CHAP. III.

PADUA. CHURCH OF SAN ANTONIO.—SANTA GIUSTINA. -PALAZZO DELLA RAGIONE.CATHEDRAL, ETC.

ALMOST immediately after our return to Venice, we took our final leave of this "watering place," on a morning so brilliant, that it seemed to woo us to prolong our stay. The sun flung a magic light on every object, almost renovating the architectural splendour of the scene, and setting forth its still remaining beauties in the most attractive manner. As long as it was possible, did our gaze linger on the city as it lessened from our sight; while our gondola lightly floated along, the rowers beating time with their oars to the strains they chanted in their native dialect.

Having reached the terra firma, the carriage which was there awaiting us, took a road along the banks of a canal, lined with numerous villas, one of which, more extensive than the rest, was pointed out to us, as having been occupied by Bonaparte.

A short time brought us to Padua, where we put up at the first hotel we came to, which proved to be one that could boast of having lodged far more important guests; for the entrance was hung round with boards,

whereon were inscribed the names of sundry dignified visitors, including several of royal rank-a species of puffing not uncommon in Italian hotels, and almost the only one not yet practised in England, where that noble science has attained the highest perfection, and is become so complex withal, that an ample volume might be written on the "Art of Puffery in all its Branches."

The business of taking possession of our new quarters being concluded, we lost no time in sallying forth from them again, on the more agreeable business of sightseeing; nor were we long in discovering that we should be at full liberty to look around us, without being at all incommoded by the bustle of passengers. In truth, the city seems now most scantily peopled, save in the way of beggars, of whom there are no lack, and who must subsist chiefly upon what their importunity can extort from strangers, for they are out of all proportion to the number of towns-people in circumstances that allow them to be liberal of their alms. This desertedness, together with the narrowness of the streets, which are flanked on each side with arcades, gives the place a dull and even gloomy character, in which respect its solitude differs from that of Pisa. Still, the lover of silence, particularly if he be also a lover of old-fashioned streets and houses, will probably admire Padua for the very reason which has induced most travellers to report so unfavourably of it. Such a one is likely to fancy that the antique phy

siognomy, and the stillness of the place, are well enough in keeping with a seat of learning; although in that respect it is no longer what it formerly was, when students resorted to its university from all parts of Europe. There is a tradition that it was visited by our own Chaucer; and Harvey, that eminent name in our medical literature, is known to have studied here. Dante, Petrarch, and Tasso, stand foremost among the illustrious individuals of whom Padua boasts as attracted to her schools by their celebrity. The second of these was a canon in the cathedral, and passed the four last years of his life at Arquà, a village about a dozen miles off from the city. Another eminent man, connected with Padua, is Galileo, who for some time filled a professor's chair in the university. Nor was it for learning alone that its schools were celebrated; the students being at one period sadly regardless of discipline, and addicted to turbulent party feuds and affrays. But those days of gentle riot and brawl have entirely passed away, and the university is now quite as chapfallen as the town itself. No longer, in fact, has Padua any pretensions to be styled "the fair nursery of arts," especially if we may credit the anecdote related by Forsyth, respecting the Illustrissimo deputed as a visitor to the university.

The most attractive and cheerful spot in the whole place is the large garden-like inclosure of circular form, termed Prà della Valle, fenced around with a double

rank of statues, all with their faces towards the inner part; and these, being all of eminent natives of the town, form a sort of pantheon or gallery of Paduan worthies.

One of the first objects of our curiosity was the church of San Antonio or il Santo, as he is here styled by way of pre-eminence, of wonder-working and fishharanguing memory, and no less remarkable for the extraordinary temptations he experienced, and which have been set forth so frequently and so fearfully by the pencil of Teniers and Brueghel. The building itself, which was commenced by Nicola Pisano, in the year 1231, is a more singular than pleasing edifice, in a dry style of architecture, but deriving a certain imposing character from space and dimensions. Of Gothic we behold little more than the first rudiments, namely, the pointed arch, but divested of, or rather before it had acquired, the character since identified with that form, and, moreover, forced into combinations altogether different from those which afterwards prevailed, when a distinct and homogeneous style had been matured out of the pointed arch and vault. In its general outline and proportions, the front of this church does not exhibit even any approach to the Gothic, they being those of a portico, surmounted by a pediment of considerable pitch. In the lower part of the façade, are four pointed arches rising to the same height, but not of the same width, nor springing from the same level. The two narrower ones are placed

nearest the centre, and between them is the great door, which is square-headed, but within a semicircular arch; and the two larger pointed arches contain smaller doors of the same form as the middle one, opening into the side aisles. In each of these arches there are also two narrow lancet windows above the door. Above this lower division of the front, extends a small gallery with columns and pointed arches, and in the gable or pediment above it, are a circular window and two round-headed ones. The seven domes which crown the edifice remind the spectator of those of St. Mark at i Venice, from which the idea was probably borrowed; but these are much lower, their outline not exceeding that of a hemisphere. The inside of this church, which is 377 English feet in length, contains numerous monu- : ments, and rich altars; but the ensemble is fantastic and.: uncouth. The Saint's own chapel, however, which is of much later date, having been erected by the architects Sansovino and Falconetto, is such a lavishly decorated fabric that it may almost be termed a museum of sculpture and ornament. The walls exhibit numerous reliefs, on which are represented various miracles and legends taken from the history of the Saint, and several of them are very fine, particularly those by Sansovius and Compagna. There are likewise many bronze reliefs by the celebrated Donatello; among others, those of the four Evangelists, and figures of angels, or rather boys, in various attitudes, and full of expression and life, though