nsist upon
that point, because, misled by their ancient familiarity with London,
most Englishmen have had their senses and understandings so blunted on
this issue, that they really don't know what is meant by a town, or a
fine town, when they see one. And don't suppose it's because London is
in Britain and these other towns out of it that I make these remarks:
for Bath is a fine town, Edinburgh is a fine town, even Glasgow and
Newcastle are towns, while London is still a straggling, sprawling,
invertebrate, inchoate, overgrown village. I am as free, I hope, from
anti-patriotic as from patriotic prejudice. The High Street in Oxford,
Milsom Street in Bath, Princes Street in Edinburgh, those are all fine
streets that would attract attention even in France or Germany. But the
Strand, Piccadilly, Regent Street, Oxford Street--good Lord, deliver us!

One more _caveat_ as to my meaning. When I cite among real towns
Brussels, Antwerp, and Munich, I am not thinking of the treasures of art
those beautiful places contain; that is another and altogether higher
question. Towns supreme in this respect often lag far behind others of
less importance--lag behind in those external features and that general
architectural effectiveness which rightly entitle us to say in a broad
sense, "This is a fine city." Florence, for example, contains more
treasures of art in a small space than any other town of Europe; yet
Florence, though undoubtedly a town, and even a fine town, is not to be
compared in this respect, I do not say with Venice or Brussels, but even
with Munich or Milan. On the other hand, London contains far more
treasures of art in its way than Boston, Massachusetts; but Boston is a
handsome, well-built, regular town, while London--well, I will spare you
the further repetition of the trite truism that London is a squalid
village. In one word, the point I am seeking to bring out here is that a
town, as a town, is handsome or otherwise, not in virtue of the works of
art or antiquity it contains, but in virtue of its ground-plan, its
architecture, its external and visible decorations and places--the
Louvre, the Boulevards, the Champs Elysees, the Place de l'Opera.

Now London has no ground-plan. It has no street architecture. It has no
decorations, though it has many uglifications. It is frankly and simply
and ostentatiously hideous. And being wholly wanting in a system of any
sort--in organic parts, in idea, in views, in vistas--it is