THE object and plan of these Historical Handbooks is somewhat
different from that of any other guides at present before the public.
They do not compete or clash with such existing works; they are rather
intended to supplement than to supplant them. My purpose is not to
direct the stranger through the streets and squares of an unknown town
towards the buildings or sights which he may desire to visit; still less
is it my design to give him practical information about hotels, cab
fares, omnibuses, tramways, and other every-day material conveniences.
For such details, the traveller must still have recourse to the trusty
pages of his Baedeker, his Joanne, or his Murray. I desire rather to
supply the tourist who wishes to use his travel as a means of culture
with such historical and antiquarian information as will enable him to
understand, and therefore to enjoy, the architecture, sculpture,
painting, and minor arts of the towns he visits. In one word, it is my
object to give the reader in a very compendious form the result of all
those inquiries which have naturally suggested themselves to my own mind
during thirty-five years of foreign travel, the solution of which has
cost myself a good deal of research, thought, and labour, beyond the
facts which I could find in the ordinary handbooks.
For several years past I have devoted myself to collecting and arranging
material for a set of books to embody the idea I had thus entertained. I
earnestly hope they may meet a want on the part of tourists, especially
Americans, who, so far as my experience goes, usually come to Europe
with an honest and reverent desire to learn from the Old World whatever
of value it has to teach them, and who are prepared to take an amount of
pains in turning their trip to good account which is both rare and
praiseworthy. For such readers I shall call attention at times to other
sources of information.
These guide-books will deal more particularly with the Great Towns where
objects of art and antiquity are numerous. In every one of them, the
general plan pursued will be somewhat as follows. First will come the
inquiry why a town ever gathered together at all at that particular
spot—what induced the aggregation of human beings rather there than
elsewhere. Next, we shall consider why that town grew to social or
political importance and what were the stages by which it assumed its
present shape. Thirdly, we shall ask why it gave rise to that higher
form of handicraft which we know as Art, and towards what particular
arts it especially gravitated. After that, we shall take in detail the
various strata of its growth or development, examining the buildings and
works of art which they contain in historical order, and, as far as
possible, tracing the causes which led to their evolution. In
particular, we shall lay stress upon the origin and meaning of each
structure as an organic whole, and upon the allusions or symbols which
its fabric embodies.
A single instance will show the method upon which I intend to proceed
better than any amount of general description. A church, as a rule, is
built over the body or relics of a particular saint, in whose special
honour it was originally erected. That saint was usually one of great
local importance at the moment of its erection, or was peculiarly
implored against plague, foreign enemies, or some other pressing and
dreaded misfortune. In dealing with such a church, then, I endeavour to
show what were the circumstances which led to its erection, and what
memorials of these circumstances it still retains. In other cases it may
derive its origin from some special monastic body—Benedictine,
Dominican, Franciscan—and may therefore be full of the peculiar
symbolism and historical allusion of the order who founded it. Wherever
I have to deal with such a church, I try as far as possible to exhibit
the effect which its origin had upon its architecture and decoration; to
trace the image of the patron saint in sculpture or stained glass
throughout the fabric; and to set forth the connection of the whole
design with time and place, with order and purpose. In short, instead of
looking upon monuments of the sort mainly as the product of this or that
architect, I look upon them rather as material embodiments of the spirit
of the age—crystallizations, as it were, in stone and bronze, in form
and colour, of great popular enthusiasms.
By thus concentrating attention on what is essential and important in a
town, I hope to give in a comparatively short space, though with
inevitable conciseness, a fuller account than is usually given of the
chief architectural and monumental works of the principal art-cities. In
dealing with Paris, for example, I shall have little to say about such
modern constructions as the Champs Elysées or the Eiffel Tower; still
less, of course, about the Morgue, the Catacombs, the waxworks of the
Musée Grévin, and the celebrated Excursion in the Paris Sewers. The
space thus saved from vulgar wonders I shall hope to devote to fuller
explanation of Notre-Dame and the Sainte Chapelle, of the mediæval
carvings or tapestries of Cluny, and of the pictures or sculptures in
the galleries of the Louvre. Similarly in Florence, whatever I save from
description of the Cascine and even of the beautiful Viale dei Colli
(where explanation is needless and word-painting superfluous), I shall
give up to the Bargello, the Uffizi, and the Pitti Palace. The passing
life of the moment does not enter into my plan; I regard each town I
endeavour to illustrate mainly as a museum of its own history.
For this reason, too, I shall devote most attention in every case to
what is locally illustrative, and less to what is merely adventitious
and foreign. In Paris, for instance, I shall have more to say about
truly Parisian art and history, as embodied in St. Denis, the Île de la
Cité, and the shrine of Ste. Geneviève, than about the Egyptian and
Assyrian collections of the Louvre. In Florence, again, I shall deal
rather with the Etruscan remains, with Giotto and Fra Angelico, with the
Duomo and the Campanile, than with the admirable Memlincks and Rubenses
of the Uffizi and the Pitti, or with the beautiful Van der Goes of the
Hospital of Santa Maria. In Bruges and Brussels, once more, I shall be
especially Flemish; in the Rhine towns, Rhenish; in Venice, Venetian. I
shall assign a due amount of space, indeed, to the foreign collections,
but I shall call attention chiefly to those monuments or objects which
are of entirely local and typical value.
As regards the character of the information given, it will be mainly
historical, antiquarian, and, above all, explanatory. I am not a
connoisseur—an adept in the difficult modern science of distinguishing
the handicraft of various masters, in painting or sculpture, by minute
signs and delicate inferential processes. In such matters, I shall be
well content to follow the lead of the most authoritative experts. Nor
am I an art-critic—a student versed in the technique of the studios and
the dialect of the modelling-room. In such matters, again, I shall
attempt little more than to accept the general opinion of the most
discriminative judges. What I aim at rather is to expound the history
and meaning of each work—to put the intelligent reader in such a
position that he may judge for himself of the æsthetic beauty and
success of the object before him. To recognise the fact that this is a
Perseus and Andromeda, that a St. Barbara enthroned, the other an
obscure episode in the legend of St. Philip, is not art-criticism, but
it is often an almost indispensable prelude to the formation of a right
and sound judgment. We must know what the artist was trying to represent
before we can feel sure what measure of success he has attained in his
representation.
For the general study of Christian art, alike in architecture,
sculpture, and painting, no treatises are more useful for the tourist to
carry with him for constant reference than Mrs. Jameson’s _Sacred and
Legendary Art_, and _Legends of the Madonna_ (London, Longmans). For
works of Italian art, both in Italy and elsewhere, Kugler's _Italian
Schools of Painting_ is an invaluable _vade-mecum_. These books should
be carried about by everybody everywhere. Other works of special and
local importance will occasionally be noticed under each particular
city, church, or museum.
I cannot venture to hope that handbooks containing such a mass of facts
as these will be wholly free from errors and misstatements, above all in
early editions. I can only beg those who may detect any such to point
them out, without unnecessary harshness, to the author, care of the
publisher, and if possible to assign reasons for any dissentient
opinion.