CHAPTER IX
1854-1855
Professor of Modern Languages. Second volume of Rig-veda. Death of Burnouf. Crimean War. Languages of the Seat of War. Bunsen's resignation. Nehemiah Goreh. Visit to Germany. Froude. Kingsley. Macaulay. Visit to Malvern. Indian Civil Service Examinations. Paris. Dresden. M.A. by decree. Renan.
The year opened darkly with rumours of war. Writing to Bunsen for the New Year, Max Muller says:—
Translation. 9, Park Place, January 1.
'Above all, my best congratulations for the New Year: may it be a calm and blessed one for you and yours; and may it above all things teach the Russians and the Russophiles, that Europe will not be Cossacked nor Kossuthed, and that she would prefer to see the Crescent at Petersburg to the Russian Cross at Constantinople.
'My best thanks for your kind testimonial, which arrived just at the right time; I hope it will have had its good effect in about a fortnight or three weeks' time; if not, I am just as ready to go to India as Botticher is.'
To His Mother.
Translation. Oxford, January 26, 1854.
'Since Christmas I have not had a quiet moment, though it is our vacation. ... I have had to go constantly to London to talk to missionaries and others. The alphabet is now printed, and yesterday we had a general conference at Bunsen's, where all missionary societies were represented. There are many difficulties, and I am tired of the whole thing, for it takes up so much of my time, and it is difficult to fit all missionaries with the same cap! I was quite alone here in Oxford at Christmas, to write my treatise on the alphabet, which had to be printed before the New Year. Since then I have been living between Oxford and London, and have thus met many interesting people, which is always a good thing. Bunsen now begins to believe in war, but always says, if the Russians can find a back door, they will yield. But England begins to feel it has had enough, and when they once begin war here, diplomacy can do nothing; for it is the people that make war here, not the sovereign and ministers. It was very cold early in January and I had some skating. How curious that you should just have been at Jessnitz when the old grandmother died! One need not lament her death, for her soul must have longed to be free from its old body. No doubt the soul must find it difficult in childhood to accustom itself to the human body, and it takes many years before it is quite at home. Then for a time all goes well, and the soul hardly knows it is hidden in a strange garment, till the body begins to be weakly, and can no longer do all the soul wishes, and presses it everywhere, so that the soul appears to lose all outward freedom and movement. Then one can well understand that we long to be gone, and death is a true deliverance. God always knows best, when the right time comes. I have just been reading Ruckert's poems; they are very beautiful in spite of a certain weakness, and his latest home poems are full of natural feeling.'
Though much time and thought had been given to the missionary alphabet, Max Muller's real interest was with the second volume of the Rig-veda, which was published early in this year. The preface is dated Christmas, 1853, and the printing had been finished by that date, but there was always some delay about the binding and publishing, which were not in Max Muller's hands. With the text of the Hymns in this volume there had not been much difficulty, but the MSS. of Sayana's Commentary were most defective. Max Muller, before finishing the first volume, had written to India to obtain, at his own expense, new MSS. for the second. After long delay he heard that the MSS. which Dr. Roer had secured for him in Calcutta had been lost by shipwreck. Fortunately, Professor Wilson received just at this time a complete copy of the Commentary from Benares, the most ancient copy of Sayana that had then come to Europe. This he generously gave to his young friend. It contained many emendations and corrections, which greatly simplified the editor's labour. The task had been further lightened by the work of other Vedic scholars, who, since Max Muller had begun his edition, had published many of the works alluded to by Sayana, which, for his first volume. Max had had to copy and collate for himself, before he could verify the innumerable quotations. The Sama-veda had been published by Benfey, and the Yajur-veda by Weber, whilst Stenzler, Roth, and Whitney had all been active in this field of Sanskrit literature. To all these writers Max Muller acknowledges his indebtedness, and also gratefully mentions the assistance and active co-operation of his secretary, Dr. Aufrecht, in the latter part of Vol. II—'my learned friend,' as he calls him, and adds, 'The benefit of his services cannot be too highly valued.' The preface ends with an eloquent tribute to his master and friend, Eugene Burnouf, whose death in 1852 had been an almost irreparable personal loss to Max Muller, as well as to all Sanskrit students:—
'In losing Burnouf we have lost, not only an indefatigable fellow labourer, not only a disinterested teacher, but a most respected judge; in his approval valued by all, in his censure feared, in his verdict distinguished unfailingly by fairness and by truth. . . . When I heard of his death I felt—and I believe that many engaged in similar studies shared the feeling—as if our work had lost much of its charm and its purpose. "What will Burnouf say?" was my earliest thought on completing the first volume of the Rig-veda. And now as I finish the second, in its turn submitted to the judgement of so many scholars whose friendship I value, and whose learning I admire, my thoughts turn again to him who is no longer among us, and I think, not without sadness, of what his judgement would have been.'
