loss of
international good-will. A century hence these shattered churches will
be pointed out to visitors as the work of the modern Vandals, and
lovers of art and beauty throughout the world will execrate the nation
which permitted the sacrilege. They have destroyed glass and paintings
and sculptures that were a joy to the whole world, they have undone
the work of saints and heroes and masters, and they have gained no
corresponding military advantage. In every city which has been
subjected to air raids the inhabitants have been made more obstinate,
more iron-hard in their determination to keep on fighting. The sight
of shattered churches, of wrecked dwellings, of mangled women and dead
babies, does not terrify or dismay a people: it infuriates them. In
the words of Talleyrand: "It is worse than a crime; it is a mistake."

The strangest sight in Venice to-day is St. Mark's. There is nothing
in its present appearance, inside or out, to suggest the famous
cathedral which so many millions of people have reverenced and loved.
Indeed, there is little about it to suggest a church at all. It looks
like a huge and ugly warehouse, like a car barn, like a Billy Sunday
tabernacle, for, in order to protect the wonderful mosaics and marbles
which adorn the church's western facade, it has been sheathed, from
ground to roof, with unpainted planks, and these, in turn, have been
covered with great squares of asbestos. By this use of fire-proof
material it is hoped that, even should the church be hit by a bomb,
there may be averted a fire such as did irreparable damage to the
Cathedral of Rheims.

The famous bronze horses have been removed from their place over the
main portal of St. Mark's, and taken, I believe, to Florence. It is
not the first travelling that they have done, for from the triumphal
arch of Nero they once looked down on ancient Rome. Constantine sent
them to adorn the imperial hippodrome which he built in
Constantinople, whence the Doge Dandolo brought them as spoils of war
to Venice when the thirteenth century was still young. In 1797
Napoleon carried them to Paris, but after the downfall of the Emperor
they were brought back to Venice by the Austrians and restored to
their ancient position. There they remained for just a hundred years,
until the menace of the Austrian aircraft necessitated their hasty
removal to a place of safety. Of them one of Napoleon's generals is
said to have remarked disparagingly: "They are too