1897.] on the Picturesque in History. 319 



most powerful. This constitutes to many minds the charm of the 

 history of Italy, especially in the fifteenth century. There was then 

 a copious supply of determined and adventurous characters, whose 

 main object was to express themselves fully. Outward circumstances 

 gave them a favourable opportunity. They rose by their own 

 dexterity, and aimed at artistic completeness in all their achieve- 

 ments. They are attractive by their freedom from conventional 

 restraints, by their unhesitating self-confidence, and by the magnifi- 

 cence of their aims. The same spirit which animated Italy passed 

 on in a somewhat modified form to the rest of Europe in the sixteenth 

 century, and became domesticated in France. From that time 

 onward we may say that French history is the most picturesque. 



Yet it is worth observing that a mere expression of character, 

 unfettered by ordinary restraints, does not of itself satisfy our craving 

 for picturesqueness. In fact, the most purely personal history is that 

 of the later Koman Empire, of the Byzantine Empire, and of its 

 successor, the Russian Empire. For striking scenes and dramatic 

 events, these histories surpass any others. Caligula and Nero, Leo 

 the Isaurian and Irene, Ivan the Terrible and Peter the Great, 

 outstrip in wilfulness and daring anything that Italy or France ever 

 produced. Yet they seem to us remote and monstrous ; they do not 

 touch us with any sympathy ; they belong to a range of ideas which 

 is not our own ; they represent characteristics of power with which we 

 are not familiar. It is not enough that scenes should be striking, or 

 characters strongly marked. Scenes and characters alike must stand 

 in some definite relation to ourselves and our actual surroundings. 

 I doubt if our interest in Italian history would be so strong were it 

 not for the fact that its records still remain and have their message 

 for us. Italian princes would be forgotten had they not been patrons 

 of artists and architects, whose works speak to us by their beauty and 

 their grandeur. We wish to know what was the view of life which 

 gave these creations such dignity and grace, who were the men for 

 whom such stately palaces were built, what was the conception of 

 human character and its possibilities which prevailed in the com- 

 munity from which they sprang? The men themselves are only 

 interesting because they were conspicuous and intelligible instances 

 of tendencies which we wish to see expressed in action, that we 

 may more clearly understand their meaning as expressed in the 

 abstract forms of architecture and art. Our interest is not primarily 

 in the men themselves, or their doings, but in the significance of the 

 ideas which lay behind them. The same thing is true of the 

 picturesqueness of French history. We are attracted by the process 

 which produced that mental alertness and precision which characterise 

 the French mind, that power of organising life so as to get the most 

 out of it, which is still the peculiar merit of the French people. 



This leads me to another point. A bald record of events or a 

 faint description of a character by a contemporary does not suffice 

 for historical picturesqueness. Things may loom large, and we may 