Early in February the long uncertainty about the Taylorian Professorship was brought to a close by Max Muller's nomination by the Curators, confirmed by Convocation on February 21. The Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Cotton, in writing to announce the unanimous election by the Curators, adds, 'I feel great satisfaction in the consideration that so eminent and talented a Professor has been elected.' He hastens to announce his success:—
To F. Palgrave, Esq.
February 8, 1854.
'The Professorship has been settled at last, and I got it. I cannot tell you how happy I feel, after the long suspense, to have at last a [x]) for the rest of this life, and to be able to look on quietly till the moving panorama comes to an end. I feel now more than ever that it is owing to the kindness of those who first received me at Oxford that I owe my further success and my present position—ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute [Google translate: This is only the first step that costs.], and after I was once in the right boat, I was sure to get into harbour sooner or later. I shall write to old Joe. I wish we could all meet again and have a jolly party, as we used to have five or six years ago, when I little thought of what was looming in the future. I hope we shall manage a little gathering after Froude is able to come. He has taken a cottage at Babbicombe for the next year. I was in London for a week, kept from day to day by alphabetic conferences, where I had to act as secretary and to write generally till 3 o'clock in the morning. I had not an hour to myself, and after it was over I had to go to Oxford in order to see that all was going right about the ship. Now it is launched, and I hope to have a pleasant cruise in it.
'Ever yours, M. M.'
Bunsen wrote at once to congratulate:—
Translation. February 8.
'. . . Your position in life now rests on a firm foundation, . . . and that in this heaven-blest, secure, free island, and at a moment when it is hard to say whether the thrones of princes or the freedom of nations is in greatest danger. With true affection, yours.'[/quote]
To His Mother.
Translation. Oxford, March 10.
'I am living in such a turmoil that I can settle to nothing, and have hardly time to write a letter. I have been made full Professor this term, and so there have been endless invitations and parties of all sorts. I am rather tired of it all, and wish I lived some miles out of Oxford, so as to have my time to myself. You can imagine I was not a little pleased when everything was definitely settled, but when one waits so long for a thing it does not give one the same pleasure as when it comes unexpectedly. But I heartily thank God that my future is now entirely secured, as far as food and raiment are concerned! At present I shall stay where I am, and I shall be very sorry to leave, but I know I must take a larger house in time. I shall stay here till the Summer Vacation, and then when I come back I will furnish a small house, in which you can perhaps help me. Or perhaps you will pay me a visit in the vacation here, instead of my going to Dresden? I have still a good deal of correspondence with missionaries, who are not always easy to deal with. Aufrecht is still working for me, but he lives in another house for himself, and gives private lessons. He is happy here, and very useful to me, but it is rather expensive. I shall not want for money, when I think with how little I managed once. I enclose a little proof of my Professorship; you will know what use to make of it. If you want to buy a book, I would recommend Tauler's Sermons; they are very beautiful, but you must get an edition in modernized German. We already begin to feel the war. Everything is dearer, and the taxes will be doubled. It can't be helped, and there is no doubt as to the result.'
