Nevertheless, as we shall see, he was to be led thither by external circumstances, which at the time, however, coincided with his own inclinations. He attended Dahlmann’s course on “Ancient History,” and wrote of him to his father: “He pleases me extremely; he is just as far from giving a dry skeleton of the chief events, without grasping history in its higher significance, as he is from serving up generalities and conclusions based upon theories instead of facts. An upright mind, and an earnest nature which must inspire respect, are united in him to the clear penetrating sagacity which sifts a subject and seizes its essential points. This makes him as skillful and pre-eminent in scientific research in the domain of ancient history as he is in the study of the politics of the most recent times, with which he principally and most successfully occupies his remaining time. His mode of presenting his theme is especially distinguished by a perfect command and critical examination of the very extensive subject-matter, whose most important periods he understands how to characterize and place in the proper light in brief yet apposite phrases. His discourse is distinguished by quiet, clear, singularly fine, indeed classical language, not a word too much or too little.” We know no more happy sketch of the excellent Dahlmann as an academical teacher. Dissen, whose influence had especially attached Lepsius to classical philology at Göttingen, had become so ill that he could offer him but little more. Besides, the pupil had been more and more alienated from the excellent, but irritable and feeble scholar, by his doctrinary and over-subtle mode of systematizing. “Unfortunately,” he writes, “Dissen is not yet at all restored to health; he suffers from excessive weakness and sleeplessness. As he often feels very lonely and depressed through the night, he frequently has some of the students with whom he is more intimately acquainted to sit up with him. He lies on the sofa with his clothes on and has something read aloud to him, or converses with them, till now and then he catches a little nap. I shall go there to-day or to-morrow, and Kreiss, who has offered to do the same, is in great distress about it, because he inevitably falls asleep about ten o’clock, even when he is reading aloud. Dissen considers himself sicker now than he really is, by which he only makes his sickness worse.” This opinion was mistaken, and was proved to be so by the painful end of the distinguished scholar.[6]