Dehérain, Henri. “Asselin de Cherville, drogman du consulat de France en Égypte et orientaliste,” Journal des Savants [nouvelle série] 14 (1916): 176‒87, 223‒31.
(1) English translation (excerpts)
[Introduction]
[p. 176] Throughout history, there have been French diplomatic agents who, not content merely to discharge their professional duties, devoted themselves—some with great passion—to studying the countries where they were temporarily stationed. The careers of several officials residing in the East during the first quarter of the 19th century particularly bear out this general observation. Eastern languages and literatures, ethnography, and numismatics were among the subjects researched by Pierre Ruffin, First Secretary of the French Embassy in Constantinople; Joseph Rousseau, Consul General in Aleppo; Corancez, Consul General in Baghdad; Jean Raymond, Consul in Basra; and Alphonse Guys, Consul in Tripoli (Syria).
Another member of this group of Orientalists was Asselin de Cherville, who served as a dragoman [‘interpreter’] at the French Consulate General in Egypt during the First Empire and the Restoration, and who, by personal inclination, was interested in Arab and Ethiopian studies.
A few unpublished letters—some preserved at the Library of the Institut [de France (Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres)], others at the Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs—along with several documents printed in the Magasin Encyclopédique and Les Mines de l’Orient, shed light on Asselin’s contribution to French Orientalism during one of the most brilliant periods in its history. [p. 177]
I. [ Resume and Employment in Egypt ]
The 1845 edition of the Annuaire de la Manche included an entry by Victor Le Sens of Cherbourg, which contained the following information about Asselin’s early life:
Jean-Louis Asselin, known as de Cherville, was born in Cherbourg on July 10, 1772. After beginning his studies in that city and completing them in Valogne, he entered the priesthood and, in 1792, received the tonsure from the Bishop of Coutances. In 1793, he was conscripted in accordance with the requisition law of August 23. But soon afterward, because of his knowledge, he was called to the École normale, founded by decree on 9 Brumaire, Year III [i.e., October 30, 1794 A.D.], which, as is well known, was short-lived. Then, from late 1795 to July 5, 1802, he held a position as a clerk at the Ministry of the Treasury, which he left to devote himself entirely to the study of Oriental languages.*
- Footnote 2: One point remains unclear regarding this early period of Asselin’s life. At the bottom of an article he published in Les Mines de l’Orient (vol. 5, p. 330), his name is followed by the title: “former artillery officer.” It is unclear at what point in his youth he might have attained a rank in the army. Furthermore, it is rather surprising that in none of the letters in which he asked the Minister of Foreign Affairs for a promotion or the Cross of the Legion of Honor did he mention these alleged military services.
He lived in Paris for another four years. He met Volney, “with whom he worked, as he liked to recall, on a work of Oriental literature,” and who advised him to study the languages of inner Africa.
The German traveler Ulrich Seetzen, the explorer of Yemen, with whom he had been in contact in Cairo, wrote of him on July 10, 1808: “This brilliant Orientalist has certainly worked hard in Paris, for he assured me that he had copied a dozen Arabic manuscripts there. ”
How Asselin came to pursue a career as a drogman, we do not know. He was undoubtedly compelled to do so by necessity, for he wrote in a letter dated July 10, 1814, “I was driven into it by compelling circumstances, late in life and against my will.”
His appointment as second dragoman at the French Consulate General in Egypt on April 15, 1806, set the course of his life. He persistently sought to leave [p. 178] the dragomanate and be appointed consul—preferably in a Levant post other than Cairo. But to no avail: he remained a dragoman, and it was in Cairo that he died in 1822. […]
[p. 179] An official diligent in his duties—serving as chancellor for his fellow nationals and as a dragoman in dealings between the Consulate General and Muhammad Ali Pasha—and, moreover, a man of open mind who did not confine himself to his office but looked beyond it. A man who, from Cairo—that crossroads of nations—sought to forge connections in the Siwa Oasis, in Syria, and even as far as India. A man, furthermore, of an anxious and even somewhat sullen temperament, prone to magnifying difficulties—such is the picture of Asselin that emerges from his letters.
