Full text of "The European Tour"

Google

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project

to make the world's books discoverable online.

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject

to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books

are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.

Marks, notations and other maiginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the

publisher to a library and finally to you.

Usage guidelines

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing tliis resource, we liave taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.
We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for
personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain fivm automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Maintain attributionTht GoogXt "watermark" you see on each file is essential for in forming people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe.

About Google Book Search

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web

at |http: //books .google .com/I

■^-'"^ .r'.^. . i^A i^- )y •

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

Attor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations

BEQUEST OF

MRS. HENRY DRAPER

1915

;

> •

All

K^r^

The European Tour

-/.•^-"'^ .

^v^f^.6' .„, ^^ ..':•

*%% A

•

The European Tour

GRANT ^LLEN

Author of «« Florence," "Paris/*
« Belgium/* etc

;»

J ^ ■• ■• j-'j J ^ J ^

i^^ ■•, i ^ ' ' , -• " ^^ ^^

J * ■> ■* ■*

' ^ ^ ' J J ■• > J

J J . - . . J J

NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY

1899

THE NEW YORK

PUBLIC LIBRARY

687119

ArrOR, LENOX AND
TILOEN FOUNDA-nONt

f^ 1916 r

.• •

.•- •

• •

• • •••

• -

• ••
•• •

• ••

• • •

•• • ;

• • • ••!..•: •

• • • ••

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A.

Contents

Chapter Paox

I. The Use of Europe i

II. What Parts of Europe to Visit . . 19

III. The Hasty Visitor 35

IV. England : The Country 40

V. London 66

VI. France : Paris 82

VII. France : Outside Paris 99

VIII. Belgium and Holland no

IX. The Rhineland 140

X. Switzerland, etc. ; 156

XL The Threshold of Italy 172

XII. The Great Italian Cities 192

XIII. Florence ?..•»•,*••• »oo

XrV. More Abou:f ^KioltEXCE . v.> ^ ^^ i.^ . aia

,,* ■ -

^Ak V . VENICE • . • .. «.««..> .>'«''}. • . 241

XVI. RoMEWARDs . ,:"\: 4-"^*.,i\, . . . 257

4 • w '

XVII. After Rome > ^z'^^^l- '5 ; - .-; . . ^84
XVIII. The Author' s:Al»(iLoaY'' . '. : . . 293

• *

• •

•

• • • •

• •

•. : .•••:

• •*

• •
• •

• • • •

• • •»•

••

•

a • •
» • I

• • ••:

'• "

• •• •
• •

•
•

.••:: :••;

• •

•

•••:

•
• ••

••*:•••

•
••

• •• ••• • a

•• •••

• •

• ? • • • •

• • • • •

•••••• r

• • • • • -

The European Tour

CHAPTER I

THE USE OF EUROPE

TT^GUNG man, go to Europe f
A It is not without due reflection that I ven-
ture thus to reverse the geographical direction of a
famous saying. Horace Greeley requires revision.
As America now stands, I believe by fiir the most
valuable iducation a young man* cajif^^t^in is a
European trip^ un(iMa^eil«> during ^t^e: y^^fS most
often devoted to a college ^^egairse,- It costs no
more; it may even cost le^d)*' amf I- make bold to
say it is immeasurably nimii ^ducat Jve.V

If I were a Europe&h borii, indeed, I would not
have the audacity thus to address the American
public. Readers might suspect me of that cele-
brated ^ condescension observable in foreigners "
on which Lowell insisted. But I speak from ex-
perience. I am myself a brand plucked from the

2 The European Tour

burning. Born and bred on the American conti-
nent, I came to Europe as a very young man ; I
have lived here now for over thirty years ; and I
have slowly learnt how to appreciate its educational
advantages. Allowing that America is the best
country in which to be born, I still maintain that
Europe is the best country in which to get a yearns
education.

I do not mean a year spent at school or college.
I do not even mean a year of strenuous and con-
scientious sight-seeing, undertaken solely with an
eye to edification. I mean a year of travel^ en-
joyment, observation ; a year of free use of lungs
and limbs; a year of pleasant touring through
beautiful country and beautiful cities. The best
learning of all is the learning we acquire without
ever knp^ing..it^ •M^SSJ^S ^P ^ subject, cram-
ming Ibf^f^mtfnadob.^— *^C»e are the ways to
undermine af^des|f;oy*oiijr. .interest in knowledge.
Going about •tKa*Mk)(fii,«tpf amuse ourselves, with
our eyes o|^ni^-;AUB|i|*Ji^Jthtf way to preserve and
enlarge it. t^or eVefytfimg* depends upon the en-
joyment we receive. Nothing makes impressions
so vivid as pleasure. Just as it is better exercise
to play base-ball, cricket, foot-ball, lawn-tennis, to
row, to ride, to swim, to climb mountains, than to
drill in a prison yard or to walk up and down a

The Use of Europe 3

measured mile in Central Park, so it is better edu-
cation to visit the Louvre, Notre-Dame, Venice,
Munich, Athens, than to grub up Greek roots
with a dictionary and grammar. Let the other
education come afterwards, if you like ; but gain
first a living interest in the languages, the litera-
tures, the history of Europe by delightful tours
through the lands that produced them.

Nor do I intend this solemn advice for paradox.
I utter it as serious practical reasoning. You are
a father, let me suppose, and you are thinking of
sending your son to college. IVhy to college?
Now, sit down and argue it out with yourself like
a man — which will be really the best for him in
the end ? Will he learn more that is ultimately
useful to him in life by spending three years over
dead languages which he never fully masters, and
for which he can have no personal use hereafter —
or by travelling from a year to eighteen months in
Europe ; seeing England, France, Germany, Italy,
Switzerland ; storing his mind with knowledge of
art, knowledge of history, knowledge of geography,
knowledge of human nature; gaining an insight
into the manner of thought, of speech, of life, and
of industry among the living peoples who have con-
tributed to build up the population, the laws, and
the institutions of his own country ? I say un-

4 The European Tour

hesitatingly, the latter. One year in the great
university we call Europe will teach him more than
three at Yale or Columbia. And what it teaches
him will be real, vivid, practical, abiding ; a part of
himself thenceforth ; flesh of his flesh, and blood
of his blood \ ingrained in the very fibre of his
brain and thought; an inalienable possession to
carry through life with him. He will read deeper
meaning thenceforward in every picture, every
building, every book, every newspaper; he will
have put himself in touch with the earlier phases
of human thought and craft in every one of their
manifold departments.

Only two obstacles, I believe, have prevented
everybody in America from recognising long since
that a year in Europe ought to be an indispensable
part of every young American's liberal education.

The first obstacle is the long-surviving Puritan
idea — equally rife in England — thzt inowUdge^ to
be solid and useful, must be laboriously^ painfully^
and almost unwillingly acquired — that what is
learned with ease, with enjoyment, with delight,
almost unconsciously to the learner, cannot be
really valuable. Learning is taken as a sort of
penance ; in the sweat of his brow, people think,
must man till the Held of knowledge. The exact
opposite, I believe, is the actual truth ; only what is

The Use of Europe 5

learned with joy and spontaneously, ever really and
deeply benefits the learner. ^^ No profit comes
where is no pleasure ta'en," says the poet : " Study
what you most affect " is sound wisdom as well as
good poetry. Few men remember in middle life
any of the beggarly stock of Greek and Latin they
acquired for the moment at school or college.
Why ? Because they never cared for it ; there-
fore they never really learned it. They cribbed it
up for the moment, with the aid of a Bohn's trans-
lation, to pass an examination or gain a degree;
and as soon as that was done, they gladly foi^got it
all. How different is the knowledge one has drunk
in with pleasure in examining some stately cathe-
dral, some exquisite temple, some fresco of Fra
Angelico's, some relief from the perfect chisel of
Pheidias ! Those things and the knowledge of
them live with one forever. You don't try to
remember them. You could rCt forget them.

The second obstacle is the good old belief, still
more or less current, that "a European education"
unfits 2i young man for life in America — gives him
ideas and sympathies out of harmony with those
of the mass of his fellow-countrymen. I believe
there is some grain of truth in this prejudice, if by
^^ a European education " is meant an education at
Oxford or Heidelberg. I don't think European

6 The European Tour

universities afford the best training for a man who
has to earn his living by commerce or finance in the
United States or Canada. But a real " European
education " is quite another matter — the sort of
education that is got by seeing Europe — the educa-
tion of which Europe itself is the main factor. To
graduate in that great school is easy and pleasant.
Wherever a man is going to live and work, how-
ever a man is going to earn his livelihood, it can
do him nothing but good to have seen and under-
stood London, Paris, Vienna ; to have learnt how
men built at Cologne and at Oxford ; to have real-
ised how men painted at San Marco in Florence
or at the Hospital at Bruges; to have beheld the
Roman Forum and the Athenian Acropolis ; to
have stood beside the Pyramids — which are
Europe enough for my purpose — and to have
walked with a torch through the pictured Tombs
of the Kings at Thebes. All that is education ten
thousand times better than one can get out of
books; and the American can only obtain it in
perfection by European travel.

By far the best and truest teachers are the eyes.
Books substitute for them the ears^ and even the
cars but symbolically. The current misapprehen-
sion about what constitutes a good education dates
back to the days when travel was difficult, danger--

The Use of Europe 7

ous, and expensive, — when men had to be content
with book-knowledge about most subjects of hu-
man interest. At the present day that misappre-
hension persists unduly, out of accord with our
times ; it has lived on into an age when travel is
cheap, safe, and comfortable, and when first-hand
knowledge is easier and pleasanter to acquire than
second-hand. Yet we insist upon setting our
young men to puzzle out Homer and Herodotus,
who are to them mere names, when half an hour
spent intelligently among the Parthenon sculptures
At the British Museum would give them a more
real and vivid interest in Hellas and the Hellenes
than months of poring over irregular verbs or the
uses of the optative. Moreover, if once you have
learned to love and sympathise with Hellenic art,
you are already more than half a Hellene ; the lan-
guage, the poetry, the history of Hellas will become
easy and simple to you, because you want to know
them : you will study them now with enthusiasm
and pleasure, out of pure desire to understand and
appreciate the beautiful things that have begun by
interesting you. I well remember a striking remark
which a lady once made to me at Venice — "His-
tory seems to be real here."

History seems to be real! That is the true
secret of the great good of travel. Till you go

8 The European Tour

to see the tombs of Charles the Bold and Mary
of Burgundy at Bruges, you have probably never
troubled your head for one moment about the ex«
istence and fate of the Burgundian duchy. But
as soon as you have seen those exquisite monuments,
you cannot help reading about them; and wheo
you go on to Dijon, you put two and two together;
or when you see the Burgundian statues in the
Renaissance sculpture gallery at the Louvre, you
build up your knowledge, piecing this and that;
till, little by little, without an effort on your part,
you find that what was once a vast unconscious
blank has filled itself up everywhere with facts and
instances. You begin to understand and know your
Burgundy; it has wrought itself into your brain
by many twining strands which cannot ever again
be lightly untwisted.

Furthermore, one of the surviving absurdities of
our existing system of education is the ridiculous
importance still attached to the acquisition of lan-
guages. A great many people speak as if knowl-
edge of tongues were the highest conceivable form
of knowledge. '' Such a very accomplished girl !
they say : '' why, she can speak three languages !
The fallacy is due to the traditional notion that
Latin and Greek constitute " a liberal education."
That notion was natural enough in the sixteenth

The Use of Europe 9

century, when most knowledge had still to be
dug out of books^ and when books were mainly
written in the dead languages. It is absurd at the
present day, when knowledge is chiefly to be gained
by contact with things^ and when all useful works
are written in or translated into the various vernac-
ulars. Yet so strangely does the old idea persist
that most people, when they talk of abandoning
Greek and Latin as the basis of education, think
of " modern languages " as the only tenable alterna-
tive. As though you could get any more education
out of existing French or existing German than
out of the early speech of Greece and of Italy !

I am not prejudiced against the academic system.
I certainly am not opposed to it from sheer igno-
rance. To guard against misapprehension on this
score, I will even venture to add that I am an
Oxford graduate, a first-class-man in classics, and
that I was for several years of my life a classical
master in English public schools, and a Professor
of Classics in a colonial college. Therefore I
hope I do not speak with the mere jealousy of the
unlearned, who think slightingly of arts they have
not themselves acquired. But my own experience
has been that all that was valuable in my education
began after I had left the University. It \% from
things^ not from wordsy that one may learn most of

lo The European Tour

what is truly useful. If a professor wants to teach
young men natural history or anatomy, does he
make them read books? Not a bit of it. He
takes them out into the fields, and sets them to
collect and observe for themselves the various
plants and flowers in all their stages. He puts
them to watch the developing leaf, the opening
petals 9 to note how the stamens stand, and how
insects disperse the fertilising pollen. He gets them
to catch and examine bees and butterflies, to cut
them up so as to observe their internal structure
under the microscope, and to learn at first hand by
actual inspection how the creatures are built up, in
head and limb and organs and integuments. That is
the source of all real knowledge. Books may be
used concurrently, no doubt, as useful helps to accu-
rate observation ; but those books themselves are at
best but registers of previous careful and excep-
tionally fortunate observations. Their use is to
supplement^ not to supersede^ individual inspection.
Science is but the record of things seen and noted.
So too with chemistry and geology. We do not
set the beginner to read books, books, books. We
turn him into a laboratory^ with test-tubes and blow- j
pipes, to find out for himself the composition of |
substances ; or into the fields with a hammer, to |
determine for himself the structure of rocks, and I

{

i ;

The Use of Europe 1 1

to note their dip, their tilt, their weathering, their
sculpture. Books are useful in their place, of
course, to help him on his way; to direct his
attention to what others have observed ; and to
point out the most fruitful methods of personal
investigation. But at best they are guides to
knowledge^ not knowledge itself. They show you
where to look, that you may see and understand ;
they are finger-posts which point you the road to
the museum, not the actual museum and all its
contents.

Now, travel holds the same position with regard
to mankind, its history, its industry, its arts, its
organisation, as laboratory work holds to chemistry,
field work to geology, and dissection to biology.
If you want to know and understand the world of
men, you must go and see it. If you want to
know the origin of the art of building, the art of
painting, the art of sculpture, as you find them
to-day in contemporary America, you must look
them up in the churches and the galleries of early
Europe. If you want to know the origin of
American institutions, American law, American
thought, and American language, you must go to
England; you must go farther still to France,
Italy, Hellas, and the Orient. Our whole life is
bound up with Greece and Rome, with Egypt and

12 The European Tour

Ass}rria. In this connection, I would say, there
are certain lands which have n first claim upon the
American, and also on the modem western European
— the lands which lie in the direct Kne of ancestry
of our own civilisation. To see these is the first
duty we owe to our own culture. It we care at
all for our intellectual development, we ought at
least to make a strenuous efFort to visit them.
China and Japan do not belong to our world — do
not form links in the immediate genetic chain of
European and American civilisation. Algeria and
Russia, Norway and Denmark, hardly enter into it.
Even Spain is rather a backwater on the course (to
vary the metaphor) than an integral portion of the
main stream. But England, France^ Italy, Constan-
tinople, Greece, Assyria, Egypt — I name them in
inverse order, like one looking backward over the
history of development — do so belong to the direct
line of our culture : and some acquaintance at any
rate with all these lands, or at least with their
ancient arts and monuments, is of the highest value
as part of a truly liberal education.

Sight ^ill teach one much more about them all
than mere language. . Gibson the sculptor knew no
Greek ; but he was a far truer Hellenist than half
the graduates of Harvard or of Oxford. I have
met enthusiastic archaeologists who had merely

The Use of Europe 1 3

picked up what Latin they knew from deciphering
inscriptions, but who were nevertheless scholars to
put to shame most of our college-bred stcidents.
We can learn more of what Greeks really thought
and felt by a few visits to the sculpture at the
British Museum than by hours of poring over
^schylus and Aristophanes. Not that I under-
rate the value of the last, — for the few who really
possess the linguistic faculty. But as a rule, only
about five per cent of our college-bred lads ever
really learn and assimilate enough Greek to feel
they understand and enter into Hellenic thought ;
while a schoolgirl who speaks no tongue but
English can easily be made to read the meaning of
the ^ginetan marbles in the Pinakothek at Munich.
Or, to take another and still more unequivocal
example. No one has yet deciphered the ancient
Etruscan language. Nobody can do himself much
good by reading even so admirable a work as
Dennis's Cities and Cemeteries rf Etruria by his
own fireside, without objects at hand for reference
and identification. Such knowledge as that is
mere false knowledge, — like the knowledge of
chemistry or of botany obtained from books, and
as soon forgotten as read. But go to Volterra, and
stand among cyclopean Etruscan walls; go to
Assisi, and descend into the tombs of the Etruscan

14 The European Tour

Volumnii; go to Tarquinii, and roam through
painted Etruscan chambers of death — and you
must feel you have entered into the very soul of
Etruria. Then read Dennis, if you will, by the
side of the objects he describes and deciphers for
you ; and you will realise at once how vastly more
his words now mean to you. It is " the specimen
that teaches^^ as we say in biology j the book merely
interprets.

Well, in the sciences which deal with external
nature, such as chemistry, geology, zoology, phys-
ics, everybody in America is thoroughly aware of
the need for the direct method of observation and ex^
periment. But because America is a comparatively
new country, lying remote from the origins and
remains of early art, early architecture, early insti-
tutions, early history, the need and value of the
direct method of observation in the sciences which
deal with man and his products is not quite always
equally well recognised. And even when it is
recognised, the recognition is too often in a narrow
specialist sense ; the investigator goes to inspect a
particular object for a particular purpose. He
v/ants to discover. American scholars have done
great and splendid work in this way, as, for ex-
ample, in Greece. But what I plead for here is
more general recognition of the educational value of

...J

The Use of Europe 1 5

travel at large^ apart from research in the more
special sense of the word. I plead that, just as a
general acquaintance with literature is expected of
educated men, so should be a general acquaintance
with countries and their contents. I plead that
young men, instead of receiving their whole edu-
cation within a single country — the United States
— and that a country unequalled for the relative
uniformity and homogeneity of its system over a
vast area — should be sent regularly to travel for
at least six months in Europe (a year is better, and
two years still more excellent), so as to familiarise
them with the origins of their own world and their
own institutions, to give them the wholesome
mental shock of a complete reversal of many pre-
conceived opinions. If it is good for a young man
to read Shakespeare and Dante, Virgil and Sopho-
cles, it is better for him to have lived in the actual
world from which Shakespeare and Dante, Virgil
and Sophocles drew all their inspiration. Only
Florence can teach you fully to understand the
Divina Commedia ; only Athens can teach you fully
to understand the Jjax and the Electro.

It is to the young many therefore, and to the
young man's father, that I specially address my-
self in this chapter. I want him to consider
whether a year in Europe is not better spent than

1 6 The European Tour

a year (shall we say?) at Cornell or Princeton.
Let him do the one, by all means ; but let him not
kave the other undone. To have seen Europe is
a very great gain ; and, whatever comes, it cannot
be taken away from him. He may fail in busi-
ness, but he has the memoty of the Gnind Canal
and the Doges' Palace ; he may get encrusted in
clogging wealth and ovenfirhelmed with af&irs,
but he has beheld the great Van Eyck at Ghent,
and gazed in the face of the Sistine Madonna at
Dresden ; he may gain the whole world and lose
his own soul — his higher nature -^ on the Stock
Exchange, but he will be haunted still by Dona-;-
tello's St. George, and redeemed at times by the
floating form of Michael Angelo's David. Sq
once more I say it, " Young man, go to Europe ! "
As for the elder memkers of families y and also for
the women, I have no need to exhort them. Every
American hopes, of course, some day, to see the
world across the Atlantic. What I want to do
here is to point out the advisability of making the
trip while still young, if possible, as an element in^
education: it is the spiritual importance of the
European tour that especially appeals to me. Not
that I mean to advise its being done in any doctri^
naire fashion. Go about as lito amuse yourself ; yqii
will pick up by the way quite as much knowledge

The Use of Europe 1 7

as is easily assimilable. Grubbing and grinding
means overfeeding the brain. I once asked my
friend, Mr. Herbert Spencer, how it came about
that a man who had thought so much and so deeply
as he, should have no wrinkles on his forehead at
over seventy. ^^ Geoige Eliot asked me that,'' he
said with a smile ; ^^ and I answered at once, ^ I
suppose it is because I never worried over anything.
I let my thinking come of itself. Never in my
life did I sit down deliberately to get up a subject.
I read, observed, and thought, when I liked and
where I liked, and allowed my ideas to frame them-
selves naturally.* " The result is that Mr. Spencer
knows more at this moment than anybody else in
the whole world ; simply because all his knowledge
has come to him spontaneously and vividly. I may
further add that he does not know the letters of the
Greek alphabet — and, as far as I can judge, man-
ages to get on very well without them.

And now I have finished with the educational
value of the European tour, and will not again re-
cur to that serious subject. I 'm not going to bore
you. The rest of my hook will be more practical in
character, consisting of advice for persons of all
ages and both sexes on what I have found it best
worth while to see, and on how to set about seeing
it to the greatest advantage. I want to throw out

1 8 The European Tour

bints for a tour in Europe ; and I feel myself the
better able to perform this delicate task because I
have wasted a great deal of good time myself in
seeing the wrong things, or seeing the right ones
badly and in the worst order ; so, having learned
by my mbtakes the more excellent way, I am
prepared to impart my knowledge to others for a
moderate sum — the price, that is to say, of
this little volume.

CHAPTER II

WHAT PARTS OF EUROPE TO VISIT

THE use of Europe, then, we are agreed, is
that Americans should employ it as a means
of culture. Other incidental uses it may possess,
of course — for Europeans ; as a place to make a
living in, to love, to die for. But these are unes-
sential. Its true purpose in the scheme of nature
is clearly for you and me to enjoy ourselves in,
without prejudice to a little concomitant instruc-
tion. At least, I shall say so to my American
readers.

This point being taken for granted at the outset,
the question which next arises is somewhat more
serious, — what parts of Europe are best worth
visiting f

In the nature of things, it may be safely asserted,
England is the land which possesses the greatest
intrinsic claim upon the attention of Americans.
In the nature of things, only, I say ; for, as will
be seen hereafter, I do not mean to advise that any
large proportion of a moderate visit should be

20 The European Tour

devoted to England. The reasons in favour of
seeing England are indeed obvious. Englishmen
were the first great colonising body in the United
States ; and though I believe the amount and pro-
portion of the English blood in America is usually
overestimated (as against Irish, Scotch, Welsh,
Cornish, French, Dutch, German, and so forth), it
must at least be allowed that England has given
the Union its language, its laws, its political insti-
tutions, its prevailing feeling. Therefore the
American who visits Europe with some desire to
know and learn as well as merely to enjoy himself,
will naturally wish to see something of England.
In many cases he traces back his ancestry more
or less certainly to an English family. Even if he
comes of Dutch or French or German parentage,
the history of England is still part of the history
of the institutions under which he lives. The lit-
erature of England is the literature with which his
childhood has been most familiar. Stratford-on-
Avon and Salisbury are to him a sort of senti-
mental Mecca. More than Englishmen even he
often feels the glamour of England, for he has not
always been familiar with its antiquity and its
beauty, to which mere use and wont have fre-
quently dulled the senses of Englishmen. If you
have lived from childhood beside a Norman church

What Parts of Europe to Visit 2 1

of the twelfth century, you naturally accept Nor-
man churches with as little enquiry as the New
Englander accepts his own place of worship ; but
if you have never before beheld one, its antique
arches come upon you with a burst of surprise and
aesthetic gratification.

Literature and association, indeed, can thus gild
for us even the commonest and vulgarest objects.
I once crossed the Atlantic from New York with
an eager young Pennsylvanian, who came to Eu-
rope prepared to be interested in everything he
saw, including even the first glimpse of grimy
Liverpool. At Lime Street station we had a few
minutes to spare before taking the train to Lon-
don ; and we strolled into the Refreshment Room,
to consider whether it would be possible for us to
swallow any of the goods provided for our appetite,
I gazed at the uninviting wares on the counter
with a familiar sinking. " The only thing one
could venture to eat," I said at last, ^^ is a pork
pic." " Pork pie i ' ■ the young Pennsylvanian ex-
claimed with delight. ^^ Oh, do let me see them !
Why, one reads about them in Dickens ! "

Allowing, then, that many natural reasons exist
why the American who visits Europe should desire
to pass soms time in England^ I will go on to say
why I think that time should be fut down 2^$ a

22 The European Tour

rule to a much smaller proportion than has of late
been usual. To put it very briefly, the chief rea-
son why the American need not trouble himself
long about England is simply this — that he knows
it almost all already. The very facts I have men-
tioned above implicitly suggest this idea. Eng-
land to-day is so like America, America is so
largely derived from or based upon England, that
the visitor finds little which is fresh and interest-
ing to him, little that is unfamiliar, little that is
instructive. He is still, on the whole, at home —
in an older, a quainter, a more picturesque home,
with fewer modern conveniences and the occa-
sional outcrop of some delightful anachronism;
but still, taking it all round, at home, as the Ken-
tuckian considers himself at home in Ohio, or the
Bostonian considers himself at home in San Fran-
cisco. He has not got away from our common
Englishry.

Another reason is that England for the most
part is horribly modernised. Especially is this the
case with London, which most Americans take as
their sample of England." Now London is not
an old town at all as it stands — it is as modern,
indeed, as New York or Boston — much more
modern than Quebec or New Orleans. There
was once an old London, it is true, a picturesque

What Parts of Europe to Visit 23

mediaeval city ; but it was almost entirely destroyed
by the Great Fire in the reign of Charles 11. ; and
though a few earlier buildings still survive as by
miracle — such as St. Bartholomew's in Smithfield
— yet the town as a whole dates back at best but
to the eighteenth century, while most of it is
'frankly of the last two decades. I allow that the
neighbouring city of Westminster, now partially
united with London, retains some relics of the
fabric of its ancient abbey, stripped of its sculpture
and decorations at the Reformation, and scraped
and cleaned out of all recognition in the present
generation by the sacrilegious vagaries of so-called
" restorers." But, looking at it in the lump, Lon-
don is almost as brand-new as Chicago ; it contains
little or nothing of historical and antiquarian inter-
est, and of local origin, to delay the tourist. Its
collections of Greek sculpture, of Italian pictures,
and of Egyptian, Assyrian, or Babylonian antiqui-
ties, however, brought from elsewhere, stand on
quite a different plane ; I shall discuss the impor-
tance and interest of these in the special chapter
devoted to the things really worth seeing in
England.

On such grounds, then, and on many others
which will become more apparent in subsequent
chapters, I do not advise any long stay in England.

24 The European Tour

I recommend the tourist rather to get forward ai
fast as he can to Continental countries^ which possess
three greater claims upon his intelligent interest -^
let alone the fact that they are vastly more enter*
taining, for England is not an amusing countiy to
stop in. In the first place, the Continent is more
novel — contains more to surprise, to interest, and to
teach the traveller. In the second place, it is older ;
the ancient buildings, the historical aspect of things,
have not been so completely overlaid by mere mod-
ern industrialism, by hotels and warehouses, as in
all parts of Britain. In the third place, it tells you
more about the origin of things ; goes further into
the past ; has deeper developmental and evolution-
ary value. For these three reasons, and others, I
think it desirable to spend a relatively small time
in England, with a relatively long time in France,
Germany, the Low Countries, and, above all, Italy.
Moreover — and this is an important point tod
often overlooked — I think the tourist ought to
take England last^ not first, in his trip through
Europe. He should finish off with London, in-
stead of beginning there. And my reason for say-
ing so is this. By far the most interesting things
to see in London — almost the only interesting
things, indeed — are the collections it contains
of origin other than English. Now, the begin-

What Parts of Europe to Visit 25

flings of these things are best studied elsewhere — -
either in the lands whence they came or in Conti-
nental museums. London^ in a word, possesses
few native attractions, but extremely rich and valu-
able collections ; and these are scratch collections,
groups of objects mostly brought from elsewhere, 1
little haphazard, and only truly to be appraised and
appreciated after you have made some study of
greater collections elsewhere. An individual ex-
ample will enforce my meaning. The National
Gallery in Trafalgar Square contains in some re-
spects a fine collection of early Italian and Flemish
pictures. But you can only really understand
those pictures after you have travelled in Italy and
Flanders. The specimens in London are too few
in number, too isolated in type, to permit of real
comprehension or thorough enjoyment. After you
have seen Borgognone at the Certosa di Pavia, in-
deed, you can appreciate the beautiful Borgognone
of the Two St. Catherines in Trafalgar Square;
after you have seen Mantegna at Paris, Milan,
Florence, and Mantua, you can discover what he
is driving at on the walls in London. But in iso-
lation, — no ! Nobody ever understands Italian
art till he has travelled in Italy ; nobody ever en-
ters into Flemish art till he has viewed the Mem-
lings at Bruges, the Van Eycks at Ghent, the

26 The European Tour

Dierick Boutses at Brussels, and the Quentin
Matsyses at Antwerp.

I should advise therefore (and I will afterwards
explain more fully why), that the tourist should
spend not more than a fortnight or three weeks in
England at the beginning of his tour, and should
return to London for a similar period or somewhat
less before going back to America. And I shall
endeavor to point out to him briefly what objects
he ought to see on either visit, and why it is de-
sirable for him to see them in this order. He may
think at first he is being trotted about like a child ;
I would say in reply, ^^ No ; you are being shown
by one who has learnt through his own mistakes
what order is most likely to unfold Europe to you in
a comprehensible, enjoyable, enlightening fashion.''
I am telling you how to make the best use of your
time, not indeed in the common guide-book sense
of rushing you blindly through as many things as
possible in a given period, so that you may go home
and boast of having "done" them, but in the
deeper sense of taking you round on a definite plan^
so that at the end of your trip you may have ^«-
joyed yourself throroughly, and yet learned and
digested as much as was possible. If you will put
yourself in my hands, I will not treat you irration-
ally, but will tell you at each step why I think it

What Parts of Europe to Visit 27

best for you to see things in just this particuhur
succession.

I will also add here by anticipation that I would
advise the first visit to England (usually under-
taken in spring, when the country is at its best) to
be spent mainly in visiting the country townsj and
very little in seeing London ; while the capital it-
self, with its inunense collections, should be mainly
relegated to the final visit. In this way you will
begin by seeing England, not London ; and it is
England, rural England, the England of Shake-
speare and of the Pilgrim Fathers, the England of
cathedrals, castles, country towns, and great houses,
that is at once most unlike and most near America.
Most unlike, because it contains the England of
the past ; most near, because it is the England
from which America started. This beautiful Eng-
land of Oxford, Cambridge, Lincoln, Salisbury,
Exeter, Lichfield, this England of broad parks
and stately manor-houses, of ruined abbeys, slow-
flowing rivers, smooth-swarded farms, and ivy-
clad castles, is at its best in May and June, which
are also the most propitious moments for beginning
an extended tour in Europe. On the other hand,
the squalid modern industrialism of London may
be left till any time — it is most characteristically
squalid and gloomy in late autumn ; while its mag-

28 The European Tour

nificent though confusingly varied collections are
visited to best advantage after rather than before a
trip to the Continent.

Do I then recommend the now fashionable
route, from America to the Mediterranean, begin-
ning at Genoa f Emphatically, no ! That seems to
me the worst possible order in which an American
can first visit Europe. If he knows Italy already,
well and good ; but if this is his trial trip, he should
avoid Genoa. In the first place, he should be let
down gently ; instead of that, the route I indicate
plunges him at once into the midst of the dirt and
discomfort of the Mediterranean. In the second
place, he goes on as a rule from Genoa to Milan,
Venice, or Florence, and is at once bewildered by
the unfamiliarity of the new world of art into
whose midst he is pitchforked, and spoiled for ap«
preciation of northern art immediately afterward.
Paradoxical as it may sound to say so, the best
way to work at history teaching by examples is
to work backward. Hence the good old plan of
coming first to Liverpool or Southampton^ and then
trending south by England, France, Belgium,
Germany, Italy, is undoubtably the best one. In
this way you dig back through the relatively
familiar Renaissance and Gothic architecture of
England and France, and the relatively comprehen-

What Parts of Europe to Visit 29

sible painting and sculpture of the Low Countries
and the Rhine, to Venice and Florence, and
finally to ancient Rome, still more ancient Athens,
and very ancient Egypt, You proceed by degrees
from the known to the unknown ; you trace your
own familiar arts and crafts and buildings back-
ward, till you see them emeige at last from primi-
tive barbarism.

England first, then — a brief visit to England,
chiefly to the country, to be hereafter more par*
ticularised — and next to England, France^ more
especially Paris. At least four weeks should be
given to this tour — much more if possible. I do
not, however, advise that the tourist who designs to
spend only from six months to a year in Europe
should endeavour to see France as a whole. He
had better take Amiens, or Rouen, or both, on his
way from London to Paris — a single night at
either would just do, but two nights are better;
and then confine himself to the capital itself, with
its immediate neighbourhood. If he has plenty of
time, however, he might also undertake a short
tour on the Loire, visiting Orleans, Bio is, Tours,
and Angers, and returning to Paris via Le Mans
and Chartres. The only other places in France
which I think it worth his while to visit (unless he
is making a very extended stay in Europe), are

30 The European Tour

Rheims, Laon, and Dijon, any of which can be con-
veniently taken on the road to Switzerland. Full
information as to what to see in Paris, and how to
see it to the best advantage, is given in the little
work entitled Paris, in my series of Historical
Guides.

France should certainly come first after England.
But, second, I would place, without hesitation, the
cities of Belgium, Indeed, in intrinsic historic
importance, they rank even higher than Paris.
The traveller, however, should not go direct from
Paris to Brussels, which is a very bad order ; he
should take the four great towns in the due succession
of Bruges, Ghent, Brussels, Antwerp. Full infor-
mation about what to see in each of these towns
will be found in the volume of this series devoted to
The Cities of Belgium. It must be borne in mind
that the Low Countries were the first great trading
and manufacturing district in the Middle Ages ;
their civilisation is older and deeper than that of
England or France; and they rank second after
Italy in artistic importance. It is, of course, open
to the tourist to go straight from London to
Bruges, taking Paris later; but I recommend
rather the route sketched out above. It is less
direct, I admit, but it is far more instructive.

Belgium, again, is imYneasurably more important

What Parts of Europe to Visit 3 1

than Holland^ which latter country, indeed, hardly
calls for a visit on any ground save that of its often
rather tedious paintings. But it is so easily visited
after Belgium, and can be fairly well seen in so
very short a time, that it is a pity not to include it
in a comprehensive plan for visiting Europe.
Remember, the interest of Belgium is almost
entirely mediavali the interest of /]^0/^7»^/ belongs
mainly to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
Belgium is beautiful; Holland is at best merely
quaint and picturesque. Belgium has every form
of art in high perfection ; its architecture is sub-
lime ; its painting is faultless. Holland has little
architecture save of a bricky sort ; and its painting
belongs almost entirely to the late type of Rem-
brandt, which appeals to artists and connoisseurs,
but not to the general picture-lover. The little
collection of Memlings in the Hospital of St.
John at Bruges (one of the great sights of Europe)
deserves longer study, in my opinion, than the
whole of Holland put together. Therefore I
would say, if possible, devote three weeks or so to
the towns of Belgium, and see Holland in a few
days afterwards.

The order of the Dutch tour is prescribed for you
by nature. Go direct from Antwerp to the Hague
— Rotterdam need not detain you. Three days

32 The European Tour

should be ample for seeing the Hague, Delft, and
Scheveningen, all of which lie within a few miles
of one another. Then give a day each to Leyden
and Haarlem ; three days to Amsterdam ; and so
back to Brussels.

Next in order of evolution comes the beautiful
Rhine country — the part of Germany earliest civi-
lised under Charlemagne, and the highroad by
which the culture of the Latin south slowly wedged
Itself into the solid mass of Teutonic barbarism.
You are now getting gradually back to Romewards.
London is modern ; Paris is more ancient ; the Low
Countries represent pure mediaevalism ; on the
Rhine you first touch the connecting link of the
old Prankish Empire^ which carries on the Roman
civilisation into modern Europe. Here you must
Stop first at Aix-la-Chapelle, to see Charlemagne's
own church, in which he was buried, and whose
plan he took from the Roman buildings of the
decadence, in particular San Vitale at Ravenna.
Thence you will go on to Cologne; and from
Cologne, up the Rhine towards Switzerland and
Italy.

You may loiter as long as you like on the way,
of course, among the delightful Rhine towns, and
at Bale, Lucerne, Interlaken, and so forth ; but I
do not recommend you before going to Italy to

What Parts of Europe to Visit 3 3

turn aside from your path to visit Nuremberg and
Germany in general; certainly not to Berlin, Dres-
den, or Munich. The reason for this I will ex-
plain further on. It is taking things in a palpably
wrong order. Indeed, I believe it will be best to
push on for Milan straight from Cologne — not at
one burst, of course (for that were to miss the
scenery), but by gradual stages. Say, spend a day
or two on the Rhine — make it a week if you
like ; then, a night at Bale, a night at Lucerne \
take the steamer up the Lake ; and go rejoicing
over the Gotthard, the most beautiful railway jour-
ney in the world, past the Italian Lakes, to Milan.
And there — you are in Italy /^

Italy^ and what comes after Italy, we must con-
sider hereafter. It will suffice to say in this chap-
ter that Italy is the goal; and that, after Italy, you
will understand everything else by the light of what
you have learned in the ** cities of the soul " —
Venice, Rome, and Florence.

Briefly, then, I would say; given a year — -a
month of it in England; of which, a fortnight in
the country at the start, and another fortnight
in London at the finish. After that, a month in
Paris ; with a week later on, as you return from
Italy. Next, a month (more or less) in Bilgium
and Holland, A week or so in the Khineland. And

34 The European Tour

finally, Italy ! For Italy, a month or six weeks at
first in Florence ; then, a month in Venice ; after
that, as long as you can spare in Rome; with per-
haps a brief visit to Naples. Those seen, please
yourself. Let it be Sicily, Greece, and Egypt, if
you like; or let it be a return by Verona, Meran,
Innsbruck, and Munich, to the Nuremberg group,
Dresden, and Berlin. But Italy above all things —
Italy, Italy, Italy !

I have justified my book if I succeed in making
you feel that Italy is the key by which you may
unlock the secret of Europe.

CHAPTER III

THE HASTY VISITOR

•* T5UT not every one can afford so long a time
-*^ to see Europe in. I am a busy man; I
want to go right through, and pick out the kernel
of it all in six weeks. What advice have you to
give me ? "

My dear Sir, none. Frankly, I do not write
for such as you. You ought to make time in which
to afford yourself this valuable education. It is not
my fault if you persist in rejecting so great salva-
|f tion. Still, I will do my best for you, promising

that if^ by hook or crook, you can manage it, three
months is four times as good as six weeks, and
half a year four times as good as three months, —
arithmetic to the contrary notwithstanding.

Well, grant you can take only six weeks ; then,
use your time carefully to the best advantage.
Don't try to see much — which is throwing away
your money ; see a little^ and see it, not thoroughly
(for that is impossible within your limits), but to
the best advantage under such disadvantages. If

■

36 The European Tour

in six weeks you intend to see London, Paris,
Brussels, Switzerland, the Rhine, Germany, Milan,
Venice, Bologna, Florence, Rome, and Naples,
with perhaps a flying trip in your spare moments
to Athens or Algiers — my book is not for you.
I cannot help you. And indeed, you need no help,
save a railway time-table. You can dash on by
yourself, through thick and thin, like John Gilpin,
and go home with the proud consciousness of
having ^ done Europe." I write rather for that
growing mass of your countrymen and country-
women who wish to use their tour as a meam of
culture^ and desire rather to see something well than
to see everything hastily..

^ But is n't it better that I should get some
rough idea of what England, France, Germany,
Italy, and Switzerhnd are driving at, than that I
should go home having seen just am corntr rf
Eur(f€ f "^

My dear Sir, this is a matter of taste and of
your own wishes. If you would like to behold
with your bodily eyes the mere outside of many
towns, the visible life of many nations, that is
a natural and by no means unmeritorious desire,
with which I do not presume to interfere in any
way. I only mean to say, you need no guidance.
That sort of trip is plain and obvious. The capitals

The Hasty Visitor 37

and the great cities form its natural objectives ;
and when you reach them, you will not easily miss
the things you most require to see in them. Cathe-
drals and palaces do not require to be sought out
with a microscope. You can't go out in London
without discovering the Houses of Parliament,
Trafalgar Square, Westminster Abbey, the Thames
Embankment, St. Paul's, Regent Street, and the
Empire Theatre. You can't go out in Paris
without stumbling at once against the Louvre^
Notre-Dame, the Boulevards, the Rue de Rivoli,
the Opera House, the Champs-£lysees, the world,
the flesh, and the devil in general ; and you will
find no need for a formal introduction. At Flor-
ence you won't require to be told by an intelligent
bystander which is the Duomo ; at Venice you
will make straight by instinct for the Piazza of
St. Mark's ; at Rome you can readily discover
the Forum, the Colosseum, St. Peter's, and the
Vatican, by the light of nature, without an opera-
glass. Such surface-knowledge of Europe is no
doubt a great deal better than no knowledge at all
— it gives you at least a mental picture. But //
requires no guide-book. You go where you will, and
you see what pleases you.

