gathered a free-list of unauthorised observers, who, although
beyond ear-shot, must have been enabled by the generous breadth
of Italian gesture to follow the tangled thread of the piece. It
was all deliciously Italian--the mixture of old life and new, the
mountebank's booth (it was hardly more) grafted on the antique
circus, the dominant presence of a mighty architecture, the
loungers and idlers beneath the kindly sky and upon the sun-
warmed stones. I never felt more keenly the difference between
the background to life in very old and very new civilisations.
There are other things in Verona to make it a liberal education
to be born there, though that it is one for the contemporary
Veronese I don't pretend to say. The Tombs of the Scaligers, with
their soaring pinnacles, their high-poised canopies, their
exquisite refinement and concentration of the Gothic idea, I
can't profess, even after much worshipful gazing, to have fully
comprehended and enjoyed. They seemed to me full of deep
architectural meanings, such as must drop gently into the mind
one by one, after infinite tranquil contemplation. But even to
the hurried and preoccupied traveller the solemn little chapel-
yard in the city's heart, in which they stand girdled by their
great swaying curtain of linked and twisted iron, is one of the
most impressive spots in Italy. Nowhere else is such a wealth of
artistic achievement crowded into so narrow a space; nowhere else
are the daily comings and goings of men blessed by the presence
of manlier art. Verona is rich furthermore in beautiful
churches--several with beautiful names: San Fermo, Santa
Anastasia, San Zenone. This last is a structure of high antiquity
and of the most impressive loveliness. The nave terminates in a
double choir, that is a sub-choir or crypt into which you descend
and where you wander among primitive columns whose variously