On the other hand, he was hardworking, which is no small compliment for anyone living in a country where Europeans so easily slip into nonchalance and become mired in laziness. It was not enough for him to be a good consular officer; he also wanted to become an Orientalist. Alongside his administrative career, he pursued, so to speak, a literary life […].
II. [ Asselin’s research on languages and literature in collaboration with Muslim scholars ]
[…] [p. 181] Furthermore, he sought to obtain—through his connections with certain individuals at the Al-Azhar Mosque—specimens of various languages spoken by Muslims from Africa and Asia. […]
[p. 182] Asselin obtained in this way, he added:
“Translations and comparative glossaries in the languages of the Nubians, the inhabitants of Darfur, Bornu, Fezzan, the oases, the Red Sea islands, and the desert Arabs in Africa; and of the Afghans, Kurds, ‘Gourani’ [i.e., Gorani?], ‘Yaoui’ [i.e., Yao?], and the inhabitants of the Caucasus in Asia.” (Letter to Dacier, printed in Magasin encyclopédique, 1815, vol. 3, p. 83‒86.)
III. [ Asselin’s efforts to make Amharic known in Europe ]
[p. 182] Despite its vastness and diversity, the Muslim world was not enough to satisfy Asselin’s curiosity. Beyond eastern Sudan—which was still virtually unknown and whose conquest Muhammad Ali did not begin until 1820—he took an interest in Christian Abyssinia, or more precisely, in the language spoken there.
As is well known, two languages are in use in Abyssinia: Ge’ez and Amharic. […] At the beginning of the 19th century, only a very limited number of specimens of Amharic were available in Europe. […]
[p. 183] [p. 183] Asselin took it upon himself to make Amharic known in Europe. In a letter addressed to the Minister of Foreign Affairs on October 15, 1811, he explained his decision with the following reasons:
“Since my arrival in Egypt, in addition to studying Arabic and Persian, I have devoted myself—as much as my official duties have allowed—to the languages and customs of the peoples of the interior of Asia and Africa. Following the advice of Mr. [Constantin François Chassebœuf, comte] de Volney, with whom I had been working on a book on Oriental literature before my departure from Paris, I first set out to study the language spoken by the peoples of Abyssinia, who once played such a significant role in history and who, by virtue of their geographical location and resources, may yet play an even greater one …
The Abyssinian—or Amharic—language is of great importance. The scholar [Hiob] Ludolf lamented, a hundred and twenty years ago, that he had been able to obtain only a few fragments of it. In the absence of historical monuments, it serves as a kind of landmark, planted in the desert of time, that can shed light on the migrations and intermingling of the various peoples of this part of Africa and serve as a point of comparison between the ancient languages of the Ethiopians and the Copts and the various languages currently spoken in the regions where these peoples live. It can also serve as a key for travelers to enter the interior of Africa, since the common language spoken in Gondar is understood even by the most remote tribes of Black Africans in that region. It is the language of commerce and trade.”
That Abyssinia has already played—and may continue to play in the future—a role in general politics is indisputable, and the recent history of Menelik’s reign proves it. But it is difficult to accept the importance that Asselin attempts to attribute to the Amharic language in a sentence that is, moreover, quite obscure. We now have a fairly good understanding of the geography and ethnography of the sub-Ethiopian region […] to know that he exaggerated the supposed extent of that language’s domain.
These reservations notwithstanding, one can only praise Asselin’s effort to spread knowledge of Amharic. Of all his literary endeavors, this was the most successful.
