ll the cities and
convents of Europe for manuscripts, together with the teachers of Greek,
who in the first half of the fifteenth century escaped from
Constantinople with precious freights of classic literature, are the
heroes of this second period. It was an age of accumulation, of
uncritical and indiscriminate enthusiasm. Manuscripts were worshiped by
these men, just as the reliques of Holy Land had been adored by their
great-grandfathers. The eagerness of the Crusades was revived in this
quest of the Holy Grail of ancient knowledge. Waifs and strays of Pagan
authors were valued like precious gems, reveled in like odoriferous and
gorgeous flowers, consulted like oracles of God, gazed on like the eyes
of a beloved mistress. The good, the bad, and the indifferent received
an almost equal homage. Criticism had not yet begun. The world was bent
on gathering up its treasures, frantically bewailing the lost books of
Livy, the lost songs of Sappho--absorbing to intoxication the strong
wine of multitudinous thoughts and passions that kept pouring from those
long-buried amphora of inspiration. What is most remarkable about this
age of scholarship is the enthusiasm which pervaded all classes in
Italy for antique culture. Popes and princes, captains of adventure and
peasants, noble ladies and the leaders of the demi-monde, alike became
scholars. There is a story told by Infessura which illustrates the
temper of the times with singular felicity. On the 18th of April 1485 a
report circulated in Rome that some Lombard workmen had discovered a
Roman sarcophagus while digging on the Appian Way. It was a marble tomb,
engraved with the inscription, 'Julia, Daughter of Claudius,' and inside
the coffer lay the body of a most beautiful girl of fifteen years,
preserved by precious unguents from corruption and the injury of time.
The bloom of youth was still upon her cheeks and lips; her eyes and
mouth were half open; her long hair floated round her shoulders. She was
instantly removed, so goes the legend, to the Capitol; and then began a
procession of pilgrims from all the quarters of Rome to gaze upon this
saint of the old Pagan world. In the eyes of those enthusiastic
worshipers, her beauty was beyond imagination or description: she was
far fairer than any woman of the modern age could hope to be. At last
Innocent VIII. feared lest the orthodox faith should suffer by this new
cult of a heathen corpse. Julia was buried secretly and at night