I am enabled to add here a short account of an important discovery made by Professor Benfey with regard to the Syriac translation of our Collection of Fables. Doubts had been expressed by Sylvestre de Sacy and others, as to the existence of this translation, which was mentioned for the first time in Ebedjesu’s catalogue of Syriac writers published by Abraham Ecchellensis, and again later by Assemani (“Biblioth. Orient.,” tom. iii. part 1, p. 219). M. Renan, on the contrary, had shown that the title of this translation, as transmitted to us, “Kalilag and Damnag,” was a guarantee of its historical authenticity. As a final k in Pehlevi becomes h in modern Persian, a title such as “Kalilag and Damnag,” answering to “Kalilak and Damnak” in Pehlevi, in Sanskrit “Karaṭaka and Damanaka,” could only have been borrowed from the Persian before the Mohammedan era. Now that the interesting researches of Professor Benfey on this subject have been rewarded by the happy discovery of a Syriac translation, there remains but one point to be cleared up, viz., whether this is really the translation made by Bud Periodeutes, and whether this same translation was made, as Ebedjesu affirms, from the Indian text, or, as M. Renan supposes, from a Pehlevi version. I insert the account which Professor Benfey himself gave of his discovery in the Supplement to the “Allgemeine Zeitung” of July 12, 1871, and I may add that both text and translation are nearly ready for publication (1875).
The oldest MS. of the Pantschatantra.
Göttingen, July 6, 1871.
The account I am about to give will recall the novel of our celebrated compatriot Freytag (“Die verlorene Handschrift,” or “The Lost MS.”), but with this essential difference, that we are not here treating of a creation of the imagination, but of a real fact; not of the MS. of a work of which many other copies exist, but of an unique specimen; in short, of the MS. of a work which, on the faith of one single mention, was believed to have been composed thirteen centuries ago. This mention, however, appeared to many critical scholars so untrustworthy, that they looked upon it as the mere result of confusion. Another most important difference is, that this search, which has lasted three years, has been followed by the happiest results: it has brought to light a MS. which, even in this century, rich in important discoveries, deserves to be ranked as of the highest value. We have acquired in this MS. the oldest specimen preserved to our days of a work, which, as translated into various languages, has been more widely disseminated and has had a greater influence on the development of civilization than any other work, excepting the Bible.
But to the point.
Through the researches, which I have published in my edition of the Pantschatantra,55 it is known that about the sixth century of our era, a work existed in India, which treated of deep political questions under the form of fables, in which the actors were animals. It contained various chapters, but these subdivisions were not, as had been hitherto believed, eleven to thirteen in number, but, as the MS. just found shows most clearly, there were at least twelve, perhaps thirteen or fourteen. This work was afterwards so entirely altered in India, that five of these divisions were separated from the other six or nine, and much enlarged, whilst the remaining ones were entirely set aside. This apparently curtailed, but really enlarged edition of the old work, is the Sanskrit book so well known as the Pantschatantra, “The Five Books.” It soon took the place, on its native soil, of the old work, causing the irreparable loss of the latter in India.
But before this change of the old work had been effected in its own land, it had, in the first half of the sixth century, been carried to Persia, and translated into Pehlevi under King Chosru Nuschirvan (531–579). According to the researches which I have described in my book already quoted, the results of which are fully confirmed by the newly discovered MS., it cannot be doubted that, if this translation had been preserved, we should have in it a faithful reproduction of the original Indian work, from which, by various modifications, the Pantschatantra is derived. But unfortunately this Pehlevi translation, like its Indian original, is irretrievably lost.
But it is known to have been translated into Arabic in the eighth century by a native of Persia, by name Abdallah ibn Almokaffa (d. 760), who had embraced Islamism, and it acquired, partly in this language, partly in translations and retranslations from it (apart from the recensions in India, which penetrated to East, North, and South Asia,) that extensive circulation which has caused it to exercise the greatest influence on civilization in Western Asia, and throughout Europe.
Besides this translation into Pehlevi, there was, according to one account, another, also of the sixth century, in Syriac. This account we owe to a Nestorian writer, who lived in the thirteenth century. He mentions in his catalogue of authors56 a certain Bud Periodeutes, who probably about 570 had to inspect the Nestorian communities in Persia and India, and who says that, in addition to other books which he names, “he translated the book ‘Qalîlag and Damnag’ from the Indian.”
Until three years ago, not the faintest trace of this old Syrian translation was to be found, and the celebrated Orientalist, Silvestre de Sacy, in the historical memoir which he prefixed to his edition of the Arabic translation, “Calila and Dimna” (Paris, 1816), thought himself justified in seeing in this mention a mere confusion between Barzûyeh, the Pehlevi translator, and a Nestorian Monk.
The first trace of this Syriac version was found in May, 1868. On the sixth of that month, Professor Bickell of Münster, the diligent promoter of Syrian philology, wrote to tell me that he had heard from a Syrian Archdeacon from Urumia, Jochannân bar Bâbisch, who had visited Münster in the spring to collect alms, and had returned there again in May, that, some time previously, several Chaldæan priests who had been visiting the Christians of St. Thomas in India, had brought back with them some copies of this Syriac translation, and had given them to the Catholic Patriarch in Elkosh (near Mossul). He had received one of these.
Though the news appeared so unbelievable and the character of the Syrian priest little calculated to inspire confidence in his statements, it still seemed to me of sufficient importance for me to ask my friends to make further inquiries in India, where other copies ought still to be in existence. Even were the result but a decided negative, it would be a gain to science. These inquiries had no effect in proving the truth of the archdeacon’s assertions; but, at the same time, they did not disprove them. It would of course have been more natural to make inquiries among the Syrians. But from want of friends and from other causes, which I shall mention further on, I could hardly hope for any certain results, and least of all, that if the MS. really existed, I could obtain it, or a copy of it.
The track thus appeared to be lost, and not possible to be followed up, when, after the lapse of nearly two years, Professor Bickell, in a letter of February 22, 1870, drew my attention to the fact that the Chaldæan Patriarch, Jussuf Audo, who, according to Jochannân bar Bâbisch, was in possession of that translation, was now in Rome, as member of the Council summoned by the Pope.
Through Dr. Schöll of Weimar, then in Rome, and one Italian savant, Signor Ignazio Guidi, I was put into communication with the Patriarch, and with another Chaldæan priest, Bishop Qajjât, and received communications, the latest of June 11, 1870, which indeed proved the information of Jochannân bar Bâbisch to be entirely untrustworthy; but at the same time pointed to the probable existence of a MS. of the Syriac translation at Mardîn.
I did not wait for the last letters, which might have saved the discoverer much trouble, but might also have frustrated the whole inquiry; but, as soon as I had learnt the place where the MS. might be, I wrote; May 6, 1870, exactly two years after the first trace of the MS. had been brought to light, to my former pupil and friend, Dr. Albert Socin of Basle, who was then in Asia on a scientific expedition, begging him to make the most careful inquiries in Mardîn about this MS., and especially to satisfy himself whether it had been derived from the Arabian translation, or was independent of and older than the latter. We will let Dr. Socin, the discoverer of the MS., tell us himself of his efforts and their results.
