* <3 
 
 
 
 % 
 
 ^ % 
 
 - # <&*;..<• v. 
 
 
 
 
 
 c4 
 
 
 * : 
 
 
 
 
 rCF » ' ' <> 
 
 
 
 
 ^ o 
 
 
 
 f*<* 
 
 »' ^ 
 
 v^ 
 
 
v„ s» *&- .<& .* 
 
 w v :, , r ^ v 
 
 3 ^ 
 
 .# % 
 
 
 
 
 % 
 
 V * * * ° /■ _ *%* 
 
 
 
 feW ■ W- f °, W 
 
 S ^ 
 
 3 ^ 
 
 
 .#%■ :^-,/ ^ ^ ?-,sS? > 
 
 ^V-°/<^'^# 
 
 
 
 
 " J?> 
 
 > V 
 
 \ V 
 
 *o, ^ 
 
 v ^ * ^ ^ 
 
 <b><7^ A* 
 
 F 
 
 .- 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 # % 
 
 '/ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^,^ 
 
 * ,* V 
 
 vp 
 
 '</><v 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 4 <*. 
 
 
 ■iP ^ 
 
 -o„ '< 
 
 .V 
 
The European Tour 
 
The European Tour 
 
 BY 
 
 GRANT ALLEN 
 
 Author of "Florence," "Paris, 1 
 "Belgium," etc. 
 
 t 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
 1899 
 
 ' ! 
 
20 
 
 Copyright, i8QQ y 
 By Dodd, Mead and Company. 
 
 TWOCOPMF-5 *»C«!IVED. 
 
 
 SSttttersttg $rcss: 
 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A. 
 
 
/ ?</ 
 
 Contents 
 
 /y 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 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 . .- 200 
 
 XIV. More About Florence 212 
 
 XV. Venice 241 
 
 XVI. Romewards 257 
 
 XVII. After Rome 284 
 
 XVIII. The Author's Apology 293 
 
The European Tour 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE USE OF EUROPE 
 
 X70UNG man, go to Europe/ 
 •*■ 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 far the most 
 valuable education a young man can obtain is a 
 European trip, undertaken during the years most 
 often devoted to a college course. It costs no 
 more ; it may even cost less ; and I make bold to 
 say it is immeasurably more educative. 
 
 If I were a European born, 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 year's 
 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 knowing it. Mugging up a subject, cram- 
 ming for an examination — these are the ways to 
 undermine and destroy our interest in knowledge. 
 Going about the world, to amuse ourselves, with 
 our eyes open, — that is the way to preserve and 
 enlarge it. For everything 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. Why 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 — that knowledge, 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 field 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 Bonn's trans- 
 lation, to pass an examination or gain a degree; 
 and as soon as that was done, they gladly forgot 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 n't forget them. 
 
 The second obstacle is the good old belief, still 
 more or less current, that "a European education" 
 unfits a 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 
 ears 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 when 
 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 u 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 is from 
 things, not from words, that one may learn most of 
 
io 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; 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- 
 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 
 
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 
 
1 2 The European Tour 
 
 Assyria. In this connection, I would say, there 
 are certain lands which have a first claim upon the 
 American, and also on the modern western European 
 — the lands which lie in the direct line 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 will 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 students. 
 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 
 iEschylus 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 Plellenic thought ; 
 while a schoolgirl who speaks no tongue but 
 English can easily be made to read the meaning of 
 the iEginetan 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 of 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 ; 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 
 wants 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 
 
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 Commedla ; only Athens can teach you fully 
 to understand the Jjax and the Electra. 
 
 It is to the young man, 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 
 leave 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 memory of the Grand Canal 
 and the Doges' Palace ; he may get encrusted in 
 clogging wealth and overwhelmed with affairs, 
 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. So 
 once more I say it, " Young man, go to Europe ! " 
 As for the elder members of families , 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 if to amuse yourself; you 
 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. " George Eliot asked me that," he 
 said with a smile ; " and I answered at once, c 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 book 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 
 
 hints 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 mistakes 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 
 
 ' I V HE 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 ? 
 
 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, u is a pork 
 pie." " Pork pic ? " 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 some time in England, I will go on to say 
 why I think that time should be cut down as 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 II. ; 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 as 
 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 country 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 too 
 often overlooked — I think the tourist ought to 
 take England Iast y 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 
 
 nings 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, a 
 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 en- 
 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 particular 
 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 towns, and 
 very little in seeing London ; while the capital it- 
 self, with its immense 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 ? 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 emerge 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, Blois, 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 immeasurably 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 medieval; the interest of Holland 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 medievalism ; on the 
 Rhine you first touch the connecting link of the 
 old Frankish 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 Belgium 
 and Holland. A week or so in the Rhineland. And 
 3 
 
34 The European Tour 
 
 finally, Italy I 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 
 
 ct 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- 
 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 means 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 Switzerland are driving at, than that I 
 should go home having seen just one corner of 
 Europe ? " 
 
 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-Elysees, 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 it 
 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 in 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: a 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 " like 
 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 towns, 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 Liverpool, 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 Warwick 
 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, u 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 barges 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 medievalism 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 beautiflcation 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 
 
 English 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 river life in 
 full swing is 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; if you continue to 
 Marlow, you can also take in Bisham Abbey, with 
 the surrounding buildings, which strike a keynote 
 in English scenery. 
 
