemen.</p> + +<p>It was certainly a very common amusement of +my young undergraduate friends to make fun of +the Heads of Houses. They did not seem to feel +that shiver of unspeakable awe for them of which +Bishop Thorold speaks; nay, they were anything +but respectful in speaking of the Doctors of Divinity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +in their red gowns with black velvet sleeves. If +it is difficult for old men always to understand +young men, it is certainly even more difficult for +young men to understand old men. There is a very +old saying, “Young men think that old men are +fools, but old men know that young men are.” +Though very young myself, I came to know several +of the old Heads of Houses, and though they certainly +had their peculiarities, they did by no means +all belong to the age of the Dodo. They were enjoying +their <i>otium cum dignitate</i>, as befits gentlemen, +scholars, and divines, and they certainly deserved +greater respect from the undergraduates than +they received.</p> + +<p>At the annual <i>Encaenia</i>, a great deal of licence +was allowed to the young men; and I know of several +strangers, especially foreigners, who have been +scandalized at the riotous behaviour of the undergraduates +in the Theatre, the Oxford <i>Aula</i>, when +the Vice-Chancellor stood up to address the assembled +audience. My first experience of this was with +Dr. Plumptre, who, as I have said, was very tall +and stately; when his first words were not quite distinct, +the undergraduates shouted, “Speak up, old +stick.” When the Warden of Wadham, the Rev. +Dr. Symons, was showing some pretty young ladies +to their seats in the Theatre, he was threatened by +the young men, who yelled at the top of their voices, +“I’ll tell Lydia, you wicked old man.” Now Lydia +was his most excellent spouse. At first the remarks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +of the undergraduates at the <i>Encaenia</i>, or rather +<i>Saturnalia</i>, were mostly good-natured and at least +witty; but they at last became so rude that distinguished +men, whom the University wished to +honour by conferring on them honorary degrees, +felt deeply offended. Sir Arthur Helps declared +that he came to receive an honour, and received an +insult. Well do I remember the Rev. Dr. Salmon, +who was asked where he had left his lobster sauce; +Dr. Wendell Holmes was shouted at, whether he +had come across the Atlantic in his “One Hoss +Shay”; the Right Hon. W. H. Smith, First Lord +of the Admiralty, was presented with a Pinafore, +and Lord Wolseley with a Black Watch. There +was a certain amount of wit in these allusions, and +the best way to take the academic row and riot was +Tennyson’s, who told me on coming out that “he +felt all the time as if standing on the shingle of the +sea shore, the storm howling, and the spray covering +him right and left.” After a time, however, these +<i>Saturnalia</i> had to be stopped, and they were stopped +in a curious way, by giving ladies seats among the +undergraduates. It speaks well for them that their +regard for the ladies restrained them, and made +them behave like gentlemen.</p> + +<p>The reign of the Heads of Houses, which was in +full force when I first settled in Oxford, began to +wane when it was least expected. There had, however, +been grumblings among the Fellows and Tutors +at Oxford, who felt themselves aggrieved by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +the self-willed interference of the Heads of Colleges +in their tutorial work, and, it may be, resented the +airs assumed by men who, after all, were their +equals, and in no sense their betters, in the University.</p> + +<p>Society distinctly profited when Fellows and Tutors +were allowed to marry, and when several of +the newly-elected of the Heads of Houses, having +wives and daughters, opened their houses, and had +interesting people to dine with them from the +neighbourhood and from London.</p> + +<p>The Deanery of Christ Church was not only +made architecturally into a new house, but under +Dr. Liddell, with his charming wife and daughters, +became a social centre not easily rivalled anywhere +else. There one met not only royalty, the young +Prince of Wales, but many eminent writers, artists, +and political men from London, Gladstone, Disraeli, +Richmond, Ruskin, and many others. Another +bright house of the new era was that of the Principal +of Brasenose, Dr. Cradock, and his cheerful +and most amusing wife. There one often met such +men as Lord Russell, Sir George C. Lewis, young +Harcourt, and many more. She was the true Dresden +china marquise, with her amusing sallies, which +no doubt often gave offence to grave Heads of +Houses and sedate Professors. No one knew her +age, she was so young; and yet she had been maid +of honour to some Queen, as I told her once, to +Queen Anne. Having been maid of honour, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +never concealed her own peculiar feelings about +people who had not been presented. When she +wanted to be left alone, she would look out of window, +and tell visitors who came to call, “Very sorry, +but I am not at home to-day.” Queen’s College +also, under Dr. Thomson, the future Archbishop +of York, was a most hospitable house. Mrs. Thomson +presided over it with her peculiar grace and genuine +kindness, and many a pleasant evening I spent +there with musical performances. But here, too, +the old leaven of Oxford burst forth sometimes. Of +course, we generally performed the music of Handel +and other classical authors; Mendelssohn’s compositions +were still considered as mere twaddle by +some of the old school. At one of these evenings, +the old organist of New College, with his wooden +leg, after sitting through a rehearsal of Mendelssohn’s +<i>Hymn of Praise</i>, which I was conducting at +the pianoforte, walked up to me, as I thought, to +thank me; but no, he burst out in a torrent of real +and somewhat coarse abuse of me, for venturing to +introduce such flimsy music at Oxford. I did not +feel very guilty, and fortunately I remained silent, +whether from actual bewilderment or from a better +cause, I can hardly tell.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a name="Max30" id="Max30"></a><a href="images/illo268.jpg"><img src="images/illo268_th.jpg" +alt="Max Müller, Aged 30" title="Max Müller, Aged 30" /></a></p> + +<p class="caption"><i>F. Max Müller</i><br /> + +<i>Aged 30.</i></p> + +<p>Long before Commissions came down on Oxford +a new life seemed to be springing up there, and +what was formerly the exception became more and +more the rule among the young Fellows and Tutors. +They saw what a splendid opportunity was theirs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +having the very flower of England to educate, having +the future of English society to form. They +certainly made the best of it, helped, I believe, by +the so-called Oxford Movement, which, whatever +came of it afterwards, was certainly in the beginning +thoroughly genuine and conscientious. The +Tutors saw a good deal of the young men confided +to their care, and the result was that even what was +called the “fast set” thought it a fine thing to +take a good class. I could mention a number of +young noblemen and wealthy undergraduates who, +in my early years, read for a first class and took it; +and my experience has certainly been that those who +took a first class came out in later life as eminent +and useful members of society. Not that eminence +in political, clerical, literary, and scientific life was +restricted to first classes, far from it. But first-class +men rarely failed to appear again on the surface in +later life. It may be true that a first class did not +always mean a first-class man, but it always seemed +to mean a man who had learned how to work +honestly, whether he became Prime Minister or +Archbishop, or spent his days in one of the public +offices, or even in a counting-house or newspaper +office.</p> + +<p>I felt it was an excellent mixture if a young man, +after taking a good degree at Oxford, spent a year +or two at a German University. He generally came +back with fresh ideas, knew what kind of work still +had to be done in the different branches of study,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +and did it with a perseverance that soon produced +most excellent results. Of course there was always +the difficulty that young men wished to make their +way in life, that is to make a living. The Church, +the bar, and the hospital, absorbed many of those +who in Germany would have looked forward to a +University career. In my own subject more particularly, +my very best pupils did not see their way +to gaining even an independence, unless they gave +their time to first securing a curacy, or a mastership +at school; and they usually found that, in order to +do their work conscientiously, they had to give up +their favourite studies in which they would certainly +have done excellent work, if there had been +no <i>dira necessitas</i>. I often tried to persuade my +friends at Oxford to make the fellowships really useful +by concentrating them and giving studious men +a chance of devoting themselves at the University +to non-lucrative studies. But the feeling of the +majority was always against what was called derisively +Original Research, and the fellowship-funds +continued to be frittered away, payment by results +being considered a totally mistaken principle, so +that often, as in the case of the new septennial fellowships, +there remained the payment only, but no +results.</p> + +<p>Still all this became clear to me at a much later +time only. My first years at Oxford were spent +in a perfect bewilderment of joy and admiration. +No one can see that University for the first time,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +particularly in spring or autumn, without being +enchanted with it. To me it seemed a perfect paradise, +and I could have wished for myself no better +lot than that which the kindness of my friends later +secured for me there.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Will it be believed that the battels (bills) in College are connected +with this word?</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> <i>Opere</i>, ed. Wagner, i. p. 179.</p></div> +</div> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>EARLY FRIENDS AT OXFORD</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">I was</span> still very young when I came to settle at +Oxford, only twenty-four in fact; and, though occasionally +honoured by invitations from Heads of +Houses and Professors, I naturally lived chiefly +with undergraduates and junior Fellows, such as +Grant, Sellar, Palgrave, Morier, and others. Grant, +afterwards Sir Alexander Grant and Principal of +the University of Edinburgh, was a delightful companion. +He had always something new in his mind, +and discussed with many flashes of wit and satire. +He possessed an aristocratic contempt for anything +commonplace, or self-evident, so that one had to be +careful in conversing with him. But he was generous, +and his laugh reconciled one to some of his +sharp sallies. How little one anticipates the future +greatness of one’s friends. They all seem to us no +better than ourselves, when suddenly they emerge. +Grant had shown what he could do by his edition +of Aristotle’s <i>Ethics</i>. He became one of the Professors +at the new University at Bombay and contributed +much to the first starting of that University, +so warmly patronized by Sir Charles Trevelyan.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +On returning to this country he was chosen +to fill the distinguished place of Principal of the +Edinburgh University. More was expected of him +when he enjoyed this <i>otium cum dignitate</i>, but his +health seemed to have suffered in the enervating climate +of India, and, though he enjoyed his return +to his friends most fully and spending his life as a +friend among friends, he died comparatively young, +and perhaps without fulfilling all the hopes that +were entertained of him. But he was a thoroughly +genial man, and his handshake and the twinkle of +his eye when meeting an old friend will not easily be +forgotten.</p> + +<p>Sellar was another Scotchman whom I knew as +an undergraduate at Balliol. When I first came +to know him he was full of anxieties about his +health, and greatly occupied with the usual doubts +about religion, particularly the presence of evil or +of anything imperfect in this world. He was an +honest fellow, warmly attached to his friends; and +no one could wish to have a better friend to stand +up for him on all occasions and against all odds. +He afterwards became happily married and a useful +Professor of Latin at Edinburgh. I stayed with +him later in life in Scotland and found him always +the same, really enjoying his friends’ society and +a talk over old days. He had begun to ail when +I saw him last, but the old boy was always there, +even when he was miserable about his chiefly imaginary +miseries. Soon after I had left him I received<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +his last message and farewell from his deathbed. +We are told that all this is very natural and +what we must be prepared for—but what cold gaps +it leaves. My thoughts often return to him, as if +he were still among the living, and then one feels +one’s own loneliness and friendlessness again and +again.</p> + +<p>Palgrave roused great expectations among undergraduates +at Oxford, but he kept us waiting for +some time. He took early to office life in the Educational +Department, and this seems to have ground +him down and unfitted him for other work. He had +a wonderful gift of admiring, his great hero being +Tennyson, and he was more than disappointed if +others did not join in his unqualified panegyrics of +the great poet. At last, somewhat late in life, he +was elected Professor of Poetry at Oxford, and gave +some most learned and instructive lectures. His +knowledge of English Literature, particularly poetry, +was quite astounding. I certainly never went +to him to ask him a question that he did not answer +at once and with exhaustive fullness. Some of his +friends complained of his great command of language, +and even Tennyson, I am told, found it +sometimes too much. All I can say is that to me +it was a pleasure to listen to him. I owe him particular +thanks for having, in the kindest manner, +revised my first English compositions. He was always +ready and indefatigable, and I certainly owed +a good deal to his corrections and his unstinted advice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +His <i>Golden Treasury</i> has become a national +possession, and certainly speaks well both for his +extensive knowledge and for his good taste.