of this second period. It was an age of accumulation, of
uncritical and indiscriminate enthusiasm. Manuscripts were worshipped by
these men, just as the reliques of the 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, revelled 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 amphorae 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 April 18, 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 worshippers, 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 by his direction, and naught remained
in the Capitol but her empty marble coffin. The tale, as told by
Infessura, is repeated in Matarazzo and in Nantiporto with slight
variations. One says that the girl's hair was yellow, a