Let us suppose, however, you are a traveller
whose time is really limited by necessity, and that

38' The European Tour

you wish to spend six weeks to good purpose in seeing
Europe. Then I say to you emphatically, don^t try
to see much ; be content with long journeys and
a reasonable time in the few places you select.
And I would divide your time thus : a day or so in
England \ a week in Paris ; then on by night train
to Bale, and cross the Gotthard by daylight to
Milan ; one day in Milan \ a week in Venice ; and
all the rest of your available holiday in Florence.
Don't on any account try to see Rome and Naples.
Be content with having gained a first impression of
the pick of Europe,

I said, too, a day or so in England. Those few
days, if you are wise, you will devote to the coun-
try — about which, more hereafter. But if you
must see London, give it two days, and spend them
on the mere exterior of the town — the walk along
the Embankment, the outside of the Parliament
Houses, a glimpse of Hyde Park, an omnibus trip
into the City. You can also visit Westminster
Abbey, without and within; but I do not recom-
mend a mere perfunctory walk through the vast
labyrinthine halls of the British Museum, the South
Kensington Collections, or the National Gallery.
Those can only be seen to any advantage if you
have a much more extended time at your disposal.
Far better confine your artistic studies to the

The Hasty Visitor 39

Louvre at Paris, the Brera in Milan, and the
great collections i;i Venice and Florence, where
you can learn more each day than in a week in
London. Waste no time on second-rate things
when you can employ it usefully on those of the
very first order.

In one word, what I advise for the hasty (but
not the hurried) traveller is this. Do not spend
your six weeks thus: z day in Liverpool; three
days in London ; a night at Amiens ; three days
in Paris ; a day in Brussels ; a day in Antwerp ; a
day in Cologne ; two days on the Rhine ; a day in
Lucerne ; three days in seeing the Bernese Ober-
land ; a day at Milan ; a day in Verona ; two days
in Venice ; a day in Bologna — and so on till you
are sick of it. Concentrate your energies on one
or two places^ and learn what they are driving at.
You will get lasting good in this way out of even
a poor six weeks ; and if you can ever manage to
come again, you will begin where you left off, with
redoubled interest.

CHAPTER IV

ENGLAND : THE COUNTRY

TT will be seen from what I have said that I
-^ regard England as in some respects the least
important of European countries for Americans to
visit. Reasonably, I think. It is too much like
home; has too little of novelty. Nevertheless, a
few weeks in England are valuable in their way,
as giving some insight into the older world from
which that of America is most largely derived,
and as introducing the visitor to sites and places
already familiar to him by name and historical
association.

I cannot, however, too often repeat that in
England it is the country^ not the towns (save
the smallest), that deserve close attention. The
American, coming from a land where the great
towns are everything, and the country for the most
part a mere agricultural reservoir, naturally thinks
that he will find the best things in Europe in the
great cities. "We have country enough, and
beautiful country, at home," my American friends

England: The Country 41

often say to me ; ^^ but we have not the works of
art the great cities can show us." That is true for
Europe generally ; it is not quite so true for Eng-
land in particular. I do not indeed advise the
visitor to spend much, if any, of his time in ex-
ploring Switzerland, the Tyrol, the Scotch High-
lands, the Welsh hills; still less in tramping
through the Hartz, the Black Forest, the Ardennes,
the Carpathians. They will show him little he
could not find in Maine or Massachusetts. If he
goes to Italy, he should see Florence and Venice,
not the Apennines and the Abruzzi } he may visit
Perugia, Siena, Orvieto, Cortona, perched ^Mike
eagle's nests " on their upland crags, but need not
trouble to waste his valuable time over mere hills
and valleys. The portion of the Italian country
that falls inevitably under his eye on the outskirts
of the great towns or during the journeys between
them will amply suffice to afford him a fair mental
picture of the vineyards, orchards, and gardens of
Italy. But in England it is far otherwise. The
towns are uninteresting, modern, and industrial ; it
is the country that is antique, distinctive, and
beautiful.

And when I say the country, I do not mean to
use the word in the purely rustic sense, as applied
to the agricultural land, but in that wider accep-

42 The European Tour

tation, familiar to Englishmen, which calls every-
thing ^^ the country '' that is not London, London
itself is dull, gloomy, foggy, unpoetical. (I shall
have more to say hereafter in partial modification
of this sweeping disparagement.) As to the very
large trading and manufacturing towns — the towns
whose names are best known to Americans — they
are almost all quite destitute of aesthetic or histori-
cal attractions for the tourist. There is nothing,
outside business, to detain any stranger in Liver-
pool, Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, Sheffield,
Newcastle, Leicester, or Nottingham ; still less in
the naval and military towns, like Chatham and
Portsmouth, or in such grisly seaports as South-
ampton, Hull, and Cardiff. What is really most
beautiful and noteworthy in England is to be found
in the smaller historical townsj like Chester and
Warwick, Stratford-on-Avon and Winchester, and
more particularly in the cathedral cities, foremost
among which I would certainly place Salisbury,
Lincoln, Peterborough, Ely, York, and Canterbury.
Furthermore, it is not only these smaller towns
themselves, but the fields and farms and parks and
houses around them that are typically English.
Other countries in Europe can easily surpass Eng-
land in every other respect; France has nobler
churches \ the Rhineland grander and more roman-

England: The Country 43

tic castles; the cities of Flanders have quainter
streets and more exquisite town-halls ; Italy has
painting and sculpture and architecture and minor
arts in infinitely greater profusion. But what
England has of distinctive and unapproachable is
beyond cavil its country ; its close-cropped lawns,
its immemorial rook-haunted elms, its hedges of
hawthorn, its garden-like meadows, its village
steeples embowered in trees, its Elizabethan manor-
houses, its sweet air of ancient peace, its clinging
mantle of ivy. The very dampness of the climate
adds a picturesqueness of greenery to its mediaeval
ruins; the wealth of its landed families has pre-
served for its fields a charming interspersal of
august timber and a paternal care for rustic beauty
hardly dreamt of elsewhere.

I would say, then, to the American traveller,
make your first acquaintance with Europe in the
country in England.

If you land at Liverpoaly two places lie easily on
your way to London, which the common consent
of Americans has justly picked out as well worthy
of your attention. The first is Chester^ reached
by rail in about forty minutes from Liverpool.
This is such a charming town that if you take my
advice you will go on there direct, without stop-
ping at all in Liverpool itself, so as to spend your

44 The European Tour

first night in England at Chester. (You may take
it for granted that at all places I mention there are
first-class hotels, unless I say to the contrary.)
Chester is still more or less surrounded by its an-
cient walls, and is remarkable for its numerous
old half-timbered houses, built in a style peculiar
to the place, and affording room for what are called
" The Rows " — an institution quite unknown
elsewhere. In the principal streets, the ground
floor of the houses is occupied by shops ; but the
first floor (or second story) is entirely removed, so
as to form an arcade, along which the foot-passen-
ger walks, as in a covered gallery. As Chester
has also a cathedral (though a small and unimpor-
tant one), it is a capital place in which to form a
first impression of England.

The second point on the way to London from
Liverpool is the group of towns about fVarwick
and Leamington. The hotel accommodation is bet-
ter at the last-mentioned \ and as the two towns lie
quite close to one another (almost touching on
their outskirts), it does not much matter which of
the two you choose as your stopping-place. They
are about three hours by rail from Liverpool, and
may also be easily reached from Chester. The
Great Western route runs through prettier and
more characteristic scenery than the London and

England: The Country 45

North Western. A couple of nights are quite
enough for Chester ; but three or four days will
not suffice to exhaust the interest and beauty of
the Warwick neighbourhood.

In the first place, there is Warwick town itself,
with its quaint old streets and its antique air \ and
then, there is Warwick Castle^ one of the noblest
mediaeval fortresses in England, almost unique
among buildings of its size and age in being still
inhabited. The great pile itself and the river at
the base form one of the most beautiful little
pictures in England ; within, the combination of
smooth English sward and modern occupation (it
is the home of Lord Warwick) with the frowning
fierceness of the Plantagenet architecture is curi-
ously attractive. The town itself is rich in early
domestic architecture, and has two of its ancient
gates, with oratories above their archways ; while
the superb Beauchamp Chapel in St. Mary's
Church is a magnificent monument of late Gothic
art. But to my mind the most charming thing
near Warwick is the footpath across the fields from
Leamington, — a true English footpath, leading
through lush meadows near the river-side, and
bringing you suddenly in sight of Guy*s Cliff House^
an Elizabethan mansion in a most romantic situa-
tion, high perched on a crag, and looking down

46 The European Tour

into a pool beside an ancient mill-stream. The
whole combination is delicious. I once took two
American girls for a walk across that path, after a
European tour of some duration, the day before
they were to sail for America; and as they
reached Guy's ClifF they turned to my wife and
exclaimed, "Why, up till now we have never
seen England ! " Better see it first than last, with-
out wasting so much time on it.

From Leamington as a centre, many other most
interesting spots may be visited. It is a short
drive to the ruins of Kenilworth Castle^ which
shows such a building in its ruined condition as
Warwick shows it still repaired and inhabited.
Then Coventry is not far, with its glorious churches,
better reached by the charming shady road than
by rail ; and Stratford-on^Avon is a short day's ex-
cursion — Stratford-on-Avon, with its sweet spire
and its old-world air, only spoiled for the tourist
by the perpetual intrusion of that ineffable bore,
William Shakespeare. By which I mean only
that Stratford, which is well worth visiting on its
own account, is too obtrusively pervaded by cheap
memorials of its one great citizen. If you go by
road, instead of taking the train, you pass Charlcote
Lucy^ where fallow deer still graze, and get a
further good picture of this true rural England.

England: The Country 47

You will understand, of course, that I am here
engaged merely in giving hints, and that you will
need on the spot a local guide-book. I may per-
haps undertake one in time for this English tour ;
meanwhile, Murray* s Guides may be confidently
recommended.

Tourists from Liverpool who have stopped
either at Leamington or Chester can break their
journey Londonwards once more at Oxford. And
indeed, whatever route you adopt, from whatever
port of entry, you must sooner or later turn up in
the University city. Oxford is the one thing in
England which no American who values his soul
should leave unseen on whatever consideration*
It is unique in the world, like Venice. London
you may see or not, as you please ; but you must
see Oxford. You cannot forego it. Indeed, I
have spent my life in inducing Americans to go
to Oxford ; and I never knew one who did not
thank me for sending him there.

To Oxford you must go, then, sooner or later.
Its magnificent group of colleges and of university
buildings is unequalled in the world ; their beauty
is as remarkable as their historical interest. If
you can afford the time, three or four days should
be devoted to Oxford; Murray's Guide will tell
you well what to see ; but there is also an admir-

48 The European Tour

able little handbook by Mr. Goldwin Smith, less
formal and more informing. The most important
sights are Magdalen, Christ Church, New College,
and Oriel ; but filial affection compels me to add
that my own college, Merton, has a beautiful
chapel and a very ancient library ; while St. John's,
Jesus, and Wadham also possess some charming
features. You should not omit to take a turn
round Christ Church Meadows nor to row down
the river for the sight of the boats, with their
many-hued occupants, and the bai^ges by the side,
ranged in rows as club-houses along the bank of
the Isis. This curious picture of English aristo-
cratic youth has no parallel elsewhere (except at
Cambridge). If possible, you should visit it dur-
ing the summer term — that is to say in May or
June. Before July the colleges have "gone
down,'' and you will see but the empty shell of
the great university.

No visitor to Oxford should forget to row down
to Iffley, in order to land and see Iffley church — a
little Norman gem, forming, with its churchyard,
old yew, and river, an indelible impression.

Those who can spare the time should certainly
go from Oxford to London by row-boat, at least
as far as Maidenhead, whence rail in an hour.
The Thames affords a delicious picture of the

England: The Country 49

ancient river-valley civilisation of England ; it was
long the main highway of trade and pleasure, and
its banks were fringed by a constant succession of
abbeys, convents, and castles, now mostly dis-
mantled, ruined, or modernised. Still, the views
are characteristically English ^ the country is itself
an artificial product, with its hedges and copses;
and here and there the visitor comes upon such
remains of mediaevalism as the gateway of Abing-
don Abbey, the beautiful monastery church at
Dorchester, the Abbey ruins at Reading, the ivy-
covered remains of Medmenham Priory, the stately
tower of Bisham Abbey, converted into a modern
mansion, with its adjoining dower-house, and many
other bits of charming English architecture. Be-
sides, the banks are everywhere lined with lawns
and mansions of the seventeenth or eighteenth
century, affording typical glimpses of the aristo-
cratic rural life of England. It must be borne in
mind that while in America wealth congregates in
great towns, in England the rich have only an
unimportant street house in London, but live in
the country, spending much time and thought on
the beautification of their estates ; so that whoever
wishes really to understand England must go
where the English people have produced their
chief and most successful work of art — the

50 The European Tour

EngUsh country* Boats can be hired from Salter
at Oxford. •

If you have not time for this entire trip, then I
strongly recommend you to run down from Lon-
don for the day to Maidenhead — it is an hour's
journey, and the best day to see the rivgr Ufe in
full swing b Sunday. Take a ticket to Taplow
station} then walk to Maidenhead Bridge, where
hire a boat and row up stream at least as far as
Cookham; if possible, as Marlow. In this way
you will catch a sight of the estate of Cliveden,
lately bought from the Duke of Westminster by
Mr, W. W. Astor, as well as of the highly charac-
teristic village of Cookham i if you continue to
Marlow, you can also take in Bisham Abbey, with
the surrounding btiildings, which strike a keynote
in English scen^.

So much for the route tna LiverpooL If you
land at Southamft^u^ the most accessible objects of
the first importance on your route are WtncbeiUr
and Salisbury. Both are well worth visiting.

Winchester lies on the direct route to London,
and has a cathedral, not quite of the first rank, but
exceedingly interesting. It has also one of the
great English public schools, of mediaeval date -^
a ^^ public school'' in England meaning one for the
upper classes, not a ^^ common school," which is

England: The Country 51

known as a Board Scho(d. The mediaeval charity
of St* Cross is likewise well worth a visit ; and the
town as a whole is an admirable specimen of the
sleepy ancient cathedral cities of England. One
night will suffice to see hastily all there is to see i
and when I say one night, I always mean to imply
that portions of the day before and after it must be
devoted to sight-seeing. Murray's Guide contains
a good account of this fine oM town, which under
the later Saxon kings was for a couple of centuries
or more the capkal of England.

SaUsbury lies a little on one side of the direct
route to London, but may be reached in an hour ;
the way thence is by a main line, with frequent
fast trains; indeed, yoit will find eveiywhere in
England many trains a day at all convenient hours.
Salisbury is a town of the first imp<»:tance, from
the point of view of the tourist. Its exquisite
cathedral^ standing alone in its smooth green close^
forms the most perfect example of the English
ideal in this direction. Its architecture, though
much marred by modern scraping and tinkering,
(like almost ever)rthing else in England), is still
lovely and impressive; its tone of feeling is un-
surpassed anywhere. Besides the cathedral, the
town itself is quaint and old-fashioned ; the domes-
tic architecture is interesting ; and some of the old

52 The European Tour

gates which shut off the Cathedral Close from the
rest of the city are still standing. Then Stonehenge^
the most gigantic prehistoric monument in the
world, lies within ' reach of an easy drive ; and if
you can afford two or three days here, you can
spend them pleasantly at Wilton, Amesbury, and
other towns of the neighbourhood. Only by thus
devoting some time to the country towns can you
hope to enter into the inner heart of England,

Those who land at Southampton, as well as
those who land at Liverpool, must not neglect
Oxfordy the one inevitable sight in England. It
can be. reached from London direct in an hour and
a half; the railway runs in part along the Thames,
and affords glimpses at times of Windsor Castle.
Third-^lass carriages on English railways arc cheap
and comfortable : anybody can travel by them.

For those who are not satisfied with these hasty
glimpses of English life, I will mention in addition
a few other places well worth a visit. And first,
near London itself. Canterbury cathedral is one of
the finest and certainly the most historical of our
old churches ; it is the site of the earliest English
bishopric, and it still retains many pious memorials
of the murdered archbishop, Thomas a Becket.
It may be hastily seen in one day from London,
returning the same night; but I recommend

England: The Country 53

rather a night at Canterbury. Rochester^ which you
pass on your way, has a tolerable cathedral and a
Norman castle ; they form a picturesque group as
seen from the railway, but I do not recommend a
visit ; their beauty has been choked by the engulfing
squalor of the modern military town of Chatham.
As a rule, each diocese in England answers to an
old English kingdom, or to one of its divisions;
Kent, the kingdom of Athelwulf, the first Christian
convert, has two cathedrals, — Canterbury for the
East Kentings, who were mainly Teutonic, and
Rochester for the West Kentings, of mixed
Teutonic and Celtic ancestry. I merely mention
this fact in passing, as one of the little historical
points which often cast so vivid a sidelight upon
European arrangements. Cambridge can also
be visited with ease from London. As a whole,
it is far less beautiful and picturesque than Oxford ;
but it has one building. King's College Chapel,
more perfect in its way than any one building
at the sister university; and one coup d*ceil^
the view from *' The Backs," which cannot be
equalled as a town prospect anywhere in Britain.
If you visit Cambridge, you must sleep there at
least a couple of nights; and then you can run
over to Ely — a few minutes by rail — and sec
one of the noblest of English cathedrals, with

54 The European Tour

an interior nowhere surpassed for richness and
magnificence.

Scotland is not a part of England ; and to include
it under the same heading is to bring down upon
one's devoted head the lasting wrath of four millions
of Scotsmen. Still, from the practical point of
view of the American tourist, the two parts of
Great Britain may &irly be run into one; and I
will therefore venture to add here (at the risk of my
life) a few hints on travel in the northern region.
Those visitors who land at Liverpool or who sail
for Glasgow direct may find it desirable to go at
once to Scotland. If so, they should first make
straight for Edinburgh. The capital of Scotland is
not unique in the world, like Oxford and Venice ;
but it is unique in Britain. It is the one old city on
the island which possesses both natural and artificial
beauty. The Castle, St. Giles's, Holyrood Palace,
Holyrood Abbey, the steep streets of the Old Town,
the picturesque front of Princes Street, all combine
to give it a rare union of advantages. And while
you are in Edinburgh you should not omit a visit
to Rossfyn Chapely perhaps the most remarkable and
satisfying piece of architecture in all Scotland.

Most visitors, however, will doubtless proceed
to Scotland from London. For these, it is possible
to break the journey at three points at least of

England: The Country 55

singular interest. All three lie on the Great
Northern Railway, Peterborough is only an hour
from " town " — *' town " meaning to all English-
men London ; it has a magnificent cathedral, which
however will be spoilt for the tourist for some
years to come by the scaffolding of the destroyers
commonly described as " restorers." Tork is the
most convenient point at which to break the
journey ; and York Minster ranks high in beauty
among English cathedrals. The town itself, too,
the capital of Roman Britain, still retains most of
its mediaeval walls and gates; while its ancient
streets are full of delightful and quaint old houses.
It is well worth seeing. But if you mean to stop at
only one place on the way to Edinburgh, by all means
let that place be Durham. Here alone in England
do you get the great cathedral and the prince-
bishop's castle perched side by side on a defensible
rock, as in the Rhine country and Switzerland;
the ecclesiastical chief was also a temporal ruler,
and his army repelled the attacks of the raiding
Scotsmen. The position of the vast cathedral
on a lofty crag overlooking the river is extremely
picturesque; the solid Norman grandeur and
gloominess of its interior live with one ever
after. The Galilee or western porch is perhaps
the loveliest bit of detail in England. A small

56 The European Tour

university now occupies the buildings of the
bishop's castle. As a whole, I know of no town
better adapted to put the visitor back at one glance
into the England of the early Middle Ages.

Do not stop anywhere else between London and
Edinburgh ; but read up the route, which is strik-
ing in parts, in any good guide-book. The Great
Northern line in my judgment is far superior for
the tourist to the Midland or the London and
North Western.

In Scotland^ I do not recommend the passing
traveller to do more than attempt one of two main
routes. The first, a short one, gives him a glimpse
of the Highlands, and is known as the Trossachs
route. It can be fairly done in one long day from
Edinburgh. Go by rail to Callender or Aberfoyle
(I recommend the former); thence take coach to
the Trossachs ; from that point go by steamer on
Loch Katrine to Stronachlachar ; coach to Invers-
naid ; steamer on Loch LoTuond to Tarbet ; rail to
Glasgow or Edinburgh. I advise rather sleeping
at Glasgow (St. Enoch's Hotel, very well man-
aged). This tour may, if preferred, be made in
the opposite direction ; or if you like, you can start
from Glasgow and return to Edinburgh. The trains,
boats, and coaches correspond in both directions.
The trip thus described consists almost entirely of

England: The Country 57

mere scenery; but it is characteristic, and gives
glimpses of a few old castles and of some very
marked sides of Scotch life and country.

The other trip is longer, and requires three or
four days at least to accomplish. It is generally
known as the Caledonian Canal route. This ex-
cursion is best done as follows. Start from Glas-
gow, where you have slept on your return from
the Trossachs excursion ; the steamboat leaves
unpleasantly early ; you can dodge it by taking the
first train to Greenock, and embarking there,
which saves you the comparatively dull run down
the Clyde from Glasgow. Thence through the
Kyles of Bute (pretty enough in their way, but
might be in America or anywhere else) and on to
the Crinan Canal \ whence, still by steamer, to
Oban^ the capital of the West Highlands through
sea lochs, pretty well guarded by islands. This
day's journey gives you a good glimpse of the
characteristic misty West Coast scenery ; it is apt
to be showery. Sleep at Oban, which, in fine
weather, is one of the loveliest spots in Britain.
If fair next day — but that is a doubtful if — you
may drive to see the few castles of the neighbour-
hood, mere ruinous shells, but most picturesquely
situated (Black's Guide will tell you all you want to
know about them). Oban may also be reached by

58 The European Tour

rail from Glasgow or Edinburgh, not quite so pleas-
antly, but by a beautiful route ; those who dislike
the sea may diverge from the itinerary given above
at Crinan, and take coach to Loch Awe^ an inland
lake, up which steam, and rail on to Oban. But
the sea lochs and islands of the alternative road
are more thoroughly characteristic of Scottish
scenery.

From Oban, steamer to Fort William or Ban-
avie, where sleep. Do not trouble to ascend Ben
Nevis. No mountain in the British Isles deserves
an ascent, except at the feet of leisurely travellers.
From Fort William, steamers will take you up
the Caledonian Canal — in reality, a chain of
mountain lakes occupying the centre of a great
glen, and connected by canals — to Inverness^
where sleep. This Caledonian Canal leads you
through the wildest scenery in Britain ; but it is
not characteristic of anything save the fierce High-
land condition of the seventeenth century ; a few
castles alone break the monotony of its beautiful
weirdness. On the whole, I do not consider the
trip here described a very instructive one j it is
more like what one may see on Lake George and
Lake Champlain, or in the Adirondack district,
than distinctively British. Return to Edinburgh
by the Highland Railway — a fine line, running

England: The Country 59

through the heart of the grouse-moors — and sleep,
if you choose, at Fisher's Hotel at Pitlochry^ whence
you can explore the Pass of Killiecrankie, the
Falls of Tummel, and many other spots of some
scenic interest.

As a whole, you will see, I advise the six-monthly
visitor, if he attacks Scotland at all, to see only
Edinburgh and the Trossachs. But England is
really much more novel and interesting; it is the
land of old civilisation in Britain ; its cathedrals,
castles, and monasteries are on a larger scale, and
have finer architecture.

Briefly, my advice comes to this : spend most of
whatever time you devote to Britain in exploring
Southern England ; but if you take in Scotland
as well, see Durham on the way, with York if you
like; and in Scotland, confine yourself to Edin-
burgh and the Trossachs.

One word incidentally about the attractions of
these last. It is on a point of principle. Some
people go to see the Trossachs because they are
" the Land of Scott j* and more particularly of *'The
Lady of the Lake." In my opinion, it is a great
mistake for the tourist to fritter away time on " the
Land of Scott," " the Land of Burns," " Char-
lotte Bronte's country," and other such purely sen-
timental associations. These do not in reality

6o The European Tour

teach you anything. The characteristic objects
of a country — its churches, its halls, its painting,
its sculpture, its historical sites and buildings —
those have really lasting value and importance;
mere sentimental associations do no good to any-
body. They correspond to the blade of grass
plucked from Wordsworth's grave, which might to
all appearance have been plucked from any meadow
anywhere. If a scoffer surreptitiously substitutes
for it a blade of grass from Greenwood Cemetery or
Boston Common, the owner himself would never
know the difference. But there is a real distinction
between Fountains Abbey or Hereford Cathedral or
St. Mark's at Venice, and Trinity Church, New
York; they show you something the exact ana-
logue of which you cannot possibly see elsewhere.
Let me illustrate this misconception of the true
use of travel by the plan pursued by two amiable
young London clerks whom I once met on their
way to Italy. They told me their proposed route,
which seemed to me very ill-selected. I enquired
why they had chosen so odd an itinerary. They
answered that they were going to visit ** all the
towns in Italy mentioned by Shakespeare." Now,
Shakespeare was an Elizabethan Englishman, who
probably never travelled in Italy at all. In any
case, he has no part in its history, its architecture,

England: The Country 6i

its sculpture, its painting. The real object of go-
ing to Italy should be to see the glorious native
works at Florence, Rome, and Venice, The mere
fanciful association of Shakespeare's plays with
Italian towns is fallacious and misleading. So at
Verona many misguided tourists go to deposit their
visiting-cards in a Roman sarcophagus, falsely de-
scribed as the tomb of Juliet — Juliet's very exist-
ence being highly problematical. Now, that is
clearly the wrong way of seeing things 3 the very
people who weep over the sham tomb where Juliet
never lay — the stone coffin, in all probability, of
some sleek provincial Roman magistrate — most
often omit seeing the church of San Zeno, a mile
from the town, which is one of the most fascinat-
ing examples of Romanesque architecture, and has
a Madonna on its altar which may fairly be de-
scribed as Mantegna's masterpiece. They miss
the substance in grasping at the shadow.

To return from this digression — which never-
theless goes to the very root of the theory of sight-
seeing — if you wish to learn more of England
outside London^ and have the time to spare for it, I
should add the following hints as to the best points
to visit : —

Lincoln is the most interesting, taken all round,
among English cathedrals. It can easily be com-

62 The European Tour

bined in a single short tour with Peterborough, Ely,
York, and Durham. It stands up on its isolated
hill, a church high-placed, dominating with its
towers a wide and fertile plain, and has some fea-
tures which cannot be seen to equal perfection
anywhere else in England. Lichfield is also well
worth seeing, and can be taken, if you choose, on
the way from Liverpool to Leamington or Lon-
don. Of the other cathedrals, Norwich and fVelk
are the best. It is sometimes useful to be told
what you may omit: I add, therefore, that I do
not think anybody need go out of his way to see
Chichester, Gloucester, Worcester, Bristol, Here-
ford, Carlisle, or Ripon. Truro is modern. But
if you light upon them by chance, all are worth
seeing

The English watering-^places are in some ways
characteristic. Those who spend some part of
the summer in England may wish to see them.
Brighton is merely a suburb of London — a perfect
London-on-Sea ; it has no picturesque interest.
It is conveniently reached by rail ; the journey
hardly exceeds an hour. Hastings is much more
in the tourist's way ; it has a fine old castle, and a
quaint fisher quarter ; Battle Abbey is within easy
distance. Eastbourne has access to two good cas-
tles. Of the East Coast watering-places, avoid

England: The Country 63

Ramsgate, Margate, and Yarmouth ; they are the
English Coney Island. Cromer is picturesque, and
has a fine old church. Scarborough^ in Yorkshire,
rather remote from London, is fashionable and
pretty, with a ruined castle. fVhitby is the most
pleasant and picturesque of all, well situated among
the dells of the Yorkshire moors, with a ruined
abbey, and a funny old fisher-town cbmbering
steeply up the cliff towards the church and mon-
astery. Prices at all these are very high in the
season. Lyme Regis in Dorset is a good specimen
of the old-farshioned sleepy seaside town, almost
unaltered since the days of Miss Austen's novels.

Of inland watering-places^ Buxton and Matlock,
both in Derbyshire^ are pretty, and afford access
to the beautiful though quietly hilly scenery of
the Peak. They arc good centres for exploring
the country about Chatsworth and Haddon Hall.
The former, the seat of the wealthy Duke of
Devonshire, is a t)rpical example of the stately
homes of the English peerage. Malvern, Bath,
Cheltenham, and Ilkley have also points in their
favour.

Those who wish to see rural England a little
more fully may take an extended tour either in Dev-
onshire or Yorkshire. I do not say that either is
exciting ; but they are calmly beautiful and full of the

64 The European Tour

restful English feeling ; they will certainly tell you
far more about England and the English people than
a month or six weeks wasted in foggy and stifling
London. For a Yorkshire tour I recommend the
following route : York (two nights) with its Min-
ster, town walls, gates, St. Mary's Abbey, etc. ;
then Bolton Abbey, where there is a nice little inn
for one night's stay ; Harrogate, a fashionable in-
land watering-place; Ripon for Ripon Minster,
Fountains Abbey, and Studley Royal ; by rail to
Masham, and thence by carriage or on foot towards
Richmond^ passing on the way Jervaulx Abbey,
Middleham Castle, and Leyburn ; thence the road
winds across wild moors to Richmond itself, with
its finely placed castle ; so on to Whitby ; next, to
Scarborough ; and if you like, finish off your trip
with Beverley Minster. This is one of the richest
architectural and antiquarian tours in England,
affording you also good glimpses of the dales and
rivers as well as of the heather-clad moors of
Yorkshire, which are at their purplest and best in
August or early September.

The Devonshire tour is less varied and interest-
ing, but not perhaps less charming. It exhibits
the quiet and peaceful characteristics of rural Eng-
land in their utmost development. It is capital for
the pedestrian. A good skeleton tour would be.

England: The Country 65

Exeter (cathedral and castle) ; Teignmouth ; Tor-
quay ; Dartmouth ; Totnes ; Ivybridge j Plymouth ;
Tavistock ; Okehampton ; Torrington ; Bideford :
Barnstaple; Ilfracombe; Lynton and Lynmouth;
Minehead ; London. This takes you simply
through old towns and villages, with smooth turf, red
cliffs, ancient churches, moss-grown &rmhouses,
but lacks distinct antiquarian interest save at a few
points, for details of which I must refer you to
Murray's Devonshire.

Finally, my last word is this : if you see England
at all, see mainly the country. That is the sweetest
and best in England. The towns, at least the
large ones, are, as Cobbett said, ^^ wens/' The
eountry is the most smiling and garden-like in
Europe^ If it were mere fields, I would not
recommend you to see it. But it is an artificial
product, the one really admirable artistic outcome
of the British idiosyncrasy. To go to England
and omit seeing the country is like going to Italy
and omitting to see the pictures and the churches*

CHAPTER V

LONDON

TO my mind, most Americans spend alto-
gether too long a time in London. I believe
they usually regret it afterwards. That is not un-
natural, either way* As a rule, visitors come first
in their tour to London, and are anxious to see
the sites and buildings with which their historical
reading has made them familiar. Everything con-
spires to make them stop there* They speak the
language ; they understand the ways ; they settle
down in a comfortable (though ruinously expen-
sive) hotel or lodging-house ; and they are loath to
move till they have exhausted' the fresh interest
of the teeming city of Five Million inhabitants.
Afterwards they go on to France, Belgium, or Italy,
and are sorry they did not assign to these vastly
more interesting and amusing countries the margin
of holiday which they wasted on the attractions of
that gloomy siren.

To those who want to make the most of their
time, however, I would say, on the contraiy, hurry

London 67

away from London as fast as possible, and go on to
the Continent. If after you have seen Paris, Bruges,
Cologne, Florence, Venice, Rome, Munich, and
Dresden, you still feel you want to spend more time
in the smoky metropolis of the world's business, go
back there by all means ; in any case go back for a
week or a fortnight : but give the pick of Europe a
chance at any rate, before you fling away your
time with reckless extravagance on what is least
important.

Of course I am writing from the point of view
of the tourist. There are those who desire to see a
London season. I have never seen one ; therefore I
can tell you nothing about it. There are those
who desire to hob-a-nob with dukes. I never set
eyes on a duke in my life, and somehow I do not
hanker after the joy of beholding one. There are
those who wish to marry their daughters to Eng-
lish peers. If they are content with such usually
undesirable sons-in-law, — if they think a title will
console a woman for probable neglect and possible
cruelty, — they may go their own way ; I cannot
aid them in getting introductions to a society which
I have never had the curiosity myself to penetrate.
For people with these peculiar social aims, a long
stay in London is, I doubt not, desirable. But my
book is not for them, either. I aim only at advis-

68 The European Tour

ing the sincere tourist who wants Europe, as I
want it myself, for the sake of what it enfolds
of beautiful or ennobling, how best to use his time
to his soul's advantage.

To him, then, or to her, I would say — Spend
not more than a week at the outside in London before
proceeding to the Continent. In that week see
mainly London itself^ not its foreign collections.
And London itself, apart from its collections, is
easily seen. It lies in a nutshell. It has few ob*
jects of antiquity, few buildings of interest. The
few there are I will proceed to note in what seems
to me the best order for seeing them.

London Gty^ as I have said already, — the old
mediaeval London, — was almost entirely burnt
down in the reign of Charles II. Hence it now
contains hardly anything of interest. But that
older and truer nucleus, still known as ^^The
City,^' and still alone possessed of its Lord Mayor
and Corporation, forms but a tiny patch in the
centre of the vast heterogeneous agglomerate now
popularly and irregularly described as London. If
you start from the West End, and drive through
Kensington past Hyde Park for miles, you are still
outside the utmost vei^ of the City. Continue
on down Piccadilly, Regent Street, and the Strand,
for many minutes more, and you have never even

London 69

approached the true City of London. Not till you
reach the Griffin, which occupies with its unspeak-
able ugliness the spot where Temple Bar, one of
the old city gates, once stood, are you really in
London. The rest is just the outskirts. But
these outskirts, with their four or five million in-
habitants (as against 70,000 in the City) have
within recent years for the first time gained
municipal rights and official recognition as a sort
of complex town, having been provided with a
County Council, and erected into the administra-
tive County of London. When people say
^ London ** in ordinary talk, they mean, as a rule,
this wider area ; when they wish to refer to the
original nucleus, with its Lord Mayor and Corpo-
ration, they say " The City." Thus, the City in
London does not mean at all what it means in
New York or Chicago ; — that we call *' town j "
— it means only a tiny kernel in the very centre,
yet lying so far east of the fashionable world that
many ladies who have lived in London nearly all
their lives have never been near it. It is the
wider London, then, that I proceed to deal with in
the present chapter.

In that greater London, the most interesting and
almost the only relic of antiquity is undoubtedly
Westminster Abbey. This I advise you to see as

70 The European Tour

soon as you have made your first walks through
the town, and learnt to orient yourself. Go
there more than once, reading it carefully up in
your Baedeker's London. It is the one important
mediaeval church in the modern metropolis. Ed-
ward the Confessor built it, but not as you see it.
Henry III. pulled down his minster, to do him
honour, and erected the existing church over the
glorious tomb-shrine of his sainted predecessor.
Henry VII. added his own exquisite chapel.
Whatever little remains of English history is to be
seen at Westminster.

After *' the Abbey," I should say see the town
itself; by which I mean mainly, the West End^
especially the quarter about Charing Cross, the
hotels near which are by far the most central.
The things to notice here lie quite on the surface
— Trafalgar Square, the Strand and Fleet Street,
the Temple, the Embankment, Regent Street,
Oxford Street, Bond Street, the shopping quarter.
In all these you need only walk about, though a
few objects, such as the Temple Church, deserve
closer inspection. The quarter has little to rec-
ommend it except its solid air of life and business ;
it is calmly, unobtrusively, and respectably British.
It does not aspire to architecture ; but ladies will
find it has claims of its own on the score of drapery.

London 7 i

Oi theparksy the three which lie together — St.
James's, Green Park, and Hyde Park — are worth
walking through. So is the parliamentary region
about Westminster, with its big modern offices
and its bad-Gothic Parliament House. This dis-
trict has a few older buildings, such as the Ban-
queting Hall in Whitehall. But it relies for the
most part on its historical associations. I do not
advise you to waste time which you will want else-
where on being led by an attendant over the House
of Commons or going laboriously through any
of the tedious sights of Westminster, except the
Abbey.

The northern area you may entirely neglect. It
contains nothing of interest. Regent's Park is not
worth a visit, except for the sake of the Zoologi-
cal Gardens — popularly, " the Zoo " — and even
those need not be seen by any save children and
specialists. All the northern region is entirely
modern, stucco-built, and repellent.

A trip should, however, be undertaken into the
City J just for the sake of seeing it. Go by Fleet
Street, Ludgate Hill, and St. PauPs. The cathe-
dral. Wren's, need not detain you for more than a
walk round it, inside and out : it is vast, bare,
pretentious, unimpressive. The monuments are
nightmares. Then continue on by Cheapside to

72 The European Tour

the Bank and the Royal Exchange, returning by
Holbom, Oxford Street, and Regent Street. The
City still contains a few moderately interesting
buildings, the best of which are the Guildhall, the
Charterhouse, Christ's Hospital, and St. Bartholo-
mew's, Smithfield. But even these, though illus-
trative enough of old London, and so locally
interesting, are not to be compared in richness or
beauty to the similar buildings in France, Belgium,
and Italy, or to those of Oxford and the country
towns of England. The one thing, to my mind,
that makes London worth seeing is the mere fact
that here you stand in the largest centre of popula-
tion on earth, the focus of universal business and
finance, the capital of the world-wide British em-
pire. Architecturally and artistically, London has
done nothing in any way worthy of its commercial
supremacy. It ought to be as fine as fifty Venices :
it has not one St. Mark's, one Doges' Palace.

The palaces^ indeed, are naught ; but the club-
houses in Pall Mall betoken wealth, unguided by
taste or skill to use it.

I do not deny you the right to visit once or
twice at this stage the sole really valuable contents
of London — its collections ; though I advise you to
postpone their systematic study till your return
from the Continent. Still, a glimpse on your first

London 73

visit raaj not be wholly undesirable ; it will help
at least to show you there is something to see in
London. Pre-eminent among these collections are
those of the British Museum, the National Gallery,
and the South Kensington Museum.

The British Museum proper — that is to say, the
department of Antiquities — is situated in a gloomy
and depressed-looking building in the quarter
known as Bloomsbury. (Observe, by the way,
that London is a country, made up of different
towns, each with its own name and its separate
physiognomy.) On a first visit or so, you will
find the following the most interesting objects in
this gigantic congeries. The Greei Sculpture ; this
is exceedingly rich indeed ; it has some good very
early objects (the Harpy Tomb, the Branchidae
figures, etc.}, and above all, it has the sculpture
from the Parthenon at Athens the famous Elgin
Marbles), the finest Greek work of the best period.
(A comprehensive general Guide to the Museum
is sold at the door; for those who want to pursue
the subject further, there is a splendid Handbook
of the Greek Sculpture in two volumes.) The
Roman Sculpture^ principally busts and statues of
Emperors and their families. The Egyptian Collect
tion, extremely rich and valuable; the general
catalogue will here suffice for all save specialists.

74 The European Tour

The Assyrian Collectiony the richest in the world ;
at least a few hours should* be devoted to a cursory
examination of the magnificent reliefs. The
Greek Vases and minor objects of antiquity. The
Etruscan Collection. The Ethnographical Objects.
Pre-historic Antiquities. Coins and Medals. And
many others. The mere enumeration of these de-
partments is enough to suggest the immensity of the
collections, any one of which would be the study
of a lifetime. The British Museum is indeed a
place to despair in — or else to saunter through
carelessly, with a glance right and left at what
happens to catch your eye or take your fancy*
Personally, I find the archaic Greek objects, the
Lycian tombs, the colossal sculptures of the Mau-
soleum, and the beautiful set of Assyrian bas-reliefs
representing Ashur-bani-pal lion-hunting, the most
interesting exhibits. But to the average American
visitor who comes to Europe in search of the
means of a more advanced culture, I should say
the Greek and Roman Sculpture is the most im-
portant object of special study in this museum. I
must add that a certain blight of inexplicable shab-
blness hangs -somehow over the vast collection;
whether it is the gloom of Bloomsbury, the want
of space in the galleries, the hap-hazard mode of
acquisition, or what, I know not , but certainly.

London y^

for some mysterious reason, the objects here ex-
hibited are far less interesting, relatively to their
intrinsic scientific and artistic worth, than those of
the Louvre, the Vatican, the Munich galleries, or
any other great European museum. Dinginess
and stinginess are everywhere conspicuous. Some-
thing must no doubt be attributed to the exigencies
of space; something to the niggardliness of the
British people and the British government, who,
rich as they are, have always grudged money for
literary, scientific, or artistic purposes.

As for the library^ with its vast collection of
printed books and manuscripts, — the lai]gest in the
world, — that is for readers and students ; the pass-
ing visitor is permitted the barest glimpse of it —
and rightly.

The Natural History Collections of the British
Museum are now housed in a totally distinct build-
ing, some two miles off, at South Kensington.
They are the richest in the world, and will of
course be visited by all scientific travellers ; but
the general tourist will doubtless feel satisfied with
a perfunctory walk through the long rows of ad-
mirably arranged glass cases. X^^ collection con-
sists of four departments, — Zoology, Botany,
Geology, Mineralogy.