</p> + +<p>Lastly there was Morier, of whom certainly no +one expected when he was at Balliol that he would +rise to be British Ambassador at St. Petersburg. +His early education had been somewhat neglected, +but when he came to Balliol he worked hard to +pass a creditable examination. He was a giant in +size, very good-looking, and his manners, when he +liked, most charming and attractive. Being the +son of a diplomatist there was something both English +and foreign in his manner, and he certainly was +a general favourite at Oxford. His great desire +was to enter the diplomatic service, but when that +was impossible, he found employment for a time +in the Education Office. But society in London +was too much for him, he was made for society, +and society was delighted to receive him. But it +was difficult for him at the same time to fulfil his +duties at the Education Office, and the result was +that he had to give up his place. Things began +to look serious, when fortunately Lord Aberdeen, +a great friend of his father, found him some diplomatic +employment; and that once found, Morier +was in his element. He was often almost reckless; +but while several of his friends came altogether to +grief, he managed always to fall on his feet and +keep afloat while others went down. As an undergraduate +he came to me to read Greek with me,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +and I confess that with such mistakes in his Greek +papers as οἱ πἁθοι instead of τἀ πἁθη, I trembled +for his examinations. However, he did well in the +schools, knowing how to hide his weak points and +how to make the best of his strong ones. I travelled +with him in Germany, and when the Schleswig-Holstein +question arose, he wrote a pamphlet which +certainly might have cost him his diplomatic career. +He asked me to allow it to be understood that the +pamphlet, which did full justice to the claims of +Holstein and of Germany, had been written by me. +I received many compliments, which I tried to parry +as well as I could. Fortunately Lord John Russell +stood by Morier, and his prophecies did certainly +turn out true. “Don’t let the Germans awake from +their slumbers and find a work ready made for them +on which they all agree.” But the signatories of +the treaty of London did the very thing against +which Morier had raised his warning voice, as the +friend of Germany as it was, though perhaps not +of the Germany that was to be. Schleswig-Holstein +<i>meer-umschlungen</i> became the match, (the Schwefel-hölzchen), +that was to light the fire of German +unity, a unity which for a time may not have been +exactly what England could have wished for, but +which in the future will become, we hope, the safety +of Europe and the support of England.</p> + +<p>Morier’s later advance in his diplomatic career +was certainly most successful. He possessed the +very important art of gaining the confidence of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +crowned heads and ministers he had to deal with. +Bismarck, it is true, could not bear him, and tried +several times to trip him up. Even while Morier +was at Berlin, as a Secretary of Legation, Bismarck +asked for his removal, but Lord Granville simply +declined to remove a young diplomatist who gave +him information on all parties in Germany, and to +do so had to mix with people whom Bismarck did +not approve of. Besides, Morier was always a +<i>persona grata</i> with the Crown Prince and the +Crown Princess, and that was enough to make Bismarck +dislike him. Later in life Bismarck accused +him of having conveyed private information of the +military position of the Germans to the French +Guards, such information being derived from the +English Court. The charge was ridiculous. Morier +was throughout the war a sympathizer with Germany +as against France. The English Court had +no military information to convey or to communicate +to Morier, and Morier was too much of a diplomatist +and a gentleman, if by accident he had +possessed any such information, to betray such a +secret to an enemy in the field. Bismarck was completely +routed, though his son seemed inclined to +fasten a duel on the English diplomatist. Morier +rose higher and higher, and at last became Ambassador +at St. Petersburg. When I laughed and congratulated +him he said, “He must be a great fool +who does not reach the top of the diplomatic tree.” +That was too much modesty, and yet modesty was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +not exactly his fault; but he agreed with me as to +<i>quam parva sapientia regitur mundus</i>.</p> + +<p>Nothing could seem more prosperous than my +friend Morier’s career; but few people knew how +utterly miserable he really was. He had one son, +in many respects the very image of his father, a +giant in stature, very handsome, and most attractive. +In spite of all we said to him he would not +send his son to a public school in England, but kept +him with him at the different embassies, where his +only companions were the young attachés and secretaries. +He had a private tutor, and when that +tutor declared that young Morier was fit for the +University, his father managed to get him into Balliol, +recommending him to the special care of the +Master. He actually lived in the Master’s house for +a time, but enjoyed the greatest liberty that an +undergraduate at Oxford may enjoy. His father +was wrapped up in his boy, but at the same time +tried to frighten him into hard work, or at least +into getting through the examinations. All was in +vain; young Morier was so nervous that he could +never pass an examination. What might be expected +followed, and the father had at last to remove +him to begin work as an honorary attaché at his own +embassy. I liked the young man very much, but +my own impression is that his nervousness quite unfitted +him for serious work. The end was beyond +description sad. He went to South Africa in the +police force, distinguished himself very much, came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +back to England, and then on his second voyage +to the Cape died suddenly on board the steamer. I +have seldom seen such utter misery as his father’s. +He loved his son and the son loved his father passionately, +but the father expected more than it +was physically and mentally possible for the son to +do. Hence arose misunderstandings, and yet beneath +the surface there was this passionate love, like +the love of lovers. When I saw my old friend last, +he cried and sobbed like a child: his heart was really +broken. He went on for a few years more, suffering +much from ill health, but really killed at last +by his utter misery. I knew him in the bright +morning of his life, at the meridian of his great success, +and last in the dark night when light and life +seems gone, when the moon and all the stars are +extinguished, and nothing remains but patient suffering +and the hope of a brighter morn to come.</p> + +<p>How little one dreamt of all this when we were +young, and when an ambassador, nay, even a professor, +seemed to us far beyond the reach of our +ambition. I could go on mentioning many more +names of men with whom I lived at Oxford in the +most delightful intimacy, and who afterwards +turned up as bishops, archbishops, judges, ministers, +and all the rest. True, it is quite natural that it +should be so with a man who, as I did, began his +English life almost as an undergraduate among undergraduates. +Nearly all Englishmen who receive +a liberal education must pass either through Oxford<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +or through Cambridge, and I was no doubt lucky +in making thus early the acquaintance of a number +of men who later in life became deservedly eminent. +The only drawback was that, knowing my friends +very intimately, I did not perhaps later preserve on +all occasions that deference which the dignity of an +ambassador or of an archbishop has a right to demand.</p> + +<p>Thomson was a dear friend of mine when he was +still a fellow of Queen’s College. We worked together, +as may be seen by my contributions to his +<i>Laws of Thought</i>, and the translation of a Vedic +hymn which he helped me to make. I think he +had a kind of anticipation of what was in store for +him. Though for a time he had to be satisfied, even +when he was married, with a very small London +living, he soon rose in the Church, at a time when +clergymen of a liberal way of thinking had not +much chance of Crown preferment. But having +gone at the head of a deputation to Lord Palmerston, +to inform him that Gladstone’s next election +as member for Oxford was becoming doubtful, owing +to all the bishoprics being given to the Low +Church party—the party of Lord Shaftesbury—Palmerston +remembered his stately and courteous +bearing, and when the see of Gloucester fell vacant, +gave him that bishopric to silence Gladstone’s supporters. +This was a very unexpected preferment +at Oxford, but Thomson made such good use of his +opportunity that, when the Archbishopric of York<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +became vacant, and Palmerston found it difficult +to make his own or Lord Shaftesbury’s nominee +acceptable to the Queen, he suggested that any one +of the lately elected bishops approved of by the +Crown might go to York, and some one else fill the +see thus vacated. It so happened that Thomson’s +name was the first to be mentioned, and he was +made Archbishop, probably one of the youngest +Archbishops England has ever known. He certainly +fulfilled all expectations and proved himself +the people’s Archbishop, for he was himself the son +of a small tradesman, a fact of which he was never +ashamed, though his enemies did not fail to cast +it in his teeth. I confess I felt at first a little awkward +with my old friend who formerly had discussed +every possible religious and philosophical +problem quite freely with me, and was now His +Grace the Lord Archbishop, with a palace to inhabit +and an income of about £10,000 a year. +However, though as a German and as a friend of +Bunsen I was looked upon as a kind of heretic, I +never made the Archbishop blush for his old friend, +and I always found him the same to the end of his +life, kind, courteous, and ready to help, though it +is but fair to remember that an Archbishop of York +is one of the first subjects of the Queen, and cannot +do or say everything that he might like to do or to +say. When I had to ask him to do something for +a friend of mine, who as a clergyman had given +great offence by his very liberal opinions, he did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +all he could do, though he might have incurred +great obloquy by so doing.</p> + +<p>But when I think of these men, friends and acquaintances +of mine, whom I remember as young +men, very able and hard working no doubt, yet not +so entirely different from others who through life +remained unknown, it is as if I had slept through +a number of years and dreamt, and had then suddenly +awoke to a new life. Some of my friends, +I am glad to say, I always found the same, whether +in ermine or in lawn sleeves; others, however, I am +sorry to say, had <i>become</i> something, the old boy in +them had vanished, and nothing was to be seen except +the bishop, the judge, or the minister.</p> + +<p>It was not for me to remind them of their former +self, and to make them doubt their own identity, +but I often felt the truth of Matthew Arnold’s +speeches, who, in social position, never rose beyond +that of inspector of schools, and who often laughed +when at great dinners he found himself surrounded +by their Graces, their Excellencies, and my Lords, +recognizing faces that sat below him at school and +whose names in the class lists did not occupy so high +a place as his own. Not that Matthew Arnold was +dissatisfied; he knew his worth, but, as he himself +asked for nothing, it is strange that his friends +should never have asked for something for him, +which would have shown to the world at large that +he had not been left behind in the race. It strikes +one that while he was at Oxford, few people only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +detected in Arnold the poet or the man of remarkable +genius. I had many letters from him, but I +never kept them, and I often blame myself now that +in his, as in other cases, I should have thrown away +letters as of no importance. Then suddenly came +the time when he returned to Oxford as the poet, +as the Professor of poetry, nay, afterwards as the +philosopher also, placed high by public opinion +among the living worthies of England. What was +sometimes against him was his want of seriousness. +A laugh from his hearers or readers seemed to be +more valued by him than their serious opposition, +or their convinced assent. He trusted, like others, +to <i>persiflage</i>, and the result was that when he tried +to be serious, people could not forget that he might +at any time turn round and smile, and decline to +be taken <i>au grand sérieux</i>. People do not know +what a dangerous game this French <i>persiflage</i> is, +particularly in England, and how difficult it becomes +to exchange it afterwards for real seriousness.</p> + +<p>Those early Oxford days were bright days for +me, and now, when those young and old faces, +whether undergraduates or archbishops, rise up +again before me, I being almost the only one left +of that happy company, I ask again, “Did they +also belong to a mere dreamland, they who gave +life to my life, and made England my real home?” +When I first saw them at Oxford, I was really an +undergraduate, though I had taken my Doctor’s +degree at Leipzig. I lived, in fact, my happy university<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +life over again, and it would be difficult to +say which academical years I enjoyed more, those +at Leipzig and Berlin, or those at Oxford. There +were intermediate years in Paris, but during my +stay there I saw but little of students and student +life. I was too much oppressed with cares and +anxieties about my present and future to think +much of society and enjoyment. At Oxford, these +cares had become far less, and I could by hard work +earn as much money as I wanted, and cared to +spend. In Paris, I was already something of a +scholar and writer; at Oxford I became once more +the undergraduate.</p> + +<p>This young society into which I was received was +certainly most attractive, though that it contained +the germs of future greatness never struck me at +the time. What struck me was the general tone of +the conversation. Of course, as Lord Palmerston +said of himself when he was no longer very young, +“boys will be boys,” but there never was anything +rude or vulgar in their conversation, and I hardly +ever heard an offensive remark among them. Most +of my friends came from Balliol, and were serious-minded +men, many of them occupied and troubled +by religious, philosophical, and social problems.</p> + +<p>What puzzled me most was the entire absence of +duels. Occasionally there were squabbles and high +words, which among German students could have +had one result only—a duel. But at Oxford, either +a man apologized at once or the next morning, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +the matter was forgotten, or, if a man proved himself +a cad or a snob, he was simply dropped. I do +not mean to condemn the students’ duels in Germany +altogether. Considering how mixed the society +of German universities is, and the perfect +equality that reigns among them—they all called +each other “thou” in my time—the son of a gentleman +required some kind of protection against the +son of a butcher or of a day-labourer. Boxing and +fisticuffs were entirely forbidden among students, +so that there remained nothing to a young student +who wanted to escape from the insults of a young +ruffian, but to call him out. As soon as a challenge +was given, all abuse ceased at once, and such was +the power of public opinion at the universities that +not another word of insult would be uttered. In +this way much mischief is prevented. Besides, +every precaution is taken to guard against fatal +accident, and I believe there are fewer serious accidents +on the <i>mensura</i> than in the hunting-field in +England. When I was at Leipzig, where we had +at least four hundred duels during the year, only +two fatal accidents happened, and they were, indeed, +accidents, such as will happen even at football. +Of course duels can never be defended, but for keeping +up good manners, also for bringing out a man’s +character, these academic duels seem useful. However +small the danger is, it frightens the coward +and restrains the poltroon. For all that, what has +taken place in England may in time take place in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +Germany also, and men will cease to think that it +is impossible to defend their honour without a piece +of steel or a pistol. The last thing that a German +student desires to do in a duel is to kill his adversary. +Hence pistol duels, which are generally +preferred by theological students, because they cannot +easily get a living if their face is scarred all over, +are generally the most harmless, except perhaps for +the seconds.