"Ah, monsieur, it moves quite easily."
But I was an unbelieving Thomas; so, lingering behind the group, when the guide's back was turned, I reached up, and with my umbrella gave the lower part of the great bronze a strong push. Down came a shower of dust from the creases of the great cable; the huge lamp began a grand, majestic swing, and I was ready to exclaim, in the words of the great mathematician himself, "Yet it moves;" and it did "move quite easily," continued its oscillations, back and forth, to such an extent that I thought it safe to move myself at once from beneath the huge pendule, which I did forthwith, quite satisfied that it swung for Galileo, and might come down for myself.
This Duomo was completed in the year 1118, and the baptistery, which we next visited, was founded in 1253, as an inscription upon it informed us. It seems that a cathedral in those early days, notwithstanding its vast size, generally had a superb tower erected for its bells,—a structure by itself,—and another of grand proportions for the baptism and christening of children. The baptistery here at Pisa is a perfectly round building, of marble, looking like a great cathedral dome set upon the ground; but it is a dome one hundred and seventy-nine feet high and one hundred feet diameter inside the walls, which are nearly nine feet thick.
The exterior above the first story is surrounded by rings of elegant pillars and pointed pediments. The whole of the interior seems sheathed with polished marble, so exquisitely matched and joined as to appear almost seamless. You stand, as it were, in a huge dome, hollowed out of marble. A grand circular font, fourteen feet in diameter, stands in the centre. We saw here the magnificently carved pulpit, executed by Nicolo Pisano, in 1260. It is hexagon in form, supported by seven pillars, which, in turn, are supported by sculptured figures of lions, griffins, &c. But it is the sculptures in bass-relief upon its sides that are most wonderful, from their elaborate detail, which must have cost an age of patience and labor in their execution. They represent the Nativity, Adoration of the Magi, Crucifixion, Last Judgment, &c. The echoes in this circular baptistery are something quite remarkable. The guide, a fellow with a musical tenor voice, sang a note or two, and it came back to us "a whole gamut filled with heavenly notes." Another sang a bar, primo basso, and the polished walls returned it, like the mellowed peals of a full-voiced organ. This magical music was as charming as novel, and an extemporaneous concert was enjoyed here before leaving.
We next go over to the Campo Santo, or Holy Field, which renowned cemetery is enclosed by cloisters opening into the holy ground, the fronts of these cloisters facing the open space of the interior being arched and roofed over, forming a covered promenade in the form of a parallelogram, the whole enclosure being four hundred and fifteen feet long and one hundred and thirty-seven wide. The centre, within the cloister enclosure, was open overhead. The earth here, it will be remembered, every handful of it for I do not know how many feet deep, came from Mount Calvary, being brought by a prelate whom that fierce and powerful Saracen, Saladin, expelled from his dominions about the year 1200, and who, compelled to eat dirt, revenged himself by carrying off fifty or sixty ship-loads of it. It was deposited here, made holy ground, and duly consecrated; and to make the burial lots go off more lively, probably, the story was given out—which is still told—that the earth had the property of reducing dead bodies to dust in twenty-four hours. Of course, the rush to get in—or rather, of friends to get their deceased relatives in—was great. Only great people could come down with their dust, and very seldom is it that any interments are made here now. One would naturally suppose that a burial-ground of these dimensions would become a little crowded in six hundred and seventy years, unless population was sparse, and some restrictions were made.
The covered arcade, or arched cloisters, which extend around the sides forty-six feet high, and thirty-four feet wide contain many interesting monuments. Among them we noticed Count Cavour's, and one to Madame Catalani, the singer, and a monument to the Countess Beatrice.
The walls of the cloisters are celebrated for their frescoes, many of which are fine specimens of the art, but all more or less injured by the action of dampness or the air. The subjects are from Scripture, or monkish legends. The most noted and striking is the Triumph of Death, in which the grisly king of terrors is allegorically brought before the spectator in a most striking manner, in various ways, such as the exhibition of three coffins, and their ghastly tenant, as a warning to three kings; Death swooping down, scythe in hand, upon a party of youths and maidens; kings, warriors, and prelates yielding to the fell destroyer, and angels and demons bearing their souls off in different directions.
Reaching Spezzia at nine P. M., after a day's sight-seeing in Pisa, gave us little time to do else than to obtain much-needed refreshment, look at a beautiful moonlight view of the harbor, and engage a private travelling carriage for our journey over the Apennines next morning. At six o'clock we started, and as we gradually left the city behind, on our rising road, had a fine sunrise view of its beautiful harbor, with English, French, and American vessels at anchor, with their national flags flying. The scenery among these mountains differs from that of Switzerland. The mountains themselves seem of a golden bronze color in the sunlight, from the color of the earth, which seems to be a sort of Spanish brown. And again, there are long ranges and graceful peaks, the sides of which are clad in light verdure, but no trees, which appear to be of a delicate pea-green, shaded with rich red, brown, and bronze, from the color of the rock and earth. There were great ranges of mountains, stretching off in the distance, like fading sunset clouds, transformed into mountains—a most beautiful effect.
Up we went, by the zigzags of the mountain road, surrounded by superb scenery of hill, and crag, and distant range, till finally we came in sight of the great Mediterranean, thousands of feet below us, flecked with the white sails of ships and boats in every direction. Far on the extreme edge of its blue plain crept a steamer, leaving a long trail of smoke behind, like a dark serpent. Then every few miles, turns in the road would bring us in view of little seaports beneath, with their half-circle harbors, light-houses, and white walls standing, out conspicuously on the deep blue of the sea, while the feluccas and great lateen sails, gliding into their ports, reminded one strikingly of panoramic views and paintings, or of those brilliant blue and white pictures of Mediterranean seaports which we sometimes see suspended in merchants' counting-rooms in America.
The ride was interesting, charming, and exhilarating; for, far off upon one side of us stretched the magnificent, ever-changing mountain scenery, and at the other, far down below, was the beautiful sea view, with numerous ports, clusters of shipping, and pretty indentations, while the road itself was smooth, hard, and in good condition, and our carriage rattled over it at the full trot, to the occasional music of the whip-cracks of the driver. We lunched, as we descended, at a wretched little Italian port, and walked down to the sea-side, while our food was in course of preparation, to pick up pebbles and get a near view of the Mediterranean, which, until this day, I had never looked upon except on the maps in the school geographies.