Second in importance to the British Museum

76 The European Tour

comes the National Gallery^ by far the most in-
teresting sight in London for the non-specialist
tourist. Alone among the collections of the
metropolis, this show has escaped that blight of
congenital gloom and dulness that seems to hang
over eveiy thing else in London. Though housed in
a mean and ugljr building, it is admirably arranged
and very well lighted \ whUe the ability to move
about the chairs so as to sit freely before whatever
picture you fancy is a great advantage, unknown
in almost any Continental picture gallery. The
Nattional Gallery is not rich in works by the
greatest artists ; it has few pictures of the first
rank by painters of the first order; either the
paintings are good specimens of second-rate masters
or else second-rate specimens of great ones. But
the collection is illustrative, well displayed, and
admirably adapted to the wants of the student ; if
visited afier you have seen the Italian and Flemish
collections, it will greatly help to crystallise and
clear your conceptions of the characteristics of the
chief schools of painting.

Three sets of pictures in the National Gallery
deserve especial notice, — the Italian, the Flemish,
and the English. The Italian Schools are all rep-
resented, though none of them by quite their best
Works. The paintings, in short, constitute on the

London 77

whote ar scratch- coUectioiu But it b a very com-
prehensive one. The Tuscans are represented by
a tolerable Botticelli, a good unfinished Michael
Angelo, a charming Filippo Lippi^ and a doubtful
Leonardo; while several works of minor artists
have great merit. The Venetians are better vouched
for, perhaps, than any other great school by a fine
Titian, a good Veronese, and many excellent
works by lesser masters ; while the pictures of the
second-rate men, such as Moroni and Moretto,
Girolamo dai Libri and Cavazzola, are among the
best things in the British collection. The Vm-
iriansy on the other hand, are only so-so; the
Blenheim Madonna by Raphael being destitute
of most of his finest qualities, while there is but
one first-rate Pemgino,. a glorious St. Michael ia
celestial armoun The small Ferranse andBohgnese
collection, however, is rich in good things, and
thoroughly characteristic of that least interesting
of Italian schools. An altar-piece by the almost
unknown Ercole di Giulio Grandi must rank as
one of the finest paintings in the gallery. The
Paduan school has a beautiful Mantegna, and a
quite unequalled set of the works of that quaint
and charming painter. Carlo Crivelli. Among the
Lombard examples by far the finest is Borgognone's
Madonna with the two St. Catherines.

yS The European Tour

The Flemish painters are but fairly represented.
Out and away the best work here — to my mind
the most wholly pleasing picture in the entire gallery
— is Gerard David's beautiful portrait of a kneeling
canon with his patron saints. The Van Eyck
close by, though exquisitely painted, is uninteresting
as a picture ; the best thing in it is the decorative
adjuncts. Several of the others are charming and
delicate.

Many of the old German pictures are first-rate
examples.

The Dutch are well represented for those who
like them. There is a fine Franz Hals, a good
Rembrandt, and a fair Vandyck or two. The
later Flemings, whose affinities lie here, are well
exhibited by Rubens's Chapeau de Poil, one of the
best in the second rank of his portraits.

Of the English works, naturally, the most in-
teresting are the Reynoldses and the Gainsboroughs.
And then, there ar^ the Turners.

To my mind, the best of all the pictures in this
gallery is the Gerard David — he never did better.
After it I would place in order of merit the Bor-
gognone, the Mantegna, Moroni's Tailor, Filippo
Lippi's Annunciation, Francia's Pieta, the Franz
Hals, and the Ercole di Giulio Grandi. It will
be noticed that few of these names are of the first

London 79

class. The gallery, in short, has some magnificent
works of second-rate men, but (outside the English
school) few transcendent works of first-rate ones.

The Official Catalogue is good and instructive ;
there is also a capital Handbook (not sold in the
building) by Mr. E. T. Cook, which exactly meets
the wants of the average reader.

The third great collection of London is the
South Kensington Museum. It is a rich, vast,
chaotic gathering of miscellaneous objects of art —
chiefly the minor arts — from all parts of the
world, huddled loosely together in an exquisite
jumble : it ought only to be studied in detail after
you have seen Paris and Italy. The nemesis
which pursues English government collections is
nowhere more apparent, indeed, than in this ill-
starred museum. The building has no fafade, and
looks like a wood-shed. Inside, its galleries are of
all heights and sizes, well or ill adapted, as chance
or fate rules, for the objects they exhibit. Noble
originals are crowded and jostled by plaster casts
or modern imitations: you never know whether
you are looking at a first-hand masterpiece or a
laborious copy till you consult the labels. Un-
doubtedly, the collection contains some splendid
and beautiful works of art; but the effect of the
whole is marred and spoiled by the almost entire

8o The European Tour

absence of anything like judicious selection or ar-
.j:;angeinent. In one word. South Kensington is
a warehouse; the Louvre and Cluny and the
Bargello are museums.

Nevertheless, this huge hotchpotch of things
good, bad, and indifferent contains genuine works
of high merit, in sufficient numbers to stock half a
dozen provincial galleries* It has RaphaeTs car'-
Joans ^^Itnt permanently by the Queen; it has
fine Italian reliefs, Delia Robbia majolicas, Limoges
enamels, exquisite glass and metal work, fine
potteries of all ages, an endless collection of various
articles of minor artistic interest. After you have
learnt to understand these objects elsewhere, you
can spend many interesting mornings in a single
Toom at South Kensington, examining tn detml the
>contents of the various cases. I must add in
ijustice that the descriptive labels are the best I
know in any museum in the world-; they render
a catalogue unnecessary for any «ave advanced
^udents.

The India Museum^ which occupies a separate
'building in the same district, is a branch of the
South Kensington Museum.

Naturally, there are many other collections in
London of great scientific and artistic importance,
but none which need be visited by the American

London 8 i

tourist. In all these matters my advice would be,
do not waste time in seeing third-rate things in
London, which you will want for seeing first-rate
things in Paris, Munich, V^nic? , and Florence.

A few words may be added as to things which you
may safely omit. The Crystal Palace and Madame
Tussaud's are good amusements for children, but
are no more necessary for adults than the Pa^-
tpmime* Windsor Castlip, half an hour by rail, is
anci^t in form, but has been so much restored
that it possesses little real interest. Hampton
Court is ^mewbat better \ but I do not recommend
you to go out of your way to see it. As for the
theatres and otjhyer casual amusements of London,
th^y are a niatter of ta^te. Baedeker and the daily
papers iprill tell you all about jth(?m.

Finally, I shall once .more have justified the
existence of this little book if I have succeeded in
making you feel why the CQuntiy in England is so
much more important than the town, and why you
need spend so little time in London. It has on^e
really good and local thing in it — Westminster
Abbey. Even that you will understand better after
you have seen Orcagna's shrine in Or San Michele
at Florence.

CHAPTER VI

FRANCE: PARIS

JUST as distinctly as the country is England,
Paris is France.

Americans, accustomed to a great decentralised
community, can hardly understand the absolute
centralisation of everything French in Paris. In
the United States, New York, Boston, Philadelphia,
Chicago, St. Louis, New Orleans, and San Fran-
cisco are separate entities ; they do not take their
thought, their art, their laws entire from one
another; each has its own ideas, its own judg-
ments, its own peculiar standards of life and con-
duct. But in France Paris is everything. You
are Parisian, or else you are provincial. Nine
tenths of all that is worth seeing in the Republic
lies within a mile of the lie de la Cite. To most
Parisians the universe does not extend beyond
St. Germain.

Hence I would say to the American who visits
Europe, go to Paris straight from London, and
spend most of the time you devote to France
there*

France: Paris 83

Formerly Americans gave more time to Paris

and less to London than is now usual. I think

the older plan was the better one; the change is

mostly due to social causes. ^^Fashionable''

Americans who want to know marquises, spend

some months in London; other Americans who

have too much good sense to desire such acquaint-

} ances, follow their footsteps by pure habit. But

i if you will take my advice, you will go first to the

! Continent ; you can then return to London later,

; should you think it worth while. I am not afraid,

however, that you will think it worth while; on

the contrary, when you come to see how much

there is to learn in France, Belgium, and (above

all) Italy, you will thank me for having saved you

from wasting your days in Piccadilly.

As to a route from London to Paris, if you dis-
like the sea, go by Dover and Calais, stopping one
night on the way at Amiens^ to see the Cathedral.
There are good reasons for seeing it, if possible,
before you visit Notre-Dame at Paris. Inspect it
at leisure — there is nothing else at Amiens to de-
tain you — neglect the little picture-gallery — so
you can take your own time to look at the Cathe-
dral thoroughly. The sculpture of the exterior is
beautiful; try to understand it. But by far the
finest thing in the whole place (if you do not allow

84 The European Tour

yourself to be talked over by Mr. Ru&kin) is the
set of coloured stone reliefs at the back of the choir,
jn what is called the ambulatory. They relate the
history of the two chief saints of the district.
Those on the South Side tell the story of the local
jbishop, St. Firmin, the apostle of the Ambiani, the
fRomanised Celtic tribe from whom Amiens takes
Ht$ nam,e^ and they deserve ihe closest attention.
I mentipn them here, not because of any intrinsic
importance, bujt because they ar^ the .first such
works which the tourist will see, in all probability,
and tb^ should therefore be carefully examined as
specimens of the sort of interest which is rife on
ihe Continent,. Here the Reformation has not
swept a^w^X ^ cqntinuity :with the past; and
in these naiv^ scenes^ sculptured from 1^89 to
J 530, we %fX a charming gjimpsie of the manner in
which ijbe fifteipntfa century <^ivisaged to itself the
history of the early church in ,the days of the per-
secutions. Not SQ much on account of their
artistic merit, therefore (which, however, is great^,
as because they will form a good introduction to
my treatment of the Continent generally, I will
dwell for a while on th.e$e interesting sculptures.

At a first glance ypu can see for yourself that
they are quaint and beautiful. In composition and
treatment they resemble the finest Flemish paint-

France: Paris 85

ings of their time ; and indeed, by whomever they
were produced, they are essentially Flemish in
spirit. Nor need I point out to you the delicious
and almost childish simplicity of the style; the
charmingly unconscious spectators who look out
of the windows at the saint's martyrdom ; the noble
ladies who disrobe completely to enter the sacred
font of baptism. But what I wish to impress upon
you here is the point that you must examine thes£
scenes in detaily and try to remember them, for
<romparison with other similar scenes elsewhere.
Don't walk past them with a lordly glance ; spell
them out and understand them. You will find as
you go on that suoh representations are always
more or less conventionalised, and that only b^
means of comparison can you rightly grasp their
full meaning. I would also urge upon you to bi^
photographs of such works, whenever they interest
you — not views of Amiens Cathedral as a whole,
but separate photographs of each such incident in
the life of St. Firmin. You can then employ them
for collation with other like works elsewhere.

Still more markedly is this the case with the series
of reliefs on the North Side of the ambulatory,
representing the Life of St, John Baptist, Such
series are common elsewhere, especially in baptis-
teries, of which, of course, the Baptist is patron.

86 The European Tour

You will find, for example, several similar sets at
Florence, — one on the bronze door of the Bap-
tistery by Andrea Pisano ; one on the silver altar
removed from the same building to the Cathedral
Museum ; and one or two in other situations.
Hence you should examine each episode sepa-
rately, and note the treatment ; you will find after-
wards that each scene recurs, that the incidents are
stereotyped, and that the figures introduced, nay,
the very attitudes and expressions, are all of them
conventional. A similar series, representing the
Life of Christ, earlier in date, but not quite so
beautiful, you will afterwards visit in the ambula-
tory of Notre-Dame at Paris; and you will find
it interesting to compare the one scene which
necessarily occurs in both lives alike, that of the
Baptism of Christ in Jordan. I have written a
short account of the history and evolution of this
scene in art in a paper contributed to the English
Illustrated Magazine, under the title of ^^The
Painter's Jordan."

I introduce this digression merely in order to
suggest to you in what spirit you must approach
Continental cathedrals and churches. Begin by
understanding the local saints and their histories ;
and then remember that every church is closely
connected with its founder and patron. As a pre-

France: Paris 87

liminary exercise in this direction, I would advise
you to read over, in my Historical Guide to
Paris, first the introductory chapter, with its no-
tice of St. Denis, and then the section devoted to
the Basilica of St. Denis near the end of the vol-
ume. This will serve to show you the close con-
nection which habitually exists between patron and
fabric in most historical Catholic countries. Should
the subject interest you, buy Mrs. Jameson's Sacred
and Legendary Art and Legends of the Madonna^ and
carry them everywhere with you.

So much for the route via Dover and Calais.
But if you don't mind the sea, and can endure a
four hours' journey in place of one of an hour and
a half, I would recommend you strongly to go by
Newhaven and Dieppe^ which is a much more pic-
turesque and representative route. The Calais way
runs through the dull fiats of Picardy; the line
from Dieppe runs through the hills and dales and
apple-orchards of Normandy^ and by the winding
valley of the island-dotted Seine, so that you
approach Paris by its old natural river-way. This
route also allows you to break the journey at Rouen,
which is far more interesting in its way than even
Amiens. To begin with, the town is more histor-
ical. It has a fine Cathedral, and a still finer
monastic church, St. Ouen. It has, in addition, sev-

88 The European Tour

era! ancient municipal or judicial buildings, which
almost rival in magnificence those of Belgium.
And it is a delightful town in which to make your
first acquaintance with provincial France of the
Middle Ages. In any case, sooner or later, aim at
seeing Rouen.

As for Paris itself, I have given already, in my
Historical Guide, a full account of the city and
what to see in it. I will only add here a few
general hints of the sort which may be useful in
forming plans for your settlement. Take up your
quarters somewhere near the Avenue de I'Opera ;
there you will be within walking distance of most
things worth seeing. Walk about the modem
town as much as you like ; but remember that the
sights which count for culture are all in the Old
Paris within the Great Boulevards. First and fore-
most in importance comes undoubtedly the Louvre^
which is at once the noblest of French historical
palaces, and the great Museum of the collections of
Paris. It contains everything -^— paintings of all
schools ; sculpture, antique, mediaeval. Renaissance,
and modern ; vases and pottery of all ages ; objects
of decorative art; Egyptian, Assyrian, Oriental,
and other Antiquities. To know the Louvre is
the work of a lifetime ; to walk through it alone is
a considerable undertaking. Devote most of your

Friiice: Paris 89

time, therefore, to the Louvre. But I would par-
ticularly ^dvJse you to pay ^^cial attention to the
French mediaeval and Renaissance sculpture.

Still, only a small part of the contents of the
Louvre are either Parisian or French in origin.
To see Parts itself^ you must look mainly else-
where. Second in importance, again, I would
therefore place the great collections of Cluny^ which,
though in part Italian and Flemish, are much more
largely of native provenance. Cluny is the museum
of the art of the Middle Ageis 5 devote as much
time as possible to this fascinating building, study-
ing its contents in the spirit I have indicated in the
case of the reliefs at Amiens. (See my Histor-
ical Guide to Paris.)

Three earfy churches are of the first rank of im-
portance, and are still more distinctively Parisian in
nature, — Notte^Dame^ the Sainte Chapelle^ and the
Basilica of St. Denis, Two Renaissance churches
also deserve close attention, — St. Eustache and
St. jStienne-du'Mont ; while one much earlier build-*
ing, St. Germain-des-Pres, is hardly less im-
portant. For other sights and detailed information,
I must refer you once more to my Paris
Guide.

I do not mean, however, that you ought to visit
the objects here enumerated in the order in which

90 The European Tour

I have mentioned them. You will find in the
Guide quite a different scheme drawn up for your
instruction. In order to understand Paris, the
best way is to begin with what is distinctively
Parisian^ and what is locally oldest, — the He de la
Cite, which was the primitive town, and the Royal
Palace it enclosed ; together with its chapel, the
Sainte Chapelle of St. Louis. After that, proceed
to Notre-Dame, the old Cathedral, also situated
on the original island. Take next the earliest over-
flow on the Left Bank, where Paris spread to the
mainland, with the Museum of Cluny, once the
mansion of the abbots of that famous monastery,
and the shrine of Ste. Genevieve, the patron saint
of Paris. Later, proceed to examine the North
or Right Bank, with its Renaissance palace, the
Louvre, and its immense collections of Italian or
Oriental works; as well as its chapel of St.
Germain-PAuxerrois. In this way, I believe, you
will get from the beginning a far clearer and more
historical idea of Paris than by any amount of hap-
hazard and promiscuous sight-seeing.

In this task, I venture to believe, you will find
my Guide suggests a practicable plan which will
unfold to you the growth and development both of
the City itself and of its arts and buildings. My
object throughout is to display the connection

France: Paris 91

between architecture, painting, and sculpture 00
the one hand, and history on the other.

A singU example of the method pursued in these
HiSTORiCAi Guides will show you better what
fhey are driving at than any amount of vague
generalisation. Let us suppose you are in Paris,
sind you want to see the Sainte CbapelU. That is
one of the loveliest and most perfect tbin^ in the
eity— ^one of the half-dozen sights which nobody
should miss, though he miss the Morgue and the
MouHn Rouge, the races at Longchamps and the
eafes ehantants of the Champs £lysees. If you
look in the ordinary guido-books, you will find that
^^ the Sainte Chapelle was erected by Louis IX.,"
and that ** its architect was Pierre de Montereau.**
Those two names, however^ you will admits can
assist you but little towards a comprehension of
the building and its meaning* What you really
desire to know is this, -^^ the circumstances under
which that glorious pile was built, and the way
those circumstances have affected its architecture.
Now, the Sainte Chapelle was the domestic chapel
of the old palace of the French kingSy situated
within its walls, and directly approached from it
by a covered gallery. The palace has gone, but
the chapel remains to us. Again, it was built by
Louis IX., the Crusader, — that deeply religious

92 The European Tour

and mystic king who gave up his whole life to the
service of the Church, and was afterwards canon-
ised by Rome as Saint Louis. During the age of
the Crusades, the astute Greeks and Syrians found
the simple and pious knights of western Europe
* most credulous and gullible in the matter of relics ;
they did a splendid and paying business with the
Franks in the matter of fragments of the True
Cross and similar holy objects. Amongst others
of his sort, St. Louis purchased from an orientalised
Western, Baldwin, Emperor of Constantinople,
the Crown of Thorns^ which had been miraculously
preserved by Joseph of Arimathea. He also
bought a portion of the Holy Cross. To receive
these sacred objects, for which he had paid an
enormous sum, he determined to erect a suitable
shrine within his palace precincts — the Sainte
Chapelle, which still remains almost as perfect as
he left it, though greatly modernised by restorers
in the present century.

It is as the Shrine of the Crown of Thorns^ there-
fore, that we have mainly to regard this exquisite
little gem of the best and purest age of Gothic
architecture. And after that, we have to consider
it most as the Chapel of the Royal Palace and the
chief existing memorial of the piety of St, Louis.
Over the principal doorway, accordingly, sculptured

France: Paris 93

angels display the Crown of Thorns and the
True Cross, whose meaning and relevancy in that
particular place thus become quite evident. Round
the pinnacles on the roof, again, the Crown of
Thorns is hung like a chaplet. Behind the high
^ altar stands the richly gilt tabernacle where the holy
relic itself was preserved ; and this shrine is sur-
mounted by a sort of platform or gallery of exquisite
workmanship, from which the kings of France
used to display it once a year to their people as
represented by the congregation assembled in the
chapel. Angels on its face hold a sculptured
Crown of Thorns in perpetual witness of this
beautiful ceremony. Everything else about the
building breathes the ecstatic piety of the saintly
king; ancient mosaics of martyrs, each wearing,
as it were, his own crown of thorns, surround the
building. One of the stained-glass windows re-
lates in full the story of the bringing of the crown
from Constantinople, and its enthusiastic reception
by king and people in Paris. But the chapel is
royal too ; the fleur-de-lis of France tops every
pinnacle and covers every pillar; while closely
connected with it are the Three Castles of Castile,
the arms of Louis's mother, Blanche of Castile, to
whom he was ever the most devoted and loyal of
sons. Thus the lofty church as it stands forms

94 The European Tour

for us not only a monument of splendid Gothic
architecture, but a perfect picture of the saintly
royalty of the thirteenth century.

Now, it is facts like those, the inif/r nuamng of
buildings, of pictures, of works of sculpture, that
my guide-books are primarily intended to reveal to
you. They are purely explanatory. I take the
visitor round, showing him such remains, and at
every step pointing out their meaning. If you
want to know these things, then by all means, use
them. If you donU want to know these things,
waste no money in buying what to you will be
useless ; get a vaUudt-place to take you round to
the EiiFel Tower, the principal music-halls, the
cafes on the Boulevards, the wax-work shows, and
such other sights as may strike yx>ur fancy.

Or, again, let us take an example from a pUtun.
You are at the Louvre, we will suppose, and you
have come to a fine work in the Salle des Primitifs
which arrests your attention. You look it up in
one of the ordinary guid&-books, and you will
probably find something like this — ^^251, Man-
tegna. Madonna della Vitturiai a very beautiful
work, of Mantegna's later period." Well, you
can see for yourself it is a beautiful work} but
what does it mean ? what are the figures it con-
tains there for? That is just what I try to tell

France : Paris 95

you. I explain how Charles VIIL of France in-
vaded Italy, and how he was repelled by a league
of Italian cities, under the guidance of Gonzaga^
Marquis of Mantua, who commissioned this pic-
ture, which contains his portrait. Gonzaga met
the French at the passage of the river Taro, and
vowed an altar-piece to the Blessed Virgin if he
gained the victory. This is that altar-piece. He
gave the commission to Andrea Mantegna^ his
court painter, whose place in Italian art I try to
make you realise: and Andrea, following, no
doubt, his patron's commands, painted in the
centre the Madonna and Childy — Our Lady ex-
tending her protecting hand to Gonzaga, who
kneels in the foreground in full armour, as if offer-
ing up thanks just after the battle. That is why
it is called Our Lady of Victory.

But you also see in the picture several other
saints on either side. Who are they, and why are
they included ? Again I try to show the reason*
To the right is St. Elizabeth (mother of the Bap-
tist), the patron, saint of Gon%agd*s wife, who is
thus symbolically associated with her husband in
thanksgiving for the victory. Behind and to the
left are the patron saints of Mantua^ who also de-
serve to be gratefully remembered ; St. Michael, the
Archangel, the warrior of God, captain of the

g6 The European Tour

army of the Lord of Hosts, who doubtless fought
on the side of the Italians, — a glorious figure, in
resplendent celestial mail : St. Andrew, who was
not only a patron of Mantua, but also Andrea's
own personal name-saint : St. Longinus, the con-
verted centurion who pierced the side of the
Saviour, and was afterwards baptised, and whose
bones are preserved in a chapel of St. Andrew's
church in Mantua: and finally St. George (such
a lovely St. George !} the human warrior saint, as
St. Michael is the angelic one, who stands here
especially as representing the territory of Venice,
of which he was patron, in order to suggest the
idea that the patriotic Venetians were especially
active in organising the resistance to the French
invasion. This is only a small part, it is true, of
what I have to tell you about this lovely picture ;
but further details, read in the absence of the pic-
ture itself, would be merely wearisome. I merely
give you this as a single example of the method I
pursue, and I say again, if you care for this explan-
atory treatment — if you want to understand how
these churches were built and these pictures
painted, not simply to gaze at them in ignorant
wonder, — then take my guide-books with you.
If you don't care, be content with the ordinary
itineraries.

France: Paris 97

To see Paris properly in the way here set down
will take you a month at least ; and the longer you
stay, the better you will understand it. But as a
counsel of perfection, I would say, stop a month
at first, devoting most of your time to the more
Parisian objects (Notre-Dame, St. Denis, Cluny,
the Sainte Chapelle), with only a first hasty view
of the Italian pictures and sculptures; and then
return again for a fortnight to re-examine these
last after you have seen Italy.

Furthermore, let me impress upon you the point
that you ought to see Cluny before you see the
Louvre ; and that you should study closely the de-
velopment of the conventional scenes of mediaeval
art as there exhibited before you proceed to exam-
ine their alteration and expansion by Renaissance
artists as exhibited in the great picture-gallery.
The Renaissance builds entirely upon medievalism,
while destroying and reconstituting it ; it takes
conventionalised mediaeval scenes, and proceeds to
render them with more or less infiltration of clas-
sical spirit. You may not see the importance of
this at first; but after you have watched the
growth and development of a few single scenes,
you will realise that only by constant comparison
can you understand art at its growing periods.

Above all, recollect that symbolism is the language

9^ The European Tour

tf early art ; you cannot read the book unless you
take the trouble to iearn the language. My
Guides are intended as an easy introduction to such
knowledge. They take you in front of each picture
or statue, and tell you just as much as is then and
there necessary to make you comprehend and enjoy
its meaning. If you vbit Paris in this spirit, you
will learn from it most of what it has to teach you*

To sum up, ^end most of your time devoted
to France in Paris, and see it thoroughly by the
historical method.

Of course, if you are net going on to Italy, then
you must see Paris in quite a different manner.
In that case you will want to make the best
use you can of the Louvre collections \ and the
Italian pictures and classical sculpture will naturally
rise to the first rank of importance. If you are
only going to study Raphael and Leonardo and
Mantegna here, then study them thoroughly, by all
means. But in any case follow the course set
down in my Guide (which is mainly written for
people who expect to see Paris alone), and you will
thus get the greatest good out of (he limited
number of Italian paintings and classical statues
or reliefs here gathered for your d)servation.

In either instance you will find the Louvr4 is tbi
imul if Paris.

CHAPTER VII

FRANCE: OUTSIDE PARIS

AFTER Paris, the visitor may desire to see
some Ptber parts rf Prana. What these
parts should be must largely depend upon the time
of year at which he pays his visit, the plans he has
formed for himself, and bis ulterior objects.

For example, if you are in France in the
summer, you may choose the delightful tour of the
Loire tcwnSj which will introduce you to the most
interesting group of provincial French cities i in
such a trip you can easily include Orleans, BloiS|
Tours, Saumur, Angers, and Cfaartres. If again
you are going straight to Switzerland^ you will find
DiJM fl capital stopping-place \ and you will dis-
cover there (what you may already have found
out at Cluny and in the Louvre) that Burgundian
art was something entirely distinct from French
art during the Middle Ages. Dijon, in fact, has
much more in common with such Flemish towns
as Bruges, Ghent, and Antwerp than with those of
France in the ordinary acceptation. If you are
bound for ^aiu^ you may visit on the way Orleans

87ll«

loo The European Tour

and Poitiersj or may diverge a little into the /^r-
enees (Eaux Bonnes, Eaux Chaudes, Cauterets),
especially in summer. Pau is the capital of the
French Pyrenean district, and having been also the
capital of the old region of Bearn, and the birth-
place of. Henri IV., the first of the Bourbon kings,
it has many antiquarian attractions, in addition to
the advantages it derives from its beautiful sit-
uation, its unrivalled views, and its surrounding
scenery.

Of Normandy and Brittany I will not speak in
detail here. Those countries, it is true, are full of
objects of secondary interest, — cathedrals, abbeys,
churches, castles, many of which are closely con-
nected with the early history of England, and
therefore also of the American people. But they
are not for the hasty six-months visitor, whose
convenience I am particularly considering in this
volume. Americans who are spending several years
in Europe, or who are paying their fourth or fifth
annual visit, may desire to see them ; but they are
not so well worth attention from the traveller
pressed for time as most of the other places here
described in brief. Those who have reached the
point where a trip in Normandy or Brittany can be
undertaken with advantage will find full particulars
of both provinces in Murray and Baedeker.

France: Outside Paris loi

Americans who desire to spend the winter in
Europe, on the other hand, will probably wish to
light upon some warm spot where they can pass
the two or three coldest months in comparative
comfort. For this purpose some of the winter
stations in the South of France are extremely suit-
able. If the whole summer has been consumed in
seeing England, France, Belgium, and Holland, the
Rhine country, and Switzerland, it may be con-
venient, before visiting Florence, Rome, or Venice,
to retire for December, January, and February
(when sight-seeing is uncomfortable, even in Italy)
to Pau or the Riviera. Each of these has its own
advantages.

Pau is not particularly warm in winter, but it is
sheltered and windless, and it has undoubted anti-
quarian attractiveness. The visitor may arrive
there about the beginning of December, and may
leave for Italy before the first of March, by which
date Rome and Florence are becoming agreeable!
places of residence.

The Riviera is the name usually given in English
to the narrow strip of coast along the Medi-
terranean between Marseilles and Genoa. As I
have spent some ten or twelve winters at its vari-
ous stations, I am in a position to advise the visitor
where to go, according to his requirements. It

102 The European Tour

must be premised that this strip of coast lies
between the High Alps to the north and the sea
to the south, and is remarkable for its luxuriant
semi-tropical vegetation. Nevertheless, you must
not suppose that even here you can escape the chill
of European January. You go to a winter. Snow
often falls and lies on the ground for three days
together; and the cold dry wind known as the
mistral blows very frequently. On the other hand,
the sky is generally clear and sunny ; colds are in-
frequent ; exercise can be taken almost daily in the
open air; and it is possible to sit out even in
January and February on sheltered garden seats
or among the rocks on the hillsides. The coast
is essentially not French, but Proven9al, from
Marseilles to Cannes; not Italian, but Ligurian,
from Nice to Genoa.

The best way to reach it is by day train from
Paris to Marseilles ; where sleep the night, and rail
on next morning to your destination. See later
for the question of stoppage at Aries, Nimes, or
Avignon.

Hyires is a pleasant winter-resort with beautiful
views ; quiet and peaceful, but not so sheltered as
the towns farther east. It overlooks a bay with
hilly islands. St. Raphael is more French than
English and American. Cannes is a vast over-

France: Outside Paris 103

grown town of villas and gardens^ dull and formal^
but with beautiful drives and charming views. I
recommend it for elderly people. Jntibes (or
rather Cap d'Antibes), which I prefer myself to all
the Rivieran stations, is countrified and rocky, with
charming walks, and exquisite glimpses of sea and
snow mountain. But if you go there, remember to
go to the Cap, mt to the town, which is dirty and
sunless. Nia is of course the "Great Town " of
the Riviera; it has plenty of distractions, but is
less sheltered than Cannes or Mentone, being open
to the mistraL It is more a town for pleasure
than for health. A visit of a week gives you a
good glimpse of a certain side of the cosmopolitan
European watering-places. Monti Carlo and Mo-
naco are the most beautiful spots along this beautiful
coast, but on the other hand they are the centre of
the gambling industry. Mentom is deliciously
utuated in a charming valley, with endless lovely
walks and drives, but with a somewhat narrow
society. It has the warmest climate of any, and
is suitable for invalids. These practically exhaust
the towns of the French Riviera, which is the one
deservedly most affected by American visitors.

The reader must bear in mind that none of
these towns have anything in the way of art or of
antiquity to delay the visitor. They are resi-*

I04 The European Tour

dential creations almost as purely modern as New-
port or Saratoga. It is true most of them include
an " old town," — a dirty, picturesque, steep white
Mediterranean village, perched on a craggy hill,
and still looking much the same as in the Middle
Ages i but these ^^ old towns " contain nothing in
the way of architecture or painting to detain the
visitor; they are interesting merely in a distant
view ; seen nearer, they become offensive to more
than one of the senses. Whoever stops on the
Riviera must regard that part of his tour merely
as an agreeable loitering in pretty country, beset
with roses, and overlooking a summer sea in
the depth of winter. There are a few Roman
remains, however, at Frejus (scarcely worth the
trouble of a visit) ; while Aries, Nimes, and
Avignon, which may be taken on the way south
to Marseilles, have truly splendid remains of an-
tiquity. But the coast itself, long decimated by
the Saracens, is remarkable in Europe for its ex-
traordinary lack of historical interest. It is just
a great green paradise of modern villadom, —
white houses set deep among palms and gardens.
I ought to add that one may visit on the way
south three interesting towns. Avignon is note-
worthy for the old palace of the Popes, inhabited
by them during their seventy years of exile ; Ntmes

France: Outside Paris 105

for its splendid Roman temple (the Maison Carree),
with other fine ruins ; and Aries both for its Roman
amphitheatre, or other classical remains, and for its
exquisite Romanesque church of St. Trophime, the
glorious portal and sculptured cloisters of which
must rank among the finest architectural works in
Europe.

Theoretically, the Italian Riviera ought to be
treated under Italy ; practically, however, it forms
a continuous strip with the French Riviera, and is
always visited at the same time, on the way to the
great artistic towns of the peninsula, such as
Florence and Venice. Its characteristics are
exactly the same as those of the French coast
which adjoins it ; but it is not quite so mountain-
ous or quite so beautiful. Indeed, the shore grows
gradually finer and the hills taller from Marseilles
to Mentone, where the scenery reaches its culmi-
nating point of beauty ; they grow gradually less
fine again as we proceed farther east from Mentone
to Genoa. Artistically, there is little or nothing to
choose between them j the Italian " old towns *'
are quite as filthy and a trifle more picturesque,
but contain even less of architectural or graphic
interest. The arcaded streets and steep alleys,
however, have a dirty attractiveness of their own
which is undeniable and unwholesome.

io6 The European Tour

Tlirec chief stations along the Italian RiTiera
deserve the attention of the tourist. B9r£gberm
it pretty, quiet, and warm ; it afibrds chances for
excursions to many quaint mountain^villages, such
as Dolce Acqua, with its picturesque bridge and
the ruined mediaeval castle of the Dorias. Sam
Remo is fashionable, well situated, sheltered, and
amusing, with a delightful sea-front, a palm-bordered
promenade, many attractive drives, and beautiful
surroundings. Alassi$ is tamer, but forms a con-
venient spot to break the journey to Genoa.

As a whole, I advise the tourist to visit the Rivi-
era only as a plaa of rttreat from the cold of mid-
winter. Intrinsically, it has no claims save those
of beautiful natural scenery, lush southern vegeta-
tion, charming sunny sea, and fine shapes of moun-
tains. The railroad route along the coast, indeed, is
one constant succession of exquisite pictures, --^ blue
or purple bays, craggy promontories and steep islands,^
white villages perched high on gray mountain spurs,
towns that gleam and bask among olive and lemon
groves. But it is merely beautiful. It teaches
you little that is distinctively European. Look
upon it rather as a retreat from the coldest time of
the winter than as a part of your travel.

The following would be a good plan for passing
the colder months^ Set out from Paris about the

France : Outside Paris 1 07

beginning of November. Stop at Dijon^ and (if
you wish it) at Lyons. Then spend a few days,
en route to Marseilles, in exploring the many
antiquarian and artistic monuments of Avignon,
Aries, and Nimes. Pass one night or more at
Marseilles (very little to see) and then go on for a
week to Hyeres. After that move slowly along
the charmed coast, first to Cannes or Antibes,
then to siren Nice; or spend a day or two of
feverish excitement at Monte Carlo, undoubtedly
the centre of the finest scenery of the district. So
to Mentone, where the peaceful walks on mountain
spires and the romantic drives up deep glens will
delay you for a fortnight; then cross the Italian
frontier to Bordighera or San Remo, timing yourself
so as to reach Genoa early in March, or even to spend
February in Pisa ; there you will find enough to
occupy many days in the noble Romanesque
buildings of the Cathedral group and the paintings
and sculptures of the too little visited museum.

Now that I am on the question of the disposition
of these colder months^ I may add parenthetically that
those who desire to utilise them in seeing and
learning have three or four other courses open to
them. One way is to take steamer early in
November from Marseilles for Algiers, and to spend
the winter in exploring Algeria and Tunisia ; which

io8 The European Tour

will give you a glimpse of Mohammedan civilisation
(or barbarism). Algiers itself^ and still better
its delightful suburb of Moustapha Superieur, are
the best stations for the very coldest weeks ; thence
you can move on to Constantine and Biskra (the
latter in an oasis of the desert, now approached by
rail) ; returning by Tunis, the most interesting and
unspoilt town in this part of North Africa. A
second plan is to spend the cold months about
Naples^ say at Amalii or Capri, which are more
picturesque and attractive than the Riviera, while
they have also access to more interesting antiquities,
and leave you free to utilise any spell of fine
weather in early spring at Pompeii or Paestum.
A third way is a tour in Sicily^ where you can
spend the coldest time in Palermo, and go on
as the weather improves to Syracuse, Catania,
Taormina, and Messina. Finally you can escape
the winter altogether by taking refuge in Egypty
where a fortnight in Cairo may be succeeded by a
trip up the Nile to the First Cataract.

I apologise for this digression, which is neverthe-
less apposite, and return to France. Briefly, here,
my advice may be summed up thus. Spend most
of the time you devote to this country in Paris \ do
not try to see much else, except what lies conven-
iently on your route to Switzerland or Italy, unless

France : Outside Paris 1 09

you already know Europe well, and have plenty of
time to spare for objects of secondary or tertiary
interest. In that case you may see Normandy,
Brittany, Auvergne, the Pyrenees; but then you
will need no advice; you have passed by that
time beyond the stage of a novice, and are in
a position to frame your own itineraries. Do not,
in any case, trouble much about the great towns,
— Marseilles, Lyons, Bordeaux, and so forth ;
they offer little to detain you. Make, rather, for
the famous cathedrals, -*- Amiens, Rouen, Chartres,
Laon, Rheims, Beauvais, Poitiers ; or for the Roman
towns, Aries, Nimes, Orange, Valence; or for
what is mediaevally interesting or of Renaissance
importance, -*- Carcassonne, Tarascon, Bourges,
Tours, Blois, Orleans. If you can see something
worth seeing on your way to or fro, by all means
tee it; but do not turn out of your course
for anything. You will find a thousand objects
of vastly greater importance crying for your atten-
tion in the Flemish towns, in the Rhine country,
above all, in Italy.

Paris firsty very much first j and the provinces
nowhere.

CHAPTER VIII

BELGIUM AND HOLLAND

Y? XCEPT Italy, there is nothing in Europe so
^-^ valuable, so instructive as Belgium.

The reason is that Belgium in the Nertbj like
Italy in the Souths /brmed the commercial and there-
fore also the artistic centre of mediavalism. The
great towns of the Low Countries were the indus-
trial capitals of the North and West, as Florence,
Venice, and Constantinople were the industrial
capitals of the South and East. Long before
England had risen above the condition of an agri-
cultural country, subsisting on its exports of wool
to the manufacturing continent, Belgium ranked
as a mighty commercial focus. While Liverpool
was a tidal waste on the Mersey, Bruges was the
great port for the exportation of cloth and the im-
portation of wool and furs and spices. While
Manchester was a rural market town, Ghent was
the centre of the textile industries of Europe. In
every way the cities of Belgium led the van of
progress. The battle of the trading municipality

Belgium and Holland 1 1 1

against the feudal lord was fought out by the Van
Arteveldes ; nay, even the battle of the labourer
against the capitalist was foreshadowed by the
craftsmen of Louvain and Ypres. You can under-
stand the later middle ages aright only by a visit
to the Low Countries.

Moreover, Belgium has escaped the terrible cata-
clysms of the Protestant Reformation and the French
Revolution far better than any other part of North-
western Europe. In England you get only the
bare skeletons of cathedrals and churches, robbed
of their sculpture, their painting, and their decora-
tive work by the grasping grantees of Henry VIII.
or the brutal Puritan soldiers of Cromwell's army.
When Henry dissolved the monasteries, he stripped
them of all their precious stones and other valuable
assets for his own emolument ; or else handed
them over to great nobles whose acquiescence in
his schemes of spoliation he thus purchased, and
who proceeded in their reckless greed to tear the
very lead from the roofs and the frontals from the
altars. During the succeeding dynastic and reli-
gious troubles, most of the works of art in ecclesi-
astical buildings were destroyed or impaired by the
mistaken zeal of the Protestant party ; and what
little survived till the reign of Charles I. was
mostly smashed or defaced beyond recognition at

1 1 2 The European Tour

the hands of the Puritan fanatics of the Common-
vrealth. Hence it happens that in England the
cathedrals and abbeys are now either absolute ruins
or else bare architectural fabrics, entirely devoid of
the sculpture, the frescoes, the mosaics, the stained
glass, the enamels, the draperies that once adorned
them. Often they have been '' restored " with
the machine-made art of London or Birmingham.
Similarly in France, though the destruction
wrought either by the abortive Reformation or by
the San»-culottes of '93 was not quite so disas-
trous as that wroi^fat by the Protestants and the
Roundheads in England, yet we possess hardly a
church which now displays in any fulness its origi-
nal weakh of internal decoration* The best in
the Paris district, such s» St. Denis, the Sainte
Chapelle, and Notre-Dame, have been laxgely re-
stored, especially as to their sculpture and ornaments ;
while outside Paris, though the carven figures and
the stained glass have largely escaped destruction
at Chartres, at Rheims, and at Rouen, yet few
churches have retained any notable proportion of
their coloured mural decorations or their works of
painting and other subsidiary arts. In England, in
short, you get mere skeletons ; in France, some-
what maimed and hacked-about corpses.

But Belgium, though severely treated by the

Belgium and Holland 113

early reformers and the Spanish hordes, still retains
for us more of its mediaval splendour than any other
part of modern North Europe. Its churches are
full of ancient pictures and decorative works ^ its
museums are rich in national products; its town
halls are glorious specimens of Gothic secular
architecture, unrivalled elsewhere^ In Belgium,
indeed, for the first time, the American visitor be-
gins to understand the charm of studying a people's
history and a people's art side by side in the
country of their origin, — the charm of seeing the
actual pictures and sculpture and decorations in
the very spots where they were first produced, and
still devoted to the purposes for which their
makers and their donors designed them. It is ont
thii^ to see a Raphael in the National Gallery of
London Of the Louvre at Paris, divorced from the
circumstances which begot it and the land ^ which
called it forth ; quite another thing to see on an
altar at Ghent the great Van Eyck of the Adora^
tion of the Lamb, still occupying the very niche in
the private chapel of the Vydts family who com-
missioned it — the very niche in which Jan van
Eyck himself deposited it. It is one thing to see
a Rubens in Munich or Vienna; quite another
thing to see it on the grave of Moretus in
Antwerp Cathedral, where the great painter placed

114 'T'^^ European Tour

it above the recent ashes of his friend and
patron.