</p> + +<p>Before closing this chapter, I should like to say +a few words on the impressions which the theological +atmosphere of Oxford in 1848 produced on +me, and which even now fills me with wonder and +amazement.</p> + +<p>When I came to Oxford, I was strongly recommended +to Stanley on one side, and to Manuel +Johnson on the other,—a curious mixture. Johnson, +the Observer, was extremely kind and hospitable +to me. He was a genial man, full of love, possibly +a little weak, but thoroughly honest, nay, +transparently so. I met at his house nearly all the +leaders of the High Church movement, though I +never met Newman himself, who had then already +gone to reside at his retreat at Littlemore. On the +other hand, Stanley received me with open arms as +a friend of Bunsen, Frederick Maurice, and Julius +Hare, and as I came straight from the February +revolution in 1848, he was full of interest and curiosity +to know from me what I had seen in Paris.</p> + +<p>At first I knew nothing, and understood nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +of the movement, call it ecclesiastical or theological, +that was going on at Oxford at that time. I dined +almost every Sunday at Johnson’s house, and at his +dinners and Sunday afternoon garden parties I met +men such as Church, Mozley, Buckle, Palgrave, +Pollen, Rigaud, Burgon, and Chrétian, who inspired +me with great respect, both for their learning +and for what I could catch of their character. Stanley, +on the other hand, Froude, and Jowett, proved +themselves true friends to me in making me feel +at home, and initiating me into the secrets of the +place. There was, however, a curious reticence on +both sides, and it was by sudden glimpses only that +I came to understand that these two sets were quite +divided, nay, opposed, and had very different ideals +before them.</p> + +<p>I had been at a German university, and the historical +study of Christianity was to me as familiar +as the study of Roman history. Professors whom +I had looked up to as great authorities, implicitly +to be trusted, such as Lotze and Weisse at Leipzig, +Schelling and Michelet at Berlin, had, after causing +in me a certain surprise at first, left me with the +firm conviction that the Old and New Testament +were historical books, and to be treated according +to the same critical principles as any other ancient +book, particularly the sacred books of the East of +which so little was then known, and of which I too +knew very little as yet; enough, however, to see +that they contained nothing but what under the circumstances<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +they could contain, traditions of extreme +antiquity collected by men who gathered all +they thought would be useful for the education of +the people. Anything like revelation in the old +sense of the word, a belief that these books had +been verbally communicated by the Deity, or that +what seemed miraculous in them was to be accepted +as historically real, simply because it was recorded +in these sacred books, was to me a standpoint long +left behind. To me the questions that occupied my +thoughts were to what date these books, such as +we have them, could be assigned, what portions of +them were of importance to us, what were the simple +truths they contained, and what had been added +to them by later collectors. Well do I remember +when, before going to Oxford, I spoke to Bunsen +of the preface to my Rig-veda, and used the expression, +“the great revelations of the world,” he, +perfectly understanding what I meant, warned me +in his loud and warm voice, “Don’t say that at Oxford.” +I could see no harm, nor Bunsen either, nor +his son who was an Oxford man and a clergyman +of the Church of England; but I was told that I +should be misunderstood. I knew far too little to +imagine that I had a right to speak of what was +fermenting and growing within me. During my +stay at Leipzig and Berlin, and afterwards in my +intercourse with Renan and Burnouf, the principles +of the historical school had become quite familiar +to me, but the application of these principles to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +early history of religion was a different matter. +How far the Old and the New Testament would +stand the critical tests enunciated by Niebuhr was a +frequent subject of controversy, during the time I +spent at Paris, between young Renan and myself. +Though I did not go with him in his reconstruction +of the history of the Jews and the Jewish religion, +and of the early Christians and the Christian religion, +I agreed with him in principle, objecting only +to his too free and too idyllic reconstruction of these +great religious movements. Besides, before all +things, I was at that time given to philosophical +studies, chiefly to an inquiry into the limits of our +knowledge in the Kantian sense of the word, the +origin of thought and language, the first faltering +and half-mythological steps of language in the +search for causes or divine agents. All this occupied +me far more than the age of the Fourth Gospel +and its position by the side of the Synoptic Gospels. +I had talked with Schelling and Schopenhauer, and +little as I appreciated or understood all their teachings, +there were certain aspirations left in my mind +which led me far away beyond the historical foundations +of Christianity. What can we know? was +the question which I often opposed to Renan at the +very beginning of our conversations and controversies. +That there were great truths in the teaching +and preaching of Christ, Renan was always ready to +admit, but while it interested me how the truths proclaimed +by Christ could have sprung up in His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +mind and at that time in the history of the human +race, Renan’s eyes were always directed to the evidence, +and to what we could still know of the early +history of Christianity and its Founder. I could +not deny that, historically speaking, we knew very +little of the life, the work, and the teachings of +Christ; but for that very reason I doubted our +being justified in giving our interpretation and reconstruction +to the fragments left to us of the real +history of the life and teaching of Christ. To this +opinion I remained true through life. I claimed +for each man the liberty of believing in his own +Christ, but I objected to Renan’s idyllic Christ as +I objected to Niebuhr’s filling the canvas of ancient +Roman history with the figures of his own imagination.</p> + +<p>Naturally, when I came to Oxford, I thought +these things were familiar to all, however much +they might admit of careful correction. Nor have +I any doubt that to some of my friends who were +great theologians, they were better known than to +a young Oriental scholar like myself. But unless +engaged in conversation on these subjects, and this +was chiefly the case with my friends of the Stanley +party, I did not feel called upon to preach what, as +I thought, every serious student knew quite as well +and probably much better than myself, though he +might for some reason or other prefer to keep silence +thereon.</p> + +<p>What was my surprise when I found that most of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +these excellent and really learned men were much +more deeply interested in purely ecclesiastical questions, +in the validity of Anglican orders, in the +wearing of either gowns or surplices in the pulpit, +in the question of candlesticks and genuflections. +“What has all this to do with true religion?” I +once said to dear Johnson. He laughed with his +genial laugh, and blowing the smoke of his cigar +away, said, “Oh, you don’t understand!” But I +did understand, and a great deal more than he expected. +Truly religious men, I thought, might +please themselves with incense and candlesticks, +provided they gave no offence to their neighbours. +It seemed to me quite natural also that men like +Johnson, with a taste for art, should prefer the Roman +ritual to the simple and sometimes rather bare +service of the Anglican Church, but that things +such as incense and censers, surplice and gown, +should be taken as they are, as paraphernalia, the +work of human beings, the outcome of personal and +local influences, as church-service, no doubt, but +not as service of God. God has to be served by +very different things, and there is the danger of the +formal prevailing over the essential, the danger of +idolatry of symbols as realities, whenever too much +importance is attributed to the external forms of +worship and divine service.</p> + +<p>The validity of Anglican orders was often discussed +at the Observatory, and I no doubt gave +great offence by openly declaring in my imperfect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +English that I considered Luther a better channel +for the transmission of the Holy Ghost than a Caesar +Borgia or even a Wolsey. Anyhow I could not +bring myself to see the importance of such questions, +if only the heart was right and if the whole of +our life was in fact a real and constant life with +God and in God. That is what I called a truly +religious and truly Christian life. What struck me +particularly, both on the Newman side, and among +those whom I met at Jowett’s and Froude’s, was a +curious want of openness and manliness in discussing +these simple questions, simple, if not complicated +by ecclesiastical theories. When Newman at +Iffley was spoken of, it was in hushed tones, and +when rumours of his going over to Rome reached his +friends at Oxford, their consternation seemed to +be like that of people watching the deathbed of a +friend. I am sorry I saw nothing of Newman at +that time; when I sat with him afterwards in his +study at Birmingham, he was evidently tired of +controversy, and unwilling to reopen questions +which to him were settled once for all, or if not +settled, at all events closed and relinquished. I +could never form a clear idea of the man, much as +I admired his sermons; his brother and his own +friends gave such different accounts of him. That +even at Littlemore he was still faithful to his own +national Church, anxious only to bring it nearer to +its ancient possibly Roman type, can hardly be +doubted. When he wrote from Littlemore to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +friend De Lisle, he had no reason to economize the +truth. De Lisle hoped that Newman would soon +openly join the Church of Rome, but Newman answered: +“You must allow me to be honest with you +in adding one thing. A distressing feeling arises in +my mind that such marks of kindness as these on +your part are caused by a belief that I am ever +likely to join your communion ... I must assure +you then with great sincerity that I have not +the shadow of an internal movement known to myself +towards such a step. While God is with me +where I am, I will not seek Him elsewhere. I +might almost say in the words of Scripture, ‘We +have found the Messias!’...”</p> + +<p>How true this is, and yet the same Newman went +over to the unreformed Church, because the Archbishop +of Canterbury had sanctioned Bunsen’s proposal +of an Anglo-German bishopric of Jerusalem, +quite forgetful of the fact that Synesius also had +been bishop of Ptolemais. Again I say, What have +such matters to do with true religion, such as we +read of in the New Testament, as an ideal to be +realized in our life on earth? And it so happened +that at the same time I knew of families rendered +miserable through Newman’s influence, of young +girls, daughters of narrow-minded Anglicans, hurried +over to Rome, of young men at Oxford with +their troubled consciences which under Newman’s +direct or indirect guidance could end only in Rome. +Newman’s influence must have been extraordinary;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +the tone in which people who wished to free themselves +from him, who had actually left him, spoke +of him, seemed tremulous with awe. I would give +anything to have known him at that time, when +I knew him through his disciples only. They were +caught in various ways. I know of one, a brilliant +writer, who had been entrusted by Newman with +writing some of the <i>Lives of the Saints</i>. He did +it with great industry, but in the course of his +researches he arrived at the conviction that there +was hardly anything truly historical about his +Saints and that the miracles ascribed to them were +insipid, and might be the inventions of their friends; +such legends, he felt, would take no root on English +soil, at all events not in the present generation. In +consequence he informed Newman that he could +not keep his promise, or that, if he did so, he must +speak the truth, tell people what they might believe +about these Saints, and what was purely fanciful +in the accounts of their lives. And what was Newman’s +answer? He did not respect the young man’s +scruples, but encouraged him to go on, because, as +he said, people would never believe more than half +of these Lives, and that therefore some of these unsupported +legends also might prove useful, if only +as a kind of ballast.</p> + +<p>“I rejoice to hear of your success,” he writes, +August 21, 1843. “As to St. Grimball, of course +we must expect such deficiencies; where matter is +found, it is all gain, and there are plenty of Lives<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +to put together, as you will see, when you see the +whole list.</p> + +<p>“I am rather for <i>inserting</i> (of course discreetly +and in way of selection) the miracles for which you +have not good evidence. (1) They are beautiful, +you say, and will tell in the narrative. (2) Next +you can say that the evidence is weak, and this +will be bringing credit for the others where you +say the evidence is strong. People will never go +<i>so far</i> as your narrative. Cut it down to what is +true, and they will disbelieve a part of <i>it</i>; put in +these legends and they will compound for the true +at the sacrifice of what may be true, but is not +well attested.”</p> + +<p>I confess I cannot quite follow. If a man like +Newman believed in these saints and their miracles, +his pleading would become intelligible, but +it seems from this very letter that he did not, and +yet he tried to persuade his young friend to go on +and not to gather the tares, “lest haply he might +root up the wheat with them. Let both grow together +until the harvest.” I do not like to judge, +but I doubt whether this kind of teaching could +have strengthened the healthy moral fibre of a +man’s conscience and have led him to depend entirely +on his sense of truth. And yet this was the +man who at one time was supposed to draw the best +spirits of Oxford with him to Rome. This was the +man to whom some of the best spirits at Oxford +confessed all they had to confess, and that could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +have been very little, and of whom they spoke with +a subdued whisper as the apostle who would restore +all faith, and bring back the Anglican sheep to the +Roman fold.