 So much for the route via Liverpool. If you 
 land at Southampton, the most accessible objects of 
 the first importance on your route are Winchester 
 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 School. 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 ; 
 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 old town, which under 
 the later Saxon kings was for a couple of centuries 
 or more the capital of England. 
 
 Salisbury 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, you will find everywhere in 
 England many trains a day at all convenient hours. 
 Salisbury is a town of the first importance, 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 everything 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 
 Oxford, 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-class carriages on English railways are 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 see 
 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 fairly 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 Rosslyn Chapel, 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." York 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 ail 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 Lomond 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 5 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 ; 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" 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 
 
60 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 j 
 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 61 
 
 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; 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 Wells 
 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. Whitby 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 clambering 
 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-fashioned 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 are good centres for exploring 
 the country about Chatsworth and Haddon Hall. 
 The former, the seat of the wealthy Duke of 
 Devonshire, is a typical 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 j 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 ; 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 farmhouses, 
 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 
 country 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 
 
 ' | v O 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 contrary, 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 City, 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 verge 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 
 u 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 ; " 
 — 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 71 
 
 Of the parks, 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, just for the sake of seeing it. Go by Fleet 
 Street, Ludgate Hill, and St. Paul's. 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 
 Holborn, 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 may 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 Greek 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 Collec- 
 tion, extremely rich and valuable ; the general 
 catalogue will here suffice for all save specialists. 
 
74 The European Tour 
 
 The Assyrian Collection^ 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- 
 biness 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 j$ 
 
 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 largest 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. The collection con- 
 sists of four departments, — Zoology, Botany, 
 Geology, Mineralogy. 
 
 Second in importance to the British Museum 
 
y6 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 everything else in London. Though housed in 
 a mean and ugly building, it is admirably arranged 
 and very well lighted ; while 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 
 National 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 after 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 
 
 whole a scratch collection. But it is 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 Um- 
 brians, 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 Perugino, a glorious St. Michael in 
 celestial armour. The small Ferrarese and Bolognese 
 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. 
 
78 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 are 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 facade, 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 
 
80 The European Tour 
 
 absence of anything like judicious selection or ar- 
 rangement. 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 Raphael's car- 
 toons — lent 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 
 room at South Kensington, examining in detail the 
 contents of the various cases. I must add in 
 justice that the descriptive labels are the best I 
 know in any museum in the world ; they render 
 a catalogue unnecessary for any save advanced 
 students. 
 
 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 81 
 
 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, Venice, 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 Pan- 
 tomime. Windsor Castle, half an hour by rail, is 
 ancient in form, but has been so much restored 
 that it possesses little real interest. Hampton 
 Court is somewhat better ; but I do not recommend 
 you to go out of your way to see it. As for the 
 theatres and other casual amusements of London, 
 they are a matter of taste. Baedeker and the daily 
 papers will tell you all about them. 
 
 Finally, I shall once more have justified the 
 existence of this little book if I have succeeded in 
 making you feel why the country in England is so 
 much more important than the town, and why you 
 need spend so little time in London. It has one 
 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. 
 
 6 
 
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 He 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 
 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. Ruskin) is the 
 set of coloured stone reliefs at the back of the choir, 
 in 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 
 bishop, St. Firmin, the apostle of the Ambiani, the 
 Romanised Celtic tribe from whom Amiens takes 
 its name; and they deserve the closest attention. 
 I mention them here, not because of any intrinsic 
 importance, but because they are the first such 
 works which the tourist will see, in all probability, 
 and they should therefore be carefully examined as 
 specimens of the sort of interest which is rife on 
 the Continent. Here the Reformation has not 
 swept away all continuity with the past; and 
 in these naive scenes, sculptured from 1489 to 
 1530, we get a charming glimpse of the manner in 
 which the fifteenth century envisaged to itself the 
 history of the early church in the days of the per- 
 secutions. Not so 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 these interesting sculptures. 
 
