deception, and they come home
to look back upon those long halls, filled with the masterpieces of
ancient and modern art, as mere torture-chambers, whence nothing is
brought away but backache, headache, weary feet and an agonizing
confusion of ideas. Some of them avenge themselves by making fun of
the whole matter: they tell you that there is a great deal of humbug
about your great pictures and statues; that Raphael is nearly as much
overrated as Shakespeare; that it is all nonsense for people to
pretend to admire headless trunks and dingy canvases. To them I have
nothing to say: they find consolation in their own cleverness. But a
great many are left with a mingled sense of disappointment and
yearning: they cannot get rid of the thought that they have missed a
great pleasure--that a precious secret has remained hidden from them,
and that through no fault of theirs. It is to these, who have my
sincere sympathy, and to those who have the same trials before them,
that I offer the result of three years' acquaintance with the great
galleries of Europe, premising that I have no technical knowledge of
art: I have only learned to enjoy it.

We Americans generally bring total want of preparation with us from
home: pictures and statues, their subjects and their authors, except a
few of the most famous, are equally unknown to us. This is to some
degree our own fault. All that we can learn by reading is valuable. I
do not refer to criticism or descriptions, but what may be called the
general literature of art--the lives of artists, the history of the
various schools, even mythology and the lives of the saints; which
last were the favorite theme during the best period everywhere except
in England, whose native art is not much over a century old. This is
within the reach of every one on this side the Atlantic, and to know
what a picture is about is to have one source of confusion removed.
Besides which, all accessory information adds much to the general
interest and is a help in the first stages. Criticism is to be
excepted, as tending to disturb the integrity of one's individual
impressions, difficult enough to keep independent under the influence
of a great name. The beginner ought not to seek the opinion of
others--except in devoting his attention to the works of highest fame,
which is following the verdict of the world, and not of a person or
set--until he has one of his own, always bearing in mind that his is
probably wrong, a