</p> + +<p>I saw and heard all that was going on, the hopes +deferred, the secret visits to Littlemore, the rumours +and more than rumours of Newman’s defection. +Such was the devotion of some of these disciples +that they expected day by day a great catastrophe +or a great victory, for after the publication of so +many letters written at the time by Wiseman, Manning, +De Lisle, and others, there can be little doubt +that a great conversion or perversion of England +to the Romish Church was fully expected. De +Lisle writes: “England is now in full career of a +great Religious Revolution, this time back to Catholicism +and to the Roman See as its true centre +... the best friends of Rome in the Anglican +Church are obliged still to be guarded.” Such +words admit of one meaning only, and if Newman +had been followed by a large number of his Oxford +friends, the results for England might really have +been most terrible. But here, no doubt, the English +national feeling came in. What England had +suffered under Roman ecclesiastical rule had not +yet been entirely forgotten, and the idea that a +foreign potentate and a foreign priesthood should +interfere with the highest interests of the nation, +was fortunately as distasteful as ever, not only to a +large party of the clergy, but to a still larger party<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +of the laity also. It seemed to me very curious that +so many of Newman’s followers did not see the +unpatriotic character of their agitation. Either +subjection to Rome or civil war at home was the +inevitable outcome of what they discussed very +innocently at the Observatory, and little as I +understood their schemes for the future, I often +felt surprised at what sounded to me like very +unpatriotic utterances.</p> + +<p>Another thing that struck me as utterly un-English +and has often been dwelt on by the historians +of this movement, was the curiously secret character +of the agitation. What has an Englishman +to fear when he openly protests against what he +disapproves of in Church or State? But Newman’s +friends at Oxford behaved really, as has been often +said, like so many naughty schoolboys, or like conspirators, +yet they were neither. A very similar +charge, however, was brought against the liberal +party. They also seemed to think that they were +out of bounds, and were doing in secret what they +did not dare to do openly. It is well known that +one friend of Newman’s, who afterwards became a +Roman Catholic, had a small chapel set up in his +bedroom in college, with pictures and candles and +instruments of flagellation. No one was allowed +to see this room, till one evening when the flagellant +had retired after dinner and fallen asleep, the servants +found him lying before the altar. Nothing +remained to him then but to exchange his comfortable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +college rooms for the less comfortable cell of a +Roman monastery, and little was done by his new +friends to make the evening of his life serene and +free from anxiety. These things were known and +talked about in Oxford, and generally with anything +but the seriousness that the subject seemed +to me to require. Again at the Observatory a point +was made of having games in the garden such as +boccia on a Sunday afternoon, thus evading the +strict observance of the Sabbath, without openly +trying to restore to it the character which it had +in Roman Catholic countries.</p> + +<p>German theology was talked about as a kind of +forbidden fruit, as if it was not right for them to +look at it, to taste it, or to examine it. Even years +later people were afraid to meet Professor Ewald, +Bishop Colenso, and other so-called heretics at my +house. They even fell on poor Ewald at an evening +party. Ewald was staying with me and working +hard at some Hebrew MSS. at the Bodleian. He +was then already an old man, but in his appearance +a powerful and venerable champion. He is the only +man I remember who, after copying Hebrew MSS. +for twelve hours at the Bodleian with nothing but +a sandwich to sustain him, complained of the short +time allowed there for work. He came home for +dinner very tired, and when the conversation or +rather the disputation began between him and some +of our young liberal theologians, he spoke in short +pithy sentences only. He considered himself perfectly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +orthodox, nay, one of the pillars of religion in +Germany, and laid down the law with unhesitating +conviction. As far as I can remember, he was +answering a number of questions about St. Paul, +and what he thought of Christ, of the Kingdom of +Christ, and the Life to come, and being pestered +and driven into a corner by his various questioners, +and asked at last how he knew St. Paul’s secret +thoughts, he not knowing how to express himself +in fluent English, exclaimed in a loud voice, “I +know it by the Holy Ghost.” Here the conversation +naturally stopped, and poor Ewald was allowed +to finish his dinner in peace. He had been +Professor at Bonn, when Pusey came there as a +young man to study Hebrew after he had been appointed +Canon of Christ Church and Professor of +Hebrew, and he expressed to me a wish to see Dr. +Pusey. I told him it would not be easy to arrange +a meeting, considering how strongly opposed Dr. +Pusey was to Ewald’s opinions. Personally I always +found Pusey tolerant, and his kindness to me +was a surprise to all my young friends. But the +fact was, we moved on different planes, and though +he knew my religious opinions well, they only excited +a smile, and he often said with a sigh, “I know +you are a German.” His own idea was that he was +placed at Oxford in order to save the younger generation +from seeing the abyss into which he himself +had looked with terror. He had read more +heresy, he used to say, than anybody, and he wished<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +no one to pass through the trials and agonies +through which he had passed, chiefly, I should think, +during his stay at a German university. The historical +element was wanting in him, nay, like Hegel, +he sometimes seemed to lay stress on the unhistorical +character of Christianity. My idea, on the contrary, +was that Christianity was a true historical +event, prepared by many events that had gone before +and alone made it possible and real. Even the +abyss, if there were such an abyss, was, as it seemed +to me, meant to be there on our passage through life, +and was to be faced with a brave heart.</p> + +<p>But to return to my first experiences of the +theological atmosphere of Oxford, I confess I felt +puzzled to see men, whose learning and character +I sincerely admired, absorbed in subjects which to +my mind seemed simply childish. I expected I +should hear from them some new views on the date +of the gospels, the meaning of revelation, the historical +value of revelation, or the early history of +the Church. No, of all this not a word. Nothing +but discussions on vestments, on private confession, +on candles on the altar, whether they were wanted +or not, on the altar being made of stone or of wood, +of consecrated wine being mixed with water, of the +priest turning his back on the congregation, &c. +I could not understand how these men, so high +above the ordinary level of men in all other respects, +could put aside the fundamental questions of Christianity +and give their whole mind to what seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> +to me rightly called in the newspapers “mere millinery.” +I sought information from Stanley, but +he shrugged his shoulders and advised me to keep +aloof and say nothing. This I was most willing to +do; I cared for none of these things. My mind +was occupied with far more serious problems, such +as I had heard explained by men of profound learning +and honest purpose in the great universities of +Germany; these troubles arose from questions +which seemed to me to have no connexion with true +religion at all. Even the differences between the +reformed and unreformed churches were to me +mere questions of history, mere questions of human +expediency. I did not consider Roman Catholics +as heretics—I had known too many of them of unblemished +character in Germany. I might have +regretted the abuses which called for reform, the +excrescences which had disfigured Christianity like +many other religions, but which might be tolerated +as long as they did not lead to toleration for intolerance. +Luther might no longer appear to me in the +light of a perfect saint, but that he was right in +suppressing the time-honoured abuses of the Roman +Church admitted with me of no doubt whatsoever. +Large numbers always had that effect on me, and +when I saw how many good and excellent men were +satisfied with the unreformed teaching of the Roman +Church, I felt convinced that they must attach +a different meaning to certain doctrines and ecclesiastical +practices from what we did. I had learned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> +to discover what was good and true in all religions, +and I could fully agree with Macaulay when he +said, “If people had lived in a country where very +sensible people worshipped the cow, they would +not fall out with people who worship saints.”</p> + +<p>I know that many of my friends on both sides +looked upon me as a latitudinarian, but my conviction +has always been that we could not be broad +enough. They looked upon me as wishing to keep +on good terms with high and low and broad, and +I made no secret of it, that I thought I could understand +Pusey as well as Stanley, and assign to each +his proper place. Stanley was of course more after +my own heart than Pusey, but Pusey too was a man +who interested me very much. I saw that he might +become a great power whether for good or for evil +in England. He was, in fact, a historical character, +and these were always the men who interested me. +He was fully aware of his importance in England, +and the great influence which his name exercised. +That influence was not always exercised in the right +way, so at least it seemed to me, particularly when +it was directed against such friends of mine as +Kingsley, Froude, or Jowett. Once, I remember, +when he had come to my house, I ventured to tell +him that he could not have meant what he had said +in declaring that the God worshipped by Frederic +Maurice was not the same as his God. Curious to +say, he relented, and admitted that he had used too +strong language. To me everything that was said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> +of God seemed imperfect, and never to apply to God +Himself but only to the idea which the human mind +had formed of Him. To me even the Hindu, if he +spoke of Brahman or Krishna, seemed to have +aimed at the true God, in spite of the idolatrous +epithets which he used; then how could a man like +Frederic Maurice be said to have worshipped a different +God, considering that we all can but feel +after Him in the dark, not being able to do more +than exclude all that seems to us unworthy of Deity?</p> + +<p>A very important element in the ecclesiastical +views of some of my friends was, no doubt, the artistic. +If Johnson leant towards Rome, it was the +more ornate and beautiful service that touched and +attracted him. I sat near to him in St. Giles’ +Church; he told me what to do and what not to +do during service. In spite of the Prayer-book, it +is by no means so easy as people imagine to do exactly +the right thing in church, and I had of course +to learn a number of prayers and responses by heart. +To me the service, as it was in my parish church, +seemed already too ornate, accustomed as I had been +to the somewhat bare and cold service in the Lutheran +Church at Dessau. But Johnson constantly +complained about the monotonous and mechanical +performances of the clergy. He had a strong feeling +for all that was beautiful and impressive in art, +and he wanted to see the service of God in church +full both of reverence and beauty.</p> + +<p>Johnson’s private collection of artistic treasures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +was very considerable, and I learnt much from the +Italian engravings and Dutch etchings which he +possessed and delighted in showing. I often spent +happy hours with him examining his portfolios, and +wondered how he could afford to buy such treasures. +But he knew when and where to buy, and I believe +when his collection was sold after his death, it +brought a good deal more than it had cost him. +Another collection of art was that of Dr. Wellesley, +the Principal of New Inn Hall, who was a friend of +Johnson’s and had collected most valuable antiquities +during his long stay in Italy. He was the +son of the Marquis of Wellesley, a handsome man, +with all the refinement and courtesy of the old +English gentleman. Though not perhaps very +useful in the work of the University, he was most +pleasant to live with, and full of information in his +own line of study, the history of art, chiefly of +Italian art.</p> + +<p>The beautiful services of the Roman Church +abroad, and particularly at Rome, certainly exercised +a kind of magic attraction on many of the +friends of Wiseman and Newman, though one wonders +that the sunny grandeur of St. Peter’s at Rome +should ever have seemed more impressive than the +sombre sublimity and serene magnificence of Westminster +Abbey. Unfortunately, the introduction of +a more ornate service, even of harmless candlesticks +and the often very useful incense, had always a +secret meaning. They were used as symbols of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> +something of which the people had no conception, +whereas in the early Church they had been really +natural and useful.</p> + +<p>In the midst of all this commotion, and chiefly +secret commotion, I felt a perfect stranger; I saw +the bright and dark sides, but I confess I saw little +of what I called religion. Though my own religious +struggles lay behind me, still there were many questions +which pressed for a solution, but for which my +friends at Oxford seemed either indifferent or unprepared. +My practical religion was what I had +learnt from my mother; that remained unshaken in +all storms, and in its extreme simplicity and childishness +answered all the purposes for which religion +is meant. Then followed, in the Universities of +Leipzig and Berlin, the purely historical and scientific +treatment of religion, which, while it explained +many things and destroyed many things, never interfered +with my early ideas of right and wrong, +never disturbed my life with God and in God, and +seemed to satisfy all my religious wants. I never +was frightened or shaken by the critical writings of +Strauss or Ewald, of Renan or Colenso. If what +they said had an honest ring, I was delighted, for +I felt quite certain that they could never deprive +me of the little I really wanted. That little could +never be little enough; it was like a stronghold with +no fortifications, no trenches, and no walls around it. +Suppose it was proved to me that, on geological +evidence, the earth or the world could not have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +been created in six days, what was that to me? +Suppose it was proved to me that Christ could never +have given leave to the unclean spirits to enter into +the swine, what was that to me? Let Colenso and +Bishop Wilberforce, let Huxley and Gladstone fight +about such matters; their turbulent waves could +never disturb me, could never even reach me in my +safe harbour. I had little to carry, no learned +impedimenta to safeguard my faith. If a man possesses +this one pearl of great price, he may save himself +and his treasure, but neither the tinselled vestments +of a Cardinal, nor the triple tiara that crowns +the Head of the Church, will serve as life-belts in +the gales of doubt and controversy. My friends at +Oxford did not know that, though with my one +jewel I seemed outwardly poor, I was really richer +and safer than many a Cardinal and many a Doctor +of Divinity. A confession of faith, like a prayer, +may be very long, but the prayer of the Publican +may have been more efficient than that of the +Pharisee.