“I received your letter of May 6, 1870, a few days ago, by Bagdad and Mossul, at Yacho on the Chabôras. You say that you had heard that the book was in the library at Mardîn. I must own that I doubted seriously the truth of the information, for Oriental Christians always say that they possess every possible book, whilst in reality they have but few. I found this on my journey through the ‘Christian Mountain,’ the Tûr el’ ’Abedîn, where I visited many places and monasteries but little known. I only saw Bibles in Estrangelo character, which were of value, nowhere profane books; but the people are so fanatical, and watch their books so closely, that it is very difficult to get sight of anything; and one has to keep them in good humor. Unless after a long sojourn, and with the aid of bribery, there can never be any thought of buying anything from a monastic library. Arrived in Mardîn, I set myself to discover the book. I naturally passed by all Moslem libraries, as Syriac books only exist among the Christians. I settled at first that the library in question could only be the Jacobite Cloister, ‘Der ez Zàferân,’ the most important centre of the Christians of Mardîn. I therefore sent to the Patriarch of Diarbekir for most particular introductions, and started for ‘Der ez Zàferân,’ which lies in the mountains, 5½ hours from Mardîn. The recommendations opened the library to me. I looked through four hundred volumes, without finding anything; there was not much of any value. On my return to Mardîn, I questioned people right and left; no one knew anything about it. At length I summoned up courage one day, and went to the Chaldæan monastery. The different sects in Mardîn are most bitter against each other, and as I unfortunately lodged in the house of an American missionary, it was very difficult for me to gain access to these Catholics, who were unknown to me. Luckily my servant was a Catholic, and could state that I had no proselytizing schemes. After a time I asked about their books; Missals and Gospels were placed before me; I asked if they had any books of Fables. ‘Yes, there was one there.’ After a long search in the dust, it was found and brought to me. I opened it, and saw at the first glance, in red letters, ‘Qalîlag and Damnag,’ with the old termination g, which proved to me that the work was not translated from the Arabic ‘Calila ve Dimnah.’ You may be certain that I did not show what I felt. I soon laid the book quietly down. I had indeed before asked the monk specially for ‘Kalila and Dimna,’ and with some persistency, before I inquired generally for books of fables; but he had not the faintest suspicion that the book before him was the one so eagerly sought after. After about a week or ten days, in order to arouse no suspicion, I sent a trustworthy man to borrow the book; but he was asked at once if it were for the ‘Fréngi den Prot’ (Protestant), and my confidant was so good as to deny it, ‘No, it was for himself.’ I then examined the book more carefully. Having it safely in my possession, I was not alarmed at the idea of a little hubbub. I therefore made inquiries, but in all secret, whether they would sell it. ‘No, never,’ was the answer I expected and received, and the idea that I had borrowed it for myself was revived. I therefore began to have a copy made. But I was obliged to leave Mardîn and even the neighboring Diarbekir, before I received the copy. In Mardîn itself the return of the book was loudly demanded, as soon as they knew I was having it copied. I was indeed delighted when, through the kindness of friends, post tot discrimina rerum I received the book at Aleppo.”
So far writes my friend, the fortunate discoverer, who, as early as the 19th of August, 1870, announced in a letter the happy recovery of the book. On April 20, 1871, he kindly sent it to me from Basle.
This is not the place to descant on the high importance of this discovery. It is only necessary to add that there is not the least doubt that it has put us in possession of the old Syriac translation, of which Ebedjesu speaks. There is only one question still to be settled, whether it is derived direct from the Indian, or through the Pehlevi translation? In either case it is the oldest preserved rendering of the original, now lost in India, and therefore of priceless value.
The fuller treatment of this and other questions, which spring from this discovery, will find a place in the edition of the text, with translation and commentary, which Professor Bickell is preparing in concert with Dr. Hoffman and myself.
Theodor Benfey.
NOTES.
NOTE A. text
In modern times, too, each poet or fabulist tells the story as seems best to him. I give three recensions of the story of Perrette, copied from English schoolbooks.
The Milkmaid.
A milkmaid who poised a full pail on her head,
Thus mused on her prospects in life, it is said:—
Let me see, I should think that this milk will procure
One hundred good eggs or fourscore, to be sure.
Well then, stop a bit, it must not be forgotten,
Some of these may be broken, and some may be rotten;
But if twenty for accident should be detached,
It will leave me just sixty sounds eggs to be hatched.
Well, sixty sound eggs—no, sound chickens I mean:
Of these some may die—we’ll suppose seventeen;
Seventeen, not so many!—say ten at the most,
Which will leave fifty chickens to boil or to roast.
But then there’s their barley, how much will they need?
Why, they take but one grain at a time when they feed,
So that’s a mere trifle;—now then, let me see,
At a fair market-price how much money there’ll be.
Six shillings a pair, five, four, three-and-six,
To prevent all mistakes that low price I will fix;
Now what will that make? Fifty chickens I said;
Fifty times three-and-six?—I’ll ask brother Ned.
Oh! but stop, three-and-sixpence a pair I must sell them!
Well, a pair is a couple; now then let us tell them.
A couple in fifty will go (my poor brain),
Why just a score times, and five pairs will remain.
Twenty-five pairs of fowls, now how tiresome it is
That I can’t reckon up such money as this.
Well there’s no use in trying, so let’s give a guess—
I’ll say twenty pounds, and it can be no less.
Twenty pounds I am certain will buy me a cow,
Thirty geese and two turkeys, eight pigs and a sow;
Now if these turn out well, at the end of the year
I shall fill both my pockets with guineas, ’tis clear.
Forgetting her burden when this she had said,
The maid superciliously tossed up her head,
When, alas for her prospects! her milkpail descended,
And so all her schemes for the future were ended.
This moral, I think, may be safely attached—
“Reckon not on your chickens before they are hatched!”
Jeffreys Taylor.
Fable.
A country maid was walking with a pail of milk upon her head, when she fell into the following train of thoughts: “The money for which I shall sell this milk will enable me to increase my stock of eggs to three hundred. These eggs will bring at least two hundred and fifty chickens. The chickens will be fit to carry to market about Christmas, when poultry always bear a good price; so that by May-day I shall have money enough to buy me a new gown. Green?—let me consider—yes, green becomes my complexion best, and green it shall be. In this dress I will go to the fair, where all the young fellows will strive to have me for a partner; but I shall perhaps refuse every one of them, and with an air of distain toss from them.” Charmed with this thought, she could not forbear acting with her head what thus passed in her mind, when down came the pail of milk, and with it all her fancied happiness.—From Guy’s “British Spelling Book.”
Alnasker.