In a letter addressed to Volney in 1812, he recounted in highly romantic detail how he discovered, in the Coptic quarter of Cairo,
“in [p. 184] a small room where he was suffocating from the heat, lying on a rough mat and tormented by fever and severe scabies, which gave him no rest,” an Abyssinian, who assisted him in his endeavor “after he had had him treated by a doctor and found him comfortable lodgings.” (This letter was published in Mines de l’Orient, vol. 3, pp. 269‒70, and reprinted by Silvestre de Sacy in Magasin encyclopédique, 1815, vol. 2, pp. 222‒24)
This elderly man, named Abou Roumi according to Silvestre de Sacy (Journal des Savants, 1823, p. 434), was, as Asselin asserts, “a man well-versed in the literature of his country,” who is said to have been the “teacher” of the two famous Englishmen, James Bruce and Sir William Jones, president of the Calcutta Society.
In addition to various texts, Asselin had him translate the entire Bible into Amharic. By 1812, the work was already well underway: “I currently have the entire New Testament,” he wrote, “the books of Moses, all the historical and moral books, and my Abyssinian… is about to begin translating the prophetic books.”
Asselin widely disseminated these Amharic texts. In 1812, he presented several fragments to Volney and Silvestre de Sacy. In 1813, he sent a biblical text to the Emperor [Napoleon I], recalling that Bruce had once presented Louis XV with the Book of Enoch translated into Ge’ez, and he accompanied his tribute with this dedication in Arabic and French, which shows that he did not stop halfway in his flattery: “I asked the Dew, symbol of Benevolence, ‘Are you free?’ ‘No,’ she told me, ‘I am Napoleon’s slave.’” On that same date, October 15, 1813, he sent the Book of Leviticus to the pope [Pius VII], along with remarks on the Copts and their religion.
As soon as he heard about the Restoration—”as soon as the happy news of the return of the beloved family of his former sovereigns reached him”—Asselin sent the Book of Joshua to Louis XVIII on July 10, 1814, and at the same time sent the Book of Numbers to the pope.
He sent a translation of the Book of Exodus to the Institute’s Class of Ancient History and Literature, which was presented by [Bon Joseph] Dacier at the meeting on December 23, 1814. This Amharic manuscript—held in the Institute’s library under the shelf mark in-8° A 22z***—measures 22 cm by 14 cm. It consists of 150 folios, neither folio-numbered nor paginated, written in black and red ink, and bears on its first folio this title, which appears to be in Asselin’s own hand: “Exodus in the Abyssinian Language;” it is bound in an attractive red shagreen binding.
A little later, the Class was called upon to issue an official opinion on Asselin’s project [p. 185]. It received the Amharic translations of Genesis and Leviticus sent by the Minister of the Interior—who had obtained them from the Minister of Foreign Affairs—along with a request for a reasoned opinion on the usefulness of Asselin’s work.
At the session on April 21, 1815, the Class appointed a commission composed of Silvestre de Sacy, Caussin de Perceval, and Langlès. One month later, at the session on May 26, Silvestre de Sacy read a report on behalf of his colleagues, in which he expanded on the specific issue that was the subject of the report.
- This report appears in the minutes of the Class of History and Ancient Literature, register 1815–1818, pp. 31 ff. It was published in the Magasin encyclopédique, 1815, vol. 5, pp. 297–313.
After providing a general overview of Asselin’s work, he praises him for undertaking the translation of the Bible into Amharic:
“One cannot help but approve of Mr. Asselin’s choice of the Bible over any other book. Indeed, there is no other book that, in such a small volume, contains so many different things. Most Abyssinians, who are deeply religious, know various parts of the Old and New Testaments by heart. Consequently, translating the Bible into their everyday language requires less effort than translating any other work. Moreover, since we possess in Europe the holy books—or at least a large portion of them—in Ge’ez, this provides us with an easy means of comparing the two languages. Finally, the various parts of the Bible frequently relate to one another. By recurring to the same ideas and expressions, they make it easier to determine with certainty the meaning of words, their various senses, and the etymological relationships between roots and their derivatives.”
Silvestre de Sacy then offers some interesting observations on Ge’ez and Amharic, lists the few Amharic texts available in Europe during his time, and provides some noteworthy details regarding his own Ethiopian studies.