 At a first glance you 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 these 
 scenes in detail, and try to remember them, for 
 comparison 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 such representations are always 
 more or less conventionalised, and that only by 
 means of comparison can you rightly grasp their 
 full meaning. I would also urge upon you to buy 
 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 flats 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 
 
 eral 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 l'Opera ; 
 there you will be within walking distance of most 
 things worth seeing. Walk about the modern 
 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 j 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 
 
France: Paris 89 
 
 time, therefore, to the Louvre. But I would par- 
 ticularly advise you to pay special 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 Paris 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 Ages ; 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 early churches are of the first rank of im- 
 portance, and are still more distinctively Parisian in 
 nature, — Notre-Dame, the Sainte Chapelle, and the 
 Basilica of St. Denis. Two Renaissance churches 
 also deserve close attention, — St. Eustache and 
 St. £tienne-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 
 
go 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-l'Auxerrois. 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 9 1 
 
 between architecture, painting, and sculpture on 
 the one hand, and history on the other. 
 
 A single example of the method pursued in these 
 Historical Guides will show you better what 
 they are driving at than any amount of vague 
 generalisation. Let us suppose you are in Paris, 
 and you want to see the Sainte Chapelle, That is 
 one of the loveliest and most perfect things in the 
 city — one of the half-dozen sights which nobody 
 should miss, though he miss the Morgue and the 
 Moulin Rouge, the races at Longchamps and the 
 cafes chantants of the Champs Elysees. If you 
 look in the ordinary guide-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 admit, 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 kings^ 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 inner meaning 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 don't want to know these things, 
 waste no money in buying what to you will be 
 useless ; get a valet-de-place to take you round to 
 the Eiffel Tower, the principal music-halls, the 
 cafes on the Boulevards, the wax-work shows, and 
 such other sights as may strike your fancy. 
 
 Or, again, let us take an example from a picture. 
 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 guide-books, and you will 
 probably find something like this — "251, Man- 
 tegna, Madonna della Vittoria ; 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 VIII. 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 Child, — 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 Gonzaga'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 
 
96 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 (juch 
 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 mediaevalism, 
 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 
 7 
 
98 The European Tour 
 
 of early art; you cannot read the book unless you 
 take the trouble to learn 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 visit Paris in this spirit, you 
 will learn from it most of what it has to teach you. 
 
 To sum up, spend most of your time devoted 
 to France in Paris, and see it thoroughly by the 
 historical method. 
 
 Of course, if you are not 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 the limited 
 number of Italian paintings and classical statues 
 or reliefs here gathered for your observation. 
 
 In either instance you will find the Louvre is the 
 kernel of Paris. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 FRANCE : OUTSIDE PARIS 
 
 AFTER Paris, the visitor may desire to see 
 some other parts of France. 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 his ulterior objects. 
 
 For example, if you are in France in the 
 summer, you may choose the delightful tour of the 
 Loire towns, which will introduce you to the most 
 interesting group of provincial French cities ; in 
 such a trip you can easily include Orleans, Blois, 
 Tours, Saumur, Angers, and Chartres. If again 
 you are going straight to Switzerland, you will find 
 Dijon a capital stopping-place j 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 Spain, you may visit on the way Orleans 
 
ioo The European Tour 
 
 and Poitiers, or may diverge a little into the Pyr- 
 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 Beam, 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 101 
 
 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 Provencal, 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. 
 
 Hyeres 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. Antibes (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, not to the town, which is dirty and 
 sunless. Nice 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. Monte 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. Mentone is deliciously 
 situated 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- 
 
104 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 ; 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 ; Nimes 
 
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 ; 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 
 
 Three chief stations along the Italian Riviera 
 deserve the attention of the tourist. Bordighera 
 is pretty, quiet, and warm ; it affords chances for 
 excursions to many quaint mountain-villages, such 
 as Dolce Acqua, with its picturesque bridge and 
 the ruined mediaeval castle of the Dorias. San 
 Remo is fashionable, well situated, sheltered, and 
 amusing, with a delightful sea-front, a palm-bordered 
 promenade, many attractive drives, and beautiful 
 surroundings. Alassio 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 place of retreat 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 
 
108 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 Amain" 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 Egypt^ 
 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 109 
 
 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 
 see 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 first^ very much first; and the provinces 
 nowhere. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 BELGIUM AND HOLLAND 
 
 Y2 XCEPT Italy, there is nothing in Europe so 
 ■*-' valuable, so instructive as Belgium. 
 