Therefore I say to you, if your aim is culture, it
IS far more important for you to see the cities of Bel--
gium than even to see London or Paris.

In my Historical Guide to the Cities of
Belgium I have dealt in detail with the chief
objects of interest in this delightful country ; and
I take it for granted that in making the plan of
your tour you will turn for further particulars to
that little volume. So I will deal here mainly
with the question what parts of Belgium are best
worth visiting by the American tourist, and in
what order he ought to approach the chief centres
of interest.

You may reach Belgium either from England
direct or from Paris. If from England direct,
then the proper order of the towns is, as it were,
mapped out for you by the railway system \ for
you will land at Ostend (if you take the shortest
and most frequented route) and proceed straight to
Bruges; whence you will go on to Ghent and
Brussels ; and thence to Antwerp, thus taking each
in its right evolutionary and historical sequence, as
I shall explain hereafter. But the sea passage
from Dover to Ostend is about four hours long ;
and many people, especially ladies, prefer the shorter

Belgium and Holland 115

Channel crossing (involvmg though it does a longer
railway journey) via Dover and Calais. Now,
please note this next remark carefully, because it
is one of the highest importance for your right
comprehension of the history and art of the Low
Countries. Whether you approach Belgium from
Calais or from Paris, do not let mere convenience
of travel distract you into the fatal course of going
to Brussels first. However you arrive, make
straight /or Bruges^ and for Bruges alone, even if it
costs you an extra hour or two hours of railway
travelling. You will never regret it; or rather,
you will never cease to thank me for having saved
you from a step which may spoil half the pleasure
and profit of your trip to Belgium. If you fool-
ishly visit Brussels first, you will say over and over
again at Ghent and Bruges, ^^ How I wish I had
come here before going to Brussels ! " Nay, if
you are a conscientious traveller and once commit
this error, you may even feel constrained to see
Brussels over again, in order to re-read its monu-
ments and collections by the light of what you have
learned in Bruges. For Bruges stands at the very
base of the art of the Low Countries ; and only by
building up your knowledge by gradual stages from
Bruges to Antwerp can you ever understand what
it is all driving at.

1 1 6 The European Tour

The most fatal sUp of ally however, is to visit
Antwerp first. For Antwerp is the end, not the
beginning, of Flemish art and Flemish history.
Do not let anybody or anything persuade to make
this hopeless practical blunder. If, therefore, con*
venience or cheapness of travel induces you to
select the comfortable steamer from Harwich to
Antwerp as your means of entering Belgium, I
impbre you not to stop and see the city then and
there, but to take the train direct to Bruges, which
visit first \ then go on to Ghent ; thence to Brussels \
and only finish up your tour with Antwerp. In
other words, however you arrive in the country, I
charge you, as you value your soul's education^ not
to follow any other order in visiting the chief
centres than tbia-^ Bruges^ Ghent J Ypr$si Brus^
sels ; LMtvain ; Malimt ; Antwerp. The towns I
have put in Italics are those of sec<mdary import
tance, which you may omit or not as you choose ;
but the four in Roman type you must see, and see
in this order. I do not say this dogmatically^ but
for a sufiicieiU reason, which I hope to make you
feel for )rourself in the sequel.

Bruges comes first, because Bruges is the oldest
and artistically the richest of the cities of the Low
Countries. In my own opinion, it is also the most
interesting and charming town in Europe, outside

Belgium and Holland 117

Italy. I do not mean merely that it abounds in
works of art of all kinds, but that here you see the
town itself in a condition which still largely recalls
the mediaeval burgher republic under whose a^is
these works of art had their natural origin. Bruges
is a fossil of the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seven-
teenth centuries ; with much modern admixture, it
is true, but none the less a fossil.

In order to understand Bruges and the rest of
Flanders aright, we must remember that the great
trading towns of the Low Countries were the earli-
est in the North to recover from the cataclysm
which overwhelmed the Roman Empire, and from
the lethargy which followed it. From the fifth to
the ninth century, the arts of the ancient world
were dcn-mant and almost dead in the West of
Europe. When civilisation began to creep North
again after its long sleep of the dark ages, it was
left for the Frankisb Karl, whom modern Europe
knows best under his French name of Charlemagne^
to introduce Roman crafts and Roman letters once
more into the baifoarised Rhineland. The Rhine
from Basle to Cologne, as we shall see a little later,
was the region most influenced by this fitful revival
of the Roman Empire in its Teutonic guise, — the
" Holy Roman Empire " of later mediseval syste-
matists. But Charlemagne had his chief seat at

1 1 8 The European Tour

Aix-la-Chapelle or Aachen near the modern Bel^^
gian frontier, and his dominions included not only
Belgium, Holland, France, and Germany (to anti-
cipate the familiar modern terms), but also the
greater part of Austria and Italy, as well as por-
tions of Spain and a few other countries. Of the
northern half of this extended realm, the Rhine
formed the chief natural water-way ; and it con-
tinued to be one of the main highroads of traffic
throughout the Middle Ages. But the Flemish
towns, lying conveniently near its mouths for trade
and manufacture, rose rapidly to be the chief indus-
trial and commercial centres of the new system,
and grew by the thirteenth and fourteenth centu-
ries to be the ports and marts, the Liverpools,
Manchesters, and Birminghams of the mediaeval
world.

Many causes contributed to this result. Flan--
ders^ half independent under its own Counts, after
the empire of Charlemagne's descendants had
practically split up into France and Germany, was
comparatively free from the disastrous wars and
dynastic quarrels which desolated both the larger
countries. Bruges, situated on an inlet of the sea
now long since silted up, and known as the Zwin,
became the chief station of the famous Hanseatic
League, which was an essentially commercial

Belgium and Holland 119

federation of the great trading-towns of the North
for mutual protection against piratical enemies or
feudal exactions. By the fourteenth century it
had become for the Atlantic what Venice was for
the Adriatic and the Mediterranean ; trading com-
panies from all the surrounding countries had their
^^ factories ** or agencies seated in the town, and
every king of importance kept a minister accredited
to the merchant city. Thus Caxton was governor
of the English "factory" at Bruges, where he
learnt the art of printing from Colard Mansion ;
and the Medici of Florence, the Banca di San
Giorgio of Genoa, and the millionaire Fuggers of
Augsburg had all their representatives in this early
Flemish London.

A single paragraph from my Historical Guide
will serve to make this point clearer : —

" Some comprehension of the mercantile condition
of Europe in general during the Middle Ages is
necessary in order to understand the early impor-
tance and wealth of the Flemish cities. Southern
Europe, and in particular Italy, was then still the
seat of all higher civilisation, more especially of the
trade in manufactured articles and objects of luxury.
Florence, Venice, and Genoa ranked as the pol-
ished and learned cities of the world. Farther
east, again, Constantinople still remained in the

1 20 The European Tour

hands of the Greek emperors, or, during the
Crusades, of their Latin rivals. A brisk trade
existed via the Mediterranean between Europe
and India or the nearer East. This double stream
of traffic ran along two main routes, — one, by the
Rhine, from Lombardy and Rome ; the other, by
sea, from Venice, Genoa, Florence, Constantinople,
the Levant, and India. On the other hand, France
was still but a half civilised country, with few
manufactures and little external trade » while Eng-
land was an exporter of raw produce, chiefly wool,
like Australia in our own time. The Hanseatic
merchants of Cologne held the trade of London i
those of Wisby and Lubeck governed that of the
Baltic ; Bruges, as head of the Hansa, was in
close connection with all of these, as well as with
Hull, York, Novgorod, and Bergen. The posi-
tion of the Flemish towns in the fourteenth cen-
tury was thus not wholly unlike that of New York,
Philadelphia, and Boston at the present day ; they
stood as intermediaries between the older civilised
countries, like Italy or the Greek empire, and the
newer producers of raw material, like England,
North Germany, and the Baltic towns. The
local manufactures of Flanders consisted chiefly
of woollen goods and linens ; the imports included
Italian luxuries, Spanish figs and raisins, Egyptian

Belgium and Holland 121

dates. Oriental silks, English wool, cattle, and
metals, Rhenish wines and Baltic furs, skins, and
walrus tusks."

Of this busy Flemish world of the fourteenth
and fifteenth centuries, Bruges was the great
centre. The art that grew up in its midst bears
on its very face the impress of its commercial
origin. France is essentially a monarchical country,
and it is centralised in Paris, where everything is
regal in type, from the Louvre to the Sainte
Chapelle, from the royal park of Versailles to the
royal basilica of St. Denis. The Italian towns,
on the other hand, were oligarchies of noble
families ; the principal buildings of Florence,
Venice, and Genoa are therefore the castles or
palaces of princely houses, while the art is mainly
that of the painters patronised by the Medici or
the Doges. But in Flanders everything is in
essence commerciaL The architecture consists
mainly, not of kingly palaces or of private man-
sions, but of guilds, town halls, exchanges, belfries ;
the pictures are the portraits of solid and success*
ful merchants, or the devotional works which a
merchant donor presented to the patron saint of
his town or business. They are almost overloaded
with details of fur, brocade, jewellery, lace, gold,
silver, polished brass, metal work, and oriental

122 The European Tour

carpets; they bespeak a wealthy and cultivated
bourgeoisie. In order to understand Flemish art,
therefore, you should see it first in the opulent
merchant towns where it took its origin.

The nucleus of Bruges is formed by the famous
group of old city buildings^ including the Belfry^
which was the embodiment of the town privileges,
together with the Hotel-de-Ville and its subsidiaiy
edifices. These Flemish belfries are in themselves
very interesting relics, because they were the first
symbols of corporate existence and municipal power
which every town wished to erect in the Middle
Ages. The use of the bell was to summon the
citizens to arms in defence of their rights, or to
counsel for their common liberties. Every Teu-
tonic burgher community desired to wring the right
of erecting such a belfiy from its feudal lord ; and
those of Bruges and Ghent are still majestic
memorials of the freedom-loving wool-staplers of
the thirteenth century. By the side of the Belfry
stands the Cloth Hall^ representing the trade from
which the town derived its wealth ; while hard by
is the Hotel^de-Ville^ with its exquisite little Gothic
chapel of the Saint Sang, built to contain some
drops of the Holy Blood of Christ which Thierry
of Alsace brought back from the Crusade in 1149,
and thus fitly comparable from a certain point of

Belgium and Holland 123

view with the Sainte Chapelle of Paris. This
noble and stately group of municipal and mercantile
buildings enables us mentally to reconstruct the
time when Bruges was the greatest commercial
seaport of Western Europe, when its quays were
crowded with Venetian ships and English wool-
merchants, and when the wealth of the Rhine, the
Baltic, and the Channel poured in upon it daily as
the chief emporium of mediaeval industry.

These, however, are but the first attractions
of Bruges. Add to them a charming old town,
threaded by silent canals like a northern Venice,
and with houses that have descended to us straight
from the seventeenth century or earlier, and you
will understand why I say that at least a week
should, if possible, be devoted to Bruges. If it is a
question of cutting short the time either here or at
Brussels or Antwerp, let Brussels and Antwerp go
by comparison. Stick to what is most impor-
tant, most instructive, most beautiful. Don't let
the fact that modern arrangements have made
Brussels the capital of a mushroon monarchy mis-
lead you. Brussels is full of delightful things, it
is true, but it has not half the real interest and
value of Bruges. See this by all means, even if
you are therefore compelled to skimp for time the
more modern cities.

1 24 The European Tour

The greatest reason of all for going to Bruges^
however, is to see its pictures^ which not only form
the groundwork for a knowledge of Flemish art^
but rank as one of the greatest treats Europe has td
oiflfer. The most important collection, consisting
entirely of Memling's masterpieces, is at the Hospital
of Si* Jokftj a very ancient foundation, served to
the present day by the Augustinian nuns Who were
there already in the fourteenth century, and who
still Wear the same dress as in Memling's pictures.
This little gallery of one man's art may fairly
rank with the Fra Angelicos at San Marco in
Florence and the Giottos in the Madonna dell'
Arena at Padua, as one of the three most interest*
ing collections in the world. There are only
some half-dozen works, it is true ; but they will
occupy 3fou with pleasure for many visits. The
chief gem is the casket containing the arm of St.
Ursula, who was martyred at Cologne, with her
11,006 virgins, by the heathen Huns about the
fifth century. The sides, the ends, and the roof
of this exquisite little shrine, ^ Gothic chapel in
miniature, are covered with dainty pictures of the
legend of the saint, one of the most poetic in the
whole range of hagtology ; and they have been
treated by Memling in the spirit of a fairy tale,
with an art that carries away every sympathetic

Belgium and Holland 125

Visitor. The idyllic painter reads the whole tale as
a series of episodes in a courtly life^ like that of
the Bui]gan£an princes at Bruges in his own time ^
and he has therefore given us such a set of scenes
m silk and velvet costumes of the period^ idealised
and poeticised, as once beheld must live with one
forever*

Whatever else you omit in Europe, try hard to
see these exquisite and immortal pictures*

As a single example of the way in which, as I
believe. Such works ought to be studied, in con-
nection with the place and circumstances which
gave them birth, I will extract from my Histori-
cal Guide the description of one among these
delicious works^ of whkh the ordinary account
Would be merely that it represented the Adoration
of the Magi, by Memling. In order really to
understand what such a picture is driving at,
the description should rather run somewhat as
follows : —

" Near the window by the entrance is a Trip*
tychy also by Memling, commissioned by Brother
Jan Floreins of this Hospital. The antral pand
represents the Adoration of the Magi^ which takes
place, as usual, under a ruined temple fitted up as
a manger. The Eldest of the Three Kings
(according to precedent) is kneeling and has pre-

1 26 The European Tour

sented his gift ; Joseph, recognisable (in all three
panels) by his red and black robe, stands erect
behind him, with the presented gift in his hands.
The Middle-aged King, arrayed in cloth of gold,
with a white tippet, kneels with his gift to the L.
of the picture. The Young King, a black man,
•as always, is entering with his gift to the right.
The three thus typify the Three Ages of Man, and
also the three known continents, Europe, Asia,
Africa. On the L. side of this central panel are
figured the donor, Jan Floreins, and his brother
Jacob. (Members of the same family are grouped
in the well-known ^^ Duchatel Madonna," also by
Memling, in the Louvre.) To the right is a
figure looking in at a window and wearing the
yellow cap still used by convalescents of the
Hospital (arbitrarily said to be a portrait of Mem-
ling). The left panel represents the Nativity, with
our Lady, St. Joseph, and two adoring angels.
The right panel shows the Presentation in the
Temple, with Simeon and Anna, and St. Joseph
(in fed and black) in the background. (The whole
thus typifies the Epiphany of Christ ; left, to the
Blessed Virgin ; centre, to the Gentiles ; right, to
the Jews.) The outer panels^ in pursuance of
the same idea, have figures; right, of St. John
Baptist with the lamb (he pointed out Christ to

Belgium and Holland 1 27

the Jews), with the Baptism of Christ in the back-
ground ; and left, St. Veronica, who preserved for
us the features of our Lord, displaying his divine
face on her napkin. The architectural frame
shows the First Sin and the Expulsion from Para-
dise. Note everywhere the strong character in
the men's faces, and the exquisite landscape or
architectural backgrounds. Dated 1479. This
is Memling's finest altar-piece : its glow of colour
is glorious."

The other little collection at the Academy will
introduce you to Jan van Eyck, the founder of
the Flemish school of painting, to Gerard David,
and to many other Flemish artists of the highest
importance.

Mention of the Burgundian court too reminds
me that Bruges is the natural place in which to
study the dynastic history of the Netherlands under
its native princes, its Burgundian rulers, and its
later Spanish despots. In one of the two splendid
churches of the town — rich in other works of art
as well — you will find the tombs, the costly and
gorgeous tombs, of Charles the Bold and his
daughter Mary of Burgundy ; pegs on which you
may hang your knowledge of that powerful dynasty
whose memorials will pursue you across the rest
of Europe, from Venice to Madrid, from Vienna

128 The European Tour

to Brussels, from Rome to Innsbruck. The
famous chimney-piece of the old Palais de Justice
hard by will show you the effigies of the ancestors
of Charles V. in a form which readily fixes their
relationship on your memory. Here and here only
you get the tangled threads unravelled: here and
here only the history lives again for you.

I have dwelt long on Bruges — comparatively;
but I wish space permitted me to dwell longer.
For it fascinates. Go there early, and do not
hurry away from it. You must drink it in slowly,
and you may learn much from it. Besides which,
every walk through the town is a succession of
pictures; the old walls, the gates, the step^gables
of the houses, the Madonnas in the niches, the
turrets, the reliefs, everything is delightful, and
everything tells you you are back in the Middle
Ages.

Ghent was in its time as fine a town as Bruges,
and must once have been as rich in sculpture,
painting, and decorations. But it has been more
fully modernised^ and perhaps two days, or at least
three, may satisfy the enquiring mind of the
American tourist. While Bruges was the chief
seaport, Ghent was the chief manufacturing town
of the fourteenth century. Into its history and its
connection with the England of Edward III. I

Belgium and Holland 1 29

have gone at length in my Historical Guide.
The chief reasons for visiting it at present are its
fine old churches, its Town Hall and Belfry, its
excellent pictures, and above all its glorious polyp-
tych of the Adoration of the Lamb by Hubert and Jan
van Eyck, which forms the first great work of the
Flemish school of painting. This immense altar*
piece occupies the $pot where it wasi originally
placed, in the chapel of the Vydts family, in the
Church of St, John Baptist (now the Cathedral of
St. Bavon), and to see it properly requires mor«
than two or thre^ visits ; for though nominally one
picture, and really taken up with a single scene, it
consists of many separate figures and episodes iti
different tiers, and contains within itself an epitome
of Flemish theology and symbolism in the fifteenth,
century. I have elsewhere given a full explana-^
tion of its numerous groups of saints and martyr$.
As for Brussilsj I need not press its claims upon
the tourist's attention. As a rule, indeed, the ten-
dency of visitors is to allot an unduly long prppor-
tion of their time to the Belgian capital, and tq
put cff Bruges and Ghent, collectively so much
more beautiful and interesting, with a day each, or
at best a couple of days of hurried sight-seeing.
This is a serious error. Not that I wish to detract
from the charms of Brussels ; for I confess I find

130 The European Tour

it one of the most fascinating and alluring cities in
Europe, one from which it is hard to tear oneself.
It is usual to speak of Brussels as ^^a miniature
Paris." The judgment, I venture to say, is essen-
tially a vulgar one. Brussels has far more that is
interesting to show one than Paris, except as re-
gards the foreign collections — Italian, classical,
Assyrian, Egyptian, etc. — of the French capital.
In local and national art, Brussels is the richer of
the two. If what people mean is that both towns
have boulevards, cafes^ gardens, squares, parks,
kiosks, theatres, and music-halls, — in short, the
common features of modern European town life, —
and that Paris, being larger, has naturally more of
them, of course they are right ; but then, on the
same principle, one might as well call Chicago a
big Brussels. In genuine interest, Brussels runs
Paris close, and in some ways beats it ; only those
who do not care for art or antiquity could ever say
that ^^ Brussels disappoints if seen after Paris." As
a place of prolonged residence, it is simply delight-
ful, — bright, airy, open, not too big, with all its
parts accessible; and every other great centre in
Europe can be reached from it more easily than
from any other city, if one takes all together.
Indeed, when I think of its glorious contents, I do
not envy the man who does not love Brussels.

Belgium and Holland 131

Take up your quarters in the upper town^ not
far from the King's Palace, where you have fresh
air, and space, and are nearest to everything.

The sights of Brussels are of many kinds. In
the first place its mediaeval centre consists of the
finest Old Square in Europe (except those of Ven-
ice and Florence) ; in which are situated the glo-
rious Hotel-de-Ville and the goi^eous Maison du
Roi, two of the finest secular buildings in the
world ; while the rest of the Place consists entirely
of handsome Renaissance guild-halls. This square
alone gives Brussels a hv higher rank than that of
" a little Paris ; " there is nothing in Paris to be
named in the same day with it. Then, again,
there is the noble Cathedral of the local patroness,
Ste. Gudule; her image, carrying the lantern
which the devil tried to blow out, recurs in every
part of it, as does also that of the local patron, St.
Michael the Archangel. You will find him, if you
look for him, on the very lamp^posts. It is this
continuity of idea between the Middle Ages and
modern times that gives half the charm to Europe ;
and it is for the sake of calling attention to these
persistent features, of suggesting the reasons and
explanations of things, that I have been moved to
plan my series of Historic Guide-books.

Brussels is also the place in which to form a

132 The European Tour

connectid idia of Flemish art. At Bruges and
Ghent you saw its magnificent beginnings in the
Van Eycks and Memling; at Brussels you make
further acquaintance with these same early artists,
as well as with their near contemporaries Dierick
Bouts and Roger van der Weyden ; but you also
follow out the developmeot of the intermediate
Flemish school, in Quentin Matsys, Gossart, and
other transitional masters ^ you watch the intrcv-
duction of a new style derived from the Italian
Renaissance; and you are enabled to follow the
subsequent rise of Rubens and bis school ; as well
as the first hints of Vandyck, Rembrandt, and the
later Dutch masters. You will here be in a posi*
tion to guess why I advised you first to see Bruges
and Ghent. You were able there to concentrate
your attention on the beautiful works of the early
school i by the time you reach Brussels, these will
have become so far familiar to you that you will be
fitted intelligently to trace the further development
qf Flemish art and of its Dutch offshoot. But if
you were first to attack the whole mingled mass of
early and transitional work^ as you see it set to-
gether, somewhat pell-mell, in the Hall of the Old
Flemish Masters at the Brussels Museum — still
more if you were to begin with the suite of rooms
containing - the Rubenses and the Vandycks, -— as

Belgium and Holland 133

most tourists do, — you could never get anything
but a confused and phantasmagoric idea of the art
of the Low Countries. You would understand
none of it. Begin with what is simplest, easiest,
and earliest ; proceed to what is later, more com^
plex, and more varied.

A stay of about a week will suffice to give you
a good idea of Brussels. I have sketched in my
Guide a plan of action.

Antwerp is practically a town of much later
origin than the other three. Though in one sense
old, its importance dates only from the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries. A9 the Zwin at Bruges
silted up, and as Venice declined, Antwerp rose
into commercial greatness. More than that; it
was the first leading Atlantic seaport of the more
extended traffic. It flourished with the military
greatness of Spain, and with the commercial im-
portance of America and the Indies. Hence its
art belongs almost entirely to the later period,
beginning with Quentin Matsys, who died in
153 1, and culminadng with Rubens, whose life
as an artist nearly coincides with the first half of
the seventeenth century. In one word, it is a
Renaissance city. True, the modern museum, one
of the finest in the world, contains several noble
works of earlier painters; but these have been

134 The European Tour

mainly brought hither in recent years, and none of
them have any original connection with Antwerp.
On every account, therefore, the town ought to
be visited last of the Belgian cities ; it closes a
chapter in the national development.

Briefly put, Antwerp is the city of Rubens ; and
Rubens is now a far less interesting figure than he
was to the generation which cared only for
Renaissance art, ignoring Fra Angelico, Botticelli,
Van Eyck, and Memling. A visit of three or four
days ought therefore to suffice for the hasty
traveller ; those who have more time to spend
will find a week amply sufficient. The Cathe-
dral has excellent points, but it has been much
overrated ; it contains fine pictures, but not so
fine now as they were thought thirty years ago.
Recollect that taste at present is going back to the
fountain-heads, and that Roger van der Weyden
and Gerard David are beginning to assume the
place once usurped by later painters.

As to the Antwerp Museum^ it is full of fine
works, and deserves long and close attention.
Besides its admirable early masterpieces, including
a lovely and touching Van der Weyden, it is es-
pecially important for the study of Rubens, whose
chronological development can nowhere else be
followed to so great advantage. You will find him

Belgium and Holland 135

a diiFerent painter here (and at Munich) from the
hasty coverer of sprawling canvases whose ex-
uberant dames you learned rather to dislike in
Paris. With all his faults, all his fly-away seven-
teenth-century mannerisms and allegories, you will
see Rubens in this gallery as a grand seigneur
of art, dispensing colour with princely magnifi-
cence, and lavish in his ostentation of artistic
opulence.

Then there is the Plantin^Moretus Museum^
belonging to a famous family of early printers,
which nobody should miss, and charmingly in-
stalled in its own sixteenth-century palace. These
and many other sights make Antwerp rank fourth
in interest among Belgian towns — a long way
behind Bruges and Brussels, it is true, but still
high in the scale of European art-cities.

Three lesser towns also deserve a visit from
those who can spare time. Tpres has a mag-
nificent Cloth Hall, and was a mighty manu-
facturing city in the fourteenth century ; it can
best be reached from Bruges or Ghent. Louvain
is within half an hour's rail from Brussels ; it has
a noble Hotel-de-Ville and a good church, with
some of Dierick Bouts's masterpieces. MalineSy
with its splendid cathedral and nice old-world air,
may best be seen on your way from Brussels to

136 The European Tour

Antwerp. Indeed, that is the most charming
point about Belgium and Holland 1 the objects of
intere^ lie so close tc^ther that you can spend the
day in sight-seeing, ^nd proceed by train — never
exceeding an hour's journey-'^ to the next town
in the evening.

After Belgium, Holland falls flat. It has little
early interest^ and depends entirely for its effect
upon seventeenth- century architecture and paint-
ing. You can skip Rotterdam; it is scarcely
worth a visit, unless you have plenty of time, and
are a sworn admirer of the minor Dutch painters*
But you must stop a few days at the Hagut^ where
costume, character, old brick houses, and quaint
streets and palaces are all in their way delightful.
The royal Picture Gallery is also the second coU
lection in the world for the native Dutch school^
it is rich in Rembrandts and Paul Potters, and you
will probably learn in it for the first time to ap-^
preciate the merits of Jan Steen, Gerard Dow,
Terburg, Hondekoeter, the Ruysdaels, and Van der
Heist. Rembrandt's School of Anatomy and Paul
Potter's Bull are the most famous pictures of the
collection ; but I say little of Dutch art because it
is essentially modern; the spectator can see its
meaning at sight for himself; it does not require
explanation like the mediaeval works of Belgium

Belgium and Holland 137

and Italy* For the same reason I do not at
present contemplate addii^ a Historical Guide to
Holland to my series.

Pleasant excursions can be made from the Hague
to the wsftering-place of Schiveningen^ where Dutch
costume is seen at its best, and to Z>r^, which rs
a capital example of a comparatively unspoilt old
Dutch €own«

Between the Hague and Amsterdam be sure you
stop at Leydin and Haarlem. The first is a
picturesque town, with more medisevalism surviv-
ing in it than is usual in Holland ; the second is
both quaint in itself and also indispensable for the
study of Frans Hals, most of whose admirable
portrsiits and portrait-pieces are here preserved.
A day at each will serve to show you most of
what is to be seen 5 but of course a much longer
stay is needed for anything like a proper study of
the buildings and the works of art contained in
tbem»

The interest of Amsterdam is almost confined to
its comprehensive Museum, though the town itself
is cuitous in its way as a sort of dull and brick-
buih Northern Venice. The Museum is a hotch-
potch of all arts and antiquities; but the only
thing that need long detain the stranger is its
splendid Picture Gallery, undoubtedly the noblest

f
138 The European Tour

collection of Dutch paintings in the world. The
Rembrandts are unrivalled ; and the Van der Heists
run them closer than most critics are ready to
admit.

Those who mean to spend much time in Europe
will find many other things in Holland to interest
them; such as the curious ^^dead cities" of the
Zuider Zee, and the ancient university town of
Utrecht. More accessible from Amsterdam are
the island of Mar ken in the Zuider Zee, which of
late years has become (perhaps too much) a place
of pilgrimage for tourists, because of its rather
theatrical and studied quaintness; and Gouda^
whose ancient stained glass forms the best exist-
ing specimen of old Dutch art in that material.
But on the whole, I do not advise the six-monthly
visitor to spend too large a proportion of his time
in Holland. It is so purely modern. If he desires
to make acquaintance with the great Dutch
painters, a day or two at the Hague, Haarlem, and
Amsterdam will amply suffice for a first impres-
sion ; the rest is merely odd with a seventeenth-
century oddity and picturesqueness ; I regard it as
a dangerous Will-o'-the-wisp to lead the aspirant
astray from what is really more important in
Germany and Italy. Hurry on to the South, and
then return if you choose. After you have learnt

Belgium and Holland 139

what artistic wealth exists in Siena and Perugia —
I do not say in Florence, Rome, and Venice — you
can judge better for yourself whether it is worth
your while to waste time on Alkmaar, Helder, or
Groningen.

CHAPTER IX

THE RHINELAND

^TT^HE leisurely tourist, proceeding to Italy from
■*• Belgium or Holland, will find a stay of a
week or two among the towns of the Rhineland
both instructive and agreeable. It is the indispen-
sable introduction to a German tour.

For the Rhineland is historic Germany. Along
that great water-way civilisation first penetrated in
Roman times, and most of the existing towns of
the chief importance show traces of having been
formerly Roman stations. It is true one might
say the same thing about London, York, and Lin-
coln, about Paris, Lyons, and Marseilles ; and
indeed the Roman remains of Southern France are
far finer in some ways than any to be seen in any
part of Germany. Treves (or Trier) itself is but
a poor thing compared with Nimes, Orange, and
Aries. They were populous cities : it was an
outlying local centre. Yet it is important to bear
in mind the fact that in the Rhineland at last we
stand in the midst of a country once thoroughly

The Rhineland 141

Romanised ; a country whence the intrusive bar-
barian never wholly ousted the lingering relics of
Roman culture, as he did in England ; a country
which when civilisation began to spread northward
once more became the chief seat of Charlemagne's
great West-European Empire. All that is oldest
and best worth seeing for its native art in the
region we now call Germany (save only Nurem-
berg) is to be found in and around the Rhineland
— the noblest cathedrals, the finest churches, the
thickest clustered castles, the most exquisite paint-
ings. This alone is medtaval Germany, From it
as a centre civilisation spread slowly with tentative
steps to the surrounding uplands and to the half
Slavonic border. Prussia and Saxony are late-
comers in the comity of European nations; the
Rhineland alone is the real and original civilised
Germany.

Here again, therefore, I must enter a protest
against the serious mistake of making first for Ber-
lin, Dresden, and Munich. These are not in any
true sense Germany. Berlin is the artificial and
complex capital of a brand-new modern Empire,
built on soil which is hardly German save by adop-
tion, and inhabited by a mixed race nearly half of
whom are more Slav than Teuton. It has little
of history, little of antiquity, belonging to its own

142 The European Tour

spot, truly local and native. Of late years, it is
true, it has acquired many works of art of impor-
tance ; but these are chiefly foreign, modern, or at
least unconnected in origin and history with Berlin
itself. The fact is, whatever interest the town pos-
sesses is more like that of an American city, with,
which you are already familiar, than that of an an-
cient European metropolis. Leave aside such places
for the present at least, and concentrate yourself
on what is most European, most original, most
typical, — what is oldest in itself, and therefore to
you newest. After seeing Italy, you can, if time
remains to you, turn back to the recent collections
of Berlin.

Dresden^ again, is a rather modern town, with
splendid art-collections, a great reputation as a
^ cheap) musical centre, and a somewhat greater
air of antiquity than Berlin ; but its best works of
art are still Italian ; and though you ought certainly
to see it, if possible, before you return to America,
I strongly advise you to put off visiting it till
after you have explored Italy. For in Italy you
will have learned where to place all its chief treas-
ures; you will have discovered the historical
sequence of the artists and their works, and you
will appreciate Dresden ten thousand times better
on your return than if you visit it on your way

The Rhineland 143

South. Much the same thing is true of Munich^
which you should also see, but after Italy, In one
word, the interest of these two great art-towns of
Germany is not German but cosmopolitan; the
interest of the Rhineland is local and historical.
^ Rome and Florence hold the keys of Dresden and
Munich; Cologne and Mayence hold their own
keys, which are the keys of Germany.

The Rhineland^ then, is the beginning of Ger-
many, the centre of Germany, the core of Germany,
the historical Germany. It is the land of Charle^
magne ; and Charlemagne lies at the very root of all
West-European culture. But you may say, " If
so, why did you not advise us, in accordance with
your usual evolutionary idea, to visit the Rhine-
land first, before Belgium and Holland, which
clearly derive their prime impetus from it ? "
Well, that is my wisdom ! Of course, if you were
to push this evolutionary principle to its extreme,
you would have to begin with the Greeks and
Romans ; or, if you want to be more thorough, with
the Assyrians and Egyptians ; or, if you insist on
being quite broadly anthropological, with the palaeo-
lithic and neolithic savages. But thoroughness such
as this is practically impossible ; and what is more,
it is undesirable. You will find it best in practice to
begin with what is nearest to you and to your own

144 The European Tour

civilisation, — France and England; then go back
to the Low Countries ; and from the Low Coun-
tries proceed to the Rhineland, and so on Rome-
wards. Each country, as you come to it, teaches
you something, and on the whole your progress is
backward, from the known to the unknown; I
only plead that in each department you ought to
walk systematically, England and France showed
you the transition from the mediaeval to the
modern ; Belgium showed you the mediaeval in full
blast ; the Rhineland takes you back to the roots
of the Middle Ages in the system of Charlemagne.
Each step back helps to explain the steps you have
already examined; but as you must begin some-
where, it is best to begin near your own civilisation*
You thus get in the end a more connected picture*
On your way to the Rhine from Belgium or
Holland, you must certainly stop at jfix-la-Chapelle^
or Aachen, which derives its first name of Aix
from the Roman Aquae, " the Baths " or " the
Waters," and its second of " la-Chapelle " from
the dome or mausoleum which Charlemagne
erected to contain his own body. Here you can
feel you are beginning to get back to the real
roots of things. Aix is the ancient capital of the
Teutonic Empire. Its origin goes back to the
days of old Rome. When the Romans held

The Rhineland 145

the Rhineland, with their colony at Cologne, they
called this place Aquisgranum, that is to say, ^ the
Mineral Waters," and resorted to it as a cure
much as visitors do to the present day. When
Charlemagne conquered and reunited the greater
part of the Western Empire in his new Prankish
realm, he made this his principal city north of the
Alps, and erected in it the nucleus of the existing
cathedral, one of the most historical buildings in
modern Germany. Do not on any account neg-
lect to see it. But the mausoleum which he
thus built for his own remains, with fragments
ransacked from older Roman towns, is an excel-
lent example of the general principle I have just
laid down; for you can only really understand
the tomb of Charlemagne after you have seen
Ravenna.

You must bear in mind that with the setting in
of the decadence at Rome, Ravenna rose to be prac-
tically the chief city of Italy, and the seat of the
fleet, which then almost replaced the army as a
means of national protection. It was the capital
of Honorius and the late Western Emperors of the
last old Roman line ; later still it was the capital
of the Gothic kingdom of Italy, under Theodoric
and his successors ; and when the Byzantine

emperors reconquered for a while the Adriatic

146 The European Tour

provinces, it became the seat of Justinian and the
Exarchs from Constantinople. Naturally enough,
therefore, when Charlemagne began to re-establish
the Western Empire, it was to the still splendid
buildings of Ravenna, glowing even now with gor-
geous wealth of mosaics, that he looked first for
models. When he decided to erect for himself a
fitting mausoleum at his capital of Aix, it was the
noble Church of San Vitale at Ravenna that he un-
dertook to copy. This church itself was probably
the court chapel of the Palace at Ravenna ; it still
stands, and is an octagon of great beauty, built in
526 by Archbishop Ecclesius, under the superin-
tendence of Julius Argentarius, on the very spot
where St. Vitalis, the local saint to whom it is ded-
icated, suffered martyrdom. It was consecrated in
547 by St. Maximian, and its glorious mosaics still
present us the figures of that holy man himself, as
well as of Justinian and Theodora, his patrons and
sovereigns. On this fashionable model, then, the
last masterpiece of decadent Roman art, Charle-
magne built his own mausoleum, an imposing
octagon of the Byzantine style, and practically the
oldest modern building of importance in Germany.
It shows us the transition from the older to the
newer Roman Empire.

Charlemagne, however, as later ages knew him,

The Rhineland 147

was not merely a great emperor and a wise ad-
ministrator; he was also a canonised saint. He
had been buried in his own mausoleum, built in
part by Italian workmen ; but being a saint, he
was naturally not allowed to rest there forever.
^^ Translation " is one of the penalties of saintship.
Three centuries and a half after his death, the
Emperor Otho III. opened the tomb to inspect the
remains ; and a century and a half later Frederick
Barbarossa transferred the body to a splendid antique
sarcophagus, still preserved in the church, though
now empty. The slabs on which the holy form
had previously lain were then made into a corona-
tion chair for the emperors. In 121 5 Frederick
II. transferred the great emperor's remains to a
reliquary of gold and silver, kept at present in the
Cathedral treasury, where they receive even now
the homage of the faithful. All round later Em-
perors share the repose of their canonised predeces-
sor; and from the death of Charlemagne in 814
till the accession of Ferdinand I. in 1 531, all the
sovereigns of the Holy Roman Empire were duly
crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle.

You will thus see how historically important is
this ancient city, further details concerning which
will appear in my Historical Guide to the
Rhine, now in course of preparation.

148 The European Tour

The existing Cathedral of jftx-la-Chapelle^inieeAy
is a brief epitome of the history of Germany. Its
nucleus consists of the Byzantine-Romanesque
octagon built by Charlemagne, much altered in the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries : its choir is a
beautiful Gothic work of the fourteenth and fif-
teenth centuries ; its &ntastic roof is of the seven-
teenth century. The contents are equally varied
with the fabric itself: a brazen she-wolf of the
Roman period ^ a pine-cone of the tenth century ;
columns of various ages, brought hither from Rome,
Treves, and Ravenna ; ancient sarcophagi and
mediaeval reliquaries, — in short, a stratified collec-
tion of the antiquities of the Rhineland. For all
these reasons, you must not omit Aix-la-Chapelle ;
it is the proper introduction to the study of modern
European art and history — the first chapter of
Modern Europe.

Cologne is the next stage, and it deserves to be
visited on many accounts, but chiefly as the cradle
of German painting.

Do not hurry over Cologne ; it is a town with
many claims on your close attention. It is rich
in antiquities, rich in churches, rich in pictures ;
don't suppose (as most people do) that when you
have just visited the Cathedral once you have
^^ done Cologne y " on the contrary, this ancient

The Rhineland 149

and artistic town needs to be studied far more
thoroughly than anything you have yet seen, save
Brussels, Bruges, and Paris.

Not that I mean to slight the Cathedral; it is
the natural centre of mediaeval Cologne, and round
it cluster the art and the handicraft of the Rhine-
land. But you will make a great mistake if you
regard it merely as a great church and the seat of
an archbishop. You must read yourself quite
otherwise into mediaeval religion if you wish really
to understand the Middle Ages. Cologne Cathedral
is, above all things, the Shrine of the Three Kings ;
and the Three Kings were the chief objects of
reverence in all the Rhineland before the Reforma-
tion revolutionised thought on these subjects almost
as much for Catholics as for Protestants. To go
to Cologne was to make a pilgrimage to the Shrine
of the Magi ; and it was to glorify that shrine that
most of the works of art the town contains were
originally fashioned.

The Magi who visited Christ in his infancy at
Bethlehem were early described as Kings, and made
three in number, in accordance with a supposed
prophetic utterance in the seventy-second Psalm ;
they are already represented in royal barbaric garb,
and given their mediaeval names of Caspar, Melchior,
and Balthasar in a mosaic of Theodoric the Goth

150 The European Tour

at Ravenna. Their bones were discovered by that
great unearther of relics, St. Helena, the mother
of the Emperor Constantine (who also found the
True Cross), and carried by her to Constantinople.
Thence they were taken later to Milan, their stay
in that town making the Adoration of the Magi a
favourite subject for art throughout the Lombard
region. When Frederick Barbarossa stormed and
destroyed Milan, ruining almost every ancient
building in the city, in 1162, he presented the
remains of the Three Kings to ArcHbishop Reinald
von Dassel, who took them to Cologne. There
the Archbishop placed them in the little Roman-
esque cathedral of that period, long since destroyed.
But succeeding Archbishops felt that the relics
of the Three Kings deserved a lordlier setting;
St. Engelbert, in the beginning of the thirteenth
century, set on foot the movement for a better
church; and in 1248 Conrad von Hochstaden
laid the foundation stone of the present sumptuous
building, the largest and most famous of Gothic
edifices.

Now, why do I tell you all this here at such
length ? Because, as I go on in this book, I am
trying to put you gradually more and more into
the proper frame of mind for understanding and
appreciating the inner spirit of Europe. If you

The Rhineland 151

arrive at Cologne, merely knowing that there is a
great cathedral there, and then are told how it was
begun at such-and-such a date by such-and-such
an architect, and finished in our own day by the
Emperor William, and that it is so many feet long,
and so many high, and bears such-and-such a pro-
portion — I do not know what, and I do not care —
to St. Peter's at Rome and St. Paul's in London,
well, you are no nearer than you were to under-
standing and sympathising with this epic in stone,
this vast imaginative work of the Middle Ages.
You must consider it from the point of view of
the people who built it. And they built it in
honour of Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, the
three saints of Cologne, whose names men still
bear in the valley of the Rhine far more frequently
than in all the rest of Europe. And in the chief
recess behind the High Altar of the mighty
minster they placed in the seat of honour the bones
of the ancient saints in the Chapel of the Three
Kings ; where you may see to this day the beauti-
ful gilded bronze relief of the Adoration of the
Magi. And all round lie Bishops and Electors
and Queens, who desired that their dust should
slumber by the sacred bones; amongst them,
the heart of Marie de Medicis. And all along the
Rhine valley, where men made pilgrimage to the

152 The European Tour

shrine at Cologne (as at Basle and elsewhere) you
will find the Three Kings is the commonest sign
of the ancient hostelries. But the bones of the
Magi themselves are no longer laid in the sump-
tuous chapel prepared to hold them ; they, and the
gorgeous golden Romanesque reliquary in which
they were placed shortly after their arrival in
Cologne, are now preserved for safer keeping in
the Treasury of the Cathedral. And those are the
really important facts which it behoves you to
know beforehand about the Dom at Cologne, the
final resting-place of the Three Magi.

