Scientific American, Volume XXXVI., No. 8, February 24, 1877 | Page 6

of every known form of speech, since it is
impossible to tell which of the dialects of to-day will be the parents of
the dominant tongue of any distant future time; while we may be
practically certain that some one or more of the languages of to-day
will furnish a key to any language that men will ever use. Next in order
would come encyclopædias, the most comprehensive and complete that
there might be room for. The sacred books of all nations might come
next; then the works of the great poets, historians and novelists; after
them, the best obtainable records of art, science, the various industries,
and so on, with specimens of the best and most typical of our works of
art, manufacture, and the like.
The spaces between the various articles should be filled in with some
insoluble and neutral substance, to prevent corrosion, or the infiltration
of water and consequent damage to the plates. Then, the entrance to the
chamber being securely sealed, permanent records should be made in
many places and in various ways, setting forth the purpose of the
deposit, its exact location, and the nature of its contents. Among such

records not the least valuable would be deeply cut polyglot inscriptions
on natural cliffs in different parts of the world, observation having
shown that such records may remain to challenge human curiosity for
ages after all other records of their time have disappeared.
Even a single deposit of this sort might prove of enormous value to the
race at some critical period of its history. But the probability is that the
good work would not end with one deposit. From age to age this and
other nations might repeat the experiment, commemorating in this way
important epochs in their history. The fashion once set might easily
become a permanent feature of all great national celebrations. The cost
would be comparatively small: a penny contribution from each of the
visitors to the Philadelphia Exhibition, for example, would have been
quite sufficient to provide for a memorial of our first Centennial year
that would have carried an imperishable picture of the civilization of
the day to the end of--our first millennium, at least; and we may safely
infer that, whatever may be the condition of the world at that not very
remote epoch, a memorial of that sort would be something worth
having.
As we have intimated, the custom might easily become general, so that
in the course of ages the earth would become dotted with such
repositories of art and learning. Then, come what might to
humanity--whatever might be the ups and downs of nations--whatever
moral, social, or intellectual advances mankind might make--whatever
lapses or disasters might befall them--it could hardly happen that a
knowledge of any considerable period of human history, or the
advantage of any worthy human achievement, could ever be
permanently blotted out and lost.
It is true that "posterity" has never done anything of the sort for us. It is
true that "posterity" may have no valid claim on us for such a legacy.
But we might venture to make "posterity" a present! It would not cost
us much, and it might turn out to be immensely valuable and useful to
some far future age.
* * * * *

THE LOST ARTS IN NEW YORK.
While the objects of ancient art contained in the Castellani collection,
recently placed on exhibition in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in this
city, are individually of great rarity and archæological value, they
derive additional importance from the fact that, viewed conjunctively
as a collection, they represent connected histories of two great
industrial arts extending over many centuries. Both in the work of the
goldsmith and of the potter, we are enabled to trace progress from the
earliest stages up to a period when the greatest skill was attained, and
even subsequently into the era of decadence. In both industries, we find
that ancient and mediæval workmen possessed knowledge which we do
not possess; and among Signor Castellani's treasures may be seen
handiwork which is the embodiment of two lost arts, the secrets of
which the modern world, with all its infinitely superior wisdom, has not
yet rediscovered.
The productions, in the Castellani collection, of precious metal workers
dating from prehistoric epochs, the exact dates of which are wholly
unknown, and covering the long period ending in the thirteenth century,
are represented by the contents of some twenty cases. The first three of
these receptacles bear no dates. The ornaments which they contain are
of bronze, amber, silver, and glass (the latter having become converted
into opalescent silicic acid), and were found in Præneste (modern
Palestrina, Italy), and in the territory which was ancient Etruria. Case
No. 4 bears date 700 B.C., and here is a rich