By Paul Greenberg

BOSTON How do I love thee, Isabella Stewart Gardner and your museum on the Fenway? Here, let me count the ways—First there is the unimposing entrance. No grand steps as at the Metropolitan in New York, or before the sprawling MFA, the Museum of Fine Arts, just around the corner here in Boston. No banners and flags, no bugles and trumpets. Much like the truly impressive houses in old Charleston, this one does not seek to impress. It seems to turn its side to the street, not seeking attention. From the outside, this could be just another gray building along one of the city’s many gray streets. The Gardner must be sought out, like the lady she is.