To the mediaeval Parisian, Paris was not so
much the capital of the French kings as the home
of Ste. Genevieve and the shrine of St. Denis.
To the mediaeval Kolner, Cologne was not so
much a great trading city as the shrine of the
Kings from the East who went by the guiding light
of the star to Bethlehem.

But Cologne has other saints scarcely less im-
portant, — St. Ursula and her ii^ooo virgins and
St. Gereon and the Martyrs of the Thehan Legion*
Each has his or her own church, very interest-
ing churches too, which you must by no means
neglect ; worth six weeks apiece of I^ndon or
modern Paris. Then there is the famous Dom~
bild in the Cathedral, the masterpiece of Meister

The Rhineland 153

Stephan, a large winged triptych, which combines
all three great local cults, having in the centre the
Adoration of the Magi, and on either side, St.
Gereon with his knights, and St. Ursula with her
maidens. It is the finest work of the early Ger-
man school, and it shows you at a glance the chief
assemblage of worshipful personages in the Cologne
of the early fifteenth century.

Of the other paintings in Cologne I will not
say much ; but this I will say : you must stop long
enough to understand the art of the Cologne School^
which you can best do by visiting the Cathedral
and the two Museums (Municipal and Archiepis-
copal) with the aid of Sir Martin Conway's admi-
rable little work on " The Early Flemish Artists
and their Precursors on the Lower Rhine." This
book you should take with you round Belgium and
the Rhineland, and you will find it an unfailing
source of interest and instruction.

And now I hope you are beginning to perceive
the things which you must bear in mind while per-
ambulating Europe.

J week may be pleasantly spent at Cologne ; you
will find it much richer than you at first anticipate.
But by the end of that time you will want to go on
up the river; a charming trip, to be made leisurely
by steamer.

154 The European Tour

Don't rush the Rhine in a day. Loiter about
and see the pleasant drives in the Seven Moun-
tains ; the ruins of the Drachenfels and the many
quaint castles and old German towns on the way
to Coblence, which is itself comparatively uninter-
esting. Below Coblence comes the most pic-
turesque and castle-studded part of the river ; but
before you pass on to it, I strongly advise you to
turn aside to Treves (or Trier), a few hours by rail,
where you will first come across Roman remains
of any importance. The town is now a living
museum. Its great Roman gate, the Porta Nigra,
its Basilica, and its Roman Palace give it excep-
tional interest; while its noble and ancient churches
of the transitional period between the ancient and
the modern world are beautiful in themselves, and
rich in the possession of the sacred heads of St.
Matthew the Apostle and the Empress Helena.
Do not imagine because I say little of Treves that
it is not important. Stretch a point to visit it if
possible, and you will feel you have now got to the
very bottom stratum, the bed-rock of Germany.

The Gorge of the Rhine from Coblence to Bingen
is extremely pretty, and crammed thick with castles.
A day or two spent in exploring it, especially at
Boppard^ St, Goar^ Bacharach^ and Bingen^ will not
be thrown away. At Bingen, take train to Mainz^

The Rhineland 155

or Mayence, an interesting old town. Thence
you may proceed via Frankfort or Darmstadt or
Heidelberg to Basle. I do not propose to give you
any special hints for this itinerary. You can, if
you like, see the Black Forest on the way ; and I
have purposely omitted many interesting intermedi-
ate points, such as Speyer and Strasbourg. But you
cannot see all Germany at once ; and my advice
to you on a first trip to Europe at least would be
this, — see Aix-la-Chapelle, Cologne, the Rhine to
Mainz, and Treves, and you will then have seen
what is most important for purposes of culture.
On a second visit you can fill up the gaps ; and
even on your first you had better leave Munich,
Dresden, nay, Nuremberg itself (because it fits in
with them so well), till your return from Italy.

Italy, Italy ! Press on to Italy ! Till you have
seen it, you can only half understand what Europe
is driving at.

CHAPTER X

SWITZERLAND, ETC.

"DETWEEN the Rhineland and Italy lie the
-*-^ Jlps ; and, one way or another, you will have
to get over them.

When I say this, is it necessary for me to add
that I do not desire to disparage Switzerland ? To
us Europeans, of course (if I may pose as Euro-
pean), it is, to use a well-worn phrase, the playground
of Europe ; we love its rich pastures, its dark green
pine-woods, its brawling white torrents, its snow-
clad peaks, its subtle depths of crystal glacier.
To us, it is the symbol of six weeks* relaxation in
the afternoon of the year from the smoky drudgery
of London, the feverish excitement of Paris, the
fierce whir of factory wheels, the dead atmosphere
of the music-hall. We all love it, and love it with
justice; for it is the most beautiful thing unaided
nature has to show us in this beautiful continent.
I could gush about Switzerland if I chose ; why,
its gentians alone are worth months of Mayfair;
but I purposely refrain. This is not the place or

Switzerland, Etc. 157

the time for gushing. I have undertaken to guide
your steps aright through Europe ; and I must not
allow my own private taste for mountains, flowers,
waterfalls, and earth-sculpture to distract me now
from the things that are more excellent to the
American visitor.

For I recognise that to the American tourist
Switzerland, beautiful as it is, is a snare and a mis"
leader. Once get yourself lost among the depths
of those mountain meadows in May, and I almost
despair of ever pulling you down to Florence and
Venice. I remember once how after a spring in
North Italy, we went about the time when the
pheasant-eye narcissus stars the Alpine fields, and
the globe-flower gilds them, to Lucerne and Lu-
gano. I thought to myself, " Well, now at least,
after Carpaccio and Luini, mere hills and snow-
fields and torrents will seem tame to us ! " But
when we got upon the hill-tops — oh, heavens,
how I repented that sudden blasphemy ! The
snow glittered in the sun ; the lakes lay spread in
sheets of blue below ; the air was heavy with the
mountain perfume of the sweet-scented daphne;
and Italy faded like a dream behind us. We were
up among God's mountains, stretched on God's
flowery carpet, and man's works were as naught
in the dim plains to southward.

158 The European Tour

That was a momentary lapse into something
like poetry ! Forgive me ! Let us return to our
practical duties as guide, and eschew the gentians*

Well, once at Basle, I take it for granted the
tourist will wish to gain at least a passing glimpse of
Switzerland, But though Switzerland is so lovely
that the hardest-hearted man can scarcely dash
through it at one burst by an express train, I take
it for granted also that most American tourists will
merely regard it as part of the way to Italy. For
Italy is the goal; and Switzerland must be taken
as merely subsidiary to that prime intention.

I will therefore treat my Swiss hints essentially
as hints for the route to Italy. Diverge if you like
to right or left for the scenery and the moun-
tains ; but let the main road to Italy govern your
divagations. If what you want is to see Swit-
zerland itself, well and good : I approve your
decision : but — you are not my client.

We have arrived at Basle, I think. Very well \
let Basle itself wait for the moment while we
pause to reflect on the various modes of approaching
Italy.

There is one route which I can unreservedly
counsel you to reject — and that is the one most
frequently taken, the shortest, quickest, deadly-
dullest, and least instructive of any : I mean the

Switzerland, Etc. 159

weary way from Paris to Turin by Dijon and the
Mont Cents. From beginning to end, this obr-
jectionable line chucks away (there is no other
word for it) all the interest and beauty and delight
of the trip. ' It substitutes a dreary weary railway
journey for what ought to be one of the treats of
existence. You should approach Italy joyously,
reverently. If you take the Mont Cenis route,
you will approach it dusty, cross, and tired.
Travellers by this line — the Paris, Lyon, Medi-
terranee -*— are hurried first through the dismal
plain of Central and Eastern France, which is a
weariness to the flesh, to Dijon and the frontier.
The whole of this great plain, which alone they
pass through by daylight, is ghastly in its ugliness ;
unenclosed fields, threaded by long white poplar*
bordered roads: the only redeeming point is to
be found in the outliers of the Jura, After a long
and tedious day, cooped up in a box with nine
other sufferers, you reach the Alps — by night.
The route across them, by the Mont Cenis, is by
far the least beautiful of all the great Alpine lines :
it manages to show you as little as possible of the
glories of the mountains, even by day; and you
can only arrange to cross by day by breaking the
journey somewhere most inconveniently. Then
you descend on the other side to Turin, which is

i6o The European Tour

the barest, squarest, least characteristic of Italian
cities, and by far the least interesting. In one
word, you approach Italy by this route through the
back door. Unless you are pressed for time, or
have arranged the rest of your tour so as to compel
this undesirable mode of entry, I would say to
you most emphatically, avoid the Mont Cents,

On the other hand, if you must go that way
(and many rush headlong to their own destruc*
tion), I will add, by all means stop en route at Dijon.
It i$ an interesting town, rather Burgundian than
pure French ; and if you have already visited the
Low Countries, it will be full of instruction for
you. Then try to get a day train on over the
mountains. The French side of the line is com-
paratively poor, and no part of the route can hold
a candle to the St. Gotthard ; but the descent on
the Italian side is through the beautiful valley of
Susa, which ought to be seen, if possible, by day-
light. A day or two may be profitably spent at
Turin in examining the buildings and the excellent
picture gallery^ only, remember that this is not
the real Italy, this is merely Piedmont; and the
collection is a scratch one, not truly local, and
owing most of its value, indeed, to northern pic-
tures. You will not have bought this book in
vain if it only dissuades you from the veiy

Switzerland, Etc. i6i

false step of entering Italy first by way of
Turin.

The second of the great routes to Italy, and the
one to be on all accounts recommended^ for comfort,
for beauty of scenery, and for historic interest, is
undoubtedly the St. Gotthard. This line is in itself
the most beautiful bit of rail in Europe; and it
wholly beguiles the toil of the journey by the love-
liness of its scenery. You forget you are travel-
ling in the delight of looking out of the broad
plate-glass windows at the green cataracts of the
Reuss or the castled hillocks of the Ticino. If
you approach it by the Rhine, too, you will also
have got rid of the dull French plain, and had
nothing but pleasant scenery from start to finish —
the Belgian towns, Aix-la-Chapelle, Cologne, the
turreted crags of the Rhine gorge, the Black Forest,
Switzerland, the Italian Lakes, and last of all,
Milan. This is the ideal route. If possible, take
it.

I will describe the Gotthard road more fully in
the sequel ; for the present I go on to consider the
two remaining railway routes to Italy. Both are
a little out of the way, but both are scenically
interesting.

The road by the Riviera is simply delightful in

autumn, winter, and spring; but it is emphatically

1 62 The European Tour

a way for the leisurely traveller. It takes two or
three days at least of somewhat slow trains, with no
expresses at all on the Italian portion. But it is
full of interest, second only to that of the St.
Gotthard. You can stop first at Dijon^ and then
at LyoHSj which has little of interest, Avignon
shows you the old Palace of the Popes, in a won-
derful land of rock and dry soil. Aries is rich in
Roman remains, and has the finest Romanesque
church and cloisters I have ever seen. A little de*
tour will take you to Ntmes^ with the noblest
classical buildings on the far side of the Alps ;
each of these three is well worth a visit. Then
on to Marseilles^ and so by the French Riviera to
Cannes^ Nice^ Monaco^ Monte Carlo^ and Mentone.
It cannot be denied that this is one of the loveliest
sunny coasts in the world, but it is somewhat de*
ficient in works of art and antiquity. I recom-
mend it more for those who wish to spend the
winter with pleasant surroundings in a moderately
warm climate than for the passing tourist.

Continuing the same route beyond the Italian
frontier (which is passed at the ever-to-be-avoided
custom-house of Ventimiglia), we follow much the
same beautiful coast along the Riviera di Ponente
as far as Genoa, It is a succession of pictures.
Bordighera^ San Remoy and Alassio are here the chief

Switzerland, Etc. 163

centres of interest ; all of them are supplied with
good hotels for a lengthy stay, and are enjoyable
quarters. The whole of this Riviera, indeed, is
extremely charming, with its deep blue bays, its
rocky islets, its high green olive-clad or pine-
crowned promontories, and its crowded white vil-
lages gleaming in the sun among orange and lemon
groves, But it is merely picturesque ; — no more :
though old-world and delightful, it lacks the higher
humanising elements of European interest.

All these routes, — Mont Cenis, Gotthard,
Riviera, — from one point of view, unite at Gema^
whence I will trace them later, via the Riviera di
Levante, to Rome or Florence,

The second of the two less important entrances
into Italy is that by the Brenner. This pleasant
and attractive route takes off from the Rhine trip at
Mayence or Heidelberg, whence one can proceed
in one long dull day through squalid Bavaria to
Munich. There, in that delightful little pocket
capital, you may stop as long as desirable ; and
then continue through the exquisite wooded hills of
the Bavarian Highlands into the Austrian Tyrol,
The first stop may be made at Innsbruck^ which is
not only a splendid centre for Alpine excursions,
but also a picturesque town with great historical
and artistic attractions. The Tomb of the Empe*

164 The European Tour

ror Maximilian in the principal church, guarded by
the Renaissance bronze statues of his real or myth-
ical ancestors, will be interesting to every one, but
especially to those who have seen Bruges, Ghent,
and Brussels. The line over the Brenner proper,
though lacking the supreme interest of the unap-
proachable St. Gotthard, is still particularly beau-
tiful with a quiet mountainous beauty, seldom rising
to distinct grandeur. On the southern slope, but
still well within Austrian territory, a day or two
may be pleasantly passed at Botzen and Meran^ the
latter of which lies a little way off the main route,
but is a most characteristic and well-preserved
Tyrolese city. The national costumes are here
worn more commonly than elsewhere, and the
castles around, especially the magnificent Roman-
esque Schloss Tyrol, are well worth a visit. From
Botzen, you can descend the valley of the Etsch or
Adige in one day to Verona^ where you will find
yourself at once in the very heart of true Italy.

But / do not recommend the Brenner route^ either,
to the visitor who approaches Italy for the first
time. It is a little too much out of the way, and
it interpolates Munich at a wrong place in the sys-
tem. Moreover, Verona is quite too Italian to
form a good first introduction to Italy. You must
be somewhat Italianate already before you can

Switzerland, Etc. 165

appreciate it. On the whole, I advise you rather to
return north from Italy by this r^w/^, which leads you
conveniently by gradual stages to Munich^ Nurem--
berg^ and Dresden. That, moreover, is the proper
historical order of evolution : you will then follow
civilisation in the Eastern Alps northward through
the Tyrol to mediaeval and modern Germany.

My general advice to you, then, is strongly this
— reach Italy first by the Rhine and the St. Gotthard.
If you follow this course, I feel sure you will never
regret it.

Before I return to Basle, however, and set out
upon our route from that town to Milan, I ought
to add that if you have time and money, one of
the very best ways of entering Italy — perhaps
the best way — is not by any of these four railway
routes at all, which alone I have been considering,
— the St. Gotthard, the Mont Cenis, the Riviera,
and the Brenner, — but by one or other of the
mountain passes^ accessible only to diligences, post-
cars, cyclists, or pedestrians. In this manner you
descend upon Italy naturally, so to speak; you
understand what the Alps were to earlier ages.
You toil up the slope of the mountain range on one
side, among the trees, the fields, the crops, the
buildings, the tongues of the North ; you descend
on the other upon the vineyards, the chestnut

x66 The European Tour

groves, the campaniles, the churches, the' painted
villas of the Italian region. Undoubtedly this is
the most eiFective way of breaking into Italy ; you
see it then as the early conquerors, the mediaeval
pilgrims saw it ; and the reality of the great barrier
is £ur more present to you than if you pierce the
Alps by the mean modern subterfuge of a tunnel.
But to go over the SimpUn or the Splugeny you
need good legs or good money; and I do not
think the class of travellers who would contem-
plate this best of all entrances into Italy are likely
to need my aid in the matter. I write mostly for
the general public, who are perforce content to
put up with a seat in a crowded railway carriage.
For those who prefer and are able to choose the
more picturesque carriage road, I will add a word
or two lower down in this chapter.

Let it be granted, then, as Euclid would say,
that the tourist has decided upon a general plan of
campaign by which he enters the Alpine region at
Basli^ and quits it at Milan; which two towns,
even if he decide upon a mountain pass over the
main range, are really the best points of departure
and destination. Let us follow him out next from
one to the other,

BasU itself is a good place to stop at, both for
its historic Cathedral, and because it is the town

Switzerland, Etc. 167

where you can most easily and conveniently study
at one fell swoop the works of Hans Holbein*
The Belgian galleries will already have led you up
to Holbein's place in the evolution of art) and you
will have seen his handicraft sparingly represented
both there and in the Louvre ; but you will now
be able to gauge his productions more fairly^ and
you will afterwards piece out the idea you now form
of him when you find yourself later at Dresden
and Darmstadt. Build up your knowledge as you
go, — that is the great principle ; and if you set to
work in the proper order (which it is my task to
point out to you), you will build it up far better
and more securely than by hap-hazard touring.

From Basle you can do pretty much as you like
with regard to a preliminary Swiss tour; consult
on this point the invaluable Baedeker. (I take it
for granted you have him always with you.) One
good way is to go to Berne,, and then take a short
tour through the Bernese Oberland*^ Grindelwald^
Murren^ the Lakes of Thnn and Brienz^ and over the
Brunig to the Laie 0/ Lucerne^ which will give you
a good glimpse of what Switzerland means; five
or six days would suffice for a hurried glance at
this route, though of course if you want to climb
an accessible height or two you must take much
longer. (I need hardly say I am not writing for

1 68 The European Tour

mountaineers ; they will naturally go quite else-
where for information.) Or you may take a
wider sweep through the same district, including
the Lake of Geneva ; or you may diverge eastward
by Zurich and the Uetliberg. These minor tours
must needs be left to the taste and fancy (and
purse) of the individual ; they involve no principle.
If, however, you feel rather disposed to cut
Switzerland short, which is hard, but your duty,
then the simplest thing is to go direct from
Basle to Lucerne ; and if you do this by daylight
(which I recommend), you will see en route one
of the loveliest bits of the Jura. Lucerne will
doubtless detain you a few days, — a charming old
German town, with its ancient walls, its tower in
the water, its numerous turrets, its covered bridges,
and its exquisite views over the lake and moun-
tains. Oh, how can one find words for it ! Even
if you are hurrying through, too, you must at
least spare time to go up the Rigi and Pilatus, Both
command magnificent panoramic views, — Pilatus
the finer, — and both can be climbed either by the
human legs or, if that be too much, by a cog-wheel
railway. Endless other delightful excursions may
be made from the same centre; I recommend
those to the Burgenstock and to Sonnenberg.
Steamers ply down all the arms of the lake, and

Switzerland, Etc. 169

aiFord innumerable opportunities for lesser outings.
Altogether, Lucerne is a delicious place to stop in,
especially in early spring or late autumn; in the
height of the season, it tends to become a genial
pandemonium of mixed tourists.

When you have seen enough (or not enough) of
the Bernese Oberland or of the Lucerne district,
you may begin to think of getting forward for Italy.
And here I advise you not to start by train from
Lucerne ; take the steamer instead up the lake to
Fluelen, and there join the St. Gotthard line to
Goeschenen and Airolo. A single day will see you
through by daylight (if necessary) from Lucerne to
Milan. But I rather charge you to break it as
will be described hereafter. The Gotthard line
runs up the ravine-like valley of the Reuss, a
foaming torrent of Alpine glacier water, deep green
in the pools, breaking to white in the cataracts;
and so up to Goeschenen, where the train enters
the great tunnel. It emerges at Airolo in the
valley of the Ticino on the southern side, but still
in Switzerland. The line itself is so curious and
so wonderfully engineered with its corkscrew tun-
nels that you should follow it all the way with the
excellent maps and plans in Baedeker. Though I
have crossed it myself dozens of times, I watch it
each time to this day with never-failing pleasure.

170 The European Tour

Indeed, the route is so varied and so beautiful, with
the changeful beauty of lake and river, green alp
and snowy mountain, hill-top church and moulder^
ing castle, — so rich in contrasts of North and
South, of Italy and Germany, that however often
you see it you have no time to get tired. This,
of all the railway routes, is the right road into Italy.

Beyond Airolo, you descend by various gorges
the valley of thi Ticino^ which brawls in cascades,
now to the right, now to the left of you. After
passing Bellinzona, with its historic three towers, -^-
memorials of the days when the three Forest
Cantons enslaved the poor Italian population of
what is now the Canton Ticino, — you catch a
momentary glimpse of the Lago Maggiore. Thence
two or three variants of the route lie equally open
to you, which I will describe more fully in the
next chapter on the Italian Lakes. Here I will
only say that if you are pressed for time, you will
doubtless hasten on to Lugano and Milan ( but if
you have leisure at your disposal, you will more
likely decide to linger a little among the Italian
Lakes, as they are always called, though part of
them are politically half Swiss, half Italian.

For the moment, let us say, we sleep this night
at Lugano.

As to pedestrians or carriage company^ I will only

Switzerland, Etc. 171

add that those who mean to go over the Simplon
must diverge from this route by the Lake of
Geneva, and leave the railway system at Brieg ;
while those who intend to try the Splugen must
take off at Coire, regaining the rail at Chiavenna,
near the Lake of Como. The first route brings
you down moft conveniently to *]^allanza, on the
Lago Maggioiie; by the second^ you reach the
•Lake ^tf Como at CoKco, whence you can proiceed
by steamer to Bellagio and Como, of both Whidl
more in my next chapter.

The advice moft iiflpressed upcrn tht gei^eral
toitri^ d(S to S^it^eHaitd inay be briefly summed up
thus*— froiKi 'Basle to Milan tfy Lucerne and the
Gotthardy^ With a digression, if yoiu lite, td tfcfc
B^nese Ob^rland.

CHAPTER XI

THE THRESHOLD OF ITALY

TTALY ! Italy ! Here we are, at last, in Italy !
-^ One can hardly even write the words without
a thrilL For when you come to know it, you will
feel, as I do, that every day spent out of Italy is
wasted.

In Italy, I say, though we are only at Luganoy
which is nominally and politically Switzerland.
But the arcaded streets, the gay bright villas, the
faces of the people, the aspect of nature, above all,
the Luinis in the church by the Lake, will show you
at once that though the soil may be Swiss, the
atmosphere is Italian.

And now we must really have a word or two
together about our route through Italy, We must
decide our future plans while we loiter, lotus-eating,
among the lovely Italian Lakes. On this point I
will speak with no uncertain voice. One course
alone lies plain before you. Go first to AHlany and
then straight to Florence !

My reasons for this advice I will detail to you at
the end of this chapter (no : in the next : but see

The Threshold of Italy 173

later) ; meanwhile, let us discuss our more immediate
plans ; and while you are dallying about this region
of lake and mountain, you will have time to perpend
the counsel I give you. Read through Chapters
XI. and XII. before you go to Milan.

Roughly speaking, there are three main Italian
Lakes^ Maggiore^ Lugano^ and Como^ though there are
also many minor sheets, like Varese and Orta*
(I put Gardd aside in a separate category.) On a
first visit you may safely confine yourself to these
three larger ones. Once more, let me beg you not
to aim at seeing too much, lest you carry away
with you a phantasmagoric nightmare in place of
an orderly and well-remembered picture.

The Gotthard line^ by which you have presumably
descended on the threshold of Italy, boldly disregards
the basins of the three chief lakes, and cuts across
from one to the other of them with engineering
hardihood. If you run straight through from
Lucerne to Milan (which, unless you are very hard
pressed for time, I would dissuade you from doing)
you come down the valley of the Ticino into the
Lago Maggiore ; but no sooner do you get a good
view of the lake spread out before you than you
dart ofF at an angle and begin to mount again
the steep mountain ridge that separates that basin
from the Lugano system. You next reach the

1 74 The European Tour

Lake if Lugano^ near the town after which it is
called, cross over it on a viaduct, and then skirt it
agreeably for the rest of its expanse, leaving it
abruptly at the farther end for the ridge wht<ii
divides it from the Lake rf Como. This last you
just spy near the town of Como, and then make
away incontinently across the hills and the Lombaixi
plain to Milan.

But you will probably want to see somethiixg
more than this passing glimpse of so beautiful a
region. My general advice to you, then, as to the
management of this patt of your tour would be as
follows. Do not go through to Lugano at all, but
book at Lucerne for Locarno on the Lago JUaggiore^
A branch line of the Gotthard will cany you from
Bellinzona (on the main through route) across a
marshy plain to Locarno. There sleep one night
at least, and then take the steamer down the lake
to Pallanxa, This is a charming trip, and as you
enter Italy meanwhile, the custom-house examina-
tion takes place on board, which saves much trouble.
At Pallanza you can spend a day or two, getting
accustomed to the outer form of Italy, — the body,
so to speak, for the soul is not here ; the soul is at
Florence, Venice, Verona, Siena, Pisa. Pleasant
excursions by boat will carry you to Baveno^ Stresa^
the Borromean Islands^ Intra, and half a dozen

The Threshold of Italy 1 75

chanxiing and picturesque little churches perched
high among the mountains. When you have had
enough of Pailanza, take the steamer to Latino and
the rail to^ Ponte Tresa on the Lake of Lugano^
Thence a steamboat trip of exquisite beauty will
land you at last at Lugano town ; a capital place for
a day or two> of exploration. In the Luinis of the
waterside church you will catch your first passing
hint of die soul of Italy v. but you will not under*
stand them yet; wait till you have seen Milan..
Then there is the Monte San Salvatore to ascend
(by rail if you prefer it) with an admirable view*
into th& endless arms of the blue lake beneath;
while a little farther off is the Monte Generosoy
perhaps t^e finest Alpine prospect accessible to the
nonK:limber, for this too can be reached by the
ubiquitous cog-wheel railway. You will be tempted
to stay long at Lugano, no doubt : but you must
harden your heart to resist the temptation. The
soul of Italy beckons with its spectral hand in the
background.

From Lugano, take the steamer to Menaggio at
one of the upper ends of the many-branched lake^
and thence zigzag your way by the beautiful little
mountain railway, one of the loveliest lines in the
world, across the. high ridge to Menaggio on the
Lake of Como. (I am astonished at myself that I

1/6 The European Tour

can write of it all with such mere guide-book cool-
ness.) From Menaggio, cross by the steamer over
the lake to Bellagio (only one g^ if you please, Mr.
Printer) ; and there stop as long as time will permit
you. Or rather, tear yourself away as soon as you
are able to bear the wrench ; for Bellagio is one of
the Paradises of Europe. You can make endless
trips up and down the lake, to Dongo and Musso
and other picturesquely dirty vine-trellised villages ;
and you will here learn at least to love the soil
of Italy. Make this trip in autumn, if possible,
when the grapes are ripe ; that is the time to see
at its best the rich rural loveliness of the over-
grown lake-region.

From Bellagio take the steamer down the lake to
Como^ and thence on to Milan. This is the ideal
tour of the Italian Lakes, and if you adopt it you
will thank me for sketching it out for you.

At Como you may see the Cathedral, if you
like ; but how can I advise you ? We are now in
real Italy^ and at every step objects of interest cluster
so thick that I hardly know how to choose between
them for you. YoCi cannot possibly see all (un-
less you intend to devote a lifetime to Italy — as
indeed why shouldn't you?) therefore I must
needs make some selection for you. Let me illus-
trate this painful embarrassment of riches by the

The Threshold of Italy i ^j

case of the route from Como to Milan. And
please bear in mind that here I am not telling you
to go and see these things but rather to forego
them. Well, between Como and Milan you have
a choice of two ways, each of which will take you
past a place of immense artistic interest, — and
you must stop for neither. One is the Gotthard
main line, which goes by Monxa^ where there is a
Gothic Lombard Cathedral of the fourteenth cen-
tury, erected on the site of Queen Theodolind's
far earlier sixth-century barbaric building. For
Monza was Queen Theodolind's town, the royal
city of the Lombard conquerors of North Italy;
and in the Cathedral you might still see her sar-
cophagus (if I would allow you) and learn from the
frescoes how she burned the nails of Christ into
her head red-hot. The Iron Crown of the Lom-
bards which Theodolind formed from the nail pre-
served by the Empress Helena may still be seen
here; a hoop of gold encircles the sacred relic,
and has girt the foreheads of many Emperors, real
or false, including Charles V., Ferdinand of Aus-
tria, and Napoleon I. The treasury is rich in
similar ancient relics ; but you have no time to see
them. The alternative route takes you past &-
ronm^ where is a famous Sanctuary of the Blessed
Virgin, in which Luini is said to have taken refuge

178 Tlue European. Tour

aAec a homicide iflk se^-d^feoce^ ^nd. for which,
he p;»iQyted perhaps his finiBsii secies oC fx:escoes.
These frescoes ar.e among the lov.eliest things of their.
sort in Italy ; bu( if you turn aside tg see them, there,
will be no end. tx> it. You will spend the rest of
your life between, here. and. Florence^ and totter in,
at last^ agcay^haiired.aian, to dip of old age at Siena..

So> I say it sternjy :. go straight qn^ from. Bellagio.
or Como or Lugano to IVIil^n*.

And: how about J^ftlan i We)l, it; is. the fashion
with pif^turesque-lpving tourisu. to snejsr at Milan»
because it happeii^. t<> h^ye, tolerably broa4 strept^
^nd. a. modern tnunicip^lity*. Iteqa^ \t^, is ai^o; conir
pacatiicelyv sgnitmy for ant Italian, city ;^ and it cer-
teinly' Iticks aa. a whole; the qugint oharm and
attcactuicenessi of Veroi^^i qi: ?M^^, If you listea
to the average ti:;a\^llQrr w,ho; has ^^ done " Milan in
a d€|y^ you will leara tfeai; it- h^. npthing of ifltcrc.s|:
except its^Cathpdr^l^, That is, about as superficial
2L view as. you could well take of it ; it reminds
megf a frjenci who. could not occupy himself for
more than three days in Paris. I have visited
Milan a round dozen of tinies at Ijea^f,, revelling in
itst antiquity: and each time I. desire to make.n^
visit longer thsu). ti)e last. one.

To me, indeed^ the Cathedral is the least among
^e joys of Milftp. The town is a mu^^Km of art

The Threshold of Italy 179

artd hiitary ; and the environs are simply alive with
aircbiteGtiure, paiiidiigi, aod aatxquaEian intojiiesjt^^

I aox not wxiting a guide to Milan, however;. I
«¥on doubt whetbec I shall ever reach that point in
my series ; I ani. simply, trying to put you at the
proper pMnt of view for seeing it; Milan^ then^
appeals^tOvyou most a& the first r^allyi Italiaa town
of importance, you have enteced.^ the. place where
you may' begilt to. understand Itsaly^ or nttbeis^ to
catch »ome fitslt* vague hint of her loyeliaess* her
loveableness^ MediolanunL was a. Gaulish town
b^fore^ it waa ^ Roman one; and it has^ always
been the capital of die broad, plain of Lombardy^
the on^ ceally riofa« distmct in Italy* Yet \t conr
tarns comparativiely litde- of Roman antiquityiy hfst*
cause it wa» \i[holly destroyed in: 1x62. by the
Emptor Frederick Barbarossa j on which.QCcasioii%
a» yoU: will reqieynber 1 told you,, he conveyed: the
Three Magi, 01; what remained of thenv^o his city
of Cologne. It is the great advantage of a Euro^
pean tour that facts^ like these are always thus
cropping up again in fresh places >. you learn his->
tory without knowing it^ by dint of coming across
the self^same person in ten different connections
Almost the only relic of ancient Roman Milan, that
has survived this destruction by the Redbeard Em-*
peror is a group of sixteen Corihthian. columns

1 8o The European Tour

near the Porta Ticinese. If I were personally
conducting a party of tourists round Milan a la
Cook (and I can imagine nothing more delightful),
I would take them first to see those columns, in order
to make them understand that the spot on which we
stand is classic ground, — a city of remote and
prehistoric antiquity, now wholly overlaid by a me-
diaeval Renaissance, and modem conglomeration.

Yet there are no small remains of a Milan only
just post-classic ; for Frederick Barbarossa spared
a few churches. And this intermediate period
between the old and new worlds, of which you
may have caught faint glimpses already at Aix
and in the Rhine Country, is one of the most de-
lightfully romantic points about Europe. There
is the old church of San Lorenzo^ for instance —
originally, it is believed, a palace of the fourth
century, and octagonal in shape, like Charle-
magne's mausoleum. Here for the first time, in
the chapel of St. Aquilinus, you will come across
early Christian mosaics of the sixth and seventh
centuries ; while close by lies the sarcophagus of the
founder of the church, the Gothic king Ataulph,
whom readers of Gibbon will no doubt remember
under the eighteenth-century disguise of " Adol-
phus." Still more interesting is the other old
church of Sanf Jmbrogioj founded by St. Ambrose

The Threshold of Italy 1 8 1

in the fourth century, in order to contain the
bones of those very apocryphal saints, Protasius
and Gervasius, whose whereabouts was revealed to
him by the extremely unsatisfactory medium of a
dream. The courtyard or atrium still follows the
lines of the old building; the existing edifice is
somewhat later — Romanesque twelfth century
— but it contains amongst other delicious things
a marvellous High Altar, a few beautiful reliefs,
and a number of mosaics of earlier date than the
existing building. It is this mixture of ages that is
so delightful at Sant' Ambrogio ; for side by side
with these ancient Christian works stand glorious
frescoes by Luini, Gaudenzio Ferrari, and Lanini.
I cannot describe it all — I wish I might, for Italy
carries one away. I can only say, that one church
of St. Ambrose is worth a voyage across the At-
lantic to see. Nothing of interest in Milan !
Why, the old stone outside the church where the
Lombard kings took the coronation oath in the
ancient fashion, is in itself a wonder. As for
the early Christian remains, they are worth five
©rdinary northern minsters.

^. After mouldering churches like these^ the ex-
quisite white marble Cathedral itself looks painfully
modern. It is beautiful, of course, but it is not
the most important thing to see in Milan ; far from

i82 The European Tour

it. It beloogs to a late, and sopliisticated age of
Gothic » its architecture is not pure ;. its sculpture
is largely modern ; and its fafade has been defaced
l^ a tasteless and incongruous set of Renaissance
doorways. Only people who mistake bigness for
greatness, could ever think the Cathedral the greatest
sight: of Milan* It resembles too much a vast
triuntph of confectionery^ — one of those white iced
cakes, which stand as- advertisements in the pastry*
cook's window. And having said this, much
against it, I may zdd per contra that it is one of the
loveliest buildings in the world : its roof is unique
in its way,. and truly marvellous; and its interior,
(if only one. can forget the imitation painted fretr*
work of the ceiling) is extremely impressive. You
mu^ see the Cathedral, of course ;. it is a. sight to
see: but for heaven's sake don't go away and sup*
pose: that seeing the Cathedral is seeing Milan*

No.; the thinga to see in Milan are the glorious
old. churches, and, above all, the pictures, I do not
mean the ruined fresco of the Last Supper j which
most visitors go to look at with pious care because
they understand it was once Leonardo da Vinci's,
and because they have been told (quite rightly)
that Leonardo is one of the greatest geniuses that
ever lived on our planet. The Last Supper is
a Leonardo no, doubt, the finest thing Leonardo

The Threshold of Italy 1 8 3

ever painted; bat as scarcely anything remains of
it save a few mouldering outlines, I do not regard
it now as a sight of the first importance. But the
Brera ! At the Brera you will get your first
glorious glimpse of Italian painting on Italian soil ;
you will see the whole wealth of the Lombard
school displayed before you ; you will admire the
frescoes by Luini, Foppa^ Bramantino, and Gau-
denzio Ferrari, sawn out of Lombard churches;
you will learn to know Borgognone, and Bex'-
nardino de'Conti, and the old Milanese painters, as
well as the later group of half Florentine arti^s who
took their inspiration from the visitor Leonardo.
The Brera alone takes weeks to see thoroughly.

And here let me impress upon you one good
general principle : whik you are at Mtlan^ devote
yourself especiuHy to the MHanese emd Lombard artists
and artifioersi. You will find at the Brera many
exquisite works of other schools, pre-eminent
among which is Raphael's Sposalizio^ the lovelier
and sweetest work of his Peruginesque period,
before the Renaissance spoiled him. Now^ this h
undoubtedly the most famous picture in the collec-
tion ; and it is the habit of the careless tourist, who
is governed by mere names, and has read his
guide-book, to walk with a casual glance to right
and left through the vestibule containing the price-

184 The European Tour

less and unique works of the Lombard fresco
painters; then to stroll with an. approving but
condescending eye through the rooms devoted to
the Venetians and Brescians; but to stand long in
rapt contemplation (very cheap and easy under
the circumstances) before the beautiful Raphael.
Well, it is beautiful ; to my mind, after the Gran
Duca, the most beautiful thing Raphael ever
painted ; and if he had stopped short at that point,
he would have done much better. But it is not
the chief thing one should study at Milan. Milan
is a whole, and Milan is Lombard. There is a
Madonna by Luini hard by which runs Raphael
close: there are Lombard pictures here whose like
you cannot see elsewhere. Therefore I say to you,
study these other things if you like — the Vene-
tians and Umbrians; of course you must study
them : but study above all things here at the Brera
the Lombard masters who belong to the district.
Try to understand first the oldest men, — Foppa
and Borgognone. Then go on to understand how
from them proceed Bernardino de' Conti, Braman-
tino, and in a sense Montagna. After that, look
at the influence of Leonardo da Vinci, and see how
far his powerful individuality transformed the Lom-
bard taste in Luini, Cesare da Sesto, BoltrafHo, and
the others. You will find many old Lombard

The Threshold of Italy 185

traits persisting in these Leonardesque scholars;
and you will also find, if you look close, how the
Lombard spirit itself affected Leonardo. In one
word, use Milan as a key to the Lombard soul.
You may comparatively neglect for the present
the non-Lombard artists. On your way north
again, you must spend a day or two at Milan once
more, and then you will be able to place them
better.

In order to understand the connection of the
native Lombard works, however, with their place
and time, you ought not to study them only in
museums, divorced from their surroundings. That
is the sure way to miss their meaning. Remember
that all these pictures were painted for churches^ as
frescoes on the walls or as altar-pieces, and that
they are rudely torn at the Brera from the circum-
stances that begot them. As a corrective of this
error, I advise you, in between your many visits to
the Brera (for you must visit it often), to look well
at the little church of San Maurizio^ an oratory
originally erected by King Sigismund to the
Teutonic soldier saint, and later belonging to a
nunnery, whose Nuns' Choir behind the public
church is about as big as the main building. Here
you will see numerous frescoes of Luini and others
in situ ; in the place of honour, the martyrdom of

i86 The European Toht

the patron, St. Maurice ; aird, to balance k, KiRg
Sigismund presenting the original church to the
^aint whose name it bears. Then, in other fres-
coes, you get the donor of the existing church, with
his wife, and ttidr personal patrons. Almost ^
the remaining frescoes are those of female saints,^
the great patronesses of virginity, as is right in the
church of a ciunnery^ — St. Cecilia, St. Ursula, St^
Apollonia, St. Scholastica, St. Agnes, and so (onhy,
The High Akar has for its altar-piece the Addra-
tioA of the Magi, •'--the Three Kiligs of Cologiie,
whose bones, you will recollect, reposed so l^dng in
Milan. The Nuns' Choir behind has more virgiii
saints, t)[^ether with the great plague patrons, St.
Roch and St. Sebastian, symbolical of the secular
work of the sisters as attendants on the su^Ssring.
TakreA in this spirit, you see that the church tells a
Story as a whole ; ^every work of art in it is there
for a definite purpose. You cannot thierefore truly
judge of soth works apart from their surroundings $
when you find them sawn out or torn away to place
in museums ^^^ mere memberiess torsos — you
must always enquire y^ what place they wire wigi-
fut% ifitinded. So and so alone cati you really
understand them. And it is to tell you all this
that I have designed these Guide-books.

If you take Milan in this spirit, you will find it

The Threshold of Italy 1 87

an endless joy ; you will learn that the Cathedral
is the least of its attractions. Why^ there is the
church of &. Eustorgio alone, hardly noticed by
most visitors, yet containing the Chapel where
the bones of the Magi were long preserved, with the
very sarcophagus which held them \ and also the
gorgeous Cappella Portinari (too goi^eous, alas !)
with a lovely frieze of angels, and with exquisite
frescoes, not to mention the magnificent Gothic
tomb of St. Peter Martyr, which alone is worth
spending a day at Milan to visit. Indeed were it
in France or England, it would be a famous object
of pilgrimage. If you care for beautiful things,
you could spend weeks and weeks in exploring
these lesser churches; and what you find in the
churches still occupies its proper place, and gives
you the right clue to the dismembered fragments
you meet in the museums.

