One measure of the impact of the retirement of Phillippe de Montebello as director of the Metropolitan Museum came when the chairman of the trustees, James Houghton, read to the board Mr. de Montebello’s letter saying he was ready to step down. More than the usual number of trustees had assembled in the Douglas Dillon room. Speculation about Mr. de Montebello’s retirement had been going around for some time, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise. And yet when the words began to sink in, a number of persons in the room found themselves in tears.

“It was,” we were told by one of the trustees, Shelby White, herself a visionary collector, “an extraordinarily emotional moment.” And no wonder. The trustees — and great numbers of others — have given much of their fortunes to the museum. One doesn’t do that without enormous confidence in, and even affection for, the individual at the head of the institution, particularly given the great sums involved in amassing a collection of art as astonishing as that gathered by the Met during Mr. de Montebello’s tenure. During his tenure the museum nearly doubled in size.

The last 12 months alone made 2007 nothing short of an “annus mirabilis,” to use the director’s own words. There was the renovation of the Greek and Roman Galleries, which were opened in April; the Joyce and Robert Menschel Hall for Modern Photography, in September; the Uris Center for Education and the Wrightsman Galleries for French Decorative Arts, which opened in October; the Galleries for Oceanic Art and the Gallery for the Art of Native North America, which opened in November, and in December, the Galleries for 19th- and Early-20th-Century European Paintings and Sculpture.

Mr. de Montebello has vigorously defended the core concept of the museum, the Enlightenment understanding that such institutions are a repository for the history of mankind. He has maneuvered shrewdly in the ideological wars over patrimony and the role of the great private collectors, agreeing to a deal with the Italian government that would return 21 objects, including a Euphronious krater, to Italy, but only in exchange for the long-term loan of objects of “equivalent beauty and importance.” In the course of the dispute, he emerged as a leader in defense of the public good of private ownership and great museums for public display.

The search committee for de Montebello’s successor, which sat for the first time yesterday, certainly has its work cut out for it. It is going to be a long time before any museum, or any city, sees the like of Mr. de Montebello. But we’d like to think that it is no insult to him or to the Met to say that each generation hands up its own giants; Mr. de Montebello, after all, was only in his 40s when he was tapped for greatness. Surely someone will be found.

His successor will come in at what may yet prove to be only the beginning of the battles over patrimony, battles during which it is well to remember that in America the great museums are prime targets precisely because they, as private charitable institutions, do not enjoy the immunity that is enjoyed by the big state-owned museums of, say, Europe. He has established a great collection from which to build an even greater museum and an example to emulate.

* * *

We once wrote in these columns that the recommended donation of $20 for a ticket to the Metropolitan was the “best deal in town.” It was greeted with a few arched eyebrows, but we have no apology. It is hard to overstate the civilizing effect of being able to see, and feel inspired by, the art the Metropolitan Museum has collected. And we don’t mind saying that we look forward to whatever event there will be — and no doubt there will be one — when the Museum and the city it graces will gather to express their gratitude to the director who brought the Met to its apogee.