He rowed
beneath the base of Mont St. Michel, and caught the varied skyline
of the crumbling edifices encrusting it. St. Ouen's, Rouen, knew
him for days; so did Vezelay, Sens, and many a hallowed monument
besides. Abandoning the inspection of early French art with the
same purposeless haste as he had shown in undertaking it, he went
further, and lingered about Ferrara, Padua, and Pisa. Satiated
with mediaevalism, he tried the Roman Forum. Next he observed
moonlight and starlight effects by the bay of Naples. He turned
to Austria, became enervated and depressed on Hungarian and
Bohemian plains, and was refreshed again by breezes on the
declivities of the Carpathians.
Then he found himself in Greece. He visited the plain of
Marathon, and strove to imagine the Persian defeat; to Mars Hill,
to picture St. Paul addressing the ancient Athenians; to
Thermopylae and Salamis, to run through the facts and traditions
of the Second Invasion--the result of his endeavours being more or
less chaotic. Knight grew as weary of these places as of all
others. Then he felt the shock of an earthquake in the Ionian
Islands, and went to Venice. Here he shot in gondolas up and down
the winding thoroughfare of the Grand Canal, and loitered on calle
and piazza at night, when the lagunes were undisturbed by a
ripple, and no sound was to be heard but the stroke of the
midnight clock. Afterwards he remained for weeks in the museums,
galleries, and libraries of Vienna, Berlin, and Paris; and thence
came home.
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