Do not, however, for & moment suppose I have
given a bare enumeration of the indispensable
things to be seen in Milan. Indeed, when I come
to reckon these up, I am fairly sta^ered in my
own mind, and can't imagine how I am ever to
get you away to Florence. For this is Italy 5 and
now you can begin to realise the vast and perplex-
ing variety of beautiful or interesting objects which
Italy flings lavishly in your path at every street

1 88 The European Tour

comer. Why, there is the Museo Poldi-Pezzolij
here a very secondary sight, after you have finished
with the Brera (as who should say, exhausted the
ocean) ; it will give you food for many days' sus-
tenance — pictures, decorative arts, and objects of
antiquity. Then there is the Jmbrosianay with its
paintings and drawings; there is the municipal
Salone ; there is the mediaeval Piazza dei Mercanti ;
there are more things than I can mention even in
brief enumeration. For I am not now writing a
guide to the city. Really to see Milan would
require a long year ; to ^tiow it would take the best
part of a lifetime.

And in Italy, too, you will for the first time
begin to understand that art does not mean merely
pictures and statues. It is a pervasive spirit that
animates the whole world beyond the Alps; its
manifestations are everywhere. The Great Hos-
pital of Milan, — the Ospedale Maggiore, — for
example, is a vast brick building, still used for its
original purpose as a hospital. A vast brick build-
ing ! — elsewhere that would mean a big ugly
square block of utilitarian masonry. * But this
hospital is a half-Gothic, half-Renaissance master-
piece which affords you some idea of what a style
of architecture might be if based upon brick, with
honest adherence to the true principles of brick-

The Threshold of Italy 1 89

iness. The exquisite beauty of its terra-cotta
mouldings and decorations makes it a thing of
delight; you can spend an hour with pleasure in
wandering round its nine courts and observing its
detail. Stroll about Milan and look for lovely
things like these, or like the delicious equestrian
figure of the Podesta Tresseno on the Palazzo
della Ragione, or like the ancient carved stones in
the atrium of Sant' Ambrogio, or like the lovely
Luinis in San Giorgio al Palazzo, or like Bra-
mante's sacristy in San Satiro, with the later Foppa's
sweet baby angels, — and do not imagine Milan
is a mere modern French town because you spend
all your time in the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele,
and stare at the brand-new monument to Leonardo
da Vinci. If any man says he does not care for
Milan, he convicts himself at once of never having
looked for it.

As to the neighbourhood of the city, and the
Lombard plain^ what can I say ? Sirens innumer-
able stretch their arms to lure you away from your
true lady, Florence. Resist them all, though 't is
hard work resisting. Bergamo will try to tempt
you to its picturesque hill-top citadel ; Brescia will
offer you its Morettos and its Roman remains;
Pavia, Piacenza, Cremona will all call to you from
many sides with alluring voices. Resist them,

190 The European Tour

and be strong ; your goal is Florence ! But stay,
I must just allow you to see the Certosa di Pavia.
It is but half an hour off by rail, Lombard of the
Lombards, closely bound up with Milan and her
greatest dynasty ; and one long day will suffice to
give it a first visit of exploration, a reconnaissance,
so to speak. Here you will find out what I mean
when I talk about the pervasiveness of art in Italy }
for it will occupy you for a couple of hours to
examine the medallions and decorations on the
unfinished facade. If it were finished, I don't
know how you could avoid spending the night on
the spot, and going on with your examination of
that masterpiece on the morrow. Baedeker, who
is always culpably stingy of his time, says, give the
place two hours. Two hours would not suffice to
walk round it physically ! Go over in the morn-
ing, see what you can before lunch, take an al
fresco dejeuner in the garden of the little inn out-
side (there ! I have broken for once my general
rule of ignoring hotels and ^^ practical information "
— which usually means advertisement) and return
to the monastery in the afternoon to complete
your cursory inspection. As to knowing it, that
would be a task of many weeks at least. When
you have finished looking through it, with its end-
less wealth of decorative detail, you will run back

The Threshold of Italy 1 9 1

to Milan feeling the truth of what I say, that in
Italy art and life are conterminous.

I had meant to put into this chapter a few
general remarks about the order of the great Italian
cities; but I see Milan alone has delayed me so
long that I must defer them now to another
chapter. Yet I will leave unaltered what I have
already written. Quod scripsi, scripsi. *' Why
can't he run his pen through it," you will say,
^^ instead of treating his readers so cavalierly ? ^'
Not so ; I do it not without a meaning. It helps
to let you fiil how Italy runs away with one. I
sat down at this chapter to write of Milan, deter^
mining to cut it as short as I could ; I £d cut it
short, hardly dwelling at all, for example, on the
riches of the Brera, and omitting all mention of
whole aspects of the town which I should have
liked to dilate upon \ yet I could not keep it down
to what I originally intended. The truth is, if
there were no Florence and no Venice, Milan or
Padua Of Verona would be a world's wonder.
The Certosa di Pavia alone, of which I dare say
you never read till to-day, far outweighs any two
average northern cathedrals. Yet because they
are in Italy, we judge them all by an Italian
standard. Fancy wasting your time over Win-
chester or Salisbury, with the Certosa unvisited !

CHAPTER XII

THE GREAT ITALIAN CITIES

"I^TOW that you are in Italy, the question next
■^^ arises, in what order ought you to visit the
Italian cities?

On this point, my opinion is quite explicit.
The proper order is — Florence, Venice, Rome,
Naples.

I know there is very little chance of your taking
my advice. The railways, and the natural config-
uration of the country have made another order
so much more easy. The tourist is tempted by
convenience of travel to go from Milan to Venice,
taking Verona and Padua on the way ; then from
Venice to Florence, and so on to Rome and
Naples. I grant that this is the easiest plan ; and
if you intend merely to rush through Italy on a
pleasure jaunt, scampering through the whole thing
in three or four weeks — well, the order of the
visit won't much matter to you. But if you really
want to see Italy^ however hurriedly — to gain a
glimpse of what Italy has meant for humanity — •

The Great Italian Cities 193

tQ learn a filial affection for that great mother of
our arts, our literatures, our culture — then I say
to you emphatically, begin with Florence, And not
only that, but learn Florence pretty well before
you go elsewhere. For this I will give you ample
reasons hereafter. For the present, I will sum
them up in a single sentence : Florence is the whole
book ; the other towns are but scattered pages.

It is a mistake, therefore, to visit Venice before
you have seen Florence. But there is a far deeper
and more fatal mistake against which I would most
earnestly warn you, — a mistake very commonly
made, especially by Americans, yet one which
vitiates your whole idea of Italy, — one which
often gives people a distaste for it at once, and pre-
vents them from learning to love it like a mother.
Don*t go first to Rome. I regard that point as of
so great importance that I will even repeat it in all
the dignity of capitals : Don't go first to
Rome. If you do, you will never so well under-
stand Italy. To see Venice before you have seen
Florence is a serious mistake ; to see Rome before
you have seen Florence is a fatal blunder.

Why? Well, you will learn why at greater
length when we come to deal with Rome in a sep-
arate chapter ; but I will add here by anticipation
two excellent reasons: First^ because Venice and

194 The European Tour

Fhrenci mre hiautiful picturss^ while Romi is a dry
Imi vahtaUi bistmical volume; and if you begin
with the dry book, you will think Italy a task,
while if you begin with the beautiful pictuie you
will think it a joy and a privilege. Second, because
Rome had never any art of her own, nor even any
continuous art of any sort $ she merely borrowed
now and then a distinguished Tuscan, or a distinr
guished Umbrian, or a distinguished Venetian, and
set him to decorate some church or some palace.
Therefore you can never understand the growth
and evolution of art at Rome; you must study the
causes which produced the Tuscan or the Umbria«
in Tuscany and Umbria. Moreover, Rome is so
vast and so complex that if you begin with Rome
you can never understand anything; but if you
have learnt elsewhere, and go to Rome with your
ideas upon certain periods of art made up, ]rou can
attack that huge heterogeneous mass with some
chance of understanding it. For these and for
many other reasons which will come out as we
proceed, I would strongly dissuade you from going
first to Rome, and just as strongly advise you to
go first to Florence.

Rome is a capital, and people think therefore
they should see Rome first and the provinces after-
wards. But this is a fallacy. Florence and Yen-

The Great Italian Cities 195

ice were never provinces as compared to Rome i
on the contrary, they were great centres which
gave their arts and literature to Rome. Besides,
the peculiar government of the Papacy resulted in
this, — that a Florentine Pope invited Florentine
artists to Rome, a Sienese invited Sienese, and an
Umbrian Umbrians. Venetian cardinals wanted
Venetian art $ and often a break of inartistic Popes
from out-of-the-way places results in a break in
the history of decoration and architecture in the
Papal city. Hence then is no continuity at all in
Rome; it consists of scraps and odds and ends
from everywhere. You could find no worse town
in which to study the evolution of the arts, though
you can find no better one in which finally to
compare the finished products. The moral is, go
last to Rome. See it after you hav« learned what
' Italy aims at.

Again you will say, ^ But Rome has so old and
continuous a history } there and there only we get
back to the roots of things. Ought we not to
begin at the fountain-head V* I think not. It is
all too Confused, too complex, too manifold.
There are three or four Romes^ — ancient, imperial.
Papal, Renaissance, modern. You will feel that
even afler you have been to Florence and Venice ;
the multiplicity and variety of Rome wiU still stun

196 The European Tour

and puzzle you. How much more, then, if you
approach the Vatican, knowing nothing of Raphael ;
and fly from it straight to the Lateran, knowing
nothing of early Christian art; and thence to the
Capitol, knowing nothing of antique sculpture ?
Let yourself down gently. Learn one thing at a
time. To go straight to Rome is to start at once,
as it were, on Chinese idioms, ancient Egyptian
hieroglyphs, Hindustani grammar, and the Welsh
language.

All this will become clearer to you as we
proceed with our survey. For the present, if
you have learned to trust my judgment at all, I
will recommend you to place your life in my hands
and go straight to Florence.

For the educational value of Florence is something
quite unique and exceptional. It is the one place
where you can get a full and connected view of
the growth of the arts in modem Italy. It is quite
true you will find nothing antique worth speaking
of at Florence, — nothing, that is to say, save the
sculptures of the Uffizi, which are not really local,
but were collected at Rome by a Medici cardinal.
The town itself, though it goes back to Roman
times, has scarcely a trace to-day of its Roman
origin. It is purely a Christian Tuscan city. But
that, I venture to think, increases its utility as a

The Great Italian Cities 197

living object lesson. You are not distracted by
too many subjects at once, — though, indeed, the
rise of Florentine painting, Horentine sculpture,
Florentine architecture, and Florentine decorative
arts will supply you with ample work, if it comes
to that, for three or four lifetimes. Nowhere in
the world can you gain so clear and connected an
idea of the origins of the Christian civilisation in
whose midst we live as in this town of Florence.

Therefore I say, spend as long a time as you can
spare in Florence* If you are going to be six
months in Europe, for example, I should allot
two months of that time at least to the Tuscan
capital. If a year, then give it two mionths of
autumn, before you see Rome, and two months of
spring, later, to revise your impressions. The
more you see of Florence the more will you learn
that she is indeed the standard. You must gauge
the development of the arts elsewhere by the light
of the exceptionally continuous development you
will find in Florence.

Siena and still more Ravenna begin earlier ; but
they end sooner. Venice and Rome are spas-
modic ; they have gaps and lacunae. But Florence
is a whole; she is constant and continuous. She
embraces all arts (except perhaps mosaic, which is
sparingly represented); and she forms the chief

198 The European Tour

models. She is far and away the queen in
post-Roman Italy.

All that was ever great in Italy came from the
Tuscan blood. Literature, science, and art appear
everywhere just in proportion as that blood is
dominant. Florence early rose in modern times to
be the capital of the central mass of the Etruscan
race ; and Florence therefore sums up in herself all
that is most distinctively Italian in Italy. No
town was ever so beloved. It chains one with a
chain of affection like a human mistress. When
you go back to it after absence, you will find your-
self smiling involuntarily at every street corner.
Florence eats herself into your heart. She is loved
of her lovers.

My general advice^ then, is this : go direct in thi?
first instance from Milan to Florence. Spend as
long a time there as you think you can spare.
Then make your way back to Venice. Give
Venice three or four weeks — -I know only too
well how inadequate is that time, but I know alsp
3K>u cannot help it. Then return by Florence to
Rome, and thence to Naples.

As for the miner Italian cities^ I know not what
to advise. My heart within me is torn in two
directions. On the one hand, I cannot endure to
say, ^ Omit Verona, Padua, Siena, Perugia, Pisa/'

The Great Italian Cities 199

It is too distressing. On the other hand, I feel so
deeply the importance of concentrating yourself on
the three most instructive towns, Florence, Rome,
and Venice. More than ever as I write these lines
do I realise the truth of what I said at the begin-
ning, — it is folly to give three years to a college
^^ education " and then refuse three months to that
vast comprehensive university, Italy* Let us com-
promise, then, and say, on a first visit, I will try to
indicate a convenient time for just a glimpse of
these four or five most important secondary
cities, — each of them far richer than anything
out of Italy.

CHAPTER XIII

FLORENCE

^ I '•HE Greeks made Aphrodite rise glorious from
-*- the foam of the sea; even so I always
think of Florence, the Queen of Beauty in our
modern world, as rising glorious from the yeasty
chaos of the early Middle Ages.

There is mly one Florence. Get there as fast as
you reasonably can; stop there forever; and go
back again afterwards at frequent intervals. What-
ever this advice may lack in logical coherence it
amply makes up for in sound practicality.

I met an American lady of a certain type one
day at a comfortable little hotel near Santa Maria
Novella. By way of beginning conversation, I
asked her how long she meant to stay in the town.
" Three days," she answered ; then, seeing my
face fall, she added quickly, " But a week would
not be too long." She was quite right. A week
is not too long for Florence. The same thing may
be said of a month, a year, a lifetime.

Florence is the epitome of the history of the
arts, — not a dry and formal epitome, nor yet a

Florence 201

history, nor a museum ; but the arts themselves,
telling with exquisite grace their own inner story.

Therefore the one piece of advice on which I
insist above all others in a European tour is this :
spend as large a proportion of your visit as you can
possibly spare in Florence. Whatever else you see or
leave unseen, do not dock for time the most im-
portant thing in Europe.

As to the route thither from Milan — suppos-
ing you to have taken my advice and gone there
direct, without turning aside to see Venice (which
advice I am perfectly certain you will reject), —
there are two ways possible. The flesh will call
for one, and the spirit for the other. The first
and easiest route is by Bologna (which you had
better omit for the present), and thence by a de-
lightful mountain line, over the main range of the
Apennines. The second route, which I recom-
mend by preference, is by Genoa and Pisa. This
is also a very picturesque line, and though in some
ways less comfortable, it gives you the advantage
of being able to see Pisa itself en route. As for
Genoa, I should say you can easily go past it.
The second of these two routes is the only one I
will deal with here ; since the line by Bologna
must be naturally considered when we run back to
Venice. For the road between Milan and Venice

202 The European Tour

direct (if you refuse to follow my plan, and prefer
to follow your own nose), see a later chapter*

From Aftlan to Genoa^ you cross the Maritime
Alps just at the point where they begin to lose
their individuality and to meige into the Apennines.
The ascent is pleasing ; the descent on the other
side is extremely beautiful, especially as you
approach the outskirts of Genoa, with its villa-
covered hills ringing a bay which has no rival but
Naples. Unless you have plenty of time to spend in
Italy, however, I do mt advise you to stop at Genoa.
The town and harbour, to be sure, are fine and
finely situated, and the palaces are interesting}
but this is not the true Italy. Genoa was never an
artistic centre; its galleries are full of Vandycks
and Guidos. In other words, it has no native
school, and its collections are those of mere
amateurs who gathered works mostly of the late
and less interesting periods. Of course, if you
have plenty of time to spare, it is well to spend a
week in Genoa afier you have seen Venice, Rome,
and Florence; because you will then be able to
understand its Carracci, its Garofalos, its Domeni*
chinos, its Tintorettos, and to understand their re-
lation to other pictures elsewhere. But most of
its art is practically the same as what you will see
in the private galleries of the Roman nobles ; and

Florence 203

the private galleries of Rome are certainly among
the least important collections to be visited in Italy.
Therefore I say, dorCt waste time on Genoa which
would be better bestowed in Venice or Florence,
or on a glimpse of Siena, Orvieto, Padua.

Continue straight on, i\Mtti^from Milan to Pisa.
The line beyond Genoa goes through the Riviera
di Levante, perhaps the loveliest bit of coast in
Italy, save only the shore about Sorrento and Amalfi.
Too literally, alas, goes through it rather than along
it ; for it is almost all tunnel. You just catch a
glimpse of some blue bay, with a nestling white
town, and a tall campanile; and, whisk, before you
know it you are in utter darkness once more,
emerging for a minute at the tunnel's end upon
another bay, another town, and another disappoint-
ment. Leisurely travellers often descend near
Recco or Santa Margherita to drive across the best
bits; it is really the only way of seeing the
scenery.

Hard-hearted as I am, and bent on your intel-
lectual and aesthetic improvement, I really cannot
hurry you past Pisa without a couple of nights at
least in that entrancing city. And indeed, Pisa is
the proper prelude to Florence ; for when Tuscany
began to raise its head once more after the barba-
rian deluge, it was Pisa that aspired to be the

204 The European Tour

leader of Tuscany. She made herself great with a
spasmodic greatness, which left a stamp for all
time on the glorious cluster of buildings about the
Cathedral and the Campo Santo. Stop and see
these buildings ^ they are unique in the world in
their position and grouping. They stand all by
themselves in a little square or Piazza just at the
outskirt of the town, unspoilt by the interference of
other buildings. The check to Pisa's greatness.
has given us this treat ; elsewhere the growth of
population has crowded up the cathedral squares
with mean modern houses; at Pisa alone do we
see a mediaeval group as the mediaeval builders
meant us to see it. The cluster consists of the
Duomo itself, the Baptistery^ the Campo Santo^ and
that exquisite Campanile of Tuscan-Romanesque
architecture which the vulgarity of the world has
christened after an accidental circumstance as
*' the Leaning Tower." Here we have one of the
most perfect specimens of early Italian art, one of
the loveliest buildings ever conceived in the brain
of man ; and the world with one accord goes to-
look at it and marvel at it — because it happens to
be a few feet out of the perpendicular !

At Pisa, too, you get the beginnings of Tuscany.
The architecture of the Cathedral is the oldest of
all modern Italian churches of the first rank ; in

Florence 205

the smallness of the dome you see the first hint of
Siena, Florence, and St. Peter's at Rome. Re-
member this order of historical succession, and
trace back the later designs by and by to their
origin at Pisa- Then in sculpture you have NiccoR
PisanOj whose noble pulpit in the Baptistery yoU
must examine closely ^ while in the museum you will
See the other lovely pulpit of the school, tracing
there and at Siena the gradual decline through his
don Giovanni and his other successors. For those
who can do it, indeed, a tour of the Pisano influ-
ence, in the order of Pisa, Siena, Bologna, Florence,
is deeply interesting ; it shows you the springs of
Giotto, of Donatello, and finally of Michael Angelo.
But for the hasty visitor it must suffice, I fear, to
gain a general idea at Pisa of these great Pisani,
and to follow out at Florence the impetus they
gave to the relatively reactionary sculptors who
succeeded them. You will then understand that
Niccolo Pisano, a man born out of due season, was
one of the greatest and most original geniuses of
the Middle Ages. His only error was that he came
too early.

The worst of this sort of book is this, — that
as I reach each town I want to write a whole
book about it. This will never do. I must get
on to Florence. We can easily manage it by an

2o6 The European Tour

evening train at the end of our second day at Pisa,
having spent the daylight hours in the fascinating
museum.

So here we are at last in Florence !

As to the particular sights to be seen in Florence,
I have written about them at due length in my
Historical Guide. Here I will only try to im-
press upon you why Florence is the most important
of Italian cities, and the one where you should
spend as much as possible of your time, at an early
period of your visit to Italy.

I have said that the Tuscan element has given
Italy almost everything that is great and noble
within it. There are parts of Italy which scarcely
differ in artistic importance from the world beyond
the Alps. Piedmont is nothing ; Liguria is nothing ;
Naples has hardly aught of native art; when we
speak of Italy we think really of the district roughly
bounded on the north by Milan and Venice, and on
the south by Rome, — in short, in the wider sense,
Etruria. This is the region where the Etruscan
blood is found in more or less purity. And it sur-
vives purest in Tuscany and Umbria, less pure in
Lombardy and Venetia, hardly at all in modern
Rome, which lay on the very confines of ancient
Etruria. That is why Rome had never any art of
her own. On the other hand, the Tuscan spirit

Florence 207

works strongest of all in the central belty where not
only Florence and Pisa produced great men and great
works in every direction, but where even smaller
towns like Siena, Perugia, Assisi, Cortona, Orvieto,
Foligno — nay, even mere third-rate burghs, like
Prato, Pistoia, Spoleto, Chiusi, Fiesole, San Gimi-
gnano are full of interest. Florence, then, is the
natural capital of this Tuscan race, to which we
owe everything great in Italy ; and in Florence more
than anywhere else we can trace in detail the ten-
dencies and the mother-ideas of that gifted people.
Moreover, in Florence the history of art — that
is to say, of modern art as distinguished from the
antique — is continuous and uniform. Modern art,
I say ; and you will therefore find it well to begin
with Florence before Rome, because Rome gives
you ancient art as well, and therefore confuses
you or distracts your attention ; and also because
the art of Rome is scrappy and discontinuous, only
to be historically comprehended aright after you
have seen Florence. Even Venice, again, though
more original than Rome, is less independent and
self-sustaining than Florence; for example, in
painting, she took her earliest works not from
Venetian hands at all, but from Byzantine Greek
painters ; and when she began to develop a school
of her own, she derived it, not directly from either

2o8 The European Tour

Byzantine or Italian sources, but oddly enough
from the school of Cologne, through her first
great painter, Giovanni da AUemagna or John the
German. Later still, her native painters of the
early Renaissance were largely influenced by their
education at Padua, where works of the Florentine
Giotto and the Florentine Donatello (the last-
named a sculptor) exercised a great efiect upon
the minds and tastes of Mantegna and Bellini*
So that even Venice cannot be thoroughly under-
stood till you have seen Florence, whence a large
part of the influence which formed her schools
emanated. As for Milan, Brescia, Bologna, and
the rest, the springs of their art are in a large
degree Florentine.

But Florence herself is self-contained and self-
suflicing. She evolved her own art ; or if she took
hints from elsewhere, took them only from Tuscan
Pisa, which you have seen on your way to her, and
from her equally Tuscan elder sister, Siena. No
other city of Italy can be thoroughly understood
till you have understood Florence; but Florence
stands alone, her own sole interpreter.

The revival of art began in Florence. Its first
faint notes were struck by Cimabue. Then, a
generation later, she derived from Pisa the net
results of the school of sculpture instituted by

Florence 209

Niccold Pisano; and these bore fruit in time in
the grand project for her Cathedral and for its
glorious Campanile. But it was Giotto who gave
the great impetus to art in Florence; and every
other city in Italy derived its later art directly or
indirectly from Giotto or his followers. You find
the hand of the master himself everywhere — in
the frescos of the Madonna dell' Arena at Padua;
in the Lower Church at Assisi ; in San Giovanni
at Ravenna; in the Navicella at St. Peter's in
Rome, — in short, all over Italy ; but you can
thoroughly understand him nowhere save in this
his special city. Were it only for Giotto, who lies
at the root of all Italian art, it would be necessary
to visit Florence first. When you consider that
the school founded by Giotto developed into the
Renaissance painters in Florence by a natural and
unbroken evolution, and sent its teachers to every
other Italian region, you will feel that here alone
can we study the history of Italian art to the best
advantage.

Ever)rthing in Florence, indeed, is redolent (f
the soil. Elsewhere Florentines decorated Roman
churches or Sienese cathedrals ; at Florence Floren-
tines painted Florentine saints for Florentine altars,
or carved breathing images of Our Lady of Florence
for Florentine niches. We get to know the Floren-

2IO The European Tour

tine Madonna of the Lily, the baby Florentine St.
John with his reed and scroll^ the Florentine Santa
Reparata with her red-cross flag, as familiarly as
we know the face of George Washington or the
American eagle. The features of the Medici
become quite familiar to us. The ascetic Sant'
Antonino haunts the walls of San Marco \ Ghir-
landajo's patrons, repeated in a dozen forms, end
by being our intimate acquaintances. The entire
life of a mediaeval city comes back to us in its
fulness; we wander among palaces the faces of
whose builders still smile upon us from their
tombs in Benedetto da Maiano's bronze, or scowl
under pent brows in Michael Angelo's marble.

That is the joy of Florence. So much of it
remains that you can piece it all together as you
can piece no other city. I take a single example.
In Santa Maria Novella, you come across the
tomb of the Patriarch Joseph of Constantinople. Why
a patriarch of Constantinople at Florence, you
wonder. Well, in 1438, when the last Byzantine
Roman emperors still held the city by the
Bosphorus, but the Turk was pressing forward and
Christendom was at bay, a great council was held
at Ferrara to bring about the reunion of the East-
ern and Western churches. John Palaeologus,
Emperor of Constantinople, and the Patriarch

Florence 211

Joseph attended this council. In 1439 it trans-
ferred itself to Florence ; and while it sat there,
the Patriarch died and was buried in this church of
Santa Maria Novella. Now you will afterwards
go to the Riccardi Palace, which was at that time
the home of the Medici ; and there, in the dark
little chapel, made glorious by art, you will see the
beautiful and fantastic fresco which Benozzo
Gozzoli painted to represent the journey of the
Magi to Bethlehem. Here our old acquaintances,
the Three Kings, typifying as usual the three ages
of man, are in reality portraits of three famous
personages of the moment. The oldest king is the
Patriarch Joseph, appropriately chosen as one of the
Wise Men from the East ; the middle-aged king is
the Emperor John Palaeologus, in most regal attire ;
and the young king is Lorenzo de' Medici in his
beautiful youth, accompanied by his grandfather
Cosimo Pater Patriae. I give this as a single
illustration of the interest which Florence pos-
sesses. As for the artistic charm of that sumptuous
pageant, winding slowly through a fairy-land of the
painter's imagination, you must see the work itself
before you can form the faintest conception of it.

Let me din it into you, then, as sedulously as I
dinned Italy itself. Italy above all things ; and in
Italy, first andfonmosty Florence^ Florence^ Florence !

CHAPTER XIV

MORE ABOUT FLORENCE

^ I ^HE western quarter of the town (to be prac-
•*• tical for a moment) is the best in which to
settle. Personally, I think the nicest part of it is
the Piazza Santa Maria Novella, which is central
but airy. There are also excellent hotels and pen-
sions on the equally sunny Lung' Arno.

Visit Florence historically ^2i% I have set it forth in my
Guide. Begin with the two oldest great churches,
the Franciscan Santa Croce, and the Dominican
Santa Maria Novella ; then proceed to the Cathe-
dral, the Campanile, and the Baptistery ; after that,
attack the various picture galleries and the Bargello.
You will find six weeks all too short a time just
for walking through the most important groups of
objects in the city. I have mentioned in my
Guide the best order, and called attention to most
of the indispensable sights. I cannot epitomise it
here. To chronicle everything in Florence would
need a book six times as big as would be required
for Paris, and about forty times the size that would
be needed, scale for scale, for London.

More About Florence 213

In this chapter, therefore, which only aims at
suggesting to you beforehand the proper point of
view J I will confine myself to a few special aspects
of a few of the most important objects.

I said above, the Franciscan Santa Croce and
the Dominican Santa Maria Novella. In Florence,
probably, you will for the first time begin to under-
stand the importance of these great monastic bodies^
and the way they each impressed their own ideas
upon the art they patronised. For example, the
Franciscans, the Salvation Army of their day, were
(and are) beggar friars, wedded to poverty, and
preaching the cross of Christ to the poor and
neglected. At Assisi you will perhaps find time to
see later St. Francis's own church, with the frescoes
by Giotto which represent that ecstatic revivalist
married in bodily union to his bride, Poverty.
But for the present, here in Florence, you must
content yourself with examining this Franciscan
church of the Holy Cross^ full of the Cross itself and
the Franciscan order which preaches it. You will
make a great mistake if you go to Santa Croce
regarding it merely as a church in general where
you expect to see some good frescoes by Giotto.
You can only comprehend its inner meaning if you
bear in mind at every turn that it is a Franciscan
church, dedicated to the cult of the Holy Cross.

214 The European Tour

St. Francis died in 1226, and was promptly can-
onised in 1228. His followers spread over every
part of Italy, choosing in each town the poorest
quarters, and ministering to the needs of the lowest
classes. In 1 294 they began to erect this church
in Florence, which Giotto decorated with some of
his finest frescoes. The Holy Cross is its keynote.
Over the main entrances are three reliefs, repre-
senting respectively the Discovery of the True
Cross by the Empress Helena, the Adoration of
the Cross by all the world, and the Cross appearing
in the Sky to Constantine. Over the chief gable,
the Cross is sustained by two marble angels. The
choir, the holiest part of the building, has frescoes
of the mythical legend of the Cross, from Adam
downward, by Agnoio Gaddi. Throughout, the
Holy Cross gives the subject of the building, and
knits it all together into a single poem.

Equally marked is the Franciscan influence. In
half the pictures in this church, you will recognise
on saint after saint the coarse brown Franciscan
robes. The monogram of Christ (I. H. S.),
adopted as his symbol by San Bernardino of Siena,
the great Franciscan revivalist preacher, meets you
at every turn ; one such was affixed on the old
facade by the saint's own hands. The exquisite
pulpit, the noblest work of Benedetto da Maiano,

More About Florence 215

is adorned with reliefs from the life of St. Francis
and the history of his followers — the Confirmation
of the Franciscan order by the Pope, the Burning
of the Immoral Books, St. Francis receiving the
Stigmata, the Death of St. Francis, and the Mar-
tyrdom of a group of Franciscan Brothers. A
fresco in the nave by Andrea del Castagno shows
us side by side St. John Baptist, patron of the
town of Florence, and St. Francis, patron of this
church and order. The Bardi chapel contains
Giotto's famous frescoes of the life of St. Francis.
Everywhere these two interwoven themes dominate
the great church, — the Holy Cross and the Fran-
ciscan order.

These themes, I say, strike the keynote. But
they do not exhaust the manifold interest of this
wonderful building, which alone would repay many
weeks of study. I will mention a single other feature
only. One of the many outgrowths of Santa Crocc
is the Medici chapel^ built by Michelozzo for Cosimo
de' Medici, Pater Patriae. It is full of lovely
works, almost all of them instinct with allusions to
St. Francis, to the Holy Cross, and to the Medici
family. I can find room to mention a solitary in-
stance only \ the beautiful altar-piece in glazed and
coloured terra-cotta work by Luca della Robbia.
This has for its central figure the Madonna being

21 6 The European Tour

crowned by angels; around her stand a group
of appropriate local saints, — St. John Baptist in
camel's hair, as patron of Florence ; St. Lawrence
with his gridiron, as patron of Lorenzo de' Medici^
St. Francis with the Stigmata, as patron of this
Franciscan Church; and St. Louis of Toulouse,
the great Franciscan royal luminary. Everything
here, in short, is full of the ruling Medici, espe-
cially in their connection with the Franciscan order.
It is the same with every other chapel in such a
church. We can only understand it, first in con-
nection with the church of which it is a member,
and next in connection with the family to whom
it belongs, or once belonged.

Most visitors to Florence go to Santa Croce
because they are told it is the fFestminster Abbey of
Florence^ and they visit chiefly the tombs of Michael
Angelo, and Macchiavelli, and Galileo, and Alfieri*
Now, this is a foolish and unworthy viray of regard-
ing a great historical monument. It is putting the
cart before the horse. Santa Croce. is first of all
a churchy not a cemetery; a preaching church of a
great revivalist order, the Franciscans; a church
made beautiful with Franciscan works of art by
mighty painters and cunning sculptors; a whole
with a meaning to it; only incidentally is it the
pantheon of great dead Florentines. If you want to

More About Florence 217

derive the greatest instruction and at the same time
the greatest amount of pleasure from Florence^ you
must visit all its contents in this historical spirit.

Just as distinctly as Santa Croce is Franciscan^
Santa Maria Novella is Dominican. This is true
of the church as a whole, but still more distinctly
true of the so-called Spanish CbapeJ^ or Chapel of
the Corpus Christi, a little oratory in the cloisters,
which is a complete epitome of Dominican the-
ology. The Dominicans were instituted as guar-
dians of the faith and protectors of the people
against heresy -y and they were the leading teachers
of the scholastic philosophy. Hence, on the walls of
the Spanbh Chapel, we see, in the frescoes by
Taddeo Gaddi and the Sienese masters, a com-
pendium of that philosophy in a pictorial form.
I will not explain it all here; I will merely say
that unless you take these frescoes in connection
with their allegorical meaning, and in connection
with the feast of Corpus Christi, then recently in-
stituted, — unless you mentally compare them with
the objects and ideas of the early Dominicans, they
can afford you comparatively little pleasure. A
building like the Spanish Chapel is not a picture
gallery : it is essentially a consistent whole ; not
an element in it which does not conduce to the
general lesson.

2 1 8 The European Tour

I will say a few words, however, just by way of
illustration, about another chapel in the main body
of this church, because it well exemplifies the
point I made above about the relation of private
oratories in churches to the families who owned
them. There are in Santa Maria Novella two
chapels of the Strozzi family. One, the most
famous, contains some magnificent Dominican
frescoes by Andrea Orcagna, together with an
altar-piece in which Christ gives the keys on one
hand to St. Peter, and the book on the other hand
to the great Dominican saint and philosophical
teacher, Thomas Aquinas, who is thus placed
almost on a level with the papacy. The allegori-
cal meaning of this altar-piece is still further accen-
tuated by the presence of the Madonna and St.
John Baptist, patrons of this particular church and
city. The glory of St. Thomas Aquinas is the
central idea of the whole oratory. But it is not
this more &mous Strozzi Chapel, with its glorious
picture of Paradise — a dream of beauty — to
which I would refer at present ; I want rather to
lay stress on the other and newer one which has
been less written about, and which visitors there-
fore less often examine closely. And here is a
brief account of its claim to consideration.

It was formerly, as a Latin inscription upon it

More About Florence 219

relates, dedicated to St. John the Evangelist, but
was afterwards bought by Filippo Strozzi^ founder
of the magnificent Strozzi Palace, and made over
by him to his personal patrons, St. Philip and St.
James, ever indivisible. He employed another
Philip, the great Renaissance painter, Filippino
Lippi, to decorate the walls for him with frescoes
which now rank as some of their painter's finest
work. On the right wall Filippino accordingly
painted a set of subjects from the legendary life
of St. Philip, his own name-saint as well as his
employer's, and the new patron to whom the
chapel was now dedicated. But on the left wall,
as if in compliment to the dispossessed St. John,
or as compensation for disturbance, he painted a
similar series from the life of the Fourth Evan-
gelist. I have described their subjects in full in
my Guide to Florence, and I will not repeat the
description here, because what I want to do now
is not to dwell upon them but merely to point out
the historical allusiveness of such a family chapel.
The end wall, between these two sets of frescoes,
contains a stained-glass window, after a design by
Filippino, and its subject is Our Lady, the patroness
of the church as a whole, throned between St.
Philip and St. James, patrons of the Strozzi and of
this particular chapel. Beneath it, as if protected

220 The European Tour

by his chosen guardians, lies the tomb of Filippo
Strozzi himself, the originator of the design, — a
noble work of plastic art by Benedetto da Maiano,
who was the family sculptor and architect, and who
also planned the Strozzi Palace. The bust of
Filippo Strozzi by this same Benedetto, which
once adorned this tomb, is now in the Louvre;
but oh, what a difference between seeing it
there in meaningless isolation, and seeing it here
among the domestic associations for which it was
originally intended ! If you conscientiously visit
one such chapel as this, and understand its mean-
i^g) yon will never again be content to treat a
church as if it were a scratch collection of un-
connected pictures and unrelated monuments. In
a picture gallery a portrait of a courtesan jostles
a Madonna by Raphael; but in a church each
work fills its proper place in a harmonious
composition.

I have only touched lightly upon a few of the
less celebrated objects in Santa Maria Novella,
because I am not here trying to describe but merely
to set you on the right road for understanding. I
have left unmentioned its most famous gems.
Indeed, if I were to describe in full all that Santa
Maria contains, I should have to write a great
many big volumes.

More About Florence 221

These two churches, Santa Crocc and Santa
Maria Novella, are invaluable as museums of the
early Giottesque fresctHpainters ; they show us the
roots and mainsprings of Italian painting. They
are also admirable object-lessons in the great re-
ligious outburst of the early Franciscan and Domin-
ican revival. After seeing them, a visitor ought
to see the Cathedral and its adjuncts. But these I
will not even attempt to describe. I will merely
say that to a northern or western visitor, for whom
art means pictures, the bronze doors of the Bap^
tistery alone will be a marvellous revelation. It
sounds like extravagance to say so — until you
have seen them ; but those doors by themselves
require many weeks of study. I do not mean
merely the famous eastern doors, by Ghiberti,
which occupied their sculptor for twenty-seven
years — think of it, O hurried American ! — and
which Michael Angelo declared iit to be the gates
of Paradise. Those indeed are beautiful, con-
summate, inexpressible, perfect ; but they are not
the only ones. And here let me give you one
word of sound advice. Do not fall into the
common error of thinking you ought to look only
at " the very best work," and neglect the less'
admirable, — especially not where all is admirable in
its way. That is the wrong way to understand the'

222 The European Tour

best. The most perfect can only be appreciated by
comparison with the almost perfect or rather perfect
which preceded it. There are three sets of these
gates, and between them they mark the progress
of the art of sculpture in Tuscany. Andrea
Pisano's are the earliest and simplest, but they are
very lovely; in some ways the loveliest. Then
come Ghiberti's first set, in a style intermediate
between Andrea's and his later manner. Last of
all come the pair which alone you will see most
visitors stand and stare at, as if the less famous
ones were unworthy their serious attention. This
is a fatal blunder. When you see a man posing
awestruck before these eastern gates alone, you
may be sure he is a pretender. You can never
know much about art of any sort if you confine
yourself always to the most celebrated master-
pieces.

In the Opera del Duomo^ Again, you will learn
once more the infinite variety of Tuscan art-
handicraft. Many visitors only look at Luca
della Robbia's Singing Boys ; and indeed, one can
hardly blame them, for lovelier sculpture man
never invented. But there are other objects here
a little less famous, yet unspeakably beautiful, such
as the silver shrine or High Altar from the Bap-
tistery, representing the life of St. John Baptist, in

More About Florence 223

a series of reliefs of different dates, by many famous
artists. And these are not all. The mosaics, the
enamels, the Byzantine needlework — But Imust
draw a line. I can only say in Cijnclusion, here in
Florence you will begin to understand what I said
before, that in Italy art is an all-pervading presence.

One other great sight of Florence demands a
word in passing, because it also is liable to the
gravest misconceptions. I believe most Englisr
and American tourists go to see the Monastery of
San Marco because it is Savonarola's home, and
because they have read " Romola." I cannot read
" Romola " — I have tried, and failed — but I can
tell you of another and better way of seeing San
Marco. Recollect that it is, first of all, a Do-
minican house, erected by the earliest and greatest
of the Medici for the monks of St. Dominic, and
decorated throughout with Dominican pictures by
the saintly Dominican painter, Fra Angelico. I
am not going to speak here about the exquisite
tenderness, sanctity, and mysticism of that ecstatic
and poetic friar. You will see his works and
understand all that on mere inspection. But I
want to say a word or two, rather, about the
meaning of his pictures, and their close connection
with the places they occupy.

I will take five only, the five which first strike

224 The European Tour

your eye as you enter the quiet and solemn little
courtyard. They are the Ikminican cycle. The
first is commonly described as a Crucifixion. But
it is not ; it is St. Dominic embracing the foot of
the Cross, and it typifies here thg Devotion of the
Dominican Order. The next, over the door of the
Sacristy, represents St. Peter Martyr, the great
Dominican witness to Catholic truth, with his
wounded head and palm of nuutyrdom ; he places
his finger to his lips, to enfiiuce the Dominican
rule of silence. This fi'esco therefore typifies the
Sanctity of the Dominican Order.. Next, over the
door of the Chapter-House, we see St. Dominic
once more, but this time with: his red star, his open
book asv teacher, and his scourge^ of rods^ he
typifies the Discipline, of the Dominican Order,
Ovec the door of the Foresteria^ again --~ the
quarter reserved for the reception, of strangers and
pilgrims, we get the famous and exquisite fresco —
unsurpassed in the world for tenderness^ and^
beauty — of two Dominican friars welcoming-
Christ in the garb of a pilgrim — ^^ Inasmuch as:
ye have done it unto the least of these little ones,,
ye have done it unto me." This picture of course
typifies the Hospitality of the Dominican Order..
Finally, we have, over another door^ St. Thomas'
Aquinas with his open book; he was tiie great

More About Florence 225

Dominican teacher and philosopher, and he typifies
the Learning of the Dominican Order,

At Santa Maria Novella you will already have
seen much of St. Thomas Aquinas and his gloiy i
and by the time you have honestly gone through
San Marco, the black-and-white Dominican robes
will be quite familiar to you, and so will be the
faces and features of their most distinguished
wearers.