</p> + +<p>After a time I made an even more painful discovery: +I found men, who were considered quite +orthodox, but who really were without any belief. +They spoke to me very freely, because they imagined +that as a German I would think as they did, +and that I should not be surprised if they looked on +me as not quite sincere. It was not only honest +doubt that disturbed them. They had done with +honest doubt, and they were satisfied with a kind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +of Voltairian philosophy, which at last ended in pure +agnosticism. But even that, even professed agnosticism, +I could understand, because it often meant no +more than a confession of ignorance with regard to +God, which we all confess, and need not necessarily +amount to the denial of the existence of Deity. +But that Voltairian levity which scoffs at everything +connected with religion was certainly something +I did not expect to meet with at Oxford, and +which even now perplexes me. Of course, I should +never think of mentioning names, but it seemed to +me necessary to mention the fact, to complete the +curious mosaic of theological and religious thought +that existed at Oxford at the time of my arrival.</p> + + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span></h2> + +<h3>A CONFESSION</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> confession I have to make, and one for +which I can hardly hope for absolution, whether +from my friends or from my enemies. I have never +done anything; I have never been a doer, a canvasser, +a wirepuller, a manager, in the ordinary +sense of these words. I have also shrunk from +agitation, from clubs and from cliques, even from +most respectable associations and societies. Many +people would call me an idle, useless, and indolent +man, and though I have not wasted many hours of +my life, I cannot deny the charge that I have +neither fought battles, nor helped to conquer new +countries, nor joined any syndicate to roll up a fortune. +I have been a scholar, a <i>Stubengelehrter</i>, and +<i>voilà tout</i>!</p> + +<p>Much as I admired Ruskin when I saw him with +his spade and wheelbarrow, encouraging and helping +his undergraduate friends to make a new road +from one village to another, I never myself took to +digging, and shovelling, and carting. Nor could +I quite agree with him, happy as I always felt in +listening to him, when he said: “What we think, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +what we know, or what we believe, is in the end of +little consequence. The only thing of consequence +is what we do.” My view of life has always been +the very opposite! What we do, or what we build +up, has always seemed to me of little consequence. +Even Nineveh is now a mere desert of sand, and +Ruskin’s new road also has long since been worn +away. The only thing of consequence, to my mind, +is what we think, what we know, what we believe! +To Ruskin’s ears such a sentiment was downright +heresy, and I know quite well that it would be condemned +as extremely dangerous, if not downright +wicked, by most people, particularly in England. +My friend, Charles Kingsley, preached muscular +Christianity, that is, he was always up and doing. +Another old friend of mine, Carlyle, preached all +his life that “it was no use talking, if one would not +do.” There is an old proverb in German, too,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Die nicht mit thaten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Die nicht mit rathen”;<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">actually denying the right of giving advice to those +who had not taken a part in the fight.</p> + +<p>However, though I have not been a doer, a +<i>faiseur</i>, as the French would say, I do not wish +to represent myself as a mere idle drone during the +long years of my quiet life. Nor did I stand quite +alone in looking on a scholar’s life—even when I +was living in a garret <i>au cinquième</i>—as a paradise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +on earth. Did not Emerson write, “The scholar +is the man of the age”? Did not even Mazzini, +who certainly was constantly up and trying to do, +did not even he confess that men must die, but +that the amount of truth they have discovered does +not die with them? And Carlyle? Did he ever +try to get into Parliament? Did he ever accept +directorates? Did he join either the Chartists or +the Special Constables in Trafalgar Square? As +in a concert you want listeners as well as performers, +so in public life, those who look on are quite +as essential as those who shout and deal heavy +blows.</p> + +<p>Nature has not endowed everybody with the +requisite muscle to be a muscular Christian. But +it may be said, that even if Carlyle and Ruskin +were absolved from doing muscular work in Trafalgar +Square, what excuse could they plead for not +walking in procession to Hyde Park, climbing up +one of the platforms and haranguing the men and +women and children? I suppose they had the feeling +which the razor has when it is used for cutting +stones: they would feel that it was not exactly +their <i>métier</i>. Arguing when reason meets reason +is most delightful, whether we win or lose; but +arguing against unreason, against anything that is +by nature thick, dense, impenetrable, irrational, has +always seemed to me the most disheartening occupation. +Majorities, mere numerical majorities, +by which the world is governed now, strike me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> +as mere brute force, though to argue against them +is no doubt as foolish as arguing against a railway +train that is going to crush you. Gladstone could +harangue multitudes; so could Disraeli; all honour +to them for it. But think of Carlyle or Ruskin +doing so! Stroking the shell of a tortoise, or the +cupola of St. Paul’s, would have been no more +attractive to them than addressing the discontented, +when in their hundreds and their thousands they +descended into the streets. All I claim is that +there must be a division of labour, and as little +as Wayland Smith was useless in his smithy, when +he hardened the iron in the fire for making swords +or horse-shoes, was Carlyle a man that could be +spared, while he sat in his study preparing thoughts +that would not bend or break.</p> + +<p>But I cannot even claim to have been a man of +action in the sense in which Carlyle was in England, +or Emerson in America. They were men who in +their books were constantly teaching and preaching. +“Do this!” they said; “Do not do that!” The +Jewish prophets did much the same, and they are +not considered to have been useless men, though +they did not make bricks, or fight battles like Jehu. +But the poor <i>Stubengelehrte</i> has not even that comfort. +Only now and then he gets some unexpected +recognition, as when Lord Derby, then Secretary +of State for India, declared that the scholars who +had discovered and proved the close relationship between +Sanskrit and English, had rendered more valuable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> +service to the Government of India than many +a regiment. This may be called a mere assertion, +and it is true that it cannot be proved mathematically, +but what could have induced a man like Lord +Derby to make such a statement, except the sense +of its truth produced on his mind by long experience?</p> + +<p>However, I can only speak for myself, and of my +idea of work. I felt satisfied when my work led me +to a new discovery, whether it was the discovery of +a new continent of thought, or of the smallest desert +island in the vast ocean of truth. I would gladly go +so far as to try to convince my friends by a simple +statement of facts. Let them follow the same course +and see whether I was right or wrong. But to make +propaganda, to attempt to persuade by bringing +pressure to bear, to canvass and to organize, to +found societies, to start new journals, to call meetings +and have them reported in the papers, has always +been to me very much against the grain. If we +know some truth, what does it matter whether a few +millions, more or less, see the truth as we see it? +Truth is truth, whether it is accepted now or in +millions of years. Truth is in no hurry, at least it +always seemed to me so. When face to face with +a man, or a body of men, who would not be convinced, +I never felt inclined to run my head against +a stone wall, or to become an advocate and use the +tricks of a lawyer. I have often been blamed for it, +I have sometimes even regretted my indolence or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +my quiet happiness, when I felt that truth was on +my side and by my side. I suppose there is no +harm in personal canvassing, but as much as I disliked +being canvassed, did I feel it degrading to +canvass others. I know quite well how often it +happened at a meeting when either a measure or +a candidate was to be carried, that the voters had +evidently been spoken to privately beforehand, had +in the conscience of their heart promised their votes. +The facts and arguments at the meeting itself might +all be on one side, but the majority was in favour of +the other. Men whose time was of little value had +been round from house to house, a majority had +been compacted into an inert unreasoning mass; +and who would feel inclined to use his spade of +reason against so much unreason? Some people, +more honest than the rest, after the mischief was +done, would say, “Why did you not call? why did +you not write letters?” I may be quite wrong, but +I can only say that it seemed to me like taking an +unfair advantage, unfair to our opponents, and almost +insulting to our friends. Still, from a worldly +point of view, I was no doubt wrong, and it is certainly +true that I was often left in a minority. My +friends have told me again and again that if a good +measure or a good man is to be carried, good men +must do some dirty work. If they cannot do that, +they are of no use, and I doubt not that I have often +been considered a very useless man by my political +and academic friends, because I trusted to reason<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> +where there was no reason to trust to. I was asked +to write letters, to address and post letters, to promise +travelling expenses or even convivial entertainments +at Oxford, to get leaders and leaderettes inserted +in newspapers. I simply loathed it, and at +last declined to do it. If a measure is carried by +promise, not by argument, if an election is carried +by personal influence, not by reason, what happens +is very often the same as what happens when fruit +is pulled off a tree before it is ripe. It is expected +to ripen by itself, but it never becomes sweet, and +often it rots. A premature measure may be carried +through the House by a minister with a powerful +majority, but it does not acquire vitality and maturity +by being carried; it often remains on the Statute-book +a dead letter, till in the end it has to be +abolished with other rubbish.</p> + +<p>However, I have learnt to admire the indefatigable +assiduity of men who have slowly and partially +secured their converts and their recruits, and thus +have carried in the end what they thought right and +reasonable. I have seen it particularly at Oxford, +where undergraduates were indoctrinated by their +tutors, till they had taken their degree and could +vote with their betters. I take all the blame and +shame upon myself as a useless member of Congregation +and Convocation, and of society at large. +I was wrong in supposing that the walls of Jericho +would fall before the blast of reason, and wrong in +abstaining from joining in the braying of rams<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>’ +horns and the shouts of the people. I was fortunate, +however, in counting among my most intimate +friends some of the most active and influential reformers +in University, Church, and State, and it is +quite possible that I may often have influenced +them in the hours of sweet converse; nay, that +standing in the second rank, I may have helped to +load the guns which they fired off with much effect +afterwards. I felt that my open partnership might +even injure them more than it could help them; for +was it not always open to my opponents to say that +I was a German, and therefore could not possibly +understand purely English questions? Besides, +there is another peculiarity which I have often observed +in England. People like to do what has to +be done by themselves. It seemed to me sometimes +as if I had offended my friends if I did anything by +myself, and without consulting them. Besides, my +position, even after I had been in England for so +many years, was always peculiar; for though I had +spent nearly a whole life in the service of my +adopted country, though my political allegiance was +due and was gladly given to England, still I was, +and have always remained, a German.</p> + +<p>And next to Germany, which was young and +full of ideals when I was young, there came India, +and Indian thought which exercised their quieting +influence on me. From a very early time I became +conscious of the narrow horizon of this life on earth, +and the purely phenomenal character of the world<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> +in which for a few years we have to live and move +and have our being. As students of classical and +other Oriental history we come to admire the great +empires with their palaces and pyramids and temples +and capitols. What could have seemed more real, +more grand, more likely to impress the young mind +than Babylon and Nineveh, Thebes and Alexandria, +Jerusalem, Athens, and Rome? And now where +are they? The very names of their great rulers and +heroes are known to few people only and have to be +learnt by heart, without telling us much of those +who wore them. Many things for which thousands +of human beings were willing to lay down their +lives, and actually did lay them down, are to us mere +words and dreams, myths, fables, and legends. If +ever there was a doer, it was Hercules, and now we +are told that he was a mere myth!</p> + +<p>If one reads the description of Babylonian and +Egyptian campaigns, as recorded on cuneiform cylinders +and on the walls of ancient Egyptian temples, +the number of people slaughtered seems immense, +the issues overwhelming; and yet what has become +of it all? The inroads of the Huns, the expeditions +of Genghis Khan and Timur, so fully described by +historians, shook the whole world to its foundations, +and now the sand of the desert disturbed by their +armies lies as smooth as ever.</p> + +<p>What India teaches us is that in a state advancing +towards civilization, there must be always two castes +or two classes of men, a caste of Brahmans or of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +thinkers, and a caste of Kshatriyas, who are to +fight; possibly other castes also of those who are +to work and of those who are to serve. Great wars +went on in India, but they were left to be fought +by the warriors by profession. The peasants in their +villages remained quiet, accepting the consequences, +whatever they might be, and the Brahmans lived +on, thinking and dreaming in their forests, satisfied +to rule after the battle was over.</p> + +<p>And what applies to military struggles seems to +me to apply to all struggles—political, religious, +social, commercial, and even literary. Let those +who love to fight, fight; but let others who are fond +of quiet work go on undisturbed in their own special +callings. That was, as far as we can see, the +old Indian idea, or at all events the ideal which +the Brahmans wished to see realized. I do not stand +up for utter idleness or sloth, not even for drones, +though nature does not seem to condemn even <i>hoc +genus</i> altogether. All I plead for, as a scholar and +a thinker, is freedom from canvassing, from letter-reading +and letter-writing, from committees, deputations, +meetings, public dinners, and all the rest. +That will sound very selfish to the ears of practical +men, and I understand why they should look upon +men like myself as hardly worth their salt. But +what would they say to one of the greatest fighters +in the history of the world? What would they +say to Julius Caesar, when he declares that the +triumphs and the laurel wreaths of Cicero are as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> +far nobler than those of warriors as it is a greater +achievement to extend the boundaries of the Roman +intellect than the domains of the Roman +people?