On March 21, three days before war was declared against Russia, Max Muller received a letter from Sir Charles Trevelyan, then Assistant-Secretary to the Treasury, begging officially for his help in directing the officers proceeding to the East how to study the languages of the northern division of the Turkish Empire and the adjoining provinces of Russia. Some private letters had already passed between Sir Charles and the Professor of Modern European Languages, and Max Muller had written:
'That corner of Europe between the North of Italy and Turkey and along the Danube is a real linguistic rookery. All the lost daughters of the European families of languages have taken refuge there; and they exhibit, each, the lowest degradation and corruption of grammar that can be imagined. In the Albanian we recognize the noble features of Greek; in Wallachian, those of Latin; in Bulgarian, those of the Old Slavonic language; but all sadly distorted and disfigured. Very little has been done toward a literary culture of these dialects, and even grammars are scarce; there are certainly none in English, as far as I am aware.'
He had prepared a list of elementary grammars and a few simple instructions, which Sir Charles had imparted to all the commissariat officers. But the letter, dated March 20, states that something more than this should be attempted, and adds, 'If you agree with me in this, you will at once feel that there is a call upon you to help in this good work'; and Sir Charles entreats Max Muller to prepare at once a treatise, showing what languages are spoken in that part of the world, their general structure, and the alphabets used, and what would be the most useful books on the respective languages. Sir Charles concludes thus: 'I have only two further suggestions to make, (1) That whatever you do should be done quickly. Every part of this great effort is under war pressure. (2) That you should tell us at once what you know now, leaving the rest to be perfected hereafter.' So heartily did Max Muller respond to the call, that by May 16 he was able to send Sir Charles his Suggestions for the Assistance of Officers in learning the Languages of the Seat of War in the East. A second edition was required within a year.
In his introductory letter to Sir Charles he first called attention to a subject that continued to occupy his thoughts almost to the end of his life. He writes:—
'It is undoubtedly high time that something should be done to encourage the study of Oriental languages in England. At the very outset of this war, it has been felt how much this branch of studies— in emergencies like the present so requisite—has been neglected in the system of our education. In all other countries which have any political, commercial, or religious connexions with the East, provision has been made, by Government or otherwise, to encourage young men to devote themselves to this branch of studies. Russia has always been a most liberal patron of Oriental philology. In the Academy of St. Petersburg there is a chair for every branch of Oriental literature. The French Government has founded a school, 'L'ecole pour les langues orientales vivantes.' [Google translate: The school for living oriental languages.] At Vienna there is an Oriental seminary. Prussia finds it expedient to give encouragement to young Oriental scholars, employed afterwards with advantage as consuls and interpreters. In England alone, where the most vital interests are involved in a free intercourse with the East, hardly anything is done to foster Oriental studies.'
Just before the publication of his book, Max writes to Bunsen:—
Translation. Park Place, 1854.
'I am busy with my lectures, and am printing my book on the Languages of the Seat of War, 100 pages, with a very fine map by Petermann, so that I never get to bed before 2 a.m.'
To his mother he writes:—
Translation. Park Place, April 11.
'I am so engrossed with work, that I have hardly a free minute, and that will go on till vacation. I cannot feel certain about my plans for travelling. I must spend part of the vacation in Paris, as I must work at a MS. in the library there. The only thing that draws me to Germany is Auguste, who cannot well leave Chemnitz, otherwise life in Dresden or Dessau is not very attractive, and we might all meet nicely in Paris, if Emilia would come there. Time becomes more precious every year, and a quarter of a year is now as important to one as a year was formerly. This shows one is no longer young. One becomes economical with one's time, and life is so serious just now, one has no right to think of pleasure, when so many men are suffering. And yet it is a war that could not be avoided. The Russian lust of conquest and the whole influence of Russia in Europe, especially in Germany, must be thrown back on its own borders, or we should have to fight the battles which are now being fought on the Danube, on the Elbe or Rhine. It will be a terrible war, but one cannot doubt the issue, for England, when war once begins, puts forth her whole strength, and the feeling that you are fighting for a just cause keeps up the courage even in disaster.'
