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,[9] 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 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 Wuerzburg, 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. Pro