CHAPTER II.

THE CATHEDRAL OF LUCCA.


Martino, the cathedral of Lucca, stands on one side of a small piazza
behind the principal square. At the first glance, its venerable
aspect, vast proportions, and dignity of outline, do not sufficiently
seize upon the imagination; but, as the eye travels over the elaborate
façade, formed by successive galleries supported by truncated pillars,
these galleries in their turn resting on clustered columns of richest
sculpture forming the triple portals--the fine inlaid work, statues,
bass-relief, arabesques of fruit, foliage, and quaint animals--the
dome, and, above all, the campanile--light and airy as a dream,
springing upward on open arches where the sun burns hotly--the eye
comes to understand what a glorious Gothic monument it is.

The three portals are now open. From the lofty atrium raised on broad
marble steps, with painted ceiling and sculptured walls--at one end a
bubbling fountain falling into a marble basin, at the other an arched
gate-way leading into grass-grown cloisters--the vast nave is visible
from end to end. This nave is absolutely empty. Every thing tells of
expectation, of anticipation. The mighty Lombard pillars on either
side--supporting a triforium gallery of circular arches and slender
pillars of marble fretwork, delicate as lace--are wreathed and
twined with red taffetas bound with golden bands. The gallery of the
triforium itself is draped with arras and rich draperies. Each dainty