I thus conclude my sketch, such as it is, of the archæology of the world. Its aim has been to bring under review the rude implements and weapons of primeval man; the colossal structures of civilised man in Egypt and India; the strangely-compounded palace-sculptures of Assyria and Babylonia; the exquisitely ornamented columns of Persian halls; the massive architecture of Phœnicia; the Gothic-like rock-tombs of Lycia; the lovely temples, and incomparable works of art of every kind, great and small, of Greece; the military impress of Roman conquest; the medieval works of art in ivory, in enamel, in glass-painting, as well as its glorious architectural remains, connecting the middle ages with our own times. It has been drawn, as I observed at the outset, under very adverse circumstances, and must on that account venture to sue for much indulgence. It is open, no doubt, to many criticisms: I expect to be charged with grievous sins of omission, and perhaps of commission also: nor do I suppose that I could entirely vindicate myself from such charges. Worse than all perhaps, I have exposed myself to the unanswerable sarcasm that I have talked about many subjects of which I know but little. If, however, I have been able to compile from trustworthy sources or manuals so much respecting those particular branches of archæology which I have not studied, as to bring before you their salient features in an intelligible manner, that is enough for my purpose. I want no more, and I pretend to no more; and I am conscious enough that even this purpose has been but feebly accomplished. Tediousness, indeed, in dealing with numerous details could hardly be altogether avoided; but this is so much lighter a fault than an indulgence in mere platitudes, running smoothly and amusingly, but emptily withal, that I shall hear your verdict of guilty with composure.
It now only remains that I should very briefly point out what qualifications are necessary for an archæologist, and also the pleasure and advantage which result from his pursuits.
With regard to the first of these matters, the qualifications necessary for an archæologist, they are to some considerable extent the same as are necessary for a naturalist.
Like the naturalist, the antiquary must in the first place bring together a large number of facts and objects. This is, no doubt, a matter of great labour, but believe me, ‘labor ipse voluptas.’ The labour is its own ample reward. The hunting out, the securing, and the amassing facts and objects of antiquity, or of natural history, are the field-sports of the learned or scientific Nimrod. In a certain sense every archæologist must be a collector; he must be mentally in possession of a mass of facts and objects, brought together either by himself or by others. It is not absolutely necessary that he should be a collector, in the sense of being owner of a collection of his objects of study; in some departments indeed of archæology to amass the objects themselves is impossible: who, for instance, can collect Roman roads or Gothic cathedrals? models, plans, and drawings, are the only substitutes possible. But, with the facts relating to his favourite objects, and also as much as possible with the objects themselves, he must be familiar.
Yet this familiarity will not be enough to make him an archæologist. Such knowledge may be possessed, and very often is possessed, by a mere dealer in antiquities. The true antiquary must not only be well acquainted with his facts, but he must also, when there are sufficient data, proceed to reason upon them. He puts them together, and considers what story they have to render up. We saw a beautiful illustration of this in the joint labours of the Scandinavian antiquaries and naturalists. The order and sequence of the stone, bronze, and iron ages, were distinctly made out; and even their chronology may one day be discovered. The antiquary is enabled to form some judgment of the civilisation, the arts, and the religion of the nations whose remains he studies. Very often, as in the Roman series of coins, he makes out political events in their history, and assigns their dates. He determines the place of things in the historical series, much as the naturalist does in the natural series.
Like the naturalist also he must be a man of learning, i.e. he must be acquainted with what has been written by his fellow-labourers in the same branch of study. Few know, prior to experience, what a serious business this is. The bibliography of every department of archæology, as well as of natural history, is now becoming immense.
But besides a knowledge of facts, and objects, and books, there are one or two other qualifications necessary for many departments of archæology, the want of which has been very prejudicial to some distinguished writers. Exact scholarship is one of these qualifications. I do not merely mean that if a man be engaged in Greek archæology, he must be aware of the passages of Greek authors, in which the vases or the coins he is talking about are alluded to, though he must certainly be acquainted with these, and possess sufficient scholarship to construe them correctly; but he must also be able to interpret his written archæological monuments, such as his inscriptions and the legends of his coins. This is oftentimes no easy matter, and it requires a knowledge of strange words and dialects. Moreover, if an inscription or a legend be mutilated (and this is very frequently the case), unless the archæologist has an accurate knowledge of the language in which it is written, whatever that may be, Greek, Latin, Norman-French, or any other, what hope is there that he will ordinarily be able to restore it, and having so done interpret it with security or satisfaction? As one illustration of many, I will cite Prof. Ramsay’s remark on Nibby’s dissertation Delle vie degli Antichi: “In the first part of this article (on Roman roads) his essay has been closely followed. Considerable caution, however, is necessary in using the works of this author, who, although a profound local antiquary is by no means an accurate scholar[[20]].” Mr Bunbury, while pointing out the advantages which scholars would derive from some acquaintance with archæology, points out by implication the advantage which archæologists would derive from scholarship. “In this country,” says he, “the study of archæology is but too much neglected; it forms no part of the ordinary training of our classical scholars at the Universities, and is rarely taken up by them in after life. It is generally considered as the exclusive province of the professed antiquarian, who has seldom undergone that early training in accurate scholarship, which is regarded, and we think with perfect justice, by the student from Oxford or Cambridge, as the indispensable foundation of sound classical knowledge[[21]].” I think he is a little over-severe on us; living men like Mr C. T. Newton, Mr Waddington, Mr Vaux, Mr C. W. King, Mr C. K. Watson, and, last, but not least, like himself, to whom others might be added, prove that his assertions must be taken cum grano; even if it be true that this country has produced no work connected with ancient art which can be compared with the writings of Gerhard, or Welcker; of Thiersch, or Karl Otfried Müller[[22]].
[20]. See Smith’s Dict. Gr. and Rom. Antiq. s. v. Viæ.
[21]. Edinburgh Review, u. s.
[22]. I feel a little inclined to dispute this: Stuart, one of the authors of the Antiquities of Athens, which have been continued by other very able hands, and have also been translated into German, may, perhaps, take rank with the authors named in the text. K. O. Müller himself calls Millingen’s Ancient Unedited Monuments (London, 1822) “a model of a work;” and though without doubt Millingen is inferior to Müller in scholarship and in acquaintance with books, he is probably at least his equal as a practical archæologist. Colonel Leake’s Numismata Hellenica (London, 1856) may also be cited as an admirable combination of learning with practical archæology.