Alnasker was a very idle fellow, that would never set his hand to work during his father’s life. When his father died he left him to the value of a hundred pounds in Persian money. In order to make the best of it he laid it out in glasses and bottles, and the finest china. These he piled up in a large open basket at his feet, and leaned his back upon the wall of his shop in the hope that many people would come in to buy. As he sat in this posture, with his eyes upon the basket, he fell into an amusing train of thought, and talked thus to himself: “This basket,” says he, “cost me a hundred pounds, which is all I had in the world. I shall quickly make two hundred of it by selling in retail. These two hundred shall in course of trade rise to ten thousand, when I will lay aside my trade of a glass-man, and turn a dealer in pearls and diamonds, and all sorts of rich stones. When I have got as much wealth as I can desire, I will purchase the finest house I can find, with lands, slaves, and horses. Then I shall set myself on the footing of a prince, and will ask the grand Vizier’s daughter to be my wife. As soon as I have married her, I will buy her ten black servants, the youngest and best that can be got for money. When I have brought this princess to my house, I shall take care to breed her in due respect for me. To this end I shall confine her to her own rooms, make her a short visit, and talk but little to her. Her mother will then come and bring her daughter to me, as I am seated on a sofa. The daughter, with tears in her eyes, will fling herself at my feet, and beg me to take her into my favor. Then will I, to impress her with a proper respect for my person, draw up my leg, and spurn her from me with my foot in such a manner that she shall fall down several paces from the sofa.” Alnasker was entirely absorbed with his ideas, and could not forbear acting with his foot what he had in his thoughts; so that, striking his basket of brittle ware, which was the foundation of all his grand hopes, he kicked his glasses to a great distance into the street, and broke them into a thousand pieces.—“Spectator.” (From the “Sixth Book,” published by the Scottish School Book Association, W. Collins & Co., Edinburgh).
NOTE B. text
Pertsch, in Benfey’s “Orient und Occident,” vol. ii. p. 261. Here the story is told as follows: “Perche si conta che un certo pouer huomo hauea uicino a doue dormiua, un mulino & del buturo, & una notte tra se pensando disse, io uenderò questo mulino, & questo butturo tanto per il meno, che io comprerò diece capre. Le quali mi figliaranno in cinque mesi altre tante, & in cinque anni multiplicheranno fino a quattro cento; Le quali barattero in cento buoi, & con essi seminarò una cãpagna, & insieme da figliuoli loro, & dal frutto della terra in altri cinque anni, sarò oltre modo ricco, & farò un palagio quadro, adorato, & comprerò schiaui una infinità, & prenderò moglie, la quale mi farà un figliuolo, & lo nominerò Pancalo, & lo farò ammaestrare come bisogna. Et se vedrò che non si curi con questa bacchetta cosí il percoterò. Con che prendendo la bacchetta che gli era uicina, & battendo di essa il vaso doue era il buturo, e lo ruppe, & fuse il buturo. Dopò gli partorì la moglie un figliuolo, e la moglie un dì gli disse, habbi un poco cura di questo fanciullo o marito, fino che io uo e torno da un seruigio. La quale essendo andata fu anco il marito chiamato dal Signore della terra, & tra tanto auuenne che una serpe salì sopra il fanciullo. Et vna donzella uicina, corsa là l’uccise. Tornato il marito uide insanguito l’vscio, & pensando che costei l’hauesse ucciso, auanti che il uedesse, le diede sul capo, di un bastone, e l’uccise. Entrato poi, & sano trouando il figliuolo, & la serpe morta, si fu grandemente pentito, & piāse amaramente. Cosí adunque i frettolosi in molte cose errano.” (Page 516.)
NOTE C. text
This and some other extracts, from books not to be found at Oxford, were kindly copied for me by my late friend, E. Deutsch, of the British Museum.
“Georgii Pachymeris Michael Palæologus, sive Historia rerum a M. P. gestarum,” ed. Petr. Possinus. Romæ, 1666.
Appendix ad observationes Pachymerianas, Specimen Sapientiæ Indorum veterum liber olim ex lingua Indica in Persicam a Perzoe Medico: ex Persica in Arabicam ab Anonymo: ex Arabica in Græcam a Symeone Seth, a Petro Possino Societ. Iesu, novissime e Græca in Latinam translatus.
“Huic talia serio nuganti haud paulo cordatior mulier. Mihi videris, Sponse, inquit, nostri cujusdam famuli egentissimi hominis similis ista inani provisione nimis remotarum et incerto eventu pendentrum rerum. Is diurnis mercedibus mellis ac butyri non magna copia collectâ duobus ista vasis e terra coctili condiderat. Mox secum ita ratiocinans nocte quadam dicebat: Mel ego istud ac butyrum quindecim minimum vendam denariis. Ex his decem Capras emam. Hæ mihi quinto mense totidem alias parient. Quinque annis gregem Caprarum facile quadringentarum confecero. Has commutare tunc placet cum bobus centum, quibus exarabo vim terræ magnam et numerum tritici maximum congeram. Ex fructibus hisce quinquennio multiplicatis, pecuniaæ scilicet tantus existet modus, ut facile in locupletissimis numerer. Accedit dos uxoris quam istis opibus ditissiman nansciscar. Nascetur mihi filius quem jam nunc decerno nominare Panealum. Hunc educabo liberalissime, ut nobilium nulli concedat. Qui si ubi adoleverit, ut juventus solet, contumacem se mihi præbeat, haud feret impune. Baculo enim hoc illum hoc modo feriam. Arreptum inter hæc dicendum lecto vicinum baculum per tenebras jactavit, casuque incurrens in dolia mellis et butyri juxta posita, confregit utrumque, ita ut in ejus etiam os barbamque stillæ liquoris prosilirent; cætera effusa et mixta pulveri prorsus corrumperentur; ac fundamentum spei tantæ, inopem et multum gementem momento destitueret.” (Page 602.)
NOTE D. text
“Directorium Humanæ Vitæ alias Parabolæ Antiquorum Sapientum,” fol. s. l. e. a. k. 4 (circ. 1480?): “Dicitque olim quidam fuit heremita apud quendam regem. Cui rex providerat quolibet die pro sua vita. Scilicet provisionem de sua coquina et vasculum de melle. Ille vero comedebat decocta, et reservabat mel in quodam vase suspenso super suum caput donec esset plenum. Erat autem mel percarum in illis diebus. Quadam vero die: dum jaceret in suo lecto elevato capite, respexit vas mellis quod super caput ei pendebat. Et recordatus quoniam mel de die in diem vendebatur pluris solito seu carius, et dixit in corde suo. Quum fuerit hoc vas plenum: vendam ipsum uno talento auri: de quo mihi emam decem oves, et successu temporis he oves facient filios et filias, et erunt viginti. Postea vero ipsis multiplicatis cum filiis et filiabus in quatuor annis erunt quatuor centum. Tunc de quibuslibet quatuor ovibus emam vaccam et bovem et terram. Et vaccæ multiplicabuntur in filiis, quorum masculos accipiam mihi in culturam terre, præter id quod percipiam de eis de lacte et lana, donec non consummatis aliis quinque annis multiplicabuntur in tantum quod habebo mihi magnas substantias et divitias, et ero a cunctis reputatus dives et honestus. Et edificabo mihi tunc grandia et excellentia edificia pre omnibus meis vicinis et consanguinibus, itaque omnes de meis divitiis loquantur, nonne erit mihi illud jocundum, cum omnes homines mihi reverentiam in omnibus locis exhibeant. Accipiam postea uxorem de nobilibus terre. Cumque eam cognovero, concipiet et pariet mihi filium nobilem et delectabilem cum bona fortuna et dei beneplacito qui crescet in scientia virtute, et relinquam mihi per ipsum bonam memoriam post mei obitum et castigabo ipsum dietim: si mee recalcitraverit doctrine; ac mihi in omnibus erit obediens, et si non: percutiam eum isto baclo et erecto baculo ad percutiendum percussit vas mellis et fregit ipsum et defluxit mel super caput ejus.”
