This extension of knowledge and the great discoveries upon which it was based, naturally led those who were interested in the study of the remains of antique civilisation, to feel the necessity of organisation, of division of labour, and of the importance of ensuring a steady supply of the best and most trustworthy information. Societies were therefore founded in many different centres with the express object of meeting those wants. We cannot, of course, enumerate them here, nor attempt to estimate their various claims to our gratitude, but we may be permitted to allude to the good work accomplished, during fifty years of incessant activity, by the Association which has perhaps done more than any other for the progress of archæology, we mean the Instituto di Corrispondenza Archeologica, founded in Rome in 1829, by Bunsen, Gerhard, and the Duc de Luynes. Thanks to the breadth of view which characterised its founders, this society has been, ever since its inauguration, an international one in the best sense of the word; it brings together for a common end the most eminent European savants and their best pupils; it finds fellow-labourers and correspondents in every country. With their aid it soon established a Bullettino, where, month by month, all discoveries of interest made at any point of the Mediterranean basin were registered; and volumes, called sometimes Annali, sometimes Memorie, in which really important discoveries, and the problems to which they give rise, were discussed. Some of these dissertations are so elaborate and so full of valuable matter as to have formed epochs in the history of science. They are accompanied by fine plates, which, by their size, permit the reproduction of objects of art on a grander scale, and with more fidelity, than had been previously attempted.[21]

While the Roman Instituto was thus devoting itself to research, and assuring to its members the advantages of a regular publicity, these inquiries were daily attracting a more considerable share of attention from the other learned bodies of Europe. The Académie des Inscriptions et de Belles Lettres, the Academies of Berlin, Munich, and Vienna, devoted an ever-increasing portion of their programmes to such studies. Men began everywhere to understand that the writings of the classic authors, which had been so exhaustively studied ever since the Renaissance, were no longer capable of affording fresh information. In order to learn more of antiquity than the great scholars of the last three centuries, it was necessary to penetrate into the past by paths as yet unexplored; it was necessary to complement and control the evidence of classic authors by that of public and private inscriptions, engraved upon bronze, marble, or stone; it was above all necessary to seek for the expression, in their handiwork, of the wants and ideas, of the personal sentiments and religious conceptions, of the men of antiquity. There are, in fact, nations, such as the Etruscans, whose whole literature has perished, who are only known to us by the relics of their art. Others, like the Greeks and Latins, have indeed transmitted to us noble masterpieces of literature; but these masterpieces are few in proportion to those which time has destroyed. Of the thoughts which they expressed in their immortal languages, too many have been lost for ever with the fragile strips of papyrus to which they were confided.

With the ardour for knowledge and the heroic perseverance which are among the virtues of our time, curiosity has refused to resign itself to such a loss. It has determined to discover the unpublished, to draw into the light all that has not perished beyond recovery, to collect all that the spirit of antiquity has left behind it, either upon works hitherto unnoticed, or upon those which have been imperfectly understood. The treasures of epigraphy have been classified and shown in their full value by Bœckh, Borghesi, and others, and the world is now able to guess all that history may owe to them. The study, however, of those remains which bear figured representations is still more complex and formidable. The language of forms is, in itself, less definite than that of words, and it becomes very difficult to decipher when we have no words dealing with the same ideas to help us, when we possess the art of a people without a line of their literature. Another difficulty springs from the very abundance and variety of the materials to our hand. We feel oppressed by the ever-growing accumulation of facts, and can neither determine where to begin our work, nor how to leave it off: we cannot see the forest for the trees!


II.