</p> + + + +<h2><a name="INDEX" id="INDEX"></a>INDEX<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></h2> + + +<ul> +<li><span class="smcap">Abiturienten</span>, Examination at Zerbst, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></li> + +<li>Acland, Dr., <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> + +<li>Admiration, power of, <a href="#Page_90">90</a></li> + +<li>Aitareya-brâhmana, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></li> + +<li>All Souls’ Fellowship, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></li> +<li>— — pinnacles, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, <a href="#Page_226">226</a></li> + +<li>Altenstein, Minister of Instruction, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></li> + +<li>Anglican system, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> +<li>— orders, <a href="#Page_291">291</a></li> + +<li>Anhalt-Dessau, Duchy of, <a href="#Page_46">46</a></li> + +<li>Antiquities hid in etymologies, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>-<a href="#Page_154">154</a></li> + +<li>Anti-Semitism, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li> + +<li>Arnim, Count, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> + +<li>Arnold, Matthew, <a href="#Page_282">282</a>-<a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> + +<li>Artistic element in the Oxford movement, <a href="#Page_303">303</a>, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> + +<li>Aryan speakers may differ in blood, <a href="#Page_32">32</a></li> + +<li>— and aboriginal languages of India, M. M.’s paper on, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_211">211</a></li> + +<li>Aryans of India, <a href="#Page_197">197</a></li> + +<li>Aryas, meaning of, <a href="#Page_32">32</a></li> + +<li>Asvalâyana Sûtras, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></li> + +<li>Atavism, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a></li> + +<li>Atavistic influences, <a href="#Page_27">27</a></li> + +<li>Autobiography, object of M. M. in writing his, <a href="#Page_vi">vi</a></li> + +<li>Autos, the, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><span class="smcap">Babies</span>, studying, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li> + +<li>Bach family, <a href="#Page_34">34</a></li> + +<li>Baden-Powell, Professor, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> + +<li>Bandinell, Dr., <a href="#Page_259">259</a>-<a href="#Page_261">261</a></li> + +<li>Bardelli, Abbé, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> + +<li>Basedow, von, President, <a href="#Page_54">54</a></li> +<li>— the Pedagogue, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a></li> + +<li>Bathing, <a href="#Page_77">77</a></li> + +<li>Bernays, Professor, <a href="#Page_69">69</a></li> + +<li>Bibliothèque Royale, <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li> + +<li>Biographies, too lenient, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>— best kind of history, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> + +<li>Bismarck, <a href="#Page_175">175</a></li> + +<li>Blücher, Marshal, <a href="#Page_235">235</a></li> + +<li>Blum, Robert, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li> + +<li>Boden Professorship of Sanskrit, <a href="#Page_vii">vii</a></li> + +<li>Bodleian Library, <a href="#Page_258">258</a>, <a href="#Page_259">259</a></li> + +<li>Boehtlingk, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></li> + +<li>Books, scarcity of, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></li> + +<li>Bopp, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a></li> +<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>— his lectures, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a></li> + +<li>Brahmo Somaj, service for the, <a href="#Page_61">61</a></li> + +<li>Breakfast parties, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> + +<li>British Association at Oxford, <a href="#Page_210">210</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a></li> + +<li>Brockhaus, Professor, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> + +<li>Buckle, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Bull, Dr., <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a>, <a href="#Page_256">256</a></li> + +<li>Bunsen, Baron, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li> +<li>— first visit to, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a></li> +<li>— his kindness, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></li> + +<li>Burgon, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Burnouf, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>-<a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><span class="smcap">Camerarius</span>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li> + +<li>Canon of Christ Church, an old, <a href="#Page_256">256</a>-<a href="#Page_258">258</a></li> + +<li>Canvassing, <a href="#Page_312">312</a>, <a href="#Page_313">313</a></li> + +<li>Carlyle, <a href="#Page_310">310</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a></li> + +<li>Carus, Professor, <a href="#Page_98">98</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> + +<li>Chartist Deputation, <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li> + +<li>Chrétian, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Christianity, historical teaching of, in Germany, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_291">291</a></li> +<li>— an historical event, <a href="#Page_300">300</a></li> + +<li>Church, Dr., <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Church, not for young children, <a href="#Page_60">60</a></li> + +<li>Circumstances, influence of, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li> + +<li>Clarke, Sir Andrew, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li> + +<li>Classics, exaggerated praise of the, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a></li> +<li>— — reactions from, <a href="#Page_103">103</a></li> +<li>— nothing takes their place, <a href="#Page_103">103</a></li> + +<li>Colebrooke, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> + +<li>Colenso, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li>Collegien-Buch, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>-<a href="#Page_125">125</a></li> + +<li>Comparative Philology, Professorship of, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li> + +<li>Congregation and Convocation, why M. M. kept away from, <a href="#Page_314">314</a>, <a href="#Page_315">315</a></li> + +<li>Conscience, the voice of, <a href="#Page_63">63</a></li> + +<li>Coxe, Mr., <a href="#Page_258">258</a></li> + +<li>Cradock, Dr. and Mrs., <a href="#Page_267">267</a></li> + +<li>Crawford, Mr., the Objector General, <a href="#Page_211">211</a></li> + +<li>Curtius, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> + +<li> </li> +<li><span class="smcap">Darwin</span>, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></li> + +<li>David, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> + +<li>Deafness in M. M.’s family, <a href="#Page_29">29</a></li> + +<li>De Lisle, <a href="#Page_293">293</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li> + +<li>Dessau, Dukes of, <a href="#Page_46">46</a></li> +<li>— cheapness of life at, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li> +<li>— Gottesacker at, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li> +<li>— only two classes at, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> +<li>— trade of, <a href="#Page_73">73</a></li> +<li>— public school at, <a href="#Page_76">76</a></li> +<li>— its walls, <a href="#Page_89">89</a></li> +<li>— M. M.’s world, <a href="#Page_89">89</a></li> +<li>— simplicity of life at, <a href="#Page_92">92</a></li> +<li>— — effect on the character, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li> +<li>— moral sayings, <a href="#Page_96">96</a></li> + +<li>Devas, Θεὁς, <a href="#Page_144">144</a></li> + +<li>Dieu, Deus, Devas, <a href="#Page_197">197</a></li> + +<li>Donkin, Professor, <a href="#Page_246">246</a></li> + +<li>Double First, <a href="#Page_240">240</a></li> + +<li>Drobisch, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a></li> + +<li>Duels at University, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_284">284</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> + +<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span>Dyaus, Zeus, Iovis, <a href="#Page_197">197</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Early life</span>, roughing it, <a href="#Page_91">91</a></li> + +<li>East India Company, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> + +<li>East India House, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a></li> + +<li>Eckart, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> + +<li>Eckstein, Baron d’, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a></li> + +<li>“Edinburgh Review,” first article in, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li> + +<li>Egyptian chronology, <a href="#Page_199">199</a></li> + +<li>“Elsie Venner,” <a href="#Page_31">31</a></li> + +<li>Emerson, <a href="#Page_310">310</a></li> + +<li>Encaenia, <a href="#Page_265">265</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a></li> +<li>— jokes at, <a href="#Page_265">265</a></li> + +<li>English and German Doctors, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a></li> + +<li>Environment, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a></li> + +<li>Ernst, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> + +<li>Eternal, <i>ewig</i>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> + +<li>Etymologies, <a href="#Page_152">152</a></li> + +<li>Evolution, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> + +<li>Ewald, <a href="#Page_298">298</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Fairy tales</span>, influence of, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>-<a href="#Page_52">52</a></li> + +<li>Fear, the feeling of, <a href="#Page_88">88</a></li> + +<li>Feast of Tabernacles, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li> + +<li>Fellowships, old system of, <a href="#Page_246">246</a>, <a href="#Page_247">247</a>, <a href="#Page_263">263</a></li> + +<li>Forbiger, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></li> + +<li>French master at Dessau, <a href="#Page_75">75</a></li> + +<li>French Revolution, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_216">216</a></li> + +<li>Friar Bacon, <a href="#Page_227">227</a></li> + +<li>Fröge, Professor, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> +<li>— his wife and Mendelssohn, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> + +<li>Froude, J. A., <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Funkhänel, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li>Gaisford, Dr., <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_252">252</a>-<a href="#Page_254">254</a></li> + +<li>Gathy, M., <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a></li> + +<li>German regiments, hymns sung by, <a href="#Page_62">62</a></li> +<li>— students, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li> + +<li>Germany and Germans, prejudice against, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a></li> +<li>— religious feeling in, <a href="#Page_62">62</a></li> + +<li>Germ-plasm, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a></li> + +<li>Gewandhaus Concerts, <a href="#Page_107">107</a></li> + +<li>Giordano Bruno on Oxford, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></li> + +<li>Goethe, not always admired, <a href="#Page_93">93</a></li> + +<li>Goldstücker, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>-<a href="#Page_172">172</a></li> + +<li>Goldwin Smith, <a href="#Page_238">238</a></li> + +<li>Gottesacker at Dessau, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li> + +<li>Grabau, M. M.’s concerts with, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> + +<li>Grandfather of M. M., <a href="#Page_79">79</a>-<a href="#Page_81">81</a></li> + +<li>Grandmother of M. M., <a href="#Page_53">53</a></li> + +<li>Grant, Sir Alexander, <a href="#Page_272">272</a>, <a href="#Page_273">273</a></li> + +<li>Greene’s Oxford, <a href="#Page_227">227</a></li> + +<li>Greenhill, Dr., <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> + +<li>Grenville, Lord, <a href="#Page_229">229</a></li> + +<li>Greswell, Mr., <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> + +<li>Griffith, Dr., Master of University, <a href="#Page_229">229</a></li> + +<li>Grimm, <a href="#Page_151">151</a></li> + +<li>Gründer, ein, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> + +<li>Guizot, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Habits</span> acquired not hereditable, <a href="#Page_33">33</a></li> + +<li>Hagedorn, Baron, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>-<a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> +<li>— journey with him, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> +<li>— his plan of life for M. M., <a href="#Page_113">113</a></li> + +<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>Hahnemann, <a href="#Page_82">82</a> <i>et seq.</i>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a></li> + +<li>Hallam’s literary dog, <a href="#Page_209">209</a></li> + +<li>Hare, Archdeacon, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> +<li>— visit to, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> + +<li>Hase, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li> + +<li>Haupt, his Latin Society, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a></li> +<li>— his dislike to modern philology, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a></li> + +<li>Hawkins, Dr., <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> + +<li>Headaches, suffering from, <a href="#Page_81">81</a> <i>et seq.