NOTE E. text
“Das Buch der Weisheit der alter Weisen,” Ulm, 1415. Here the story is given as follows:—
“Man sagt es wohnet eins mals ein brůder der dritten regel der got fast dienet, bei eins künigs hof, den versach der künig alle tag zů auff enthalt seines lebens ein kuchen speiss und ein fleschlein mit honig. diser ass alle tag die speiss von der kuchen und den honig behielt er in ein irden fleschlein das hieng ob seiner petstat so lang biss es voll ward. Nun kam bald eine grosse teür in den honig und eins morgens früe lag er in seinem pett und sach das honig in dem fleschlein ob seinem haubt hangen do fiel ym in sein gedanck die teüre des honigs und fieng an mit ihm selbs ze reden. wann diss fleschlein gantz vol honigs wirt so verkauff ich das umb fünff güldin, darum̅ kauff ich mir zehen gůter schaff und die machen alle des jahrs lember. und dann werden eins jahrs zweintzig und die und das von yn kummen mag in zehen jaren werden tausent. dann kauff ich umb fier schaff ein ku und kauff dobei ochsen und ertrich die meren sich mit iren früchten und do nimb ich dann die frücht zů arbeit der äcker. von den andern küen und schaffen nimb ich milich und woll ee das andre fünff jar fürkommen so wird es sich allso meren das ich ein grosse hab und reichtumb überkumen wird dann will ich mir selbs knecht und kellerin kauffen und hohe und hübsche bäw ton. und darnach so nimm ich mir ein hübsch weib von einem edeln geschlecht die beschlaff ich mit kurtzweiliger lieb. so enpfecht sie und gebirt mir ein schön glückseligten sun und gottförchtigen. und der wirt wachsen in lere und künsten und in weissheit. durch den lass ich mir einen gůten leümde nach meinem tod. aber wird er nit fölgig sein und meiner straff nit achten so wolt ich yn mit meinem stecken über sein rucken on erbermde gar hart schlahen. und nam sein stecken da mit man pflag das pet ze machen ym selbs ze zeigen wie frefelich er sein sun schlagen wölt. und schlůg das irden fass das ob seinem haubt hieng zů stücken dass ym das honig under sein antlit und in das pet troff und ward ym von allen sein gedencken nit dann das er sein antlit und pet weschen můst.”
NOTE F. text
This translation has lately been published by Don Pascual de Gayangos in the “Biblioteca de Autores Españoles,” Madrid, 1860, vol. li. Here the story runs as follows (p. 57):—
“Del religioso que vertió la miel et la manteca sobre su cabeza.
“Dijo la mujer: ‘Dicen que un religioso habia cada dia limosna de casa de un mercader rico, pan é manteca é miel e otras cosas, et comia el pan é lo ál condesaba, et ponia la miel é la manteca en un jarra, fasta quel a finchó, et tenia la jarra colgada á la cabecera de su cama. Et vino tiempo que encareció la miel é la manteca, et el religioso fabló un dia consigo mismo, estando asentado en su cama, et dijo así: Venderé cuanto está en esta jarra por tantos maravedís, é comparé con ellos diez cabras, et empreñarse-han, é parirán á cabo de cinco meses; et fizo cuenta de esta guisa, et falló que en cinco años montarian bien cuatrocientas cabras. Desí dijo: Venderlas-he todas, et con el precio dellas compraré cien vacas, por cada cuatro cabezas una vaca, é haberé simiente é sembraré con los bueyes, et aprovecharme-he de los becerros et de las fembras é de la leche é manteca, é de las mieses habré grant haber, et labraré muy nobles casas, é compraré siervos é siervas, et esto fecho casarme-he con una mujer muy rica, é fermosa, é de grant logar, é empreñarla-he de fijo varon, é nacerá complido de sus miembros, et criarlo-he como á fijo de rey, é castigarlo-he con esta vara, si non quisiere ser bueno é obediente’. E él deciendo esto, alzó la vara que tenia en la mano, et ferió en la olla que estaba colgada encima dél, é quebróla, é cayóle la miel é la manteca sobre su cabeza,” etc.
NOTE G. text
See “Poésies inédites du Moyen Âge,” par M. Edélstand Du Méril. Paris, 1854. XVI. De Viro et Vase Olei (p. 239):—
All brackets and parentheses are in the original.
“Uxor ab antiquo fuit infecunda marito.
Mesticiam (l. mœstitiam) cujus cupiens lenire vix (l. vir) hujus,
His blandimentis solatur tristi[ti]a mentis:
Cur sic tristaris? Dolor est tuus omnis inanis:
Pulchræ prolis eris satis amodo munere felix.
Pro nihilo ducens conjunx hæc verbula prudens,
His verbis plane quod ait vir monstrat inane:
Rebus inops quidam . . . (bone vir, tibi dicam)
Vas oleo plenum, longum quod retro per ævum
Legerat orando, loca per diversa vagando,
Fune ligans ar(c)to, tecto[que] suspendit ab alto.
Sic præstolatur tempus quo pluris ematur[atur]
Qua locupletari se sperat et arte beari.
Talia dum captat, hæc stultus inania jactat:
Ecce potens factus, fuero cum talia nactus,
Vinciar uxori quantum queo nobiliori:
Tunc sobolem gignam, se meque per omnia dignam,
Cujus opus morum genus omne præibit avorum.
Cui nisi tot vitæ fuerint insignia rite,
Fustis hic absque mora feriet caput ejus et [h]ora.
Quod dum narraret, dextramque minando levaret,
Ut percussisset puerum quasi præsto fuisset
Vas in prædictum manus ejus dirigit ictum
Servatumque sibi vas il[l]ico fregit olivi.”
I owe the following extract to the kindness of M. Paul Meyer:—
Apologi Phædrii ex ludicris I. Regnerii Belnensis doct. Medici, Divione, apud Petrum Palliot, 1643 in 12, 126 pages et de plus un index.
Le recueil se divise en deux partis, pars I., pars II. La fable en question est à la page 32, pars I. fab. xxv.
XXV.
Pagana et eius mercis emptor.
Pagana mulier, lac in olla fictili,
Ova in canistro, rustici mercem penus,
Ad civitatem proximam ibat venditum.
In eius aditu factus huic quidam obvius
Quanti rogavit ista quæ fers vis emi?
Et illa tanti. Tantin’? hoc fuerit nimis.
Numerare num me vis quod est æquum? vide
Hac merce quod sit nunc opus mihi plus dabo
Quam præstet illam cede, et hos nummos cape,
Ea quam superbe fœde rusticitas agit,
Hominem reliquit additis conviciis,
Quasi æstimasset vilius mercem optimam.
