But of still greater importance was the attention he directed to the Inscriptions. It is to him we owe the designation of ‘cuneiform’ from the wedge-like appearance of the signs that compose the groups—a name they have since retained. He considered that the writing was ideographic, as in the Chinese; it was unknown elsewhere, but here it was found cut into the doors, windows, statues and walls, and it was certainly contemporary with the construction of the edifice. He was told that the hollow formed by the excision was formerly filled in with gold, which had been removed by the cupidity of subsequent ages, though he fancied he could still detect traces of it in some places. He was particularly struck by the appearance of an inscription on the south wall of the Terrace. It occupied a slab no less than ten paces in length, and was divided into four tablets, each containing twenty-four lines. He copied the one on his right hand as carefully as the difficulties of the situation would permit; he was unfortunately prevented from copying the others, but he observed that the characters in them varied to a certain extent. The inscription he gave was afterwards known as the ‘L of Niebuhr,’ and belongs to the third or Babylonian system of writing.[65] He has transcribed the whole of the twenty-four lines, and it was by far the longest text that had ever yet been published to the world. Although the copy is defective when compared with the perfection that has since been achieved, yet as a first attempt upon so large a scale it deserves high commendation. He also gives the trilingual inscription round a window in the Palace of Darius, but in this he had been anticipated by Chardin.[66]
He is careful also to direct the reader’s attention to the position of inscriptions in other parts of the ruins. He mentions the inscription over the animals in the Porch (of which, however, we had already heard from Chardin), but he also fixes the position of the inscription in twenty-four lines on the sculptured stairs;[67] of the three inscriptions on the south stairs of the Palace of Darius;[68] of the three inscriptions, each of six lines, over the bas-relief on the great doors of the same edifice,[69] and of the three inscriptions, each of four lines, in the corresponding position in the Palace of Xerxes.[70] Kaempfer favoured the opinion then most generally accepted that the building was a temple rather than a palace, and he considered that the columns were designed to support a roof.[71] He gives the earliest description we have of the central edifice, and he explains clearly the nature of the building. It consists, he says, of the remains of three massive doors and the bases of two columns and although these ruins are few in number he declares they are superb.[72]
He remarked that two months would be scarcely long enough to sketch the principal objects, and he could only spare three days.
Nearly twenty years later the ruins were visited by another traveller who had more time at his disposal. Corneille le Bruyn arrived early in November 1704 and occupied himself for three months in sketching and measuring the various edifices.[73] Unfortunately, the result is scarcely equal to the effort. His book, which was published at Amsterdam in 1718, contains eight plates of Persepolis; but they are greatly inferior to those of Chardin and are executed on too small a scale to assist the student in following the diffuse and confused description given in the text. Two plates are devoted to four general views taken from different points. In these the buildings are indicated by letters, which refer the reader to the text, and they enable him to apprehend some of the more obscure statements made by the writer. One plate is devoted to views of the great stairs and entrance portico. Two others reproduce the figures on the sculptured stairs. Though inferior to the same views given by Chardin, they are immeasurably superior to the one by Kaempfer and fall little short of those subsequently executed by Niebuhr. The remaining plates contain a number of small vignettes, which convey but a poor impression of the objects they are designed to represent. Le Bruyn has, however, devoted one of the plates to Inscriptions and this is the most important work he has achieved in connection with this subject. He has copied five separate inscriptions, four of which were now published for the first time. (1) The Inscription on the Sculptured Stairs.[74] (2) The Inscription on the pilaster in the Portico of the Palace of Darius.[75] It is in three tablets, each tablet containing from thirteen to fifteen lines. (3) The Inscription seen over the King in the same palace.[76] It is also in three tablets, each containing six lines. (4) The Inscription in the folds of the royal robe—of which seven lines are given.[77] (5) Finally, he has reproduced the window Inscription already published by Chardin and Kaempfer, but instead of representing it as it occurs round a window, he has placed the three lines under one another in parallel lines.[78] By this simple change of position he has shown the fallacy of the theory that the lines at the sides may be read from top to bottom: or that the wedge can occur with the point upwards. Le Bruyn is a more accurate copyist than Kaempfer, and in some respects he even excels Ouseley, a hundred years later. With Le Bruyn the cuneiforms assume the bold and regular appearance with which we are now familiar, although he confuses many of the letters by too great compression.
Le Bruyn appears to have been one of the first travellers to attempt to make a collection of these antiquities to send home to Europe. The extreme hardness of the stone severely taxed the strength of his tools, and it was with considerable difficulty that he secured a piece from a window covered with cuneiform characters, and some other smaller objects. These he despatched through the agent of the Dutch East India Company to the Burgomaster of Amsterdam. So far as we know, the only other specimens of cuneiforms that had hitherto been seen in Europe were those picked up by Della Valle on the site of Babylon and sent to the Kircherian Museum.