 The reason is that Belgium in the North, like 
 Italy in the South, formed the commercial and there- 
 fore also the artistic centre of medievalism. 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- 
 wealth. 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 Sans-culottes of '93 was not quite so disas- 
 trous as that wrought by the Protestants and the 
 Roundheads in England, yet we possess hardly a 
 church which now displays in any fulness its origi- 
 nal wealth of internal decoration. The best in 
 the Paris district, such as St. Denis, the Sainte 
 Chapelle, and Notre-Dame, have been largely 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 1 1 3 
 
 early reformers and the Spanish hordes, still retains 
 for us more of its mediaeval 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 one 
 thing to see a Raphael in the National Gallery of 
 London or 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 
 8 
 
ii4 The 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 (involving 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 for 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, u 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 step of all, 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 
 implore 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 this — Bruges; Ghent;' Tpres ; Brus- 
 sels ; Louvain ; Malines ; Antwerp. The towns I 
 have put in Italics are those of secondary impor- 
 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 sufficient reason, which I hope to make you 
 feel for yourself 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 aegis 
 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 dormant 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 Frankish Karl, whom modern Europe 
 knows best under his French name of Charlemagne, 
 to introduce Roman crafts and Roman letters once 
 more into the barbarised 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 
 u Holy Roman Empire " of later mediaeval 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 : — 
 
 u 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 
 
120 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 ; 
 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 H6tel-de-Ville and its subsidiary 
 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 belfry 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. 
 
124 The European Tour 
 
 The greatest reason of all for going to Bruges, 
 however, is to see its pictures, which hot only form 
 the groundwork for a knowledge of Flemish art, 
 but rank as one of the greatest treats Europe has to 
 offer. The most important collection, consisting 
 entirely of Memling's masterpieces, is at the Hospital 
 of St. John, 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 you with pleasure for many visits. The 
 chief gem is the casket containing the arm of St. 
 Ursula, who was martyred at Cologne, with her 
 11,000 virgins, by the heathen Huns about the 
 fifth century. The sides, the ends, and the roof 
 of this exquisite little shrine, a 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 hagiology ; 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 Burgundian princes at Bruges in his own time ; 
 and he has therefore given us such a set of scenes 
 in 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 which 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- 
 tych, also by Memling, commissioned by Brother 
 Jan Floreins of this Hospital. The central panel 
 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- 
 
126 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 red 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 129 
 
 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 spot where it was 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 more 
 than two or three visits ; for though nominally one 
 picture, and really taken up with a single scene, it 
 consists of many separate figures and episodes in 
 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 martyrs. 
 As for Brussels, 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 propor- 
 tion of their time to the Belgian capital, and to 
 put ofF 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 
 9 
 
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 u 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 H6tel-de-Ville and the gorgeous 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 far higher rank than that of 
 u 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 
 
 connected idea 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 development of the intermediate 
 Flemish school, in Quentin Matsys, Gossart, and 
 other transitional masters ; you watch the intro- 
 duction of a new style derived from the Italian 
 Renaissance ; and you are enabled to follow the 
 subsequent rise of Rubens and his 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; 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 
 of 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 
 f 
 
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. As 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 
 1 53 1, and culminating 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 different 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. Louvaln 
 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. Malines, 
 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 ; the objects of 
 interest lie so close together that you can spend the 
 day in sight-seeing, and 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 Hague, 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 col- 
 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 adding a Historical Guide to 
 Holland to my series. 
 
 Pleasant excursions can be made from the Hague 
 to the watering-place of Scheveningen, where Dutch 
 costume is seen at its best, and to Delft, which is 
 a capital example of a comparatively unspoilt old 
 Dutch town. 
 
 Between the Hague and Amsterdam be sure you 
 stop at Leyden and Haarlem. The first is a 
 picturesque town, with more mediaevalism 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 
 portraits 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 
 them. 
 
 The interest of Amsterdam is almost confined to 
 its comprehensive Museum, though the town itself 
 is curious in its way as a sort of dull and brick- 
 built 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 
 
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 y 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 
 
 9 I V 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 mediaeval 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 Aix-la- Chap elk, 
 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 Frankish 
 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. 
 u 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 1215 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 Aix-la-Chapelle, indeed, 
 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 fantastic 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 ; " 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 11,000 virgins and 
 St. Gereon and the Martyrs of the The ban 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 London 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. 
 
 A 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 j 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. 
 
 T1ETWEEN the Rhineland and Italy lie the 
 •*-* Alps; 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 ob- 
 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 
 
160 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 is 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 very 
 
Switzerland, Etc. 161 
 
 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 
 ii 
 
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 Lyons, 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 Nimes, 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 Fonente 
 as far as Genoa. It is a succession of pictures. 
 Bordighera, San Remo, 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 Genoa, 
 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 route, 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. Got t hard. 
 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 
 
1 66 The European Tour 
 
 groves, the campaniles, the churches, the painted 
 villas of the Italian region. Undoubtedly this is 
 the most effective 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 far more present to you than if you pierce the 
 Alps by the mean modern subterfuge of a tunnel. 
 But to go over the Simplon or the Spliigen, 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 
 Basle, 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. 
 