Aversa primos inde vix tulerat gradus,
Cum lubricato corruit strato viæ:
Lac olla fundit quassa, gallinaceæ
Testæ vitellos congerunt cœno suos
Caput cruorem mittit impingens petræ
Luxata nec fert coxa surgentem solo:
Ridetur ejus non malum, sed mens procax,
Qua merx et ipsa mercis et pretium perit;
Seque illa deflens tot pati infortunia
Nulli imputare quam sibi hanc sortem potest
Dolor sed omnis sæviter recruduit
Curationis danda cum merces fuit.
In re minori cum quis et fragili tumet
Hunc sortis ingens sternit indignatio.
NOTE H. text
Hulsbach, “Sylva Sermonum,” Basileæ, 1568, p. 28: “In sylva quadam morabatur heremicola jam satis provectæ ætatis, qui quaque die accedebat civitatem, afferens inde mensuram mellis, qua donabatur. Hoc recondebat in vase terreo, quod pependerat supra lectum suum. Uno dierum jacens in lecto, et habens bacalum in manu sua, hæc apud se dicebat: Quotidie mihi datur vasculum mellis, quod dum indies recondo, fiet tandem summa aliqua. Jam valet mensura staterem unum. Corraso autem ita floreno uno aut altero, emam mihi oves, quæ fœnerabunt mihi plures: quibus divenditis coëmam mihi elegantem uxorculam, cum qua transigam vitam meam lætanter: ex ea suscitabo mihi puellam, quam instituam honeste. Si vero mihi noluerit obedire, hoc baculo eam ita comminuam: atque levato baculo confregit suum vasculum, et effusum est mel, quare cassatum est suum propositum, et manendum adhuc in suo statu.”
NOTE I. text
“El Conde Lucanor, compuesto por el excelentissimo Principe don Iuan Manuel, hijo del Infante don Manuel, y nieto del Santo Rey don Fernando,” Madrid, 1642; cap. 29, p. 96. He tells the story as follows: “There was a woman called Dona Truhana (Gertrude), rather poor than rich. One day she went to the market carrying a pot of honey on her head. On her way she began to think that she would sell the pot of honey, and buy a quantity of eggs, that from those eggs she would have chickens, that she would sell them and buy sheep; that the sheep would give her lambs, and thus calculating all her gains, she began to think herself much richer than her neighbors. With the riches which she imagined she possessed, she thought how she would marry her sons and daughters, and how she would walk in the street surrounded by her sons and daughters-in-law; and how people would consider her happy for having amassed so large a fortune, though she had been so poor. While she was thinking over all this, she began to laugh for joy, and struck her head and forehead with her hand. The pot of honey fell down, was broken, and she shed hot tears because she had lost all that she would have possessed if the pot of honey had not been broken.”
NOTE K. text
Bonaventure des Periers, “Les Contes ou les Nouvelles.” Amsterdam, 1735. Nouvelle XIV. (vol. i. p. 141). (First edition, Lyon, 1558): “Et ne les (les Alquemistes) sçauroiton mieux comparer qu’à une bonne femme qui portoit une potée de laict au marché, faisant son compte ainsi: qu’elle la vendroit deux liards: de ces deux liards elle en achepteroit une douzaine d’œufs, lesquelz elle mettroit couver, et en auroit une douzaine de poussins: ces poussins deviendroient grands, et les feroit chaponner: ces chapons vaudroient cinq solz la piece, ce seroit un escu et plus, dont elle achepteroit deux cochons, masle et femelle: qui deviendroient grands et en feroient une douzaine d’autres, qu’elle vendroit vingt solz la piece; apres les avoir nourris quelque temps, ce seroient douze francs, dont elle achepteroit une iument, qui porteroit un beau poulain, lequel croistroit et deviendroit tant gentil: il sauteroit et feroit Hin. Et en disant Hin, la bonne femme, de l’aise qu’elle avoit en son compte, se print à faire la ruade que feroit son poulain: et en ce faisant sa potée de laict va tomber, et se respandit toute. Et voila ses œufs, ses poussins, ses chappons, ses cochons, sa jument, et son poulain, tous par terre.”
Footnotes to Chapter III:
On the Migration of Fables
1. La Fontaine, Fables, livre vii., fable 10.
2. Phædon, 61, 5: Μετὰ δὲ τὸν θεὸν, ἐννοήσας, ὅτι τὸν ποιητὴν δέοι, εἶπερ μέλλοι ποιητὴς εἶναι, ποιεῖν μύθους, ἀλλ’ οὐ λόγους, καὶ αὐτὸς οὐκ ἦ μυθολογικός, διὰ ταῦτα δὴ οὓς προχείρους εἶχον καὶ ἠπιστάμην μύθους τοὺς Αἰσώπου, τούτων ἐποίησα οἷς πρώτοις ἐνέτυχον.
3. Robert, Fables Inédites, des XIIe, XIIIe, et XIVe Siècles; Paris, 1825; vol. i. p. ccxxvii.
4. Pantschatantrum sive Quinquepartitum, edidit I. G. L. Kosegarten. Bonnæ, 1848.
Pantschatantra, Fünf Bücher indischer Fablen, aus dem Sanskrit übersetzt. Von Th. Benfey. Leipzig, 1859.
Hitopadesa, with interlinear translation, grammatical analysis, and English translation, in Max Müller’s Handbooks for the study of Sanskrit. London, 1864.
Hitopadesa, eine alte indische Fabelsammlung aus dem Sanskrit zum ersten Mal in das Deutsche übersetzt. Von Max Müller. Leipzig, 1844.
5. Pañcatantra, v. 10.
6. Hitopadeśa, ed. Max Müller, p. 120; German translation, p. 159.
8. Hottentot Fables and Tales, by Dr. W. H. I. Bleek, London, 1894, p. 19.
9. Academy, vol. v. p. 548.
10. Die Märchen des Siddhi-kür, or Tales of an Enchanted Corpse, translated from Kalmuk into German by B. Jülg, 1866. (This is based on the Vetâlapañcaviṃśati.) Die Geschichte des Ardschi-Bordschi Chan, translated from Mongolian by Dr. B. Jülg, 1868. (This is based on the Siṃhâsanadvâtriṃśati.) A Mongolian translation of the Kalila and Dimnah, is ascribed to Mélik Said Iftikhar eddin Mohammed ben Abou Nasr, who died A.D. 1280. See Barbier de Meynard, “Description de la Ville de Kazvin,” Journal Asiatique, 1857, p. 284; Lancereau, Pantchatantra, p. xxv.
11. Plato’s expression, “As I have put on the lion’s skin” (Kratylos, 411), seems to show that he knew the fable of an animal or a man having assumed the lion’s skin without the lion’s courage. The proverb ὄνος παρὰ Κυμαίους seems to be applied to men boasting before people who have no means of judging. It presupposes the story of a donkey appearing in a lion’s skin.
A similar idea is expressed in a fable of the Pañcatantra (IV. 8) where a dyer, not being rich enough to feed his donkey, puts a tiger’s skin on him. In this disguise the donkey is allowed to roam through all the corn-fields without being molested, till one day he sees a female donkey, and begins to bray. Thereupon the owners of the field kill him.