But whilst realizing the necessity of the war. Max Muller was to be indirectly one of the many sufferers from it. His friend and patron, Bunsen, could not approve the attitude of Prussia, and it was widely known that his recall from England was imminent. George Bunsen, Max Muller's most intimate friend of all Bunsen's sons, writes to him:
Carlton Terrace, April 14.
'Dearest Friend,—So it is. My father has not up to this moment received a recall. On the other hand, we expect to-morrow the reply to an answer sent by my father to a renewed and very impetuous offer of leave of absence. In this answer my father made his accepting leave of absence dependent on certain conditions guaranteeing his political honour. If the reply to-morrow does not contain those conditions, nothing remains but for my father to send in his resignation.'
To F. Palgrave, Esq.
9, Park Place, April 18, 1854.
'. . . I should like to have seen you when you heard of Scott's appointment. I am afraid you did not use quite parliamentary language on the occasion; I neither, particularly as, up to the last, Jowett's chances seemed as clear and certain as could be, without downright bargaining. I am sorry to see that Jowett feels it very much, and I think just now some testimonial from his friends, like the one you contemplated some time ago, would be very opportune. Could you persuade Richmond to do his portrait? I think it might be done for about £100, and I am sure we could get as much from his friends. What do you say? Vacation is nearly over, and I have not yet been away, though I intended to go to the seaside and get fresh air. But I have to do some work for the Government, and have been at it day and night, working against time. I hope we shall hear something from the Black Sea soon. The slowness of these people is intolerable; they are always a day too late. I congratulate Bunsen on having got out of the claws of the Black Eagle. I dare say he will get the next vacant seat on the Episcopal bench in England!
'Ever yours, M. M.'[/quote]
Besides the work for the Government, Max Muller was busy in printing his essay on the Turanian languages for Bunsen's book, which had grown under his hands, and had had to be put aside whilst the missionary alphabet was printing. The dilatoriness of the printers in London caused him and Bunsen much trouble, as the work had to be finished before Bunsen left England, and though Max Muller worked through half the night whenever a proof-sheet appeared, his letters are full of despair. Bunsen writes on May 10, ' \The work presses,' but did not seem to realize that the delay was not with Max nor in Oxford. In the same letter the Minister, writing for the last time from Carlton Terrace, says, 'The house is deserted, but the heart rejoices, and the soul already spreads its wings.'[/quote]
To His Mother.
Translation. Oxford, May 12.
'Bunsen's resignation is a real loss to me. I saw him in London— the house is now empty. Yet one can only congratulate him on having saved his good name, at the right moment. His leaving gave me a great deal of work and disturbance. He is just bringing out a new book in seven volumes. I had various things to write for him, and as it had to be ready by the twentieth, I never got to bed be ore two. Now I have undertaken a work for Government, which is just printed. Then came the lectures, and the Veda above all, so that I really have not a moment to think of or do anything else, and can say nothing about my plans for summer.'
To Chevalier Bunsen.
Translation. Oxford, May 22.
'I cannot believe that you think of leaving England. Surely the Prussian crisis cannot last much longer, and when it is over, you will have to return to Carlton Terrace. Whilst writing the word believe, I think of a question I meant to ask. To believe, as far as I know, means "to be "—lieben; Lat. libere and lubere.'
To The Same.
Translation. Oxford, June 8.
'Are you really leaving as soon as Acland tells me? If this is so, I must go to London on Saturday or Sunday, the only days I can get away, as I am giving my lectures. I still wait, and still hope, a new Prussia will arise, which cannot do without you here in England. England begins to feel like a strange land to me, when I think that you are really going. Will you not wait till Hippolytus is out? The printer does not seem in any hurry.'
On June 12 Bunsen, writing to his wife, who had gone to Heidelberg to settle his future home, mentions that he had had 'a delightful day with Max Muller.' Five days later, this faithful friend left England, and Max felt as if stranded in a foreign land. Too much occupied at this time with his work to write more than very short letters to his mother, in all of them he expresses his sense of loss. Bunsen's house in London had been a second home to him, where he was always sure of a welcome, always sure of encouragement and sympathy, of intellectual intercourse, and of that intelligent interest in his work and the far-reaching problems which it unfolded, which he missed so sorely in his daily life in Oxford, where hardly any one understood the work on which he was engaged, or took a real interest in it, or were capable of discussing it with him scientifically.