 Basle 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 ofTbun and Brienz, and over the 
 Brunig to the Lake of 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 Biirgenstock and to Sonnenberg. 
 Steamers ply down all the arms of the lake, and 
 
Switzerland, Etc. 169 
 
 afford 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 the 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 Spliigen must 
 take off at Coire, regaining the rail at Chiavenna, 
 near the Lake of Como. The first route brings 
 you down most conveniently to Pallanza, on the 
 Lago Maggiore ; by the second, you reach the 
 Lake of Como at Colico, whence you can proceed 
 by steamer to Bellagio and Como, of both which 
 more in my next chapter. 
 
 The advice most impressed upon the general 
 tourist as to Switzerland may be briefly summed up 
 thus — from Basle to Milan by Lucerne and the 
 Gotthard^ with a digression, if you like, to the 
 Bernese Oberland. 
 
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 Lugano, 
 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 Milan, 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 Cotno, though there are 
 also many minor sheets, like Varese and Orta. 
 (I put Garda 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 
 
174 The European Tour 
 
 Lake of 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 which 
 divides it from the Lake of Como. This last you 
 just spy near the town of Como, and then make 
 away incontinently across the hills and the Lombard 
 plain to Milan. 
 
 But you will probably want to see something 
 more than this passing glimpse of so beautiful a 
 region. My general advice to you, then, as to the 
 management of this part of your tour would be as 
 follows. Do not go through to Lugano at all, but 
 book at Lucerne for Locarno on the Lago Maggiore. 
 A branch line of the Gotthard will carry 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 175 
 
 charming and picturesque little churches perched 
 high among the mountains. When you have had 
 enough of Pallanza, take the steamer to Luino 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 the soul of Italy ; 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 the endless arms of the blue lake beneath ; 
 while a little farther off is the Monte Generoso, 
 perhaps the finest Alpine prospect accessible to the 
 non-climber, 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 
 
176 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. You cannot possibly see all (un- 
 less you intend to devote a lifetime to Italy — as 
 indeed why should n'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 jy 
 
 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 Mon%a, 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 Sa- 
 ronno, where is a famous Sanctuary of the Blessed 
 Virgin, in which Luini is said to have taken refuge 
 
178 The European Tour 
 
 after a homicide in self-defence, and for which 
 he painted perhaps his finest series of frescoes. 
 These frescoes are among the loveliest things of their 
 sort in Italy ; but if you turn aside to see them, there 
 will be no end to it. You will spend the rest of 
 your life between here and Florence, and totter in, 
 at last, a gray-haired man, to die of old age at Siena. 
 
 So I say it sternly : go straight on from Bellagio 
 or Como or Lugano to Milan. 
 
 And how about Milan ? Well, it is the fashion 
 with picturesque-loving tourists to sneer at Milan, 
 because it happens to have tolerably broad streets 
 and a modern municipality. Item, it is also com- 
 paratively sanitary for an Italian city ; and it cer- 
 tainly lacks as a whole the quaint charm and 
 attractiveness of Verona or Padua. If you listen 
 to the average traveller who has " done " Milan in 
 a day, you will learn that it has nothing of interest 
 except its Cathedral. That is about as superficial 
 a view as you could well take of it; it reminds 
 me of a friend who could not occupy himself for 
 more than three days in Paris. I have visited 
 Milan a round dozen of times at least, revelling in 
 its antiquity : and each time I desire to make my 
 visit longer than the last one. 
 
 To me, indeed, the Cathedral is the least among 
 the joys of Milan. The town is a museum of art 
 
The Threshold of Italy 179 
 
 and history ; and the environs are simply alive with 
 architecture, painting, and antiquarian interest. 
 
 I am not writing a guide to Milan, however; I 
 even doubt whether I shall ever reach that point in 
 my series ; I am simply trying to put you at the 
 proper point of view for seeing it. Milan, then, 
 appeals to you most as the first really Italian town 
 of importance you have entered ; the place where 
 you may begin to understand Italy, or rather, to 
 catch some first vague hint of her loveliness, her 
 loveableness. Mediolanum was a Gaulish town 
 before it was a Roman one ; and it has always 
 been the capital of the broad plain of Lombardy, 
 the only really rich district in Italy. Yet it con- 
 tains comparatively little of Roman antiquity, be- 
 cause it was wholly destroyed in 1162 by the 
 Emperor Frederick Barbarossa ; on which occasion, 
 as you will remember I told you, he conveyed the 
 Three Magi, or what remained of them, to 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 Corinthian columns 
 