</i></li> +<li>— how cured, <a href="#Page_83">83</a></li> + +<li>Heads of Houses, <a href="#Page_234">234</a>, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></li> +<li>— — their power, <a href="#Page_239">239</a></li> + +<li>Hebdomadal Board, <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_255">255</a></li> + +<li>Hebrew taught at the Nicolai-Schule, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li> + +<li>Hegel, <a href="#Page_2">2</a></li> +<li>— his philosophy, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>-<a href="#Page_138">138</a></li> + +<li>Hegel’s idea, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>-<a href="#Page_135">135</a></li> +<li>— “Philosophy of Nature,” <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a></li> +<li>— “Philosophy of Religion,” <a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> +<li>— “Metaphysics,” <a href="#Page_136">136</a></li> + +<li>Heinroth, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></li> + +<li>Helps, Sir Arthur, <a href="#Page_266">266</a></li> + +<li>Hentzner, his description of Oxford, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></li> + +<li>Herbart, school of, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>, <a href="#Page_142">142</a></li> + +<li>Heredity, <a href="#Page_17">17</a></li> + +<li>Hermann, Gottfried, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_125">125</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a></li> +<li>— welcomed modern philology, <a href="#Page_155">155</a></li> +<li>— his kindness to M. M., <a href="#Page_156">156</a></li> + +<li>Hermae round the Theatre, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></li> + +<li>Highland lady at Oxford, <a href="#Page_229">229</a></li> + +<li>Hiller, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a></li> +<li>— his oratorio, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> + +<li>Historical method, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> +<li>— events, their influence transitory, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_316">316</a></li> + +<li>Hitopadesa, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li> + +<li>Holmes, Oliver Wendell, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_266">266</a></li> + +<li>Hönicke, Dr., <a href="#Page_78">78</a></li> + +<li>Horace, “cheekiness” of, <a href="#Page_102">102</a></li> + +<li>Human weaknesses, allowance must be made for, <a href="#Page_93">93</a>, <a href="#Page_94">94</a></li> + +<li>Humboldt, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Imprisonment</span>, M. M.’s, at University, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a></li> + +<li>Indian thought, influence of, <a href="#Page_315">315</a>, <a href="#Page_317">317</a></li> + +<li>Indolence, M. M.’s, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li> + +<li>Inherited and acquired qualities, difference between, <a href="#Page_33">33</a></li> + +<li>Inspiration and infallibility, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_66">66</a></li> + +<li>Institut de France, <a href="#Page_186">186</a></li> +<li>— M. M. made Member, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Jenkins</span>, Dr., Master of Balliol, <a href="#Page_250">250</a></li> + +<li>Jerusalem, Bishopric of, <a href="#Page_293">293</a></li> + +<li>Jews at Dessau, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> +<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>— their privileges in Germany, <a href="#Page_70">70</a></li> + +<li>Johnson, Manuel, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_303">303</a></li> +<li>— his art treasures, <a href="#Page_303">303</a></li> + +<li>Jowett, Professor, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Kaliwoda</span>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a></li> + +<li>Kant’s “Kritik,” <a href="#Page_138">138</a></li> + +<li>Kaspar Hauser, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></li> + +<li>Keshub Chunder Sen, <a href="#Page_61">61</a></li> + +<li>Kingsley, Charles, <a href="#Page_5">5</a></li> +<li>— and muscular Christianity, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></li> + +<li>Klengel, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> + +<li>Kuhn, A., <a href="#Page_154">154</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Lamartine</span>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a></li> + +<li>Language, influence of, <a href="#Page_31">31</a></li> +<li>— differentiation of, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a></li> +<li>— science of, <a href="#Page_198">198</a></li> + +<li>Lassen, <a href="#Page_23">23</a></li> + +<li>Latham, Dr., <a href="#Page_210">210</a></li> + +<li>Layard, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> + +<li>Leipzig, <a href="#Page_15">15</a></li> +<li>— school at, <a href="#Page_97">97</a></li> +<li>— University, <a href="#Page_115">115</a></li> + +<li>Lepsius, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></li> + +<li>Liberals at University, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a></li> + +<li>Liddell, Dr., <a href="#Page_238">238</a></li> +<li>— and Mrs., <a href="#Page_267">267</a></li> + +<li>Liddell’s Dictionary, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></li> + +<li>Liszt, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>-<a href="#Page_111">111</a></li> + +<li>London, <a href="#Page_188">188</a></li> +<li>— society, peeps into, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> +<li>— M. M.’s social difficulties, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>-<a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> + +<li>Longchamps, <a href="#Page_167">167</a></li> + +<li>Lotze, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_136">136</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Louis Lucien Bonaparte, <a href="#Page_214">214</a></li> + +<li>Louis Napoleon, <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li> + +<li>Luther, <a href="#Page_64">64</a></li> +<li>— his love of fairy tales, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li> +<li>— tercentenary, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Maitland, Sir Peregrine</span>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a></li> + +<li>Mammoth, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></li> + +<li>Manning, <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li> + +<li>Masters, influence of, in German and English schools, <a href="#Page_77">77</a></li> + +<li>Maurice, Frederick, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> +<li>— Pusey’s attack on, <a href="#Page_302">302</a></li> + +<li>Memory changes, <a href="#Page_39">39</a></li> + +<li>Mendelssohn family, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a></li> + +<li>Mendelssohn, Felix, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> +<li>— his death, <a href="#Page_110">110</a></li> +<li>— his concert for Liszt, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a></li> + +<li>Mendelssohn’s “Hymn of Praise,” <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li> +<li>— music in Oxford, <a href="#Page_268">268</a></li> + +<li>Metternich, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> +<li>— his system, <a href="#Page_117">117</a></li> + +<li>Mezzofanti, <a href="#Page_30">30</a></li> + +<li>Michelet, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Mill, John Stuart, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a></li> +<li>— his Autos, <a href="#Page_7">7</a></li> + +<li>Mill, Dr., mention of a Vedic hymn printed at Calcutta, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> + +<li>Milton on Oxford, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></li> + +<li>Modern Literature, Professorship of, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li> + +<li>Mommsen, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a></li> + +<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>Moncalm, “L’origine de la Pensée,” <a href="#Page_10">10</a> <i>n.</i></li> + +<li>Monk, M. M.’s wish to be a, <a href="#Page_24">24</a></li> + +<li>Monument-raising, <a href="#Page_47">47</a></li> + +<li>Morier, <a href="#Page_275">275</a>-<a href="#Page_279">279</a></li> + +<li>Mother, M. M.’s, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>-<a href="#Page_59">59</a></li> +<li>— her relations, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> + +<li>Mozley, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>MSS., copying, <a href="#Page_179">179</a></li> + +<li>Mulde, excursion on foot along the, <a href="#Page_112">112</a></li> + +<li>Müller, Wilhelm, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> +<li>— his poems, <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> +<li>— his family, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_53">53</a></li> +<li>— his home and society, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> +<li>— early death, <a href="#Page_56">56</a></li> +<li>— monument to, <a href="#Page_49">49</a></li> + +<li>Music, its influence on M. M., <a href="#Page_67">67</a></li> +<li>— wished to make it his career, <a href="#Page_111">111</a></li> + +<li>“Mystères de Paris,” <a href="#Page_174">174</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Natural Science</span> and Mathematics little taught at Nicolai-Schule, <a href="#Page_100">100</a></li> + +<li>Neander, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li> + +<li>Newman, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>-<a href="#Page_296">296</a></li> +<li>— want of openness in his friends, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li> +<li>— his influence, <a href="#Page_293">293</a></li> +<li>— on “Lives of the Saints,” <a href="#Page_294">294</a>, <a href="#Page_295">295</a></li> + +<li>Newspapers few in number, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li> +<li>— influence of modern, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> +<li>— old, <a href="#Page_74">74</a></li> + +<li>Nicolai-Schule, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></li> +<li>— chiefly for classics, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>-<a href="#Page_101">101</a></li> + +<li>Niebuhr, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li> + +<li>Niedner, Dr., <a href="#Page_127">127</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a></li> + +<li>Nirukta, the, <a href="#Page_203">203</a></li> + +<li>Nobbe, Dr., <a href="#Page_99">99</a></li> +<li>— his testimonial, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Old</span> and young men, <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li> + +<li>Oriental languages, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> + +<li>Orléans, Duchesse d’, <a href="#Page_177">177</a></li> + +<li>Oxford, first visit to, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></li> +<li>— settled at, <a href="#Page_220">220</a></li> +<li>— social life at, <a href="#Page_220">220</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></li> +<li>— changes in, <a href="#Page_223">223</a>-<a href="#Page_226">226</a></li> +<li>— new buildings, <a href="#Page_224">224</a>, <a href="#Page_225">225</a></li> +<li>— conservative, <a href="#Page_226">226</a></li> +<li>— Greene’s, <a href="#Page_227">227</a></li> +<li>— Hentzner’s description of, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></li> +<li>— Giordano Bruno on, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></li> +<li>— Milton on, <a href="#Page_228">228</a></li> +<li>— society in 1810, <a href="#Page_229">229</a>-<a href="#Page_231">231</a></li> +<li>— great changes in, <a href="#Page_243">243</a>, <a href="#Page_244">244</a></li> +<li>— society at, in the forties and fifties, <a href="#Page_244">244</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a></li> +<li>— city society of, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a></li> +<li>— high tone of talk, <a href="#Page_284">284</a></li> +<li>— theological atmosphere at, <a href="#Page_286">286</a></li> +<li>— trivial questions of ceremony in, <a href="#Page_291">291</a>, <a href="#Page_292">292</a>, <a href="#Page_300">300</a>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Palgrave</span>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Palm, Dr., <a href="#Page_99">99</a></li> + +<li>Palmerston, Lord, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_217">217</a></li> + +<li>Pânini, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li> +<li>— his grammar, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> + +<li>Pantschatantra, <a href="#Page_51">51</a></li> + +<li>Paper, scarcity of, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></li> + +<li>Parental influences, <a href="#Page_27">27</a></li> + +<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>Paris, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a></li> + +<li>Paris, journey to, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a></li> +<li>— meals there, <a href="#Page_166">166</a></li> +<li>— hard struggles in, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_283">283</a></li> + +<li>Patagonians as types of humanity, <a href="#Page_88">88</a></li> + +<li>Peel, Sir Robert, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> + +<li>Philanthropinum, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a></li> + +<li>Philology, love of, <a href="#Page_121">121</a></li> + +<li>Philosophy, studied by M. M., <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> + +<li>Physical science, revolt of, against Hegel, <a href="#Page_135">135</a></li> + +<li>Pillar and pillow, <a href="#Page_189">189</a></li> + +<li>“Pitar,” father, <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li> + +<li>Pitcairn Islands, <a href="#Page_18">18</a></li> + +<li>Plumptre, Dr., <a href="#Page_213">213</a>, <a href="#Page_215">215</a>, <a href="#Page_265">265</a></li> + +<li>Poems, M. M.’s, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li> + +<li>Pollen, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Pott, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a></li> + +<li>Pranks at University, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li> + +<li>“Presence of mind,” <a href="#Page_262">262</a></li> + +<li>Prichard, Dr., <a href="#Page_211">211</a>, <a href="#Page_212">212</a>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></li> + +<li>Professor’s lectures and fees, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> + +<li>Professors, feeling of German students for their, <a href="#Page_127">127</a></li> + +<li>Proto-Aryan language, <a href="#Page_200">200</a></li> + +<li>Prowe, Professor, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a></li> + +<li>Public schools in Germany, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></li> +<li>— — in England need reforming, <a href="#Page_242">242</a></li> + +<li>Pusey, Dr., <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_299">299</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Race</span>, differentiation of, <a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> + +<li>Rawlinson, Sir H., <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> + +<li>Reay, Professor, <a href="#Page_260">260</a></li> + +<li>Reinaud, <a href="#Page_186">186</a></li> + +<li>Religion, practical, <a href="#Page_305">305</a>, <a href="#Page_306">306</a></li> + +<li>Religious feeling in Germany, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> +<li>— — great tolerance in, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a></li> +<li>— sentiments must be taught at home, <a href="#Page_62">62</a></li> +<li>— teaching in school, <a href="#Page_63">63</a></li> + +<li>Renan, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>, <a href="#Page_288">288</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a>, <a href="#Page_290">290</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li>Research, fellowships for, <a href="#Page_270">270</a></li> + +<li>Revelation, subjective not objective, <a href="#Page_66">66</a></li> +<li>— in the old sense, <a href="#Page_288">288</a></li> + +<li>Rigaud, John, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Rig-veda, how to publish the, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a></li> +<li>— printing of, <a href="#Page_222">222</a></li> + +<li>Roman Catholic Church, English national feeling opposed to, <a href="#Page_296">296</a>, <a href="#Page_297">297</a></li> + +<li>Rose-bush, vision of the, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a></li> + +<li>Roth, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a></li> + +<li>Routh, Dr., <a href="#Page_247">247</a>-<a href="#Page_249">249</a></li> + +<li>Rubens, Levy, <a href="#Page_75">75</a></li> + +<li>Ruskin, <a href="#Page_224">224</a></li> + +<li>Russell, Sir W., <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Sadowa</span>, and Sixty-six, <a href="#Page_38">38</a></li> + +<li>St. Hilaire, Barthélemy, <a href="#Page_170">170</a></li> + +<li>St. Petersburg, idea of going to, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_183">183</a></li> + +<li>Salis-Schwabe, Madame, <a href="#Page_98">98</a></li> + +<li>Salmon at Dessau, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a></li> + +<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>“Salve caput cruentatum,” <a href="#Page_59">59</a></li> + +<li>Sanskrit Professorship, vii, <a href="#Page_12">12</a></li> +<li>— chair of, at Leipzig, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> +<li>— feeling against, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> +<li>— unedited works, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> + +<li>Savigny, Professor, <a href="#Page_122">122</a></li> + +<li>Sâyana’s Commentary, <a href="#Page_202">202</a>-<a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> + +<li>Schelling, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li> + +<li>Schlegel’s “Weisheit der Indier,” <a href="#Page_146">146</a></li> + +<li>Schleswig-Holstein question, <a href="#Page_276">276</a></li> + +<li>Schloezer, Karl von, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a></li> + +<li>School teaching, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a></li> +<li>— success at, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a></li> +<li>— routine of learning, <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li> + +<li>Schopenhauer, <a href="#Page_289">289</a></li> + +<li>Selbst-Kritik, <a href="#Page_6">6</a></li> + +<li>Self, the, <a href="#Page_42">42</a></li> + +<li>Sellar, Professor, <a href="#Page_273">273</a>, <a href="#Page_274">274</a></li> + +<li>Seminaries and societies at University, <a href="#Page_123">123</a></li> + +<li>Senatus Academicus, <a href="#Page_236">236</a>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></li> + +<li>Shelley, <a href="#Page_233">233</a></li> + +<li>Simolin, Baron, <a href="#Page_55">55</a></li> + +<li>Sister, M. M.’s, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> + +<li>Spiegel, Professor, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></li> + +<li>Sport, M. M.’s dislike of, <a href="#Page_80">80</a></li> + +<li>Stanislas Julien, <a href="#Page_185">185</a></li> + +<li>Stanley, Dr., <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, <a href="#Page_286">286</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a>, <a href="#Page_302">302</a></li> + +<li>Steel pens, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></li> + +<li>Stories in Oxford, regular descent of, <a href="#Page_248">248</a></li> + +<li>Strauss, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_305">305</a></li> + +<li>Stubengelehrter, <a href="#Page_308">308</a>, <a href="#Page_311">311</a></li> + +<li>Student Clubs, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> + +<li>Student life in Paris, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></li> + +<li>Sunday games at the Observatory, <a href="#Page_298">298</a></li> + +<li>Sykes, Colonel, <a href="#Page_16">16</a></li> + +<li>Symons, Dr., <a href="#Page_239">239</a>, <a href="#Page_240">240</a>, <a href="#Page_251">251</a></li> + +<li>Sympathy in the joys and sufferings of others, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Tait, Dr.