In the Hitopadeśa (III. 3) the same fable occurs, only that there it is the keeper of the field who on purpose disguises himself as a she-donkey, and when he hears the tiger bray, kills him.
In the Chinese Avadânas, translated by Stanislas Julien (vol. ii. p. 59), the donkey takes a lion’s skin and frightens everybody, till he begins to bray, and is recognized as a donkey.
In this case it is again quite clear that the Greeks did not borrow their fable and proverb from the Pañcatantra; but it is not so easy to determine positively whether the fable was carried from the Greeks to the East, or whether it arose independently in two places.
12. Calilah et Dimna, ou, Fables de Bidpai, en Arabe, précédées d’un Mémoire sur l’origine de ce livre. Par Sylvestre de Sacy. Paris, 1816.
13. Loiseleur Deslongchamps, Essai sur les Fables Indiennes, et sur leur Introduction en Europe. Paris, 1838.
14. Pantschatantra, Fünf Bucher indischer Fabeln, Märchen und Erzählungen, mit Einleitung. Von. Th. Benfey. Leipzig, 1859.
15. See Weil, Geschichte der Chalifen, vol. ii. p. 84.
16. Benfey, p. 60.
17. Cf. Barlaam et Joasaph, ed. Boissonade, p. 37.
18. Kalila and Dimna; or, the Fables of Bidpai, translated from the Arabic. By the Rev. Wyndham Knatchbull, A.M. Oxford, 1819.
19. Specimen Sapientiæ Indorum Veterum, id est Liber Ethico-Politicus pervetustus, dictus Arabice Kalilah ve Dimnah, Græce Stephanites et Ichnelates, nunc primum Græce ex MS. Cod. Holsteiniano prodit cum versione Latina, opera S. G. Starkii. Berolini, 1697.
20. This expression, a four-winged house, occurs also in the Pañcatantra. As it does not occur in the Arabic text, published by De Sacy, it is clear that Symeon must have followed another Arabic text in which this adjective, belonging to the Sanskrit, and no doubt to the Pehlevi text, also, had been preserved.
25. Benfey, Orient und Occident, vol. i. p. 138.
26. Ibid. vol. i. p. 501. Its title is: “Exemplario contra los engaños y peligros del mundo,” ibid. pp. 167, 168.
27. Discorsi degli animali, di Messer Agnolo Firenzuola, in prose di M. A. F. (Fiorenza, 1548.)
28. La Moral Filosophia del Doni, tratta da gli antichi scrittori. Vinegia, 1552.
Trattati Diversi di Sendebar Indiano, filosopho morale. Vinegia, 1552.
P. 65. Trattato Quarto.
A woman tells her husband to wait till her son is born, and says:—
“Stava uno Romito domestico ne i monti di Brianza a far penitenza e teneva alcune cassette d’ api per suo spasso, e di quelle a suoi tempi ne cavava il Mele, e di quello ne vendeva alcuna parte tal volta per i suoi besogni. Avenne che un’ anno ne fu una gran carestia, e egli attendeva a conservarlo, e ogni giorno lo guardava mille volte, e gli pareva cent’ anni ogni hora, che e gli indugiava a empierlo di Mele,” etc.
29. Le Plaisant et Facétieux Discours des Animaux, novellement traduict de Tuscan en François. Lyon, 1556, par Gabriel Cottier.
Deux Livres de Filosofie Fabuleuse, le Premier Pris des Discours de M. Ange Firenzuola le Second Extraict des Traictez de Sandebar Indien, par Pierre de La Rivey. Lyon, 1579.
The second book is a translation of the second part of Doni’s Filosofia Morale.
30. The Anvar-i Suhaili, or the Lights of Canopus, being the Persian version of the Fables of Pilpay, or the Book, Kalilah and Damnah, rendered into Persian by Husain Vá’iz U’l-Káshifi, literally translated by E. B. Eastwick. Hertford, 1854.
34. Dialogues of Creatures moralysed, sm. 4to, circ. 1517. It is generally attributed to the press of John Rastell, but the opinion of Mr. Haslewood, in his preface to the reprint of 1816, that the book was printed on the continent, is perhaps the correct one. (Quaritch’s Catalogue, July, 1870.)
35. The Latin text is more simple: “Unde cum quedam domina dedisset ancille sue lac ut venderet et lac portaret ad urbem juxta fossatum cogitare cepit quod de p̅cio lactis emerit gallinam quæ faceret pullos quos auctos in gallinas venderet et porcellos emeret eosque mutaret in oves et ipsas in boves. Sic que ditata contraheret cum aliquo nobili et sic gloriabatur. Et cum sic gloriaretur et cogitaret cum quanta gloria duceretur ad illum virum super equum dicendo gio gio cepit pede percutere terram quasi pungeret equum calcaribus. Sed tunc lubricatus est pes ejus et cecidit in fossatum effundendo lac. Sic enim non habuit quod se adepturam sperabat.” Dialogus Creaturarum optime moralizatus (ascribed to Nicolaus Pergaminus, supposed to have lived in the thirteenth century). He quotes Elynandus, in Gestis Romanorum. First edition, “per Gerardum leeu in oppido Goudensi inceptum; munere Dei finitus est, Anno Domini, 1480.”
37. My learned German translator, Dr. Felix Liebrecht, says in a note: “Other books in which our story appears before La Fontaine are Esopus, by Burkhard Waldis, ed. H. Kurz, Leipzig, 1862, ii. 177; note to Des Bettlers Kaufmannschaft; and Oesterley, in Kirchoff’s Wendunmuth, v. 44, note to i. 171, Vergebene Anschleg reich zuwerden (Bibl. des liter. Vereins zu Stuttg. No. 99).”
38. Ricerche intorno al Libro di Sindibad. Milano, 1869.
39. The Greek text was first published in 1832 by Boissonade, in his Anecdota Græca, vol. iv. The title, as given in some MSS. is: Ἱστορία ψυχωφελὴς ἐκ τῆς ἐνδοτέρας τῶν Αἰθιόπων χώρας, τῆς Ἰνδῶν λεγομένης, πρὸς τὴν ἁγίαν πόλιν μετενεχθεῖσα διὰ Ἰωάννου τοῦ μοναχοῦ [other MSS. read, συγγράφεισα παρα τοῦ ἁγιου πατρος ἠμων Ἰωαννου τοῦ Δαμασκηνοῦ], ἀνδρὸς τιμίου καὶ ἐναρέτου μονῆς τοῦ ἁγίου Σάβα· ἐν ᾗ ὁ βίος Βαρλαάμ καὶ Ἰωάσαφ τῶν ἀοιδίμων καὶ μακαρίων. Joannes Monachus occurs as the name of the author in other works of Joannes Damascenus. See Leo Allatius, Prolegomena, p. L., in Damasceni Opera Omnia. Ed. Lequien, 1748. Venice.