In 1830, when the Roman Institute was founded, the time seemed to have come for the formulation of all the gathered facts and for their arrangement into groups, a task which had become much more difficult than in the time of Winckelmann. To conduct it to a successful conclusion a rare combination of faculties was required; breadth of intellect, aided by vast reading and a powerful memory; a philosophical spirit, capable of wide generalisation, joined to that passion for accurate detail which distinguishes the philologist; it demanded one whose taste would survive the trying labour of the cabinet, a savant and an artist combined in one person. Books do not teach everything. He who wishes to speak of art with intelligence must study art objects themselves, must cultivate an intimate acquaintance with them, and, within himself, a love for beautiful forms. Without the perceptive powers which such an educational process alone can give, no man can appreciate the subtle differences which distinguish styles and schools. He who possesses no ear, who is unable to perceive the intervals which separate one note from another, who knows that he can neither recognise nor remember an air, does not, unless he be both presumptuous and ignorant, dilate upon music, or attempt to write its history. In the art of design, as in music, no education can supply the place of natural aptitudes; but the latter are not by themselves sufficient to form a connoisseur. Something more is necessary to those who wish to form judgments upon which reliance may be placed, and to give reasons for them which will bear discussion. A special preparation must be undergone, the rules and technical processes—that is to say, the language of art—must be learnt. A connoisseur need not be able to compose an opera, or to chisel a statue, but he should be able to read a part, or to decide, for instance, by the appearance of a copy whether its original were of bronze or marble.

At the end of the last century there was born in Silesia a man who, while yet in his first youth, gave evidence of a rare combination of the gifts necessary for the successful accomplishment of the task which we have described; we mean Carl Ottfried Müller, who has been called, without any exaggeration, a "scholar of genius."[22] A disciple of Niebuhr and Bœckh, he excelled all his contemporaries in his efforts to embrace the whole of antiquity in one view, to trace out and realise for himself all the varied aspects of ancient civilisation. As a philologist, he took the greatest pleasure in the science which weighs words and syllables, which collates manuscripts. A poet in his hours of leisure, he appreciated both ancient and modern works of literature. As a young man he studied with passion the antiques in the Dresden Museum and the gallery of casts belonging to the University of Gottingen.

In the last year of his life he traversed Italy and Sicily with continual delight, and was like one intoxicated with the beauty of that Athens of which he caught but a glimpse, of that Greece whose sun so quickly destroyed him.

All this knowledge, all these experiences he hoped to make use of as the lines and colours for the great picture of ancient Greece which he meditated, for the canvas upon which he meant to portray the Greek civilization for the benefit of the moderns, with all its indivisible unity of social and political life, of literary and artistic production. In striking him down in his forty-second year, death put an end to this project, and the great picture, which would have been, perhaps, one of the capital works of our century, was never executed. But the preparatory sketches of the master happily remain to us. While he was employed in collecting materials for the work which he meant to be his highest title to honour, he was not shut up in silence and meditation, as a less prolific spirit might have been. His facility of arrangement and utterance was prodigious; all that he learnt, all new discoveries that he made or thought he had made, he hastened to make public, either by direct addresses to the auditors who crowded round his chair at Gottingen, or by his pen to the readers of the numerous philosophical periodicals to which he contributed. Like a man who has travelled much and who loves to tell of what he has seen, he was ever ready to take the public into his confidence when he embarked upon a new study. This he generally did by means of papers full of facts and ideas, written sometimes in German, sometimes in Latin. In his later years he issued short articles upon archæology and the history of art, in sufficient number to form five substantial volumes.[23] Besides this, he gave to the world learned editions of Varro, of Festus, of the Eumenides of Æschylus; or important monographs like his Geschichten hellenischer Stämme und Städte, including Orchomenos und die Minyer and Die Dorier, the most famous and most actively discussed of his works; and finally, Die Etrusker, a work which was suggested to him by one of the publications of the Berlin Academy. There was also Prolegomena zu einer wissenschaftlichen Mythologie, which has been fruitful for good even in its errors, and the Geschichte der griechischen Literatur, &c., which, incomplete as it is, has never become obsolete. Since the time of Ottfried Müller several other critics have attempted to rival his achievements, but they have all lacked his breadth of view and comprehensiveness of exposition, as well as the versatility with which he combined the most accurate scientific investigations with a delicate appreciation of the beauty and originality of the Greek authors.