</span>, <a href="#Page_238">238</a></li> + +<li>Talents in families, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>-<a href="#Page_35">35</a></li> + +<li>Taylorian Professorship, <a href="#Page_22">22</a></li> + +<li>Telegraphs, old, <a href="#Page_72">72</a></li> + +<li>Testimonials, <a href="#Page_4">4</a></li> + +<li>Thalberg, <a href="#Page_111">111</a></li> + +<li>Thirlwall, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> + +<li>Thomson, Dr. and Mrs., <a href="#Page_267">267</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_280">280</a>, <a href="#Page_281">281</a></li> + +<li>Tippoo Sahib’s tiger, <a href="#Page_215">215</a></li> + +<li>Travelling in the thirties, <a href="#Page_111">111</a></li> + +<li>Troyer, M., and the Duchesse de Wagram, <a href="#Page_184">184</a></li> + +<li>Truth, <a href="#Page_312">312</a></li> + +<li>Turanian languages, M. M.’s letter on, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a></li> + +<li>Tutors and Fellows, <a href="#Page_236">236</a></li> +<li>— — their influence, <a href="#Page_241">241</a>, <a href="#Page_268">268</a>, <a href="#Page_269">269</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">University</span>, M. M.’s life at, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a></li> +<li>— pranks, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a></li> +<li>— duels at, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>-<a href="#Page_130">130</a></li> + +<li>University Press, <a href="#Page_218">218</a>, <a href="#Page_219">219</a></li> + +<li>Upanishads, <a href="#Page_169">169</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Van der Weyer</span>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> + +<li><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span>Veda, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>-<a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a></li> + +<li>Veda, a mystery, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a></li> +<li>— MSS. of, in India, <a href="#Page_192">192</a></li> +<li>— — brought to Europe, <a href="#Page_193">193</a></li> +<li>— oldest of real books, <a href="#Page_195">195</a></li> +<li>— primitive thought in the, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>-<a href="#Page_199">199</a></li> +<li>— date of, <a href="#Page_200">200</a></li> +<li>— translations of, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></li> +<li>— East India Company and the, <a href="#Page_201">201</a></li> +<li>— forming correct text of the Rig-, <a href="#Page_202">202</a></li> +<li>— enormous work involved, <a href="#Page_204">204</a></li> + +<li>Vedic scholarship, <a href="#Page_193">193</a></li> + +<li><i>Veih</i>, home, <a href="#Page_153">153</a></li> + +<li><i>Vernunft</i> and <i>Verstand</i>, <a href="#Page_143">143</a></li> + +<li>Vigfusson, Dr., <a href="#Page_254">254</a></li> + +<li>Voltairian philosophy at Oxford, <a href="#Page_307">307</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Weismann</span>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>-<a href="#Page_30">30</a></li> + +<li>Weisse, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>-<a href="#Page_135">135</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>-<a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_287">287</a></li> + +<li>Wellesley, Dr., <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> + +<li>Wellington, Duke of, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></li> + +<li>Westminster Abbey and St. Peter’s, <a href="#Page_304">304</a></li> + +<li>Wilberforce, Samuel, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a></li> + +<li>Wilson, Professor, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a></li> + +<li>Wiseman, <a href="#Page_296">296</a></li> + +<li>Wolf, F. A., <a href="#Page_48">48</a></li> + +<li>Wolseley, Lord, <a href="#Page_266">266</a></li> + +<li>Wren, Sir Christopher, <a href="#Page_264">264</a></li> + +<li>Wright, Dr., <a href="#Page_261">261</a>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Youth</span> painted by the old, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_36">36</a></li> + +<li> </li> + +<li><span class="smcap">Zerbst</span>, examined at, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></li> +<li>— M. M.’s examiners at, <a href="#Page_106">106</a></li> + +<li>Zeus, Dyaus, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a></li> +</ul> + + + +<div class="advertisements"> +<h2 style="border-bottom: solid black 1px; padding-bottom: 1em"><a name="OTHER_BOOKS_BY_MAX_MUeLLER" id="OTHER_BOOKS_BY_MAX_MUeLLER"></a>OTHER BOOKS BY MAX MÜLLER</h2> + + +<h3>Auld Lang Syne</h3> + +<h4><i>First Series.</i> Illustrated. 8vo, $2.00</h4> + + +<p>“This book, the fruit of enforced leisure, as its +author tells us, is a charming mass of gossip about +people whom Professor Max Müller has known +during his long career—musicians, literary men, +princes, and beggars. The last class is not, perhaps, +the least interesting or amusing. To our +mind, however, the chapter on musicians, with its +delightful pictures of the author’s early life, and +the naïve confessions as to musical tastes, with +some of the stories about celebrated composers, +forms the most interesting portion of a work which +has not one dull page.”—<i>The Spectator.</i></p> + +<p>“One of the most charming examples of reminiscent +literature that has recently seen the light.”—New +York <i>Sun</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + + +<h3>Auld Lang Syne</h3> + +<h4><i>Second Series.</i> <b>My Indian Friends.</b> 8vo, $2.00.</h4> + + +<p>“The professor’s ‘Indian Friends’ are not all +of the nineteenth century. His oldest friends are +in the Veda, about which he has always loved to +write. Indeed, he spent the best years of his life +over the text of the Rig Veda, and has a clear +right to be heard upon the classic he has done so +much to make familiar.... But the real charm +of his recollections lies rather in their peaceful +kindliness, in their wide and tolerant sympathies, +and in their earnest aim, which will surely be +attained in some measure, of bringing what is best +in India closer home to foreigners.”—<i>Literature.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Science of Language</h3> + +<h4>Founded on Lectures delivered at the Royal Institution. +<i>New Edition from New Plates. Largely +Re-written.</i> In 2 vols., crown 8vo, $6.00.</h4> + +<p><i>CONTENTS:—Vol. I.—The Science of Language one of +the Physical Sciences; The Growth of Language in Contradistinction +to the History of Language; The Empirical Stage +in the Science of Language; The Classificatory Stage in the +Science of Language; The Genealogical Classification of +Languages; Comparative Grammar; The Constituent Elements +of Language; The Morphological Classification of +Languages; The Theoretical Stage in the Science of Language—Origin +of Language; Genealogical Tables of Languages.</i></p> + +<p><i>CONTENTS:—Vol. II.—Introductory Lecture. New +Materials for the Science of Language and New Theories; +Language and Reason; The Physiological Alphabet; Phonetic +Change; Grimm’s Law; On the Principles of Etymology; +On the Powers of Roots; Metaphor; The Mythology of the +Greeks; Jupiter, The Supreme Aryan God; Myths of the +Dawn; Modern Mythology.</i></p> + +<p>“In practical value to the student of the science +of language, the work stands alone.”—Boston +<i>Transcript</i>.</p> + + +<hr /> + + +<h3>Ramakrishna</h3> + +<h4><b>His Life and Sayings.</b> Crown 8vo, $1.50 <i>net</i>.</h4> + + +<p>“As a whole the little book marks one of the +summit points of recent scientific religious literature. +Max Müller’s penetrating insight into the +broad facts of Hindu intellectual history is coupled +in this instance with all the just criticism needed for +a true valuation of Ramakrishna’s personality and +teaching.”—<i>American Historical Review.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Science of Thought</h3> + +<h4><i>Two Volumes.</i> Crown 8vo, $4.00.</h4> + +<p>“Of the portion of the work in which the +author exemplifies and illustrates his theory—his +analysis of the Sanskrit roots, his chapters on Kant’s +philosophy, on the formation of words, on propositions +and syllogisms—it is only necessary to say +that while they contain, along with much that will +reward a careful study, not a little that will arouse +controversy, they have, like all the author’s former +productions, the prime merit of being free +from the two greatest of literary faults—obscurity +and dulness. A work in which two of the driest +and hardest of studies, analytic philology and +mental philosophy, are made at once lucid and +attractive, is an acquisition for which all students +of those mysteries have reason to be grateful.”—New +York <i>Evening Post</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + + +<h3>Science of Religion</h3> + +<h4>Lectures on the Science of Religion; with +Papers on Buddhism, and a Translation of the +Dhammapada, or Path of Virtue. Crown 8vo, +$2.00.</h4> + +<p><i>CONTENTS:—LECTURES ON THE SCIENCE OF +RELIGION; BUDDHIST NIHILISM; BUDDHA’S +DHAMMAPADA, OR “PATH OF VIRTUE”; Introduction; +The Twin-Verses; On Reflection; Thought; +Flowers; The Fool; The Wise Man; The Venerable; The +Thousands; Evil; Punishment; Old Age; Self; The World; +The Awakened (Buddha); Happiness; Pleasure; Anger; +Impurity; The Just; The Way; Miscellaneous; The Downward +Course; The Elephant; Thirst; The Bhikshu (Mendicant); +The Brahmana.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Chips from a German +Workshop</h3> + +<h4><i>Five Volumes.</i> Crown 8vo, $2.00 per vol.; the set, $10.00.</h4> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em"> +Vol. I. Essays on the Science of Religion.<br /> +<br /> +Vol. II. Essays on Mythology, Traditions and Customs.<br /> +<br /> +Vol. III. Essays on Literature, Biography and Antiquities.<br /> +<br /> +Vol. IV. Comparative Philology, Mythology, etc.<br /> +<br /> +Vol. V. Miscellaneous. Later Essays.<br /> +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ads"><b>Lectures on the Origin and Growth of +Religion</b>, as Illustrated by the Religions of +India. [<i>Hibbert Lectures for 1878.</i>] Crown +8vo, $1.50 <i>net</i>.</p> + +<p class="ads"><b>Biographical Essays</b>: Râmmohun Roy—Keshub +Chunder Sen—Dayânanda Sarasvatî—Bunyiu +Nanjio—Kenjiu Kasawara—Mohl—Kingsley. +Crown 8vo, $2.00.</p> + +<p class="ads"><b>The German Classics.</b> From the Fourth to +the Nineteenth Century. With biographical +notices, translations into modern German and +notes. <i>A New Edition, Revised, Enlarged +and Adapted to</i> <span class="smcap">Sherer’s</span> “History of German +Literature.” 2 vols, $6.00 <i>net</i>.</p> + + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 1em"> +<span class="smcap">Charles Scribner’s Sons</span>, <i>Publishers</i><br /> + +153-157 <span class="smcap">Fifth Avenue, New York</span></p> +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30269 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo046.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo046.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5636163 --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo046.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo046_th.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo046_th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6978bba --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo046_th.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo058.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo058.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9e5786d --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo058.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo058_th.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo058_th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a5011b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo058_th.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo106.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo106.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2040daf --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo106.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo106_th.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo106_th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcf0155 --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo106_th.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo156.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo156.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf7cd2b --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo156.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo156_th.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo156_th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1fd1bfb --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo156_th.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo268.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo268.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..430cf95 --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo268.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo268_th.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo268_th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c7cf0b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo268_th.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo_frontispiece.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo_frontispiece.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f335d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo_frontispiece.jpg diff --git a/30269-h/images/illo_frontispiece_th.jpg b/30269-h/images/illo_frontispiece_th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aac6852 --- /dev/null +++ b/30269-h/images/illo_frontispiece_th.jpg |