180 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 modern 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 San? Ambrogio, 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 
 ordinary 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 
 
i 8 2 The European Tour 
 
 it. It belongs to a late and sophisticated age of 
 Gothic ; its architecture is not pure j its sculpture 
 is largely modern ; and its facade has been defaced 
 by 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 
 triumph 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 add 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 fret- 
 work of the ceiling) is extremely impressive. You 
 must 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 things 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, 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 183 
 
 ever painted; but 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 
 Br era ! 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 Ber- 
 nardino de' Conti, and the old A4ilanese painters, as 
 well as the later group of half Florentine artists 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 : while you are at Milan, devote 
 yourself especially to the Milanese and Lombard artists 
 and artificers. You will find at the Brera many 
 exquisite works of other schools, pre-eminent 
 among which is Raphael's Sposalizio^ the loveliest 
 and sweetest work of his Peruginesque period, 
 before the Renaissance spoiled him. Now, this is 
 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 
 
1 86 The European Tour 
 
 the patron, St. Maurice ; and, to balance it, King 
 Sigismund presenting the original church to the 
 saint whose name it bears. Then, in other fres- 
 coes, you get the donor of the existing church, with 
 his wife, and their personal patrons. Almost all 
 the remaining frescoes are those of female saints, 
 the great patronesses of virginity, as is right in the 
 church of a nunnery, — St. Cecilia, St. Ursula, St. 
 Apollonia, St. Scholastica, St. Agnes, and so forth. 
 The High Altar has for its altar-piece the Adora- 
 tion of the Magi, — the Three Kings of Cologne, 
 whose bones, you will recollect, reposed so long in 
 Milan. The Nuns' Choir behind has more virgin 
 saints, together with the great plague patrons, St. 
 Roch and St. Sebastian, symbolical of the secular 
 work of the sisters as attendants on the suffering. 
 Taken 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 therefore truly 
 jud^e of such works apart from their surroundings ; 
 when you find them sawn out or torn away to place 
 in museums — mere memberless torsos — you 
 must always enquire for what place they were origi- 
 nally intended. So and so alone can 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 St. 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 gorgeous, 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 a 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 staggered in my 
 own mind, and can't imagine how I am ever to 
 get you away to Florence. For this is Italy ; 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 
 
 corner. Why, there is the Museo Poldi-Pezzoli, 
 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 Ambrosiana, 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 know 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 dl 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 j 
 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. u 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 feel 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 did 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 or 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 
 
 T\^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 
 
 to 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 
 
 13 
 
194 The European Tour 
 
 Florence are beautiful pictures, while Rome is a dry 
 but valuable historical volume ; and if you begin 
 with the dry book, you will think Italy a task, 
 while if you begin with the beautiful picture 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 distin- 
 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 Umbrian 
 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, you 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 Ven- 
 
The Great Italian Cities 195 
 
 ice were never provinces as compared to Rome ; 
 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 there 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 have 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 ? " 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 after you have been to Florence and Venice ; 
 the multiplicity and variety of Rome will 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 modern 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, Plorentine 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 months 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 the 
 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 also 
 you cannot help it. Then return by Florence to 
 Rome, and thence to Naples. 
 
 As for the minor 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 
 
 '"jp'^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 only 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 Milan to Genoa, you cross the Maritime 
 Alps just at the point where they begin to lose 
 their individuality and to merge 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 not 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 after 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, don't waste time on Genoa which 
 would be better bestowed in Venice or Florence, 
 or on a glimpse of Siena, Orvieto, Padua. 
 
 Continue straight on, then, 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 Niccolo 
 Pisano, 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 
 son 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 eet 
 on to Florence. We can easily manage it by an 
 
206 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 belt, 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 
 
208 The European Tour 
 
 Byzantine or Italian sources, but oddly enough 
 from the school of Cologne, through her first 
 great painter, Giovanni da Allemagna 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 effect 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- 
 sufficing. 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 
 
 Niccolo 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. 
 
 Everything in Florence, indeed, is redolent of 
 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- 
 14 
 
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 j 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 Palssologus, 
 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 and foremost, Florence, Florence, Florence ! 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MORE ABOUT FLORENCE 
 
 ' g V 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, as 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, 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 1294 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 Agnolo 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 2 1 5 
 
 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 Croce 
 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 
 
216 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 Westminster 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 way of regard- 
 ing a great historical monument. It is putting the 
 cart before the horse. Santa Croce is first of all 
 a church, 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 Chapel^ 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 ; and they were the leading teachers 
 of the scholastic philosophy. Hence, on the walls of 
 the Spanish 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. 
 
2i 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 famous 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- 
 ing, you 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 22 1 
 
 These two churches, Santa Croce and Santa 
 Maria Novella, are invaluable as museums of the 
 early Giottesque fresco-painters ; 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 fit 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 net 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 I must 
 draw a line. I can only say in conclusion, 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 English 
 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 Dominican 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 the 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 martyrdom ; he places 
 his finger to his lips, to enforce the Dominican 
 rule of silence. This fresco 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 as teacher, and his scourge of rods : he 
 typifies the Discipline of the Dominican Order, 
 Over 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 the 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 glory; 
 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 well 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. For 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 
 you 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 
 15 
 
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 to 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 have 
 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 Artt y 
 the Uffizi, and the Pitti Palace. I advise you to 
 visit them in this order. 
 