'In all my researches,' he writes in the Autobiography, 'no one took a livelier interest or 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 ... he was more especially interested in Egyptian chronology and archaeology. Often when I was alone with him, we discussed the chronological and psychological dates of Egyptian and Aryan antiquity.'
The last left of the daughters of that large and happy family writes:—
To Mrs. Max Muller.
Carlsruhe, December 13, 1901.
'My memory now only recalls impressions of your dear husband. The charm of his whole being, his beautiful, almost Greek profile, his wonderful playing, specially of Mendelssohn and Chopin, and delightful power of interesting and fascinating one by his conversation, all that is still very clear and warm in my recollection; and we girls all fully understood my father's admiration, and fatherly love, and interest in him. . . . He did not live in Carlton Terrace with us, only came in and out, and of course was chiefly closeted with my father in his library below; and we only saw him at meals, or when he had time to look us up in the drawing-rooms, and there, I well remember, we tried as soon as possible to get him to sit at the pianoforte and play to us. 'Very truly yours,
'Emilia von Bunsen.'
It was soon after the parting with his friend and patron that Max Muller heard from Sir Charles Trevelyan that he was thoroughly satisfied with his treatise: 'I cannot bestow higher praise upon it than by saying that it appears to me completely to answer the important object for which it was written.' Bunsen, too, wrote: 'I read your book . . . with real delight and sincere admiration.'
The following letter from Dr. John Muir, the editor of Original Sanskrit Texts, or the Origin and History of the People of India, and later the munificent founder of the Sanskrit Professorship in Edinburgh, then just returned from twenty-five years' service in India, contains the first mention of a man of whom Max Muller always spoke with reverential affection:—
33, Sussex Gardens, June 26, 1854.
'My dear Sir,—It may interest you to know that there is at present in London a Pundit from Benares, though he has become a Christian. He has come to England with the Maharaja Duleep Singh, as a sort of tutor or companion to His Highness. His name is Nehemiah Nilkanth, the former appellative having been adopted by him according to his own wish on the occasion of his baptism. He was not a professed Pundit in the sense of being a teacher of Sanskrit Grammar, or of any of the Six Darsanas or any other branch, but he is a Sanskrit scholar, being able to write the language accurately and fluently, and having a general knowledge of the philosophical schools. At the commencement of his inquiries into Christianity, he wrote an answer to one of my tracts (a former edition of the Matapariksha), composed in Sanskrit verse. After long and painful inquiries and struggles, he became convinced of the truth of Christianity, which he accordingly embraced. He has latterly been employed as a catechist; and when Dr. Login (who has charge of the Maharaja) was leaving India, he brought Nilkanth along with him.
'If, therefore, you are curious to see a specimen of a Pundit without going beyond London, your wish can be gratified, and if you desire it, I shall be glad to go with you to Dr. Login at Mivart's in Brook Street, if you are likely to be soon in London. Nilkanth, since his conversion, has written a tract in Hindoo against the Vcddnla, which is interesting as an exposition of what he considers the doctrine of that school. He knew some English when I last saw him, and is probably improved in his knowledge of it now.
'Believe me, yours very faithfully,
'John Muir.'
Nehemiah Goreh came to Oxford to see Max Muller, and they became, after a short time, very intimate. Nehemiah had suffered cruelly for his change of religion, and on his return to India his mind seems to have lost its balance, and after some years of asceticism and complete renunciation of the world, he joined the branch of the Cowley Fathers established in India. Up to that time, he had written to and heard from Max Muller from time to time. When he revisited England and Oxford many years later, he was so completely under the discipline of the Brotherhood, that it was only the very day that he left Oxford, where he had spent many weeks, that he was allowed to visit his old friend for a few moments, and the visit gave little pleasure to either. 'He was steeped in the Christianity of the Church,' which Max always distinguished from 'the Christianity of Christ.'
