forage, but water must flow freely. Hence the Fountain and the Mercato
become the centres of civil architecture.

Premising thus much, I will ask you to look once more at this cloister
of the Campo Santo of Pisa.

35. On first entering the place, its quiet, its solemnity, the
perspective of its aisles, and the conspicuous grace and precision of
its traceries, combine to give you the sensation of having entered a
true Gothic cloister. And if you walk round it hastily, and, glancing
only at a fresco or two, and the confused tombs erected against them,
return to the uncloistered sunlight of the piazza, you may quite easily
carry away with you, and ever afterwards retain, the notion that the
Campo Santo of Pisa is the same kind of thing as the cloister of
Westminster Abbey.

36. I will beg you to look at the building, thus photographed, more
attentively. The "long-drawn aisle" is here, indeed,--but where is the
"fretted vault"?

A timber roof, simple as that of a country barn, and of which only the
horizontal beams catch the eye, connects an entirely plain outside wall
with an interior one, pierced by round-headed openings; in which are
inserted pieces of complex tracery, as foreign in conception to the
rest of the work as if the Pisan armata had gone up the Rhine instead
of to Crete, pillaged South Germany, and cut these pieces of tracery
out of the windows of some church in an advanced stage of fantastic
design at Nuremberg or Frankfort.

37. If you begin to question, hereupon, who was the Italian robber,