At the end the author says: Ἐως ὧδε τὸ πέρας τοῦ παρόντος λόγου, ὃν κατὰ δύναμιν ἐμὴν γεγράφηκα, καθὼς ἀκήκοα παρὰ τῶν ἀψευδῶς παραδεδωκότων μοι τιμίων ἀνδρῶν. Γένοιτο δὲ ἠμᾶς, τοὺς ἀναγινώκοντάς τε καὶ ἀκούοντας τὴν ψυχωφελῆ διήγησιν ταύτην, τῆς μερίδος ἀξιωθῆναι τῶν εὐαρεστησάντων τῷ κυρίῳ εὐχαῖς καὶ πρεσβείαις Βαρλαὰμ καὶ Ἰωάσαφ τῶν μακαρίων, περὶ ὧν ἠ διήγησις. See also Wiener, Jahrbücher, vol. lxiii. pp. 44–83; vol. lxxii. pp. 274–288; vol. lxxiii. pp. 176–202.
40. Littré, Journal des Savants, 1865, p. 337.
41. The Martyrologium Romanum, whatever its authority may be, states distinctly that the acts of Barlaam and Josaphat were written by Sanctus Joannes Damascenus. “Apud Indos Persis finitimos sanctorum Barlaam et Josaphat, quorum actus mirandos sanctus Joannes Damascenus conscripsit.” See Leonis Allatii Prolegomena, in Joannis Damasceni Opera, ed. Lequien, vol. i. p. xxvi. He adds: “Et Gennadius Patriarcha per Concil. Florent. cap. 5: οὐχ ἥττον δὲ καὶ ὁ Ἰωάννης ὁ μέγας τοῦ Δαμασκοῆ ὀφθαλμὸς ἐν τῷ βίῳ Βαρλαὰμ καὶ Ἰωσάφατ τῶν Ἰνδῶν μαρτυρεῖ λέγων.”
42. The story of the caskets, well known from the Merchant of Venice, occurs in Barlaam and Josaphat, though it is used there for a different purpose.
43. Cf. Benfey, Pantschatantra, vol. i. p. 80; vol. ii. p. 528; Les Avadanas, Contes et Apologues indiens, par Stanislas Julien, i. pp. 132, 191; Gesta Romanorum, cap. 168; Homáyun Nameh, cap. iv.; Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, pp. 758, 759; Liebrecht, Jahrbücher für Rom. und Engl. Literatur, 1860.
44. Lalita Vistara, ed. Calcutt., p. 126.
45. Ibid., p. 225.
46. See M. M.’s Chips from a German Workshop, Amer. ed., vol. i. p. 207.
47. Minayeff, Mélanges Asiatiques, vi. 5, p. 584, remarks: “According to a legend in the Mahâvastu of Yaśas or Yaśoda (in a less complete form to be found in Schiefner, Eine tibetische Lebensbeschreibung Sâkyamunis, p. 247; Hardy, Manual of Buddhism, p. 187; Bigandet, The Life or Legend of Gaudama, p. 113), a merchant appears in Yosoda’s house, the night before he has the dream which induces him to leave his paternal house, and proclaims to him the true doctrine.”
48. Journal of the American Oriental Society, vol. iii. p. 21.
49. In some places one might almost believe that Joannes Damascenus did not only hear the story of Buddha, as he says, from the mouth of people who had brought it to him from India, but that he had before him the very text of the Lalita Vistara. Thus in the account of the three or four drives we find indeed that the Buddhist canon represents Buddha as seeing on three successive drives, first an old, then a sick, and at last a dying man, while Joannes makes Joasaph meet two men on his first drive, one maimed, the other blind, and an old man, who is nearly dying, on his second drive. So far there is a difference which might best be explained by admitting the account given by Joannes Damascenus himself, viz: that the story was brought from India, and that it was simply told him by worthy and truthful men. But, if it was so, we have here another instance of the tenacity with which oral tradition is able to preserve the most minute points of the story. The old man is described by a long string of adjectives both in Greek and in Sanskrit, and many of them are strangely alike. The Greek γέρων, old, corresponds to the Sanskrit jîrṇa; πεπαλαιώμενος, aged, is Sanskrit vṛddha; ἐρρικνώμενος τὸ πρόσωπον, shriveled in his face, is balînicitakâya, the body covered with wrinkles; παρείμενος τὰς κνήμας, weak in his knees, is pravedhayamânaḥ sarvângapratyangaiḥ, trembling in all his limbs; συγκεκυφώς, bent, is kubja; πεπολιώμενος, gray, is palitakeśa; ἐστερήμενος τοὺς ὀδόντας, toothless, is khaṇḍadanta; ἐγκεκομένα λαλῶν, stammering, is khurakhurâvaśaktakaṇṭha.
50. Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft, vol. xxiv p. 480.
51. Débats, 1859, 21 and 26 Juillet.
52. Die Quellen des Barlaam und Josaphat, in Jahrbuch für roman. und engl. Litteratur, vol. ii. p. 314, 1860.
53. Travels of Fah-hian and Sung-yun, Buddhist Pilgrims from China to India. (400 A.D. and 518 A.D.) Translated from the Chinese by Samuel Beal. London, Trübner & Co. 1869.
54. Littré, Journal des Savants, 1865, p. 337.
55. Pantschatantra; Fünf. Bücher indischer Fabeln, Märchen und Erzählungen. Aus dem Sanskrit übersetzt mit Einleitung und Ammerkungen, 2 Theile, Leipzig, 1859; and particularly in the first part, the introduction, called “Ueber das Indische Grundwerk, und dessen Ausflüsse, so wie über die Quellen und die Verbreitung des Inhalts derselben.”
56. Cf. Assemani, Biblioth. Orient. iii. 1, 220, and Renan, in the Journal Asiatique, Cinq. Série, t. vii. 1856, p. 251.
IV.
ON THE RESULTS OF THE
SCIENCE OF LANGUAGE.
INAUGURAL LECTURE, DELIVERED IN
THE IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY OF STRASSBURG, MAY 23, 1872.
You will easily understand that, in giving my first lecture in a German University, I feel some difficulty in mastering and repressing the feelings which stir within my heart. I wish to speak to you, as it becomes a teacher, with perfect calmness, thinking of nothing but of the subject which 1 have to treat. But here where we are gathered together to-day, in this old free imperial town, in this University, full of the brightest recollections of Alsatian history and German literature, even a somewhat gray-headed German professor may be pardoned if, for some moments at least, he gives free vent to the thoughts that are foremost in his mind. You will see, at least, that he feels and thinks as you all feel and think, and that in living away from Germany he has not forgotten his German language, or lost his German heart.
The times in which we live are great, so great, that we can hardly conceive them great enough; so great that we, old and young, cannot be great and good and brave and hardworking enough, if we do not wish to appear quite unworthy of the times in which our lot has been cast.
We older people have lived through darker times, when to a German, learning was the only refuge, the only comfort, the only pride; times when there was no Germany except in our recollection, and perhaps in our secret hopes. And those who have lived through those sadder days feel all the more deeply the blessings of the present. We have a Germany again, a united, great, and strong country; and I call this a blessing, not only in a material sense, as giving, at last, to our homes a real and lasting security against the inroads of our powerful neighbors, but also in a moral sense, as placing every German under a greater responsibility, as reminding us of our higher duties, as inspiring us with courage and energy for the battle of the mind even more than for the battle of the arm.