He was not very happy in some of his criticisms. He described the animals on the Entrance Portico as having a likeness to the Sphinx with the body of a horse and the feet of a lion. He imagined that the animal attacked by the lion on the sculptured stairs was a horse or even an ass. The object that separates the various groups in the same place he describes as a vase. He considered the capital surmounting the columns was the figure of a kneeling camel. He is about the only competent observer, with the exception of Niebuhr, who discerned female figures among the sculptures.[79] He appears to say that there are no less than forty-six of these in the Palace of Darius alone: among them are the King’s attendants bearing the fly-chaser and parasol. He estimates the total of human figures among the ruins at 1300; and, judging by the number of bases, he considered there were originally not less than two hundred and five columns.[80] He gives the measurements of the buildings, the size and number of the figures with a detail that becomes irksome and bewildering. The reader often regrets that he did not make better use of his pen and pencil, and spare him some of the results of the measuring tape. He is by no means too lavish of his praise. He censured the figures as stiff and devoid of animation; the nude he found represented without anatomical skill and the draperies without taste. He admits, however, that the ornamentations, when they occur, are beautiful. He was of opinion that all the stone for the construction of the various edifices came from the neighbouring mountains, where he observed all the various shades found at Persepolis. He had the good sense to reject the foolish theory supported by Chardin as to the Jamshid origin of the ruins; and he could see no evidence that they had ever been used as a temple. On the contrary, he considered that they had been a palace, and his conviction that the columns had originally supported a roof lessens the difficulty of accepting that view. He argues with some force and great diffuseness that it could only have been the Palace of the Achaemenides destroyed by Alexander: an opinion confirmed by later investigation, and one that greatly facilitated the attempt made by Grotefend to decipher the inscriptions.
CHAPTER II
NIEBUHR TO DE MORGAN. A.D. 1765-1897
It was more than sixty years before any farther contribution was made to the knowledge of Persepolis. In 1761, however, the King of Denmark, Frederic V., fitted out an expedition chiefly for the purpose of exploring Arabia. Five commissioners were nominated, to each of whom a special branch of inquiry was assigned. Among them was Carston Niebuhr, the father of the writer whose historical works agitated the early part of last century. They left Copenhagen in January of that year, and reached Constantinople after an adventurous voyage. From thence they went to Egypt, and finally to Yeman, where they arrived in 1763. Here three out of the five explorers died, and the two survivors left for Bombay in 1764. Soon afterwards another died, and Niebuhr, the sole survivor, determined to return home, and to take Persia and the Euphrates Valley on his way. He received many courtesies from the English merchants settled at Bushire and Shiraz, especially from Mr. Hercules, the agent of the East India Company, in whose house he lived at Shiraz. Through his influence Niebuhr went on to Persepolis, furnished with the best introductions to the chiefs of the neighbouring villages. He arrived on the 13th of March, 1765, and remained till the 3rd of April. He afterwards returned for two days to compare his sketches with the original. He wrote in German, and the French translation appeared in 1780.[81]
The magnificent views of Persepolis given to the world by Chardin, and the very useful plan drawn to scale by Kaempfer, had already afforded ample material for forming a tolerably accurate conception of the general aspect of the ruins. Little remained now to be done except to work for the archæologist, to whom the minutest attention to detail was the first necessity. Niebuhr, unfortunately, cannot claim to have accomplished this difficult task, so far at least as his drawings are concerned. He has, however, contributed ten plates of illustrations of considerable artistic merit. Following the example of Kaempfer, he begins with a ground plan on which the various edifices are distinctly indicated by letters. This is followed by a general view looking towards the west; three plates are devoted to the sculptured stairs; one to the mysterious animals on the porch that continued so long a stumbling-block; the Palaces of Darius and Xerxes each occupy a plate, and two others portray the seated figures in the Hall of the Hundred Columns. He was so satisfied with this achievement that he thought even the student would have no need of any farther assistance from the artist’s pencil.[82] This is, however, so far from the case, that even the general reader has some cause to complain.[83] Niebuhr has conveyed an entirely false conception of the appearance of the sculptured terrace by the omission of the broken line of sculpture, of which one half still remains above the other two. He has also had the temerity to represent the figures as though they were perfect, though he states in the text that the larger number on one side are so mutilated that they are without their heads.[84] It would be impossible in his drawings to distinguish the different nationalities; it is difficult even to detect the ‘Kaffir,’ as he calls the famed Ethiopian.[85]