 Of course I am not going to give you here a re- 
 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 and fly- 
 ing angels ; the angel immediately to the spectator's l 
 of the Madonna has also the characteristic 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 Gualberto (the 
 founder) : St. Benedict (in brown) : and the Arch- 
 angel Michael. Note their features. The figure of St. 
 Michael, in particular, may be well compared with the 
 other exquisite 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 compositions, with a heavenly and 
 earthly scene combined, are great favourites with Umbrian 
 painters. (See them at Perugia, and in Raphael's Disputa 
 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 wall, 56, * Perugino, the Descent from the 
 Cross, a beautiful composition. The scene takes 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 affected 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 room. Observe 
 Perugino' s quaint taste in head-dresses. Also, throughout, 
 here and in the Assumption, the Umbrian isolation and 
 abstractness of his figures. 
 
 " Above, on this wall, *55, Fra Filippo Lippi, a 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 Santa 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 books and pen which constantly mark 
 the translator of the Vulgate. 
 
 "52, Cosimo Rosselli, St. Barbara. A curious but 
 characteristic example of this harsh though very power- 
 ful 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 Latin 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, *i 3 10, 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 ascetic 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 from the church of St. Nicolas in Florence, and 
 the Nicolas stood on the r hand of Our Lady. 
 
 "1302, beneath, Benozzi Gozzoli, Predella : (1) 
 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 
 
232 The European Tour 
 
 St. Benedict holding a book and arrow. From Santa 
 Croce. 
 
 "End wall, ** I 3°9> 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 reliquary, 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 for 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 discerni- 
 ble, among whom I believe I detect St. Louis of France, 
 and St. Louis of Toulouse. In the opposite arch : on the 
 extreme r, (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 angels, 
 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, with St. Maurus and 
 the young monk who was tempted by the devil. (See 
 the same subject in the very different St. Benedict series 
 by Francesco di Giorgio Martini in the Scuola Toscana, 
 3 za Sala.) (3) Nativity and (4) Adoration of the Magi : 
 (5) St. Benedict in his cell with Benedictine saints, male 
 and female : he sends out St. Maurus to rescue St. Placi- 
 dus from drowning: (6) resuscitation 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-painting, 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. 
 
 "1286. ** 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 
 Patriae. Equally fine is the 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 
 wonderful 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. Hyacinthus, by Lorenzo Ghiberti ; 
 fine flying angels. The case, beyond, contains fine 
 
236 The European Tour 
 
 imitation antique and Renaissance statuettes. In the 
 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 evidently 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. 
 
 s€ End wally **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 Ghiberti' 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 line* 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 Bertoldo. 
 
 " Wall to the r, Crucifixion, by Donatello, partly 
 gilt. All the attitudes in this admirable scene are 
 worth careful 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 
 a 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 similar 
 antiques in the Uffizi.) Also the Antoninus Pius, which 
 is a successful 15 th century imitation of the antique. 
 Look at Daniele da Volterra's * Bust of Michael Angelo ; 
 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 dei Lanzi, differing slightly in detail from the 
 model finally adopted. Beside it, admirably executed but 
 not pleasing bust of Cosimo I., a subject to try the greatest 
 
238 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. 
 
 <f 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 of 
 Samaria above, are in polychrome, and less pleasing. 
 
 " L wall, returning, Christ and the Magdalen in the 
 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 not 
 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. 
 16 
 
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 ; 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 5 
 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 dell* 
 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 Giorgio — deliciously naive 
 stories of the lives of St. George, 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^ 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 ; 
 " 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 Uffizi, in the Belle Arti, in the 
 dim aisles of Santa Croce, among the marvellous 
 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 j 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 y 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 St. 
 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 atone, 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 Guide 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 modern 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 Doges 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 votary adores the Madonna and 
 Child. But at Venice the votary is usually a Doge 
 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 all, 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 see, see 
 thoroughly, and see slowly. Chew it and digest it. 
 The habit of bolting spoils foreign travel. It is 
 better to spend two days over San Giorgio degli 
 Schiavoni than to be able to boast at table d'hote 
 in the evening that to-day you crossed the Rialto, 
 looked into San Giovanni Elemosinario, — " first- 
 rate Titian ! " — did 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 Pesaro 
 Madonna is in the 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 your 
 Venice slowly, and read it up as you go in competent 
 authorities. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ROMEWARDS 
 
 T AND 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 
 is to put you on the right track for understanding 
 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 
 17 
 
258 The European Tour 
 
 has a history, 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 connection 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 
 
260 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 the taste 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 
 interesting cities in Europe. 
 