In July Max Muller went to Germany, and with his mother revisited his sister and many other relations.
To Chevalier Bunsen.
Translation. Chemnitz, July 30, 1854.
'I received your last friendly letter from Heidelberg, just as I had struck my tent in Oxford, and was on my way to Germany. Since then I have been always on the move from place to place, and never had any rest or a moment for writing. Now I have finished my visits, and am going on a few longer expeditions, and your kind invitation draws me westward to Heidelberg, and thence I hope to go to Switzerland, North Italy, Venice, and Vienna. My plan is to start in a few days with my mother, to pay a few visits on the way, to see Ruckert and reach Heidelberg about the middle of August. I hope to stay there with my mother for a fortnight, and as it is not so far from Heidelberg to your house as from the City to the West End, I hope to renew the happy hours which, only a short time ago, I could spend with you in Carlton Terrace. I do not know Heidelberg, and your account has made me long to see the Academia Nicorina. Then I hope we shall be reconciled about Aryans or Iranians, about which I do not care to speak from Chemnitz, as no philological wind blows here. The middle of August I expect some friends in Heidelberg, perhaps Jowett, and we may go on together to Italy and Vienna. Unfortunately I must be back by October i, as the Election takes place then. I have not yet heard whether the Bill has been sent back to the Commons, and what changes have been made in it, but I fear I must be at my post by the beginning of term. The parties are nearly equal, and each vote tells. Dissenters are admitted, but Gladstone has done much harm, and the Commissioners are very much restricted in carrying out the needed reforms, at least in what concerns the colleges. The advance of public opinion in Oxford is remarkable, when one thinks how quickly it has come.'
After a pleasant time in Heidelberg, where he was able to introduce to his friends his dearly loved mother, of whom Bunsen writes later as ' your remarkable mother,' Max Muller joined his old friend Baron Hagedorn, and with him visited Worms, Speyer, Baden-Baden, and the Black Forest, and went on alone to spend a week at Vienna with his friend Robert Morier, then secretary at the English Embassy. Italy had to be given up on account of cholera. From Vienna he went again for a time to his mother in Dresden, and finally returned to Oxford early in October, where he tells his mother he had a rapturous welcome from his little dog Belle. He writes on his return that he is feeling so very well that he has no qualms of conscience over his three months' idleness, and adds, 'If we can be together three months in the year, free from all cares, we can bear the other nine months, and if the parting is always very painful, it is made up for by the joy of meeting.'
During the summer. Max Muller received from time to time, through Sir Charles Trevelyan, letters from officers, consuls, and others on his Languages of the Seat of War, many of them containing valuable corrections which he embodied in the second edition. The consul at Mitylene wrote, 'I have received Muller's admirable memoir, and must thank him for the pleasure and instruction it has afforded me. It is like letting in broad daylight on a subject which had been hitherto explored by a farthing rushlight.'
To His Mother.
Translation. November 11, 1854.
'I tried on your birthday to play a little, but I have no time now for such things. I have a great deal of work in prospect, and however great the delight I feel in music and art, my work comes before everything else. My free time I must give to walking, which is most necessary; and to get stronger exercise I play racquets, which makes one perspire even more than camomile tea. When one is nearly thirty-one, one must be economical of one's time, and give up many things that are a pleasure, but for which one's time is too precious. How many things I would like to read, but there is no time, and I must be content. One's delight in music always lasts, and I owe the old instrument so much—not only the enjoyment one has had, and the use my music has been as an introduction in a foreign place, but also the happy frame of mind which music unconsciously produces in one, and it smooths many little roughnesses which one often sees in those who have no taste for music. People who cannot sing are almost as badly off as people who cannot cry, but one does not always want to cry, nor always to sing; if we know that we can, it is enough.'
In this same letter he mentions that the cholera had been so bad in Oxford—worse than anywhere else in England— that the lectures had, many of them, been postponed.