That blessing has cost us dear, fearfully dear, dearer than the friends of humanity had hoped; for, proud as we may be of our victories and our victors, let us not deceive ourselves in this, that there is in the history of humanity nothing so inhuman, nothing that makes us so entirely despair of the genius of mankind, nothing that bows us so low to the very dust, as war—unless even war becomes ennobled and sanctified, as it was with us, by the sense of duty, duty towards our country, duty towards our town, duty towards our home, towards our fathers and mothers, our wives and children. Thus, and thus only, can even war become the highest and brightest of sacrifices; thus, and thus only, may we look history straight in the face, and ask, “Who would have acted differently?”
I do not speak here of politics in the ordinary sense of the word,—nay, I gladly leave the groping for the petty causes of the late war to the scrutiny of those foreign statesmen who have eyes only for the infinitesimally small, but cannot, or will not, see the powerful handiwork of Divine justice that reveals itself in the history of nations as in the lives of individuals. I speak of politics in their true and original meaning, as a branch of ethics, as Kant has proved them to be, and from this point of view, politics become a duty from which no one may shrink, be he young or old. Every nation must have a conscience, like every individual; a nation must be able to give to itself an account of the moral justification of a war in which it is to sacrifice everything that is most dear to man. And that is the greatest blessing of the late war, that every German, however deep he may delve in his heart, can say without a qualm or a quiver, “The German people did not wish for war, nor for conquest. We wanted peace and freedom in our internal development. Another nation or rather its rulers, claimed the right to draw for us lines of the Main, if not new frontiers of the Rhine; they wished to prevent the accomplishment of that German union for which our fathers had worked and suffered. The German nation would gladly have waited longer still, if thereby war could have been averted. We knew that the union of Germany was inevitable, and the inevitable is in no hurry. But when the gauntlet was thrown in our face, and, be it remembered, with the acclamation of the whole French nation, then we knew what, under Napoleonic sway, we might expect from our powerful neighbor, and the whole German people rose as one man for defense, not for defiance. The object of our war was peace, and a lasting peace, and therefore now, after peace has been won, after our often menaced, often violated, western frontier has been made secure forever by bastions, such as nature only can build, it becomes our duty to prove to the world that we Germans are the same after as before the war, that military glory has nothing intoxicating to us, that we want peace with all the world.”
You know that the world at large does not prophesy well for us. We are told that the old and simple German manners will go, that the ideal interests of our life will be forgotten, that, as in other countries, so with us, our love for the True and the Beautiful will be replaced by love of pleasure, enjoyment, and vanities. It rests with us with all our might to confound such evil prophesies, and to carry the banner of the German mind higher than ever. Germany can remain great only by what has made her great—by simplicity of manners, contentment, industry, honesty, high ideals, contempt of luxury, of display, and of vain-glory. “Non propter vitam vivendi perdere causas,”— “Not for the sake of life to lose the real objects of life,” this must be our watchword forever, and the causæ vitæ, the highest objects of life, are for us to-day, and will, I trust, remain for coming generations the same as they were in the days of Lessing, of Kant, of Schiller, and of Humboldt.
And nowhere, methinks, can this return to the work of peace be better inaugurated than here in this very place, in Strassburg. It was a bold conception to begin the building of the new temple of learning in the very midst of the old German frontier fortress. We are summoned here, as in the days of Nehemiah, when “the builders every one had his sword girded by his side and so builded.” It rests with us, the young as well as the old, that this bold conception shall not fail. And therefore I could not resist the voice of my heart, or gainsay the wish of my friends who believed that I, too, might bring a stone, however small, to the building of this new temple of German science. And here I am among you to try and do my best. Though I have lived long abroad, and pitched my workshop for nearly twenty-five years on English soil, you know that I have always remained German in heart and mind. And this I must say for my English friends, that they esteem a German who remains German far more than one who wishes to pass himself off as English. An Englishman wishes every man to be what he is. I am, and I always have been, a German living and working in England. The work of my life, the edition of the Rig-Veda, the oldest book of the Indian, aye, of the whole Aryan world, could be carried out satisfactorily nowhere but in England, where the rich collections of Oriental MSS., and the easy communications with India, offer to an Oriental scholar advantages such as no other country can offer. That by living and working in England I have made some sacrifices, that I have lost many advantages which the free intercourse with German scholars in a German university so richly offers, no one knows better than myself. Whatever I have seen of life, I know of no life more perfect than that of a German professor in a German school or university. You know what Niebuhr thought of such a life, even though he was a Prussian minister and ambassador at Rome. I must read you some of his words, they sound so honest and sincere: “There is no more grateful, more serene life than that of a German teacher or professor, none that, through the nature of its duties and its work, secures so well the peace of our heart and our conscience. How many times have I deplored it with a sad heart, that I should ever have left that path of life to enter upon a life of trouble which, even at the approach of old age, will probably never give me lasting peace. The office of a schoolmaster, in particular, is one of the most honorable, and despite of all the evils which now and then disturb its ideal beauty, it is for a truly noble heart the happiest path of life. It was the path which I had once chosen for myself, and how I wish I had been allowed to follow it!”
I could quote to you the words of another Prussian ambassador, Bunsen. He, too, often complained with sadness that he had missed his true path in life. He too, would gladly have exchanged the noisy hotel of the ambassador for the quiet home of a German professor.
From my earliest youth it has been the goal of my life to act as a professor in a German university, and if this dream of my youth was not to be fulfilled in its entirety, I feel all the more grateful that, through the kindness of my friends and German colleagues, I have been allowed, at least once in my life, to act during the present spring and summer as a real German professor in a German university.
This was in my heart, and I wanted to say it, in order that you might know with what purpose I have come, and with what real joy I begin the work which has brought us together to-day.
I shall lecture during the present term on “The Results of the Science of Language;” but you will easily understand that to sum up in one course of lectures the results of researches which have been carried on with unflagging industry by three generations of scholars, would be a sheer impossibility. Besides, a mere detailing of results, though it is possible, is hardly calculated to subserve the real objects of academic teaching. You would not be satisfied with mere results: you want to know and to understand the method by which they have been obtained. You want to follow step by step that glorious progress of discovery which has led us to where we stand now. What is the use of knowing the Pythagorean problem, if we cannot prove it? What would be the use of knowing that the French larme is the same as the German Zähre (tear), if we could not with mathematical exactness trace every step by which these two words have diverged till they became what they are?
The results of the Science of Language are enormous. There is no sphere of intellectual activity which has not felt more or less the influence of this new science. Nor is this to be wondered at. Language is the organ of all knowledge, and though we flatter ourselves that we are the lords of language, that we use it as a useful tool, and no more, believe me there are but few who can maintain their complete independence with respect to language, few who can say of her, Ἔχω Λαΐδα, οὐκ ἔχομαι. To know language historically and genetically, to be able more particularly to follow up the growth of our technical terms to their very roots, this is in every science the best means to keep up a living connection between the past and the present, the only way to make us feel the ground on which we stand.