 From Ravenna and Bologna, return to Florence. 
 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 things that you saw 
 before take new meanings from what you have 
 learnt later. 
 
 Then, on to Rome. On your way you can take 
 Orvieto, 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 Volumnii, 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 
 Aurelius, 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, you 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 ^uadrata 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 
 
2,66 The European Tour 
 
 other chief heights or depressions or plains of 
 Ancient Rome. Use it topographically as your 
 centre and standard of reference j 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 define 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 Arch of Sep- 
 tlmius Severus, the Arch of Titus, and the marble 
 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 fulia, 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 difficult 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 For a of the Ctesars, 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 mean-s ; 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 1: /ramid 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, WL'ch will begin 
 to 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. jee 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 
 
270 The European Tour 
 
 weak. I do not say you must see all Ancient 
 Rome first, all transitional Rome next, then all 
 mediaeval 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 modern 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 Cceli, 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 bloc, 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- 
 
272 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 Lateran Church, 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 Coe- 
 lian Hill, 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. 
 18 
 
274 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. Prassede 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 Medieval and Renaissance Rome, 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 
 round St. Peters and the main building of the 
 Vatican, where artists of all ages and all Italian 
 schools have added their part, often incongruously 
 enough, to 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, as you gaze on 
 them, that the saintly friar's heart was not here; 
 he could not paint for triple-crowned popes and 
 scarlet-robed cardinals as he painted for his sirnple- 
 souled ascetics at San Marco. The Sistine Chapel, 
 again, is a perfect museum of the art of the fifteenth- 
 century Tuscans and Umbrians, — Perugino, Pin- 
 
Romewards 275 
 
 turicchio, Botticelli, Ghirlandajo, Cosimo Rosselli, 
 and Luca Signorelli ; 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 first at Florence, Siena, Orvieto, and 
 Perugia. That is why you must not go to Rome 
 at the beginning : 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 
 masterpieces. " 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 Slstine Chapel they see only Michael 
 Angelo's ceiling and his Last Judgment ; I have 
 even known good folk declare with emphasis that 
 they have often spent hours in the Sistine Chapel, 
 and that there are no works there except Michael 
 Angelo's. If you visit Rome in this spirit, Rome 
 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 to 
 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 
 next 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 church, few or no remains 
 exist ; but the name of Santa Maria ad Nives 
 (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 Blessed 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. The 
 Council of Ephesus condemned 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 Dei, 
 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 story 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 century, again, the build- 
 ing was deprived of its mediaeval picturesqueness, and 
 reduced to Renaissance straightness and uniformity. 
 
282 The European Tour 
 
 Of the two large 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 Virgin, 
 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 Apostate, 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. employed Ferdi- 
 nando Fuga to erect the existing ugly and vulgar 
 facade, 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 monument 
 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 and 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 desist 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 
 how 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, Ptestum, Pozzuoli, 
 Baice, 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 Selinunto, Girgenti, Syracuse, Catania, Taormina, 
 Messina. ' 
 
 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 Naples 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 northward in the later spring might 
 well be by Verona, the Brenner, Meran (or the 
 Dolomites, 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 
 Salxkammergut. Of 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 
 your 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 hand, 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 modern 
 and museumish. It depends upon its collections. 
 Of these there are four. The Old Pictures include 
 several good examples of the Rhenish School, 
 which you will now realise 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 Swabian and Franconian School, 
 (Wohlgemuth, Holbein, and Durer, 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 will not detain 
 you long ; but the Glyptothek, with the iEginetan 
 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 Italy 
 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 
 Oberammergau 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 
 19 
 
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 ? 
 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 home to America, and chew the cud of 
 contemplation. Think it all over. You can " do 
 Spain," of course, if you are 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 he 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 morning-lands 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 
 
 A ND 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 instructing us ? " you 
 ask. u 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 off, — 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 chantants 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 huitres 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 very 
 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 afford 
 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 
 
 JMU9W 48 
 
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- 
 ing, 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 ! 
 

 fO* * * * ° * <£■ * cP * * * ° 0%* f° 
 
 »"v^ 
 
 
 
 o, '* 
 
 
 
 ^ c> <i* ob ^j. 
 
 
 
 
 ^ «. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 <• 
 
 °:c\ 
 
 
 
 C . 
 
 
 
 
 _ t 
 

 
 *%» 
 
 
 \> 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * ^0^ 
 
 
 
 v 
 
 
 s A 
 
 v * * * ° /• . *%> 
 
 
 
 *$ %> 
 
 
 $ *«Tt ^.tf 
 
 ^c?