As yet, you will notice, I have said nothing
about the picture galleries. And as a general rule,
everywhere, I would advise you to familiarise
yourself first with the town, the architecture, and
the churches, as wdl as with the local saints and
local history, before you begin to attack the gal-
leries; Their meaning will thus become much
more apparent to you. Fof example, here in
Florence, the Baptistery, which is the old cathe-
dral, shows you why St. John is the patron of
Florence ; the works of art in it familiarise you
with many Florentine allusions, and especially with
the little St. John Baptist setting out for the desert,
a figure which afterwards becomes symbolical to
yt>u of the town itself. Santa Reparata, San Za-
nobi, Sant' Antonino, and many other local saints
will thus have become old acquaintances before
you visit the picture galleries, where you will find

226 The European Tour

them divorced from their original surroundings.
For example, at San Marco, you will see the cell
occupied by Cosimo de' Medici, Pater Patriae,
when he went into occasional retreats. On the
wall of this cell is a fresco by Fra Angelico repre-
senting the Crucifixion, with Cosimo's own patron
saint, St. Cosmo, together with St. John and St.
Peter Martyr, the last a Dominican; and these
two are the patrons of his sons, Giovanni and
Piero de' Medici. Cosimo could thus pay his de-
votions tb his Lord, before the figures of his own
patron and those of his sons. In Cosimo's own
sleeping cell, behind, is an Adoration of the Magi,
here of course symbolical of worldly rank and
wealth submitting to the spiritual authority, and
therefore most appropriate for the retreat of a man
in power. But if these pictures were removed to
a picture gallery, their special meaning and allusive-
ness would be largely lost. As far as possible, in
my Guides, I try accordingly to show the origin
of such pictures in galleries, wherever it throws
light upon the grouping of the personages. For
instance, in Venice, St. Cosmo and St. Damian
stand merely as the patron saints of the medical
profession, and therefore occur mainly in votive
plague-pictures, side by side with the recognised
plague-saints, St. Sebastian and St. Roch. But in

More About Florence 227

Florence these two holy doctors stand usually as
patrons of the Medici family (originally physicians ;
their coat of arms consists of gilded pills) ; and
wherever you find Cosmo and Damian in a Floren-
tine picture, you may suspect it was painted for
one of the ruling Medici. Often the St. John
Baptist of Florence stands by their side, and some-
times also St. Lawrence, the patron saint of Lo-
renzo the Magnificent.

If you bear these things in mind, and h^ve
already seen the chief churches, you will be in a
fit position to visit the picture galleries.

There are many of these in Florence, but three
stand out with special importance, — the Belle Arti^
the Uffixiy and the Pitti Palace. I advise you to
visit them in this order.

Of course I am not going to give you here a r^-
sume of what I have written in my Guide on these
three great collections. Space makes that impos-
sible. But that you may form some idea beforehand
of the sort of treatment I adopt and advise you to
follow, and that you may judge whether or not it
will meet your requirements, I will transcribe here
a few consecutive pages out of the various
descriptions.

My first extract is from the account of the
Perugino Room at the Belle Arti : —

228 The European Tour

**To the R of the doorway is ** 57, a very noble
Perugino, representing the Assumption, of the Virgin, in a
mandorla, surrounded by a group of cherubs in the same
shape. Her attitude, features, and expression of ecstatic
adoration, as well as the somewhat affected pose of her
neck and hands, are all extremely characteristic of Peru-
gino. So are the surrounding groups of standing akid fly-
ing angels ; the angel immediately to the spectator's l
of the Madonna has also the characterisdc poise of the
head. Above is the Eternal Father, in a circle, with
adoring angels. Below stand four Vallombrosan saints,
as spectators of the mystery : (the picture comes from the
great suppressed monastery of Vallombrosa. ) You will
grow familiar with this group in many other parts of the
gallery, as most of the pictures were brought here at the
suppression. The saints are, San Bernardo degli Uberti
(in cardinal's robes) : San Giovanni Gualbcrto (the
founder) : St. Benedict (in brown) : and the Arch-
angel Michael. Note their features. The figure of St.
Michad, in particular, may be well compared with the
other exqubite St. Michael,, also by Perugino, from the great
altar-piece in the Certosa di Pavia, now in the National
Gallery in London. This Assumption is one of Perugino' s
finest and most characteristic works. It deserves long and
attentive study. Such composidons, with a heavenly and
earthly scene combined, arc great favourites with Umbrian
painters. (See them at Perugia, and in Raphael's Disputib
in the Vatican.) Do not fail to notice the beautiful land-
scape background of the country about Perugia. Study
this work as a model of Perugino at his best.

More About Florence 229

** L to ally 56, *Perugino, the Descent from the
Gros3, a beautiful composition. The scene tikes place
in characteristic Renaissance architecture. The anatomy
and painting of the dead nude are worthy of notice.
Observe the way in which the Madonna's face and head
stand out against the arch in the background, as well as
the somewhat afiected pietism of all the actors, r, the
Magdalen and Joseph of Arimathea ; l, St. John and
Nicodemus. Notice their types.

«< Beyond the door, 53, Perugino, the Agony, in the
Garden. The attitudes of the Saviour and the three
sleeping apostles are traditional. Look out for them else-
where. The groups of soldiers in the background are
highly redolent of Perugino's manner. So is the charm-
ing landscape. Compare this angel with those in the
Vallombrosan picture first noted in this roomi Observe
Perugino's quaint taste in head>dresses; Also, throughout,
here and in the Assumption^ the Umbrian isolation and
abstractness of hi» figures.

** Above,. on this wall, *55, Fra Filippo Lippi» t very
characteristic Madonna and Child enthroned. The
Medici saints, Cosmo and Damian, in their red robes;
and two holy Franciscans, St. Francis and St. Antony of
Padua, stand by. The faces and dresses of the Medici
saints are typical. The Madonna belongs to the human
and somewhat round-faced type introduced into Tuscan art
by Filippo Lippi. . Note, in the arcaded niches at the back,
a faint reminiscence of the older method of painting the
saints in separate compartments. This is a lovely picture ;
do not hurry away from it« It comes, you might guess.

230 The European Tour

from a Franciscan monastery — namely, Santa Croce.
I took you first to that church and Sanu Maria in order
that such facts might be the more significant to you.

** 54, Fra Filippo lippi, St. Jerome in the desert, with
his lion in the background, and his cardinal* s hat and cru-
cifix. The impossible rocks smack of the period. This
is a traditional subject which you will often meet with.
Don't overlook the boob and pen which constantly mark
the translator of the Vulgate.

<*52, Cosimo Rosselli, St. Barbara. A curious but
characterisdc example of this harsh though very power-
fiil painter. In the centre stands St. Barbara herself^
with her tower and palm of martyrdom, as if just rising
from the throne on which she had been sitting. Beneath
her feet is a fallen armed figure* sometimes interpreted as
her father, sometimes as the heathen proconsul, Marcian,
who ordered her execution. The picture, however, as
the Ladn elegiac beneath it relates, was painted for the
German Guild of Florence. Now, St. Barbara was the
patroness of artillery (the beautiful Palma Vecchio of St.
Barbara at Venice was painted for the Venetian Guild of
Bombardiers) : I take the figure on whom she tramples,
therefore, though undoubtedly an emperor in arms, to be
mainly symbolical of the fallen enemy. In short, the
picture is a Triumph of Artillery. To the l stands the
St. John of Florence : to the r, St. Mathias the Apostle,
with his sword of martyrdom. Two charming angels
draw aside the curtains : a frequent feature. Study this
as a typical example of Cosimo Rosselli. It comes from
the Florentine Church of the Annunziata.''

More About Florence 231

You will notice here how often the origin of
the picture casts a flood of light upon its grouping
and meaning.

My second extract is from the account of the
Hall of Lorenzo Monaco in the Uffizi^ where
some of the loveliest treasures of Tuscan art are
preserved : —

** This room contains some of the finest and most in-
teresting works of the Early Florentine period. L of
the door, as you enter, ^1310, Gentile da Fabriano : four
isolated saints, portions of an altar-piece, with the Ma-
donna (who once was there) omitted. L, St. Mary
Magdalen, with her alabaster box of ointment. Next to
her, St. Nicolas of Bari, with his golden balls : on his
robes are embroidered the Nativity, the Adoration of the
Magi, the Flight into Egypt, the Massacre of the Inno-
cents, the Presentation in the Temple, and the Baptism
of Christ. Note such subjects hereafter, embroidered on
the robes of other bishops. They often throw light on
the personages represented. Then, St. John Baptist of
Florence, as the ascedc saint, and St. George, with the
red cross on his lance and shield, a striking figure. In
the cuspidi above, other saints and angels. This picture
comes ft-om the church of St. Nicolas in Florence, and
the Nicolas stood on the r hand of Our Lady.

**I302, beneath, Benozzi Gozzoli, Predella : (i)
Marriage of St. Catherine of Alexandria, a charming
girlish figure : (2) Pieta with St. John and the Magda-
len : (3) St. Antony with his crutch and book, and

231 The European Tour

Sc. Benedict holding a book tnd trrow. From Stnta
Croce.

'* End wall, ^^ 1 309, Don Lorenzo Monaco. Great
altar-piece of the Coronation of the Virgin, in a magnifi-
cent tabernacle of three arches. Adequately to describe
this noble picture, the only important work now remain-
ing by Fra Angelico's master, would require many pages.
I note a few points. Below, the circles of heaven, with
stars and angels. Centre, once a reHquary, now gone,
about which angels swing censers.

*' In the group of saints under the l arch ; nearest the
throne, St. John Baptist of Florence; then, St. Peter
(keys), and St. Benedict, scourge, (this being a Camal-
dolese-Benedictine picture, painted &r Don Lorenzo's
own monastery of the Angeli at Florence : ) above him,
St. Stephen, with the stones on his head ; beside whom
stands St. Paul, holding his sword and his Epistle to the
Romans ; then, St. James the Greater (with a staff),
St. Antony Abbot (crutch) and other saints less discemi'-
ble, among whom I believe I detect St. Louis of France,
and St. Louis of Toulouse. In the opposite arch : on the
extreme a, (to balance St. Benedict) in white robes, St«
Romuald, founder of the Camaldolese order (a branch of
the Benedictines ) : next him, St. Andrew and St. John
the Evangelist ; behind the last, St. Lawrence, with his
gridiron, (Lorenzo's name saint ; ) St. Bartholomew
with his knife ; and St. Francis with his Franciscan robes
and crucifix. Between the last two, a bishop, probably
San Zanobi, as his mitre bears the Florentine lily. Be-
tween him and St. Francis is, I think, St. Vincent. The

More About Florence 233

rest I cannot decipher. Observe the numerous angek^
representing the monastery. In the cuspidi, an Annun?
ciation, and Christ blessing. Many of the figures on the
frame may also be identified. L» King David, Noah
with the ark, and other Old Testament characters. R,
Daniel, Moses with the stone tables, and various proph-
ets. The predella contains Bible scenes, and Stories
from the Life of St. Benedict. ( i ) His death, where
his disciple St. Maurus sees his soul ascending to heaven :
(2) his teaching in his monastery, widi St. Maurus and
the young monk who was tempted by the devil. (See
die same subject in the very different St. Benedict series
by Francesco di Giorgio Martini in the Scuola Toscana,
3** Sala.) (3) Nativity and (4) Adoration of the Magi :
(5) St. Benedict in his cell with BenedictiniC saints, male
and female : he sends out St. Maurus to rescue St. Placi-
dus from drowning: (6) resuscitatbn of a novice, killed
by a falling house at the Convent of Monte-Cassino.
(The same scenes occur, with others, in Spinello
Aretino^s frescoes in the Sacristy at San Miniato.)
Taking it all round, a noble work for its date, worth
close study.

** 1305. *Domenico Veneziano, Madonna and Child,
enthroned, under a very peculiar canopy, with St. John
Baptist, St. Francis (Bernard?), San Zanobi, and St.
Lucy. (It was painted for the church of St. Lucy at
Florence.) A hard picture, in very peculiar colouring,
but with fine drawing and good characterisation. It
is, in point of fact, an early attempt at oil-paintingy the
secret of which Domenico had learnt, and which he im-

234 The European Tour

parted to Andrea del Castagno, who murdered him in
order that he alone might possess it. The colouring is
clear and bright, but lacks harmony : it is anything but
melting. The drawing and composition remind one of
Andrea del Castagno.

" 24. Lorenzo di Credi. Virgin adoring the Child.
The infant exquisite.

•* 1 286. ** Botticelli's Adoration of the Magi. One
of the painter's finest sacred works, where all the con-
ventional elements are retained, while a totally new
meaning is given to the merest detail, such as the great
ruined classical temple, and far more to the group of
attendants on the Three Kings, all of whom are contem-
porary Florentine portraits. Notice in the figure of the
Young King, to the r, in white, (a portrait of Lorenzo
de' Medici,) how completely Botticelli has transformed
and spiritualised the earlier conception. The portrait
faces of all the Three Kings, indeed, are exquisitely
beautiful : the eldest, seen in profile, is Cosimo Pater
Patris. Equally fine is tlie group of men of letters
and statesmen to the r. Do not overlook the poetical
Botticellian touch in the light gauze veil thrown over
the Second King's gift, nor the fur on his dress, nor
the dainty painting of the peacock on the ruin, nor the
thoughtful face of the draped figure in yellow, to
the extreme r, nor the haughty aristocratic mouths of
the Medici to the l, nor indeed anything about this
wonderfiil picture. Every face is significant, every fold
of the drapery is beautiful and flowing. (From Santa
Maria Novella.)"

More About Florence 235

I will not make any extract from the part relat-
ing to the Pitti Palace^ which I regard as the least
interesting of the great Florentine collections, but
will go on at once to a more congenial subject.
I mean, the Bargello.

Nowhere in Italy will you feel the all-pervading-
ness of Italian art as you feel it at the Bargello.
The building was the old castle of the Podesta or
chief magistrate of Florence ; and it is fitted up
now as a national museum of sculpture and decora-
tive arts. Till you see it, you can never guess
what decorative arts are like. I make the follow-
ing extract from my description, merely as some
clue to the nature of its contents : —

'*The next room. Sixth Hall, contains bronzes, re-
liefs, and statues of the early Renaissance. All these
deserve the closest attention. R of the door, St. John
Baptist in the Desert, by Michelozzo, an early example
of the comparative abandonment of the merely ascetic
ideal. Compare and bear in mind all these various
Baptists : their importance is fundamental. R of the
door, fine bas-relief by Bertoldo, of a battle between Ro-
mans and barbarians, inspired by the antique, and full of
classical feeling. The Victories and nude figures to
R and L are especially admirable. Above it, good
bust of the Duke of Urbino. Beneath, * Reliquary of
St. Protus and St. Hyacinth us, by Lorenzo Ghiberti ;
fine flying angels. The case, beyond, contains fine

236 The European Tour

imitation antique and Renaissance statuettes. In tlie
centre of the room, ** Verrocchio's beautiful bronze
David with the head of Goliath^ one of its sculptor's
masterpieces. The head foreshadows Leonardo: the
curls are delicious : the easy assured pose may be com-
pared or contrasted with the Donatello and the Michael
Angelo. The thin veined arms, however, (perhaps of
an apprentice model,) are e>adently influenced by the
ascetic mediaeval ideal : compare the figures in Verroc-
chio's (painted) Baptism of Christ in the Belle Arti.
The whole attitude of this David, in spite of its meagre
limbs, is striking and graceful. This work should be
looked at in contrast with Donatello on the one hand
and with Michael Angelo and Benvenuto Cellini on the
other.

** End wall, ** two gilt bronze panels, the sacrifice of
Isaac by *Brunelleschi and **Ghiberti respectively.
These were the panels which were sent in by the two
artists as specimens of their handiwork in the competi-
tion for the Second Gates of the Baptistery in 1402.
The superiority of Ghiberd's design in composition and
plastic calm is very apparent. At the same time, the
elements of conventional treatment common to the two
scenes are worth close comparison. The positions of
most of the actors and accessories are fairly constant.
Observe the quiet strength and repose of Ghiberti, con-
trasted with the bustle and strain of Brunelleschi. One
is like a sculptor's work, the other like an engineer's.

** Beneath these, Lorenzo Vecchietta's fine * recum-
bent statue for a tomb, in which a successful attempt is

More About Florence 237

made to put greater naturalness into this type of monu-
ment. Above, good Crucifixion by Bcrtoldo.

** Wall to the r. Crucifixion, by Donatello, pardy
gilt. All the attitudes in this admirable scene are
worth carefiil notice. Observe at how much earlier a
date sculpture succeeded in emancipating itself from con-
ventional trammels than did painting. No contemporary
picture has the freedom and ease of the Roman soldier
nailing the feet of the Impenitent Thief; nor of the long-
haired Magdalen in the foreground to the l ; nor of the
semi-nude figure with shield beyond it ; nor of St. Lon-
ginus (distinguished by his halo) with his hand to his
mouth, just above the last-mentioned figure. Study
closely this admirable relief. It will well repay you.

**The Seventh Hall beyond contains the work in
bronze of the High Renaissance up to the point where it
verges towards the Decadence. Among so many noble
works as are contained in this room, it is difficult to make
d' selection : besides, very few of them need explanation.
Note, however, the Ganymede and the eagle, attributed
to Benvenuto Cellini, with its admirable ease of poise,
and its perfect equilibrium. (Compare with dmilar
antiques in the Uffizi.) Also the Antoninus Pius, which
is a successful 15th century imitation of the antique.
Look at Daniele da Volterra's * Bust of Michael Angdo ;
and, close beside it, Sansovino's Christ in Glory. In a
glass case is Cellini's sketch in bronze for the Perseus of
the Loggia del Lanzi, differing slightly in detail from the
model finally adopted. Beside it, admirably executed but
not pleadng bust of Cosimo I., a subject to try the greatest

233 The European Tour

sculptor. Beyond, again, * wax model of the Perseus^
differing much more markedly from the form at last
adopted. Further on, ** Cellini's original relief for the
base of the Perseus, the Release of Andromeda, now
replaced in the Loggia by a cast : a most beautiful piece
of consummate metal-work. Close by, fine Venus by
Giovanni da Bologna. Also, end wall, his Galatea, a
successful figure. All the small works on this wall should
be carefully noted. In the centre of the room, Giovanni
da Bologna's celebrated * Mercury, too often copied,
perhaps the lightest work in bronze ever executed. Its
poise is wonderful. It seems to soar naturally. But re-
productions have vulgarized it. Fine bronze candelabra
and other works. I omit many fine specimens of sculp-
ture, such as the copy of the too famous Farnese bull.
Do not overlook the handsome wooden ceiling.

** The stairs to the upper floor are in Room V, with
the late ivories. Go back to it.

•'The first apartment at which we arrive, Room I,
has a fine timber roof, and is decorated with several
original frescoes, those on the end wall, l, being at-
tributed to the ever-dubious Giottino. That to the l,
a fragment, probably forms part of a Joachim expelled
from the Temple (?). To the r, meeting of Joachim
and Anna at the Golden Gate, — only Joachim and the
two servants with the rejected offering remaining. Com-
pare with other frescoes of corresponding scenes, and you
will be able to judge of these identifications. Centre,
Madonna and Child, with Florentine saints, greatly
injured.

More About Florence 239

'* The Entrance wall has beautiful Delia Robbia
Madonnas, with crowning hands, angels, and other
features. Two of these are the favourite subject of the
Madonna Adoring the Child. The face of the ** central
one is inexpressibly beautiful. Beyond the door. Ma-
donna supporting the dead Christ, by Ghirlandajo, a
fine fresco. Further on, fresco of justice, between two
suitors, attributed to Rossi. Beyond the window.
Madonna and draped Child, of the later School of
Giotto.

** End wall, more Delia Robbias. Above, by Gio-
vanni, Christ and the woman of Samaria. Beneath, by
Andrea and Luca, Madonna and Child. In the earlier
type (Luca and Andrea), the figures are usually white
on a blue ground : later works of the same school
(Giovanni, etc.) such as the Christ and the Woman o^
Samaria above, are in polychrome, and less pleasing.

** L wall, returning, Christ and the Magdalen in tne
garden, of the later period. Beneath, in the predella,
St. Francis receiving the stigmata (compare with pic-
tures), the Resurrection, and the Maries at the Tomb
Beyond the window, more Delia Robbias ; charming
little * Annunciation, good Ascension, * Madonna Ador-
ing the Child (with delicious baby St. John of Florence),
Nativity, and a lunette of St. Augustin. After seeing
these Delia Robbias, look out for similar lunettes and
medallions over the doors or arcades of Florentine houses
and churches (Ognissanti, Hospital of San Paolo, Inno-
centi, etc. ) . Beyond the next window, again. Madonna
Adoring the Child. In this room (with the next) you

240 The European Tour

have the best opportunity afforded you of learning to
admire and love the Delia Robbias^ especially Luca."

Now, I do not for a moment suppose this faint
attempt to suggest to you beforehand what Florence
is like, and why you ought to devote so much
time to it, has been conspicuously successful.
There is only one way to appreciate Florence, and
that is by going there. But if I have roused your
curiosity, if I have made you think about it seriously,
I have done a great deal ; and I hope I may also
have given you some useful hints as to the kind of
way in which you must see and study this queen
of cities. I am not afraid that if I once get you
there early you will hurry away. Florence burns
itself into one's heart and one's brain. The
difficulty is, when once you have seen it, to live
elsewhere. You will want to sell all you have^
and take an apartment for the rest of your life on
the western Lung, — Lung' Arno.

CHAPTER XV

VENICE

TF you have taken my advice, you will have
-■" gone direct from Milan to Florence (stopping
only at Pisa). But I know very well you will niit
take my advice. There are matters in which it is
impossible for the best-intentioned people to save
others from themselves % and this is one of them.
I feel convinced that, in spite of the excellent
reasons which exist for seeing Florence first, mere
convenience of railway travelling, and ease in map-
ping out a plan of route, will make everybody go
direct from Milan to Venice, and then on to
Florence. They will not understand Venice half
so well by so doing, it is true ; for the grand
panorama of the historical development of art
unrolls itself before one's eyes nowhere as at
Florence. Still, it is no use shutting one's eyes to
plain facts of human nature ; and as I know by
experience, in spite of all I say, that you will rush
blindly upon your fate by seeing Venice first, I
may as well proceed to give you some idea as to

what to see on your way thither.

242 The European Tour

First, however, I will proceed upon the improb-
able supposition that you do take my advice; in
which case you must make your way from
Florence to Venice via Bologna and Padua. I
recommend you not to stop at Bologna on your
way to Venice j it will be better for you to see it
as you return, on your way to Rome. But to
Padua you ought to give a couple of days at least \
though, if you like, a very convenient way of see-
ing it is not to stop at Padua itself (the hotels are
hardly faultless), but to run across for two succes-
sive days by the early morning train from Venice,
returning in the evening. However that may be,
it is worth while at least to catch a glimpse of
Padua, both for the sake of its magnificent church,
dedicated to its local Franciscan patron, St.
Antony of Padua (here commonly known simply as
" il Santo ") but also for its splendid series of
Giottos in the little chapel of the Madonna delt
Arena^ which will afford you a better and more
pleasing idea of Giotto's art than any you could
derive from the Florentine churches.

In saying this, I don't want you to suppose I
have mentioned the only things you need go to
see at Padua. It is rich in beautiful things, — in
fact, if it were north of the Alps, it would be far
more famous than Antwerp or Nuremberg; but

Venice 243

being in Italy, well, of course, it attracts relatively
little attention. Andrea Mantegna^s frescoes in the
church of the Eremitani ought to occupy you for
some time ; then there are the ancient Giottesque
frescoes by the local artists Avanzi and Altichieri,
(important in the history of North Italian art)
at the Cappella San Gioi]gio — deliciously naive
stories of the lives of St. Geoi]ge, to whom the
chapel is dedicated, and of his like-minded sister-
saints, Catherine and Lucy; as well as the cele-
brated Titians of the Scuola del Santo. These,
with the magnificent shrine of Sant' Antonio him-
self, the reliefs by Donatello, Riccio, and Bellano,
the great equestrian statue of Gattamelata by Do-
natello, and the beautiful Palma Vecchio of the
Scuola del Carmine will take you at least two days
merely to walk through with the most casual in-
spection. To tell you the truth, that is why I
hesitate about sending you to the smaller towns of
Italy at all. You cannot give them a week or two
apiece ; and less than a week or two is quite in-
adequate to see them in. It is absurd to suppose
you can see Padua as you might see Ghent or
Winchester or Rouen.

At the same time, it may strike you that the
finest works of art at Padua (with the exception
of the Mantegnas) are by Florentine artists such

244 The European Tour

as Giotto and Donatello ; and that will show you
once more why I have advised you so strenuously
to go to Florence first y and stop there longest.

On the other hand, if you decline to follow my
advice (as I know you will do), then you will
probably proceed from Milan to Venice direct ; in
which case you will probably desire to stop on the
way for a night (or two) at Verona, Undoubtedly
Verona is one of the most picturesque of Italian
cities, and it is full of interest ; but if you see it
before Florence, it will not do you much good at
the present stage of your acquaintance with Italian
art. It is too specialised and too provincial.
However, as a picturesque town alone, it is well
worth seeing. Its combination of attractions is
considerable — nay, almost unique. It has Roman
remains of importance, — an amphitheatre and a
fine triumphal arch. It has the most picturesque
market-place I have ever seen, surrounded by noble
mediaeval buildings. It has four or five splendid
churches, one of them, the Romanesque San Zeno^
full of the profoundest interest. It has the charm-
ing Tombs of the Scaligers, masterpieces of Gothic
monumental art. It has many excellent pictures ;
and a master all of its own, whom you cannot
study elsewhere, Cavazzola, one of the most touch-
ing painters of the High Renaissance. Baedeker

Venice 245

holds you out hopes that all these sights may be
seen in a day. I should have said one day was
insufficient for San Zeno alone, which is full of
detail of the most interesting description. Give
Verona at least two whole days, four, if possible ;
and then remember that you have but begun it.

Let me warn you in passing to cast Romeo and
Juliet out of your mind in Verona. Shakespeare
never was here ; and the object shown to visitors
as Juliet's tomb is a Roman sarcophagus. Avoid
such will-o'-the-wisps, such romantic false asso-
ciations, and confine yourself to the realities, —
Catullus, Gallienus, Theodoric the Goth, the della
Scalas, the great Veronese painters, Vittore Pisano,
Liberale da Verona, the Morones, Girolamo dai
Libri, Cavazzola, the Bonifazios, Paolo Veronese,
and so forth. These are surely enough, without
dragging in mere English poets.

You will pass Padua on your way from Verona
to Venice ; but I advise you rather to go over and
see it from Venice.

For Venice itself, I will not say very much.
My task grows easier. Of* course, there is noth-
ing on earth so satisfying as Venice. You cannot
be disappointed with it. Visitors are often chilled
by the first view of Florence. The Cathedral^
the Campanile, the Baptistery fail to come up to

246 The European Tour

their high-wrought expectations, — fail just at first,
that is to say, for the longer you know them the
more you love them. ** Is this all ? '* people ask j
*' this rather plain and unattractive city ? " You
have to find out Florence by slow degrees ; to let
her beauty and her wealth of art dawn upon you
piecemeal, in the Uf&zi, in the Belle Arti, in the
dim aisles of Santa Croce, among the marveUous
Romanesque carvings of San Miniato. The longer
you know her, the more you love her, the more
you see in her. You learn at last that third-rate
churches, like the Trinita or the Ognissanti, en-
close works of art which elsewhere would be
famous. But Venice is not like that. Almost as
inexhaustible in the end as Florence, she bursts
upon you from the first moment with a glow of
romance, of grandeur, of beauty. She takes you
by storm. Years after, perhaps, Florence lives
with you as a sweeter memory 5 but Venice cap-
tivates you at sight like a proud and queenly
woman.

The very arrival at the railway station — else-
where so prosaic — delights one at once by its
strangeness and its novelty. You approach Venice
nowadays, it is true, by the back door, so to speak ;
she is a maritime city^ and the great Doges and
builders of the period when she held the gorgeous

Venice 247

East in fee laid out their town to face seaward — >
to be approached by its glorious front door from
the Adriatic. The visitor who has the luck to
reach her so to-day, from Port Said or Alexandria,
sails up through the navigable channel with the
domes of St. Mark's and the Salute to guide him ;
he anchors just in front of the Dogana di Mare;
and he lands at last on the marble steps of the
Piazzetta, with the Doge's Palace and the glories
of the Piazza straight in front of him. He comes
at once on a blaze of gold and colour. We now-
adays, on the other hand, creep in at the back from
landward, as Venice was never intended to be ap-
proached. We cross the shallow lagoon by a long
viaduct, and disembark in the poorest and least
artistically beautiful quarter of the sea-built city.
Yet even so, it is all Venice. Nothing can detract
from the delight and romance of that first arrival.

You quit the station, and go down to your gon-
dola. You knew about it all before, of course, but
you did. not realise it. You were aware that there
were and could be no horses in Venice ; but not
till you reach that landing by the Grand Canal do
you picture to yourself the life of a great city, all
carried on entirely by means of boats. You take
your seat in your gondola, and glide swiftly and
noiselessly down some side canal, under mysterious

248 The European Tour

little bridges, and past mouldering palaces, till you
arrive at last at your hotel on the Riva or by the
front of the Salute. It is all one dream ; yet a
dream come true^ the only true dream in this world
of disappointments.

Then the Piazza! You sally forth to see
Venice, and emerge from a narrow lane upon the
great square, in its full flood of sunshine, I am
not going to describe it; words do not describe
Venice. It is a burst of emotions. I will only
say that here at last you will exclaim, " They did
not tell me half ! I expected much ; the reality
far exceeds my expectation."

In this matter I always mentally contrast Su
Mark's and the Great Pyramid. The first time I
saw the Pyramids from the Citadel at Cairo, I
looked across at them and felt, "Yes, there they
are ! The good old familiar Pyramids of my child-
hood ! " When I saw them nearer, it was just the
same; the actuality added no points of detail to
the mental picture. The Pyramids have no sculp-
ture, no ornament, no decorative adjuncts. But
St. Mark's ! You have known it from your child-
hood, you think, with its domes and pinnacles ;
and yet, when you see it, you learn at once that
you never knew it at all, so infinite is its detail, so
varied its attractiveness. Why, the outside of one

Venice 249

wall alone gives you work for a week, so full is it
of decorative designs, so rich in sculpture, in inlaid
stone, in mosaic.

St. Mark's alone is endless. No man ever knows
St. Mark^s. Within and without, it is one mass
of carved figures, of mosaics, of gold and precious
stones and marble and alabaster. It defies de-
scription. I will not even try to tell you how to
see St. Mark's. You cannot see it. I will only,
say this : outside the church is a sort of porch or
atrium, which itself I have never yet succeeded
(after many long visits to Venice) in wholly de-
ciphering. This atrium alone has seven domes,
and all these domes, with the arches and wall-
spaces around them, are encrusted internally with
endless and quaint mosaic pictures. The first
dome contains the scenes of the Creation ; and
adequately to examine this one set alone — Byzan-
tine work of the twelfth century — requires you to
stand gazing up at the roof till your neck aches.
I have spent hours and hours in spelling out all the
subjects in those seven exterior domes, all the
obscure Greek or early Italian saints on the walls
and arches of this porch alone, and I am still far
from having identified every individual subject.
As to the interior, it is a question of acres. A
book which should decipher the whole of St.

250 The European Tour

Mark's would run to three or four stout and
closely printed volumes.

Therefore I do not ask you to stop long enough
in Venice to see St. Mark^s. Human life extends
on the average to only threescore years and ten —
which of course are inadequate. I ask you merely
to remember that in Venice you must make a
choice of what you will see, and be content with a
moderate standard of seeing it. Begin with St.
Mark's, but do not try to ^^do" it all at once.
Take it slowly, a bit at a time. Return at fre-
quent intervals (interposing other things) and add
a few square yards of mosaic or of sculpture to
your examined stock on each occasion. Sit often
in the church, and look about you with an opera-
glass at what comes nearest. There is only one
St. Mark's in Europe. See what you see system-
atically, and choose what interests you most ; but
renounce the impossible task of understanding all
of it. Above all things, bear in mind that this
church was built by the Venetians, the greatest
maritime power in the mediaeval world, and prac-
tically an outlying fragment of the Byzantine
Empire in the West for many centuries, in order
to contain the actual body of the evangelist St. Mark^
which they carried off from Alexandria, and which
lies to this day under the High Altar. Unless you

Venice 251

appreciate this importance of the body of St. Mark,
you will never really understand Venice.

After St. Mark's, and the great group of build-
ings which surround the Piazza, the most im-
portant things to see in Venice are the pictures.
But these again are best understood after you have
visited the churches, and especially the four great
plague-churches of different dates, — St. Sebastian,
San Rocco, San Giobbe, and the Salute. An
immense deal of Venetian art and religion centres
round the plague. Trafficking always with the
plague-stricken East, Venice was specially liable to
visitations of this scourge, as were all the other
towns of the Adriatic ; and each visitation brought
forth a whole crop of new churches, chapels,
and votive pictures. Nowadays, we should say,
" Overhaul your main drainage system." In the
Middle Ages men said, ^^ Build a shrine to the holy
Job, who was plagued with boils and blains, or
bring hither the body of San Rocco from Mont-
pelier." So they sent and stole San Rocco, the
holy man who had ministered to the plague-
stricken till he was smitten himself, and built him
a noble church, and an equally noble charitable
institution, the Scuola di San Rocco. All these
plague-churches are full of plague-pictures, a
sufficient account of which will appear in my

252 The European Tour

Historical GuiDt to Venice, which I hope to
have ready about the same time as this volume.

There is a votive work of Titian's, now housed
in the Salute (the most imposing but by far the
least interesting of these great plague-churches),
which will well illustrate the sort of thing at which
I am here driving. It is older than the building
in which it now stands. It was painted to com-
memorate the plague of 15 12^- the same in which
Giorgione died — and to return thanks to God for
its cessation. In the centre St. Mark is seated
on a lofty throne ; and to a mediaeval Venetian St.
Mark typified Venice, just as to a modem English-
man the figure of Britannia holding a trident typi-
fies England. He carries his Gospel in his hands,
just to let you see that this is an Evangelist. A
cloud passes over him and casts a shadow upon
him ; Venice is under a cloud from the pestilence.
On his right hand stand St. Sebastian with his arrows,
always symbolical of the plague, and St. Roch
(San Rocco), whose body the Venetians stole from
Montpelier ; he lifts his robe, as usual, to show a
plague-spot on his right thigh. These are the two
great patrons against plague. On the left stand
St. Cosmo and St. Damian, here not as patrons of
the Medici, but as the holy physicians. They
hold in their hands surgical instruments and pots

Venice 253

of ointment. Hence the whole meaning of the
picture is this — Venice preserved from the Plague
of 15 1 2, by the potent aid of our patron St. Mark,
assisted by the intercession of our local plague-
saints, Sebastian and Rocco, the care of the sainted
leeches, Cosmo and Damian, and the skill and
devotion of our medical profession. If you look
in the ordinary guide-books you will find this com-
plex work described as ^^St. Mark Enthroned, with
other Saints." And much that tells you about it !
I advise you, therefore, to begin your tour of
the Venetian pictures, not with the Academy, where
they are divorced from their surroundings, but with
the various churches^ where you see them in their
true organic connection .with the saints or the
worship for which they were designed. The four
great plague-churches may come first ; after them
in due order you might take San Giorgio degli
Schiavone, where Carpaccio's series from the life
of St. George, painted for the Dalmatian or
Slavonian brotherhood who owned the church, will
put you into the proper frame of mind for appre-
ciating the similar series of St. Ursula and of the
Holy Cross at the Academy. When you have
seen these, and the Redentore, you might proceed
to attack the great picture gallery itself; and then
the Doge's Palace (interior).

254 The European Tour

For the Academy and the Dogis Palace^ one great
point to be borne in mind is the commercial great-
ness and aristocratic constitution of Venice. A
great many of the pictures are curious local vari-
ants or modifications of the type so common else-
where, in which a votaiy adores the Madonna and
Child. But at Venice the votary is usually a Dc^e
or other very important oligarch ; and so big does
he loom in proportion to the subject that we can
see at last the votive picture is only a means of
painting the Doge's portrait, and exhibiting him in
the full dignity of his ducal robes. Indeed, in
some late pictures this purpose is openly and
frankly avowed; instead of Our Lady, we find the
Doge in the presence of an allegorical Venice. If
you visit Venice after you have seen Florence, the
sumptuousness and wealth of the Venetian pictures
will certainly strike you, as well as the matronly
and aristocratic type of the Blessed Virgin, compared
with the simple and girlish Florentine Madonnas.

I am not here writing a Guide to Venice, there-
fore I will not say much in this place about the
pictures in the Academy. I hope by this time you
have sufficiently caught at my general point of view
to render such detail unnecessary, except in the
presence of the actual buildings or sculptures or
mosaics or pictures. I will only add, therefore,

Venice 255

that you ought to devote at least a month to Venice ;
and that in that month you can only expect to get
a very casual glimpse of her inexhaustible riches.
If you take a month, the greater part should be
devoted to St. Mark's and the Academy; though
you must also see the four great plague-churches,
San Giorgio, the Frari, and San Giovanni e Paolo.
Unless your time is very free, and your leisure un-
bounded, I would strongly dissuade you from visit-
ing any of the lesser sights, such as the Arsenal,
the galleries of the private palaces, the interiors of
the Library, the Mint, and other Government
buildings, the minor churches, other than those
specified, and the surrounding towns, such as
Murano and Chioggia. I do not deny that an
excursion by steamboat in the afternoon or evening
to these islands and to the Lido is useful as show-
ing you the true position of Venice ; but I would
warn you against trying to see them in the sense
of visiting their churches and pictures. You have
no time for these things. Indeed, I hardly know
how you can manage to look at such almost indis-
pensable objects as San Salvatore, with its gorgeous
Titian and Carpaccio, San Giovanni Crisostomo,
with its exquisite Bellini, and the Madonna dell'
Orto, with its noble Tintorettos. I fear to advise
you even to glance at Palma Vecchio's St. Barbara

256 The European Tour

in Santa Maria Formosa, or at the extremely inter-
esting early Venetian works in San Zaccaria. How
then can you find time for the adjacent islands ?

Above aU, at Venice more than elsewhere, I
caution you strongly against the idea that to rush
about and see things pell-mell all over the place
can be of any use to you. What you ste^ ue
thoroughly^ and see slowly. Chew it and digest it.
The habit of boking spoils foreign travel. It is
better to spend two days over San Gioigio degli
Schiavoni than to be able to boast at tabU d^boU
in the evening that to-day you crossed the Rialto,
looked into San Giovanni Elemosinario, — ^^ first-
rate Titian ! " -^ Sd Santa Maria Mater Domini^
walked through the Correr Museum, saw every**
thing in the Frari, formed a critical opinion of the
Scuola di San Rocco, and came home with a
splitting headache. In a week's time you will
have forgotten whether the Frari was at Venice or
Verona, will think that Titian painted Tintoretto's
Crucifixion, and will believe that the Fesaro
Madonna is in die Redentore, where Carpaccio
placed it over the High Altar as a monumental
offering to his friend, Paolo Veronese. If you
wish to avoid such nightmares as these, take y^ur
Vifdci thwhf^ and read it up as you go in competent
authorities.

CHAPTER XVI

ROMEWARDS

LAND is now in sight. I see, not far ahead,
the end of my labours. To say the truth,
when once I had got you safely landed in Florence,
I felt that my task was almost completed. If you
have seen Florence, and seen it properly, your
education has passed the critical stage; you can
be largely trusted now to choose for yourself where
to go and what to see. You have eaten of the
tree of knowledge of good and evil.

At least, I hope so. And if you have not, well,
I cannot avail you much. Italy, after all, must be
its own interpreter. The most the teacher can do
i$ to put you on thg right track for understmdiug
and enjoying it.

So off we start from Venice Romewards^ By
this time, I hope, you will have learned that every
town in Italy — as in Europe generally — -is not
merely "the place where you are to see" the
Amphitheatre or St. Mark's, Giotto's Campanile
or Raphael's Sposalizio. Each is a whole : each

258 The European Tour

has a histoiy, a school of art, an atmosphere of its
own. It is Lombard or Tuscan, aristocratic or
despotic; it has its ruling families and its popular
saints, its associations with Germany or with the
Byzantine Empire, its architectural traditions, its
preponderance of marble or mosaic or fresco, its
favourite religious orders, its enthusiasts, its re-
formers. After seeing Florence and Venice, with
perhaps Pisa and Padua thrown in, you ought fairly
to have grasped this truth ; you ought to see for
yourself that architecture, painting, sculpture,
decoration have an organic conntction with the
national life, the city's type and temperament and
history. The value of works of art is thus vastly
enhanced, and their intellectual pleasurability almost
doubled by seeing them in the surroundings which
originally inspired them.

It is largely on this account, too, that I have
tried to dissuade you from wasting too much time
at first in London and Paris and the German
cities. To see a picture by Mantegna in the
Louvre is one thing ; to see it at Mantua or Padua
or Verona in its original setting, is quite another.
If you went to Dresden before you went to
Florence, you would see there Raphael's Madonna
di San Sisto; and you would consider Dresden
mainly as the place where that particular picture is

Romewards 259

housed. And in so doing, you would form a false
impression. Just because Dresden has little
coherency and congruity of its own — just because
it is a museum of gathered art — a scratch col-
lection — I have warned you against going to see it
till you have seen and learned the ways of other
European cities which will put you in the right
road for understanding the inner heart of Europe,
The less time you can afford to spend in Europe,
the more necessary is it for you to economise wisely
by getting to Florence and Venice as early as
possible.

So from this point on, my treatment must be
more rapid. Either I have convinced you of the
justness of my plan — in which case no more
words are needed ; or else I have not — in which
case more words will probably fail to impress you.