“There are numerous Ethiopian manuscripts at the Royal Library. Having been tasked about twenty years ago with cataloging the Oriental manuscripts of Saint-Germain-des-Prés—after the fire at the abbey and before their transfer to the Royal—I do not recall having observed any fragments written in the Amharic language there. I admit that in the course of such a massive undertaking, carried out amid all sorts of inconveniences, it is quite possible that this slipped my attention…”
[p. 186] I spent a few hours analyzing the first verses of Genesis in Mr. Asselin’s manuscript. With the help of Ludolf’s grammar, his dictionary, and the meaning I already knew of what I wanted to analyze, I succeeded fairly easily in this task. I did, however, encounter a few difficulties for which I have not yet found a solution. These would likely soon disappear once I had gained more experience with the analysis and become familiar with the workings of the language.
The large number of roots common to Classical Ethiopian and the Amharic language would greatly facilitate this study for anyone with a thorough knowledge of and familiarity with the former. I must admit that I am not in that position. I used to read Classical Ethiopian quite fluently. However, lacking the opportunity to apply my knowledge of the language to useful work, I have completely neglected it, and I would need sustained effort to regain what I have lost.”
Finally, in concluding his report, Silvestre de Sacy endorsed Asselin’s work with the following words:
“We believe we can suggest to the Class that it respond to His Excellency the Minister of the Interior that the work of Mr. Asselin—particularly those aimed at expanding our knowledge or providing us with new insights into the Amharic language and other languages spoken in Abyssinia and the neighboring regions of Africa—appear to it worthy of every kind of encouragement and deserve the government’s attention and support; and that the two volumes sent by Mr. Asselin, containing Genesis and Leviticus in Amharic, as well as any other volumes of the same translation that he may send in the future, should be deposited at the Royal Library.”
Asselin is thus part of the very small group of French scholars who have taken an interest in the languages and history of Abyssinia.
While traveling in Abyssinia—a journey that proved fruitful, as in 1843 he concluded a treaty on behalf of Louis-Philippe’s government with Sahle Selassie (Menelik’s grandfather) that laid the foundation for the excellent diplomatic relations France has maintained with Shewa for three-quarters of a century—Rochet d’Héricourt collected Abyssinian manuscripts.
Around the same time, Antoine d’Abbadie, while undertaking his famous explorations in Abyssinia, made a point of purchasing and having manuscripts copied. He brought back a fine collection, the catalog of which he published in 1859. It contains more than two hundred entries.
Guillaume Lejean, who traveled to Abyssinia in 1863 and 1864, also acquired a few manuscripts there.
Finally, Casimir Mondon-Vidailhet, a lecturer at the School of Modern Oriental Languages [p. 187], assembled a collection of 113 manuscripts—the vast majority of which were in Amharic—during his two stays in Addis Ababa in 1892–93 and 1895–97.
IV. [ Personal correspondence with Silvestre de Sacy ]
[p. 223] …
V. [ Letter of Recommendation for Asselin de Cherville ]
[p. 228] … [p. 229] His promotion to the rank of premier drogman at the French Consulate General in Egypt on September 4, 1816, was the only recognition he [Asselin] received. Contrary to his wishes, he was not elected a corresponding member of the Académie des Inscriptions.
He died in Cairo on June 25, 1822, a few months after retiring.
VI. [ Conclusion ]
[p. 229] it remains for us to briefly describe what became of Asselin’s manuscripts.
The collection of Arabic, Persian, and Turkish manuscripts comprised more than 1,500 volumes. An inventory was drawn up in Cairo, listing the titles of the works in their original languages alongside their French translations; it was signed on May 25, 1825, by Sommaripa, chancellor and chief interpreter of the consulate (BnF, Arabic manuscripts, no. 4481). These manuscripts, which were sent to France at a date unknown to us, were deposited in 1832 in Paris at the home of Mr. Hérard, a banker, at 333 Rue Saint-Honoré. The d’Asselin family, who were seeking to sell them, initially thought they might find a buyer in England (BnF, Mss. Nouv. Acq. Françaises, no. 5441, fol. 263). They eventually reached an agreement with the administration of the Royal Library. On September 10, 1833, Letronne, the library’s director, signed a deed of purchase with the banker Hérard, acting on behalf of Asselin’s heirs (Arabic Collection, no. 4481, fol. 110).
