e-existence-philosophesas pote met' erotos--fallen
into a new cycle, were beginning its intellectual culture over again, yet
with a certain power of anticipating its results. So comes the truth of
Goethe's judgments on his works; they are a life, a living thing,
designed for those who are alive--ein Lebendiges fuer die Lebendigen
geschrieben, ein Leben selbst.

In 1785 Cardinal Albani, who possessed in his Roman villa a precious
collection of antiquities, became Winckelmann's patron. Pompeii had just
opened its treasures; Winckelmann gathered its first-fruits. But his plan
of a visit to Greece remained unfulfilled. From his first arrival in Rome
he had kept the History of Ancient Art ever in view. All his other
writings were a preparation for that. It appeared, finally, in 1764; but
even after its publication Winckelmann was still employed in perfecting
it. It is since his time that many of the most significant examples of
Greek art have been submitted to criticism. He had seen little or nothing
of what we ascribe to the age of Pheidias; and his conception of Greek
art tends, therefore, to put the mere elegance of the imperial society of
ancient Rome in place of the severe and chastened grace of the palaestra.
For the most part he had to penetrate to Greek art through copies,
imitations, and later Roman art itself; and it is not surprising that
this turbid medium has left in Winckelmann's actual results much that a
more privileged criticism can correct.

He had been twelve years in Rome. Admiring Germany had many calls to him;
at last, in 1768, he set out to revisit the country of his birth; and as
he left Rome, a strange, inverted home-sickness, a strange reluctance to
leave it at all, came over him. He reached Vienna: there he was loaded
with honours and presents: other cities were awaiting him. Goethe, then
nineteen years old, studying art at Leipsic, was expecting his coming,
with that wistful eagerness which marked his youth, when the news of
Winckelmann's murder arrived. All that "weariness of the North" had
revived with double force. He left Vienna, intending to hasten back to
Rome. At Trieste a delay of a few days occurred. With characteristic
openness, Winckelmann had confided his plans to a fellow-traveller, a man
named Arcangeli, and had shown him the gold medals received at Vienna.
Arcangeli's avarice was aroused. One morning he entered Winckelmann's
room, under pretence of taking leave; Winckelmann was then