You will return to Rome via Ferrara^ Bologna^
and Florence. About stopping at the two first of
these towns, I leave you now to use your own judg-
ment. The question of time must settle the matter.
Grass-grown Ferrara has an interesting school of
art of its own, which also leads up to the Bolognese
masters, by action and reaction. A couple of
nights might give you a rough idea of it. Sleepy
Bologna^ so mediaeval, so modern, so quaintly
jumbled, is immensely interesting; it has also a school

26o The European Tour

of art of its own, which in its earlier age culminated
in Francia, and later gave birth to the most annoy-
ing and mannered of the sixteenth and seventeenth
century painters, such as the Carracci, Guido, and
Domenichino, of whose affected and intrinsically
vulgar works — painted to suit thetaste of Popes and
Cardinals — you will see more than enough in the
dreary Roman galleries. Nevertheless, three or
four days ought (if possible) to be devoted to
Bologna, especially as regards its earliest Christian
remains, some of which are most interesting.
Here you may begin to take note of sarcophagi.
From Bologna, I recommend either a detour of two
or three days to Ravenna^ or else (which is better)
two or three separate long day excursions* The
journey is endless, and the days tedious ; but still,
it is pleasanter and safer so than stopping the night
at Ravenna. No town in Italy is so rich as this
in early Christian antiquities of the intermediate
period — churches and mosaics of the later Empire,
of Theodoric the Goth and his Arian heretics, and
of Justinian and the Byzantines. It is a museum
of the decadence. Here alone in Italy one can
trace in full the long decline of the Roman
Empire, the history of the fourth, fifth, sixth,
seventh, and eighth centuries ; here alone one can
note how the classical spirit merges by degrees into

Romewards 261

the barbaric and mediaeval, or rises once more into
Byzantine formalism. For myself, I would say, try
to see Ravenna^ even if you have thereby to forego
Naples. You will find it far more instructive and
infinitely more amusing. It is one of the ugliest
yet one of the most surpassingly and entrancingly
mteresting cities in Europe.

From Ravenna and Bologna, nturn to Fbrtnce,
It would not be a bad plan, if you can manage it,
to spend two or three days more now in Florence,
before starting for Rome, in order to see again
certain objects by the light cast on them from the
reflections of Venice. Compare, compare, com*
pare ! That is the whole gospel of the study of
art. You will find every day thin^ that you saw
before take new meanings from what you have
learnt later.

Then, on to Rome. On your way you can take
OrvietOj without diverging from the main route ; or,
by a slight detour^ Siena^ or else Perugia. Of the
three, Siena is the most important, Perugia the
least so. But if time permits, try to see all three ;
they are infinitely more valuable and delightful than
Munich or Dresden. I will not now insist on the
sort of thing you should see in each, or the way
you should see it. Siena is a town of the highest
artistic rank, with a school of its own which dates

262 The European Tour

back very far, and which largely influenced the
school of Florence. It has also a cathedral which,
internally at least, is the most satisfying in Italy —
as a Gothic building, for St. Mark's stands apart
without peer or second. Besides, nothing in Italy
is quite so typically and mediaevally Italian as
Siena ; it seems to have stood still since the days
of Pinturicchio ; as I walk along the streets, I
always think to myself with a little start of ever-
recurrent yet fresh surprise, ^^To me, this is a
wonderful relic of the Middle Ages — but these
people live here! To them this is just the nine-
teenth century." The Pinturicchios in the
cathedral library alone are worth all London.
Orvieto has an astounding cathedral, almost as
noble as Siena, and externally superior. But you
cannot see everything. Perugia does not boast any
one building so fine as these, but its attractions are
manifold, and it is indispensable for a comprehen-
sion of Umbrian art in every direction. It has
also, in the Tombs of the Volummi^ the most acces-
sible remains of the ancient Etruscans. Assist
can be easily combined in the same tour with
Perugia.

As for Rome itself I shall not attempt here to
give you more than the most generalised outline.
There are too many Romes ; you must choose for

Romewards 263

yourself which one amongst them specially interests
you.

Unless you are a classical scholar and antiquary,
I do not advise you to give much time to the ruins
of Ancient Rome ; and if you are a classical scholar
and antiquary, you will know for yourself what to
look at, or will have recourse to good books of
reference on the subject, such as Burn's Rome and
the Campagna^ Middleton's Ancient Rome, Lanciani,
etc. All I shall do here will be to suggest to the
ordinary tourist what things at Rome he ought to
see, and what he may safely neglect as unimportant.

A few buildings of Ancient Rome still survive in a
form which renders it worth while to visit them.
Such are the Flavian Amphitheatre, commonly
called the Colosseum^ the Pantheon^ the Arch of Con-
stantine^ the Column of Trajan^ the Column of Marcus
Aureliusy and the little round temple of Hercules
Victor or of the Mater Matuta, commonly called
the Temple of Vesta. I should advise you to
begin your Rome chronologically, in a rough way,
by visiting these first; for I am not writing for
people who want to see the Wall of Servius Tul-
lius or the Cloaca Maxima. These things are for
specialists ; when you are in London, you will not
enquire into the Outfall of the Metropolitan Sewers
at Barking ; and I do not see why, when you are at

264 The European Tour

Rome, jovi should enquire into the Main Drainage
of the ancient republic. My counsel is, therefore,
see first those larger buildings of Ancient Rome
which still stand tolerably intact^ and which will
give you an idea of the position, extent, and gran*
deur of the antique city. In order to get this idea
fleshed out in full, however, you must also spend a
little time in exploring the waste district to the
southeast of the existing city, since Modern Rome
has spread northward and westward of the old
populated area. Stroll out here often, and look for
yourself at the hills of the earlier population.

For the more ruinous portions of the old town,
I have a very moderate regard. They consist
largely of uninteresting ground plans. Of course,
if you are saturated with the literature of ancient
Rome, — if you know your Horace, your Martial,
your Juvenal by heart, — you will find a pleasure
of association in all these spots ; and if it really
delights you to recognise under modern aliases the
Gardens of Sallust and the Fountain of Egeria and
the Arch of the Money-changers, I would not deny
you that pleasure of identification : all I mean is,
don't let your guide-book persuade you (an Ameri-
can young lady, let us say, with no first-hand
knowledge of the Epodes or the Third Satire) that
you must pump up a false enthusiasm for the

Romewards 265

Porta Capena or go wild with joy over the Portico
of Octavia. Confine yourself for the most part to
those objects in Ancient Rome which you can
really understand, and whose artistic importance
gives them a living value to you. It is better to
spend doubtful hours in the galleries of the Vatican
than to waste them on poking out potsherds on the
Monte Testaccio.

As a good example of what you need not see to
any great extent, I would venture to mention the
Palatine Hill. This most famous and most ancient
of the Roman heights is a mere shapeless mass of
ruined brick-work. I do not mean, of course, that
you are not to visit it at all ; far be it from me to
say so: the Palatine was the oldest Rome of all,
the primitive hill-fortress of the real or mythical
Romulus, the antique Roma ^adrata or Square
Rome, portions of whose very early wall of cir«
cumvallation have been brought to light in various
places ; and it remained to the end the centre and
most important site of Imperial Rome, with the
Palace of the Caesars crowning its crest and oc-
cupying the site of the immemorial home of the
Seven Kings. Therefore I would say to you, go
early in your visit for a stroll on the Palatine^ and
try to understand from it its relation to the Capitol,
the Forum, the Aventine, the Esquiline, and the

266 The European Tour

other chief heights or depressions or pisuns of
Ancient Rome, Use it topographically as your
centre and standard of reference; orient yourself
by means of it; recollect always when you are
dealing with Ancient Rome that the Palatine is its
focus and starting-point, as the Forum is the seat
of its corporate life. But do not (unless you feel
a genuine interest in identifying the spots) feel
constrained to go over it all, guide-book in hand,
laboriously satisfying yourself as to each English
or German scholar's reason for asserting or deny-
ing that this particular mass of broken brick is or
is not the Auguratorium or the Palace of Severus.
Neglect detail. Take the Palatine as a whole;
look at the few objects it contains of artistic
interest ; examine the mural paintings in the House
of Livia ; cast a glance at the altar with the figures
of the Lares ; make the best you can of it : but do
not, oh, do not imagine you are bound in honour
to decide questions about which doctors disagree,
or to inspect at great length every basement room
in the Palace of Augustus. The Caesars them-
selves never saw those rooms : the domestic
arrangements of the imperial slaves may surely
be left to competent antiquaries.

If you bear this principle in mind, you will find
to your relief that you can reduce your investiga-

Romewards 267

tion of Ancient Rome within reasonable limits of
time, which I will not presume to 4efine for you.
First of all, I would say, orient yourself by the
Palatine, the Capitol, and a few other points.
Then visit the great classical buildings mentioned
above, which are not in ruins. After that, try to
form a general conception of the Forum Romanum
and the buildings or bases of buildings which it
contains, paying most attention to the tolerably
perfect and artistic remains, like the Jreh of Sep^
timius SeveruSj the jfrch of Titus^ and the marbU
reliefs near the Column of Phocas. Devote rela-
tively less time to the more ruinous objects, such
as the Colonnade of the Twelve Gods^ the Temple of
Vespasian^ the Temple of Castor and Pollux^ or the
Rostra; and give very little indeed to such mere
fragmentary architectural groundplans as the Basil-*
ica Julia^ the Temple of Vesta^ the Basilica of Con^
stantine^ and the Temple of Concord^ which are of
purely historical and antiquarian importance. If
you have never read Livy, why should you be
anxious to settle the exact site of some building
which Livy mentions in a difEcult or doubtful
passage ? You are not always trying in New York
to discover where particular events occurred : if
you are no classic, you need not in Rome either.
Still less would I advise you (save in the ex-

268 The European Tour

ceptional case where a special literary or historical
interest leads you) to trouble much about the sites
of the various Fora of the Casars^ now almost over-
grown and hidden by modern houses. It is mere
waste of time for you, a six-monthly visitor, to go
out of your way to hunt up the fragments of the
Ulpian Basilica, of the Forum of Nerva, of the
Temple of Minerva, of the Temple of Mars Ultor,
and so forth through the long catalogue of minor
ruins. If you happen to come across them in
your walks, identify them by all means ; but don't
run about to discover them. Remember, this is
Rome ; it has ten thousand claims of the first im-
portance on your time and attention ; and if you
worry about the Pyramid of Cestius or the House
of Crescentius, you will neglect in the end the
weightier matters of the law, — the sculpture of the
Capitol or the mosaics of Santa Maria Maggiore.
Let minor things slide, and stick to essentials.

In this general condemnation, however, I will
not include the Baths or Thermae, especially those
of Caracalla and of Diocletian. The latter con-
tain the Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli, and
also a good Museum of Antiques, which will begin
ito introduce you to the important subject of ancient
sculpture. You will have had glimpses of ancient
plastic art already at Paris and Florence, but it is

Romewards 269

at Rome that you will first catch full sight of the
gods and goddesses.

And here, if you take my advice, you will set
out on your investigation by visiting those far more
important collections of ancient art which above
all things else make a visit to Rome obligatory.
Take your subject chronologically, as I have tried
to make you take other cities. Begin with Ancient
Rome itself — its hills, its Forum, its temples, its
palaces, its deserted site, its few existing sculptured
monuments, such as the Arches of Severus and
of Constantine. Then go on to the collections of
statuary and other works of art, the product of
excavations, now laid up in the Capitoline^ the
Vatican^ and other museums. See the framework
or skeleton first ; examine the fragments torn from
it or rescued from it afterwards. If you will see
Rome in this way, you will run some chance of
partially understanding it ; if you insist upon taking
it up and down, unchronologically, anyhow — on
visiting it by "districts** — on rushing from the
Raphaels at the Vatican to the antique sculpture in
the Capitoline, and then from the Gladiator or the
Venus to the Guidos, the Byzantinesque mosaics,
and the mediaeval frescoes, — you will never grasp
it. Follow a definite plan, and follow it logically.

At the same time, I am aware that the flesh is

zjo The European Tour

weak. I do not say you must tee all Ancient
Rome first, all transitional Rome next, then all
medixval Rome, and all the Renaissance. That
were to ask too much of a latter-day tourist. I
think it will be sufficient if you see first the
external framework of Ancient Rome ; after that,
take a day now and again at the Capitoline Museum
or in the Sculpture Galleries of the Vatican, inter-
spersing them with other (alternate) visits to the
Picture Galleries or to Raphael's frescoes. Begin
Ancient and Modern Rome separately, but see
each chronologically. All I ask is that you form
to yourself first a clear idea of the emplacement and
main monuments of the ancient town, and then
keep an eye on the transition to its mediaeval and
modern representatives.

It will be best, I believe, to set out on your
investigation of the classical sculpture with the
museum in the Baths of Diocletian^ then go on
to the two Capitoline collections \ and finish ofF
with the vast treasures of the Vatican, It will do
you no harm now, however, while you are at work
on the Capitol^ to see its other great sights at the
same time — I do not mean of course in one day
.« — Heaven forbid — but in connection with one an-
other. Only, remember all the time to place each
part chronologically in its proper niche. Don't

Romewards 271

jumble the centuries. The Capitol is a whole, a
city within a city ; and though it has been entirely
transformed in modem days, there are advantages
in examining it alone, stratum by stratum, from
its earliest republican remains to its equestrian
statue of Marcus Aurelius, its very ancient Chris-
tian church of Santa Maria in Ara Coeli, its trans^
formed palaces by Michael Angelo, and its purely
recent alterations and additions. Indeed, I incline
to say, it would be best to take the entire group of
the Capitoline Hill en blocy as early as possible after
mastering the main mass of Ancient Rome.

Of the Vatican Sculpture Gallery^ I need not say
much. Once I allow you to enter it, the difficulty
will be to get you out again. For here are col-
lected in noble and worthy rooms the finest
masterpieces of plastic art which antiquity has
bequeathed to us.

Give many, many days to the various collections
of antique sculpture.

And now my difficulties as cicerone thicken*
For though I am not anticipating my Guide to
Rome, but merely trying to make you feel the
vastness and many-sidedness of the Eternal City,
yet I cannot deny that the task of leading you
about it is an onerous and responsible one. After
Pagan Rome we come to Early Christian and Tran^

2/2 The European Tour

sitional Rome^ in itself a most fascinating and end-
less study. Here you ought certainly to begin
your study with the Catacombs^ which form the
first chapter in the long and curious history of
Roman Christianity. With the entirely classical
Christian art of the earliest Catacomb pictures
you may compare the equally classical sculpture
of the earliest Christian sarcophagi at the Vatican
and the Lateran, many of which have been brought
from these cemeteries. Side by side with the be-
ginnings of Christian art in the great honeycombed
underground city, indeed, you ought to examine
the Christian Museum of the Lateran^ a collection
of reliefs, statues, inscriptions, and mosaics of the
utmost importance as showing you the origins of
ideas and designs in much later painting and sculp-
ture. Do not mix up in your mind the various
collections in the Lateran, pagan, early Christian,
and modern, with ignorant indiscriminativeness,
but visit each in its proper order, for comparison
with objects of the same type and period. Thus
only can the priceless riches of the Lateran yield
their full value up to you.

At the same time that you are visiting these col-
lections of early Christian art, I recommend you
also to examine such other relics of the same age
as the Baptistery of the Lateran itself, which dates

Romewards 273

back to Pope Sixtus III. in the fifth century : as
well as the Later an Churchy which, though im-
mensely remodelled, still stands upon the site of
Constantine's basilica. You should also visit the
Scala Santa, brought from Pilate's palace at Jeru-
salem by the Empress Helena; and the mosaics
copied from the Triclinium of Leo III., repre-
senting the restoration of the Western Empire by
Charlemagne. I will not try here to suggest the
ideally best order for visiting the older churches of
Rome or the mosaics in the newer ones which
have survived from older buildings; I will only
say in this regard that you may comparatively neg-
lect dull modern erections like St. Peter's — the
most disappointing church in Christendom — in
order to find time for the beautiful fifth-century
mosaics of Santa .Maria Maggiore^ the similar
series at San Paolo fuori le Mura^ and the quaint
relics of the sixth century in SS. Cosmo and Da^
mian. Interesting in quite another way is the
ancient church of San Clemente^ with its super-
posed buildings of three different ages. The Go?-
lian Hillj once more, is covered with old churches
and monasteries of the profoundest interest, often
lonely and dilapidated, but affording the true clue
to much that is difficult in the art of later ages.

Such buildings as these are worth ten gaudy St«

374 The European Tour

Peters. It is this that you can get at Rome alone ;
and I advise you to ferret out a few such strange
old oratories and frescoes at hap-hazard, instead of
wasting your time among the seventeenth-century
inanities of the great private picture galleries, the
whole of which are not worth the mosaics of
S« Prassedt and of Santa Maria Maggiore. Indeed,
unless you have abundance of leisure, I would say^
do not trouble about the Barberini or the Borghese
collections ( they are of fourth-rate interest*

For Midiaval and Rinaissana Ramij you will
now need no guide. It is the least interesting
Rome of all ; yet it is the common and familiar
Rome of the average tourist. Much of it centres
found Su Peter's and the main building of the
f^aiUany where artists of all ages and all Italian
schools have added their part, often incongruously
inough, td the general adornment of the home of
the Papacy. Fra Angelico covered with delicate
frescoes the walls of the dainty little Cappella Nic<-
colina ; but you can feel at once, sis you gaze on
them, that the saintly friar's heart was not here)
he could not paint for tripIe-<;rowned popes and
S^arlet-'robed cardinals as he painted for his simple^
Souled ascetics at San Marco. The Sistine Chapel,
ugaift, is a perfect museum of the art of the fifteenth^
century Tuscans and Umbriahs,'-^Perugin6, Pin-*

Romewards 275

turtcchio, Botticelli, Ghirlandajo, Cosimo Rosselli,
and Luca Stgnorelli ; but none is at his best : and
you will see at once that this heterogeneous col-
lection of dissimilar painters would be quite
meaningless to you if you had not studied their
other works Hrst at Florence, Siena, Orvieto, and
Perugia^ That is why you must not go to Rome
H th6 b^inning: you will find there, not the
history and evolution of art, but a few stray works
of a few supreme and disconnected artists.

Most visitors, I notice, make, furthermore, the
worst use of Rome by their foolish and sheep^like
habit of running after what they consider the great
masterpiices^ " We have not time for everything,"
they say ; ^ let us concentrate ourselves on what
is most important/' So they go to the Vatican,
and in the Sistine Chapel they see only Michael
Angelo's celling and his Last Judgment ; I have
even known good folk declare Virith emphasis that
they have often spent hours in the Sistine Chapel,
and that there are no works there except Michael
Angelo'Si If you visit Rome in this spirit, Rom6
will teach you the least that is possible for her.
Of course, even so, you will learn much — you
must learn much : it is n't conceivable that a
man should drive from the Porta del Popolo t<>
the Forum and the Colosseum without learning

276 The European Tour

much — it is n't conceivable that he should walk
once through the main chambers of the Vatican
without coming away impressed and in a sense
altered. But if you want to learn the most that
Rome can teach you, you will not confine yourself
to Michael Angelo's ceiling and Raphael's Stanze ;
you will see a few parts thoroughly, of great men
and of almost as great, and not rush about with blind
zeal after the most famous pictures and the most
frequently photographed pieces of statuary. In the
opinion of many competent judges, there are other
objects in the Sistine Chapel quite as well worth
looking at as the Last Judgment.

I am not going to dwell at length upon the
treasures of the Vatican. You must, of course, go
there often; but in my opinion, most visitors to
Rome give too much of their time to this one
vast collection, and too little to the Lateran, the
old churches, and the scattered objects. Too
much relatively, I mean, of course, for the Vatican,
if it comes to that, can never be seen. Each of
Raphael's rooms requires separate study ; so do the
Loggie ; and then there is the Picture Gallery as
well, which, though not rich in number of works,
contains not a few deeply interesting masterpieces.
Here again, as you wander among the Titians, the
Bellinis, the Fra Angelicos, the Raphaels, the

Romewards 277

Peruginos, the Pinturicchios, you will understand
at last how little you could understand all these if
you had unwisely come here before visiting Venice
and Florence. The two great local capitals in-
troduce you by orderly degrees to the knowledge
of art in its local distinctness ; at Rome you get
only a confused and mingled idea of all schools
and ages.

Among the things at the Vatican which you
cannot afford to miss is the Etruscan collection.

What more can I say of Rome ? I hardly
know. Its vastness overwhelms me. It is five
distinct cities. I will take, as I have done else-
where, a single building as a specimen — not a
building, some would say, of the very first order of
interest — and try to show you, or rather suggest to
you, how to see it.

Santa Maria Maggiore^ or St. Mary of the
Snows, the conspicuous church which crowns the
Esquiline hill, does not look from outside a par-
ticularly ancient or beautiful building. You might
take it at first for a mere modern cathedral. That
is a thing to which you have to get accustomed as best
you may at Rome ; for the seventeenth and eigh-
teenth centuries tried their little hardest to destroy
Roman history and ruthlessly improved almost
everything in the city into their own image. But

278 The European Tour

Santa Maria is nevertheless a very ancient church,
and it occupies a site of immemorial antiquity.
There are some eighty St. Marys, I believe, in
Rome ; but this is the largest, and probably the oldest
of all. Somewhere about the year 355, shortly after
Christianity triumphed in the city, the Blessed
Virgin, then much less revered than afterwards^
appeared in a dream to Pope Liberius (who died in
366), and commanded him to erect a church to her
on the spot where he should find next morning a
fall of snow. As it was August the 5th, Liberius
hesitated to believe the vision; but he discovered
iiext day that the Patrician John had had a similar
dream at the same moment. The two, much
wondering, went together to the summit of the
Esquiline, and found the snow which Our Lady
had foretold to them. Thereupon they erected a
Basilica on the spot, called after the Pope's name
the Basilica Liberiana, which it still officially
retains. Of this oldest churchy few or no remains
exist; but the name of Santa Maria ad Nived
(St. Mary at the Snow) still recalls the miracle,
and the 5th of August on which it occurred is still
the church's chief festival, with those of the
Nativity and the Assumption.

In 430, once more, a great Council sat at
Ephesus, to consider among other things the

Romewards 279

position and cult of the BUssed Virgin. About
this subject a schism or difference of opinion had
grown up in the church. One party, following
Nestorius, maintained that in Christ the two
natures, human and divine, remained separate, and
that therefore Mary, the mother of the man, was
not (as believers already began to call her) the
Theotokos, or Mother of God. The Monophy-
sites, on the other hand, maintained that in Christ
the two natures, human and divine, were blended
in one, and that therefore the Blessed Virgin was
truly in very deed the Mother of God. Th^
Council of Ephesus condenmed the Nestorians as
heretics ; and thenceforth the church sanctioned
the representation of the Madonna and Child, and
the title of Mother of God as applied to the
Virgin.

In 432, accordingly, just after the settlement of
this important question. Pope Sixtus III. decided to
rebuild the Basilica Liberiana in a style more worthy
of the Madonna's increased importance. He
therefore erected a new basilica, which he conse*
crated under the name of Sancta Maria Mater Pe!|
which the Council had just decided to be orthodox.
Thus Santa Maria Maggiore must be looked upon
from the beginning as a manifesto, so to speak, of
triumphant Mariolatry over the heretical Nestorians \

28 o The European Tour

and everything it contains bears witness to this
day to the greatness of the Blessed Virgin as the
chosen Theotokos. If you enter the church, you
will find that the nave of Pope Sixtus's building
still remains, with its ancient marble columns, and
forms the finest old basilican interior in the city.
Not less remarkable are its noble mosaics of the
fifth century, the finest specimens of classical
Christian art in Rome, interesting alike from their
importance in the history of design, and from their
close connection with the life of Our Lady.
They represent events in the stoiy of the Madonna,
such as the Annunciation, the Adoration of the
Magi, and the infancy of Christ. Fully to under-
stand these mosaics, however, you ought to read up
beforehand the excellent account of them in the first
volume of Kugler's Italian Schools of Painting
(Layard's edition), and also the scattered notices
of the Council of Ephesus in Mrs. Jameson's
admirable Legends of the Madonna.

In the twelfth century, once more, when the cult
of the Blessed Virgin began to receive a fresh
impetus in Western Europe, during the religious
fervour of the Crusades, the church was remodelled
in the mediaeval style. On the facade of this
renovated building, the thirteenth-century artists,
later on, inserted a set of beautiful mosaics, now re-

Romewards 281

moved to the loggia above, from which (till recent
events) the Pope on the festival of the Assumption
(August 15) used to pronounce his benediction from
this church of Our Lady the Mother of God, urbi
et orbi. These mosaics represent Our Lady at the
right hand of Christ, accompanied by the chief
apostles, with John the Baptist ; below are shown the
visions of Pope Liberius and the Patrician John,
and their tracing of the site on the newly fallen
snow. In the apse of the tribune again, are still
finer thirteenth-century mosaics by Jacopo Turriti,
including the beautiful and famous Coronation of
the Virgin which is engraved both in Kugler and
in Mrs. Jameson. There is nothing lovelier in the
art of the transitional period.

Later on, once more, the church underwent still
further changes. When Gregory XL, yielding
to the solicitations of St. Catherine of Siena,
succeeded in bringing back the Papacy from its
"seventy years of Babylonish captivity** at
Avignon to Rome, he built (or rather heightened),
in gratitude to Our Lady for his restoration to the
seat of St. Peter, the great western campanile of
Sancta Maria Maggiore, now the highest tower in
the city. In the fifteenth centuiy, again, the build-
ing was deprived of its mediaeval picturesqueness, and
reduced to Renaissance straightness and uniformity.

282 The European Tour

Of the two hrge dome-covered side-chapels, the
Sixtine was added by Pope Sixtus V. in 1586, and
the Borghese opposite it by Pope Paul V. in 161 1*
The last-named oratory is covered throughout with
frescoes of the decadence, uninteresting indeed as
works of art, but containing a singular and doctri-
nally valuable Glorification of the Blessed Vii^in,
and of all those saints who have specially furthered
her honour — such as St. John of Damascus and
St. Ildefonso miraculously rewarded for writing in
defence of her cult — as well as representations of
the discomfiture of heretics or schismatics who
opposed her glory -^ the miserable deaths of Julian
the ^x>state, of Leo IV., who destroyed her images,
and of Constantine IV., another famous iconoclast.
Last of all, Clement X. remodelled the exterior of
the tribune, and Benedict XIV. emplc^ed Ferdi-
i)ando Fuga to erect the existing ugly and vulgar
fa9ade, which no doubt deters many hasty visitors
from even exploring the beautiful interior.

From first to last, then, Santa Maria Maggiore,
of which I have here given but a most generalised
account, must be accepted as a historical monumint
of the growth of Mariolatry^ and a gauge of the
point that cult had reached in each generation*
Whoever visits such a church ought to have read
up beforehand its architecture amd its annals as

Romewards 283

thoroughly as he is able, and ought then to follow up
these clues intelligently and carefully, by identify-
ing each stage in this strange eventful history.

Rome is full of such deposits of stratified art —
lying layer above layer, and only to be deciphered
by care and observation. That is why you should
visit Rome last, and read it by the light of what
you have learned elsewhere.

I de^st at last. For Rome is endless. If I
follow its example, I may possibly weary you.

CHAPTER XVII

AFTER ROME

A ND now that I have once steered you safely
^^ to Rome, and seen you fairly through it,
I don't much care what you do with yourself
afterward. By this time, I hope and even ven-
ture to believe, you are capable of taking care of
yourself; you have learned a method. It is the
method alone that I have been anxious all along to
impress upon you. Once you have acquired it,
you can be trusted to walk alone \ wherever you
go and whatever you see, you will at least know
haw to see it.

Nevertheless, I will offer here a few much more
cursory suggestions for your further touring.

Naturally, after Rome, you will go on to Naples.
And the interest of Naples is almost all antique;
so that on our general principle of retrogressing
slowly from the known to the unknown, it ought
to come in precisely at this period. Geography
here assists my principles. The best time to see
Naples, too, is perhaps just when cold begins to

After Rome 285

drive you southward from Rome. You will then
find Sorrento, Amalfi, Capri, and other beauty-
spots in the neighbourhood of Naples extremely
pleasant places to visit. The objects of interest in
the Naples district are mainly the bay and Vesu-
vius — nature; or, in human handiwork, Pompeii
and the remains from Pompeii in the Naples
Museum. The town itself is naught, indeed, save
for that saving Museum ; it is merely the point of
departure for visiting Pompeii^ Pastum^ Po%%uoliy
Baia^ and the Capo Miseno. You cannot go far
wrong in seeing any of these ; while at Ravello and
other mountain towns about you will find interest-
ing relics of the early Romanesque period, which
will afford a pleasing relief from the pure classicism
of the district as a whole. Undoubtedly, however,
the things to see at Naples are the marble and
bronze sculpture and the antique frescoes. To these
especially I advise you to devote yourself.

From Naples, it is easy to run across to Palermo,
and see Sicily, Palermo itself, and Monreale^ have
transitional mosaics of the Norman period of the
deepest interest ; elsewhere the great attraction of
Sicily is its splendid series of Greek temples^ which
carry us back to the beginnings of classical sculp-
ture and architecture. I will not map out a route*
You will find your way for yourself, I doubt not,

286 The European Tour

to SeUnunto^ Girgenti^ Syracusey Catania^ Taormina^
Missina.

These are trips for the winter months, say from
November to March or April. In spring, you may
go north again^ spending a short time to compare
notes and mark progress in Rome and Florence.
You will discover, after N^les and Sicily, that
many things in Rome take a fresh meaning for you.
On your return, I would advise you to look espe-*
cially at Ancient Rome, by the light thrown on it
from Pompeii and the Sicilian temples.

The way northwacd in the later spring might
well be by Verona^ the Brenmr^ Meran (or the
DolomiUSy if you prefer it), and so to Innsbruck^
Here you might fairly start your consideration of
German art, other than Rhenish. From Inns-
bruck, continue to Munich^ or else diverge to the
Sal%kammergut* Qi course, endless picturesque
objects and places stud all this subalpine country ;
but you cannot see all, and my advice to you is :
stick to what is most important. ^^ But that," you
will say, ^^ is exactly the opposite advice from the
counsel you gave us in the Roman galleries ! ''
Not quite. I meant in that case, do not confine
ypur attention to the most praised objects, because,
in the first place, they cannot be understood in
isolation, and, in the second place, they have not

After Rome 287

always been wisely selected. I mean here, on the
other hahd, do confine your attention to what Will
teach you most ; it is as beautiful as the other, and
much more lastingly valuable. By turning aside
to visit some " charming picturesque old German
town " which some friend has discovered, you may
waste a day which might better have been devoted
to Orvieto or Perugia, to Assisi or Pavia.

Munich is a delightful town in its way, with a
purely artificial modern quarter, and a nucleus of
old Bavarian architecture worth all the rest put
together. Its main interest, however, is modem
and museum ish. It depends upon itis collections.
Of these there are four. The Old Pictures include
several good examples of the Rhenish School,
which you will now realist in its parental relations
with Venice ; besides several excellent Flemings
(Memling, Van der Weyden, Gerard David,
Quentin Matsys); and also a fine collection of
the more native Swiaibian and Franconian School,
(Wohlgemuth, Holbein, and Dorer, the last-named
of whom will here first become really known to
you.) The Italians are likewise well represented ;
and you will be glad that you have visited Italy
before being turned loose upon this heterogeneous
scratch lot of Raphaels, Peruginos,Palma Vecchios,
and Titians. You will also find some charming

288 The European Tour

Rubenses ; I use the adjective advisedly, for here,
and only here, Rubens is sometimes positively
charming. The New Pinakothek virill not detain
you long ; but the Glyptotheky with the ^ginetan
sculptures, will delight and attract you. If you
have been in Sicily, these archaic Greek sculptures
will compare interestingly with those of Selinunto;
and if you have not been there, you will be in-
troduced for the first time to a deliciously naive
and captivating moment in the evolution of plastic
art. The other great collection, far less important,
is that of the Decorative Arts.

Munich as a whole is thus emphatically a place
to see after you have seen the birthplaces of the
various arts it now hospitably houses. In itself, it
is merely a clean and well-built South German
capital.

After Munich, Nuremberg. Here you touch
ground for Germany outside the Rhineland; for
Nuremberg was the centre of trade in mediaeval
and Renaissance Europe between North and South
Germany. It is still highly picturesque, though of
late much spoiled by factories ; and as the home
of Albert Durer it deserves a visit. But a couple
of days may suffice — judging at least by an Italian
standard. I will add, too, that after seeing Jtaly
you will be able to see more elsewhere in a shorter

After Rome 289

time; you have learned the alphabet, and can now
read straight ofF almost at sight what before you
had to spell out with time and toil from painful
hieroglyphics.

Unless Prague beckons you ofF the line (and I
do not recommend it) you may go direct from
Nuremberg to Dresden, Even more than Munich,
the Saxon capital is a town of collections. You
ought to see it ; but you can see it easily. I am
writing, of course, still from the point of view of
the general tourist. You may happen to be musi->
cal ; and in that case Dresden will naturally attract
you for a longer stay ; just as you will also desire
to go to Bayreuth, if you are in Europe during the
festival. These things lie outside my beat; and
the musical will know where to go for information.
Taken as a town to see, you can see Dresden on
the strength of what you have already learnt in
Italy. I may add that Guides to Munich and
Dresden will in time be added to my Historical
Series.

Mention of Bayreuth makes me think of the
Oherammergau Passion Play. About all such func-
tions, from Holy Week at Rome (now practically
obsolete) down to Royal Jubilees and Coronations,
my advice would be, stay severely away from them.

They waste time, and they are not so important

290 The European Tour

as the permanent sights of Europe. There are
people who will go to Venice, I know, to see a
Universal Exhibition. They will not go for
Bellini, Titian, Tintoret, but they will go for
biscuits, sewing machines, type-writers, and apple-
parers. I do not write for these. Why should I i
They know what they like, and need no man's
counsel.

Berlin I regard as a needless luxury.

After Germany, what ? Well, if you take my
advice, go borne to America^ and chew the cud of
contemplation. Think it all over. You can ^^ do
Spain," of course, if you ar^ so minded ; but I
strongly dissuade you. Indeed, I think the tour
here sketched out, even if extended over six
months or a year, is quite as much as any healthy
human brain is capable at one time of even par-
tially assimilating. To say the truth, it must result
in mental indigestion. I would never recommend
a European to see so much on end. It is more
than he can correlate. But I allow that the in-
terposition of the Atlantic does make a certain
difference; once here, the American naturally
wants to get his money's worth, and to be repaid
for his seven days of speechless misery. There^
fore I will allow that h^ may perhaps do the
Grand Tour — England, Paris, Belgium, the Rhine,

After Rome 291

Italy, Germany — all at one fell swoop ; provided
always he does not absolutely bolt it. I have tried
to discourage bolting. I have put you in the way
of seeing Europe instead of rushing through it.
You will spoil all if, after all my pains, you at-
tempt to add Spain, Egypt, Algeria, the Holy
Land, Constantinople.

Go home, then, quietly, and ruminate. Let
what you have seen sink in and change you. Read
as much as you like; read, read, by all means:
don't think Europe has sunk to the bottom of the
sea because you no longer behold it. It is there,
seething, throbbing, palpitating as ever. Continue
your studies in books, and form clear ideas of what
you want to see next time you come over. Then,
perhaps, you may add to your trophies Spain and
the morningJands of Islam. But if this book has
succeeded in its purpose, I think it much more
likely your reading meanwhile will suggest to you
that you have not seen half enough yet of France,
of Belgium, above all, of Italy. I linger ever
on that loved name Italy ! You will return to
Europe, when chance favours, determined to look
up a Delia Robbia here, a Romanesque fresco
there; you will regret that you missed the shrine
of St. Augustine, or failed to observe the sarcoph-
agus of Junius Bassus. Even if you extend your

292 The European Tour

visit that second time to Cairo, say, and Luxor
you will first turn out of your way to visit some
church in Provence or some picture at Spello of
which you have read meanwhile ; you will want to
see a sculptured stone in the Scotch Highlands, or
to re-examine a half-defaced fresco from Pompeii
at Naples. You will have learned what interests
you ; and when at last you reach mouldering
Cairo, you will desire to see, not merely the
Pyramids and the Mosque of Mehemet Ali, but
some old brown-faced Madonna at the Coptic
church of Abu Sirgeh, or some black image of
Pasht at the Ghizeh Museum. If you have
reached that point, then Europe indeed has told
you its story, — a story that relatively few among
its own toiling millions either know or care about,
but that to us of the new world comes back to-day
with a strange mingled sense of antiquity and
novelty.

So here I leave you, by the steps of the Dresden
Museum, with the glow of the Sistine Madonna
still shed upon your face. Or leave you, save for
a few apologetic remarks, which I shall more con-
veniently relegate to a parting chapter.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE author's apology

AND now, at the very end, I am going to
answer a few criticisms which I know have
been at the tip of your tongue ever since you
got past my first three or four chapters. "Why
is this man so dead set on instructiog us ? " you
ask. " Why can't he allow us now and again to
amuse ourselves? Are we always to be trotting
about, looking close at the shapes of haloes and
the traces of Mantegna's influence on Bellini?
May n't we sometimes go to a park or a theatre ?
May n't we sometimes have a day oflF, — a Saturday
half-holiday, like Bunthorne in Patience? Must
we never relax sufficiently to indulge in a glass of
Bavarian beer and a cigarette at a cafe? Ay,
marry, may you ! My dear sir or madam, you can
certainly do all these things and welcome. I do
them myself, — all save the Bavarian beer, which
does n't agree with me, and the cigarette, which
produces unpleasant internal symptoms. I prefer
a glass of Brauneberger or of good old Malvasia.

294 The European Tour

But you will admit, it does not need a special
guide to tell you about these things. I do not feel
called upon to recommend you the particular restau-
rant in the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele at Milan
which sells the best rum punch in small china tea-
cups, so innocent-looking that you can drink it before
the very face of a teetotal archdeacon. I am not
eager to point out to you the shop in the Montagne
de la Cour at Brussels where you can have after-
noon tea with fresh strawberry tartlets which
remind one at once of Jan van Eyck and Paradise*
It is not my function to describe the Paris music-
halls, or to show you the way to the doubtfully
joyous cafes chantanU of Montmartre. All these
things, good, bad, or indifferent, those who desire
them can find out for themselves. The detail of
life requires no cicerone.

My task has been rather to suggest you a point
of view of Europe as a whole which will give you
in the end even more solid pleasure than the straw-
berry tartlets, excellent as they are. I do not
despise strawberries ; on the contrary, I will engage
to eat as many as you care to pay for. I have not
said a word in this book about the green huUres de
Marenne at Nice, nor about the Marseillais way of
dressing bouillabaisse. I did not feel called upon to
do so. But don't imagine on that account I think

The Author's Apology 295

the honest tourist must never think of anything
but Madonnas. Several admirable and noteworthy
things in Europe are more recent than the Crusades.
My plan does not include them, — that is all ; and
you can find out everything you need to know
about them without my telling you.

Let me give a more serious parallel. Personally,
I happen to be an enthusiastic botanist. Wherever
I find myself in Switzerland, Italy, the Tyrol,
Algeria, my attention is almost equally divided
between man's handicraft or arts and the local flora.
Yet I have not said a word here about the
orchids of the Apennines, nor about the gentians
and globe-flowers of the alpine springtide. Why ?
Because most American travellers are not botanists.
Those who are not, can see for themselves
that the anemones on the Riviera are scarlet
and purple, that the narcissus covers the ground
with cloth of gold ; those who are, will know that
the way to learn about all these exquisite creatures,
if they have time to learn about them, is to buy a
local Flora. As a rule, tourists have not time for
these things ; and I think they are right. If one
spends one's life in Europe, one can manage to
intercalate the ferns and buttercups among the
churches and museums ; to each its season. But
if one comes from America for a trip of a few

296 The European Tour

months, unless the interest in science is veiy
strong, it is not worth while spending time on
scientific studies which can be almost equally well
pursued in America. Take from Europe what is
most peculiarly its own. Nature is everywhere;
Fra Angelico and Donatello are only in Florence.

On this account, in my Historical Guides, I do
not usually mention fauna, flora, geology, or aspect
of country; nor do I mention natural-history
museums, botanical and zoological gardens, public
libraries, or other objects, however important,
which are not historically or artistically interesting.
My design is to lead the tourist who visits a town
for the general education and pleasure it can aiFord
to learn something about its growth, its arts, its
buildings, its history. The innumerable other
sources of human interest it contains I leave on
one side, not because they do not interest me, nor
again because I expect them not to interest others,
but because they are alien to the purpose and scope
of these particular handbooks. I conceive that I
have something to tell you which you cannot so
conveniently and compendiously obtain elsewhere;
and if I am right in that conception, I have jus-
tified my existence. For all else, you will go to
Baedeker or Murray.

Finally, a word as to books to read, from this

The Author's Apology 297

special point of view of culture. If possible, I
recommend you to take with you on the sea voyage
Layard's edition of Kugler's Italian Schools of Paint-
ings Mrs. Jameson's Sacred and Legendary Art^ and
Mrs. Jameson's Legends of the Madonna^ and to read
them in the intervals of more painful experience.
These should be your constant companions
throughout Europe; they will help to unravel
more of its secret than any other books you can
easily carry. For special places, consult the list
of local authorities I give in my separate Guides.
Do not read diffuse and wordy books; confine
yourself to works of solid information, whose state-
ments bear directly upon the buildings, cities,
pictures, or statues you are actually engaged in
observing.

And so — good-bye ! Enjoy your Europe !

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

RBFBRBNCB DBPARTMBNT

book it under no oiroumttuioot to bo
taken from the Building

fprni 4ld