A note written by a Library official—presumably Reinaud—highlights the significance of the collection. “It is,” he says, “perhaps the largest of its kind ever assembled by a private individual.” The volumes were gathered from all over. Some are copies made on Asselin’s instructions or even in his own hand.
“Most of the items are in Arabic. Next come the Persian manuscripts, followed by the Turkish manuscripts. There are four Coptic manuscripts; there are two Ethiopian manuscripts. [p. 230] Finally, there are a few volumes in an Afghan dialect; others are in an unknown language from the interior of Africa.”
The author of the note then draws on the most important manuscripts: Edrisi’s treatise on geography, “a copy of which, in addition to being very legible, dates back almost to the author’s lifetime and is accompanied by approximately 70 maps,” the Shahnameh, a history of the Mongols, a Persian-Turkish dictionary, Lathifi’s History of Poets, and fragments written on parchment in Kufic script, which offer new avenues of study for scholars of Arabic paleography (Mss. Nouv. Acq. Francaises, 5441, folios 267–269).
It would be interesting for a historian of Orientalism to compare Asselin’s catalog of manuscripts with the letter published above and to see to what extent the wishes expressed by Silvestre de Sacy were fulfilled.
As for the copies of the books of the Bible translated into Amharic and sent to Europe by Asselin during his lifetime, some were donated to the Royal Library: the Book of Joshua, dedicated to Louis XVIII; and the Book of Genesis, sent to the Minister of the Interior, for example. The Book of Exodus is, as we have mentioned, preserved at the Library of the Institute.
When Asselin died, his personal library still contained a complete version of the Bible in Amharic. The British and Foreign Bible Society hastened to purchase it on its own behalf. The title appears in a catalog of Ethiopian manuscripts published in 1823 in London by the Orientalist Thomas Pell Platt, which Silvestre de Sacy reviewed in the Journal des Savants (1823, p. 434).
In 1844, the same Orientalist published this translation in London under the following title: “Biblia sacra amharica. Translated into Amharic by Abu Rumi Habessinus under the auspices of D. Asselini, procurator of French affairs in Egypt; published by Thomas Pell Platt.“
However, according to Zotenberg, the printed text is not identical to the manuscript text, which has been revised in several places (Zotenberg, Catalog of Ethiopian Manuscripts in the National Library, p. 21).
In collecting these manuscripts, Asselin was not merely acting on a collector’s whim. He was gathering material for a comprehensive work on philology, which he discussed in 1820 with the Viscount de Marcellus, the embassy secretary, who was on an inspection tour and who recalled his visit as follows:
“Mr. Asselin de Cherville himself led me into the office, where he kept a large collection of manuscripts he had gathered at great expense and where he was completing his commentaries and translations. Long absorbed in his profound studies, this orientalist had grown accustomed to seclusion and silence. I found him dressed in Ottoman attire, bent over his sheets of paper and parchments …Mr. de Cherville, having renounced all external distractions, had set himself a major task. He sought to trace the origins of nations through the comparison and analysis of dialects.” (Vicomte de Marcellus, Souvenirs de l’Orient, vol. 2, p. 204)
Asselin never published this work. His sixteen years of work in Cairo were not, however, in vain. He made research tools available to scholars, and it was not without benefit to the liberal arts that this modest civil servant, confined to a post in the Levant, assiduously cultivated—as they said in his day—the Eastern muses.
(2) Original
Source: BNF (French National Library)
Cross-references
» Manuscripts containing Amharic Bible texts (mainly transl. by Abba Abraham)
» Letter Letter from Asselin de Cherville to Lord Castlereigh (1814)