Early next morning, after a sumptuous breakfast, we set off for Pisa, about fourteen or fifteen miles from Leghorn, in one of the gilt coaches with horses that, had they seen the devil would not have taken fright. We were three hours going the distance and had full time to observe the beautiful prospect along the Vale of Arno. About ten we entered Pisa, where they were celebrating the Carnival in a magnificent style, and we were told that six hundred coaches were in the procession. The prince was among the number and appeared much gratified. Pelting with sugar plums is customary on this occasion; and one of our midshipmen pelted Lord Hervey in his coach; and when told it was the British ambassador, and that he looked very angry, he immediately hove another volley at Lady Hervey, observing that she looked better tempered than his Excellency.
We spent a very pleasant evening at the theatre, and next morning went to the cathedral—a gorgeous fabric, with gates of bronze highly decorated with passages from scripture in compartments in basso relievo. We also saw the baptistery with a whispering gallery, and the campo santo, with the paintings on the wall in fresco round the cloisters, the work of the oldest masters. One painting I well recollect, representing the Last Judgment—the work I believe of Buffalmaco, who in this painting drew all his friends going to heaven, and his enemies going to the devil; the faces of all being an exact resemblance of those of both parties. The tombs of some of the masters are at the foot of their works.[[98]] The campo santo is an oblong figure, and the earth in the centre was brought from the Holy Land some centuries ago, and people of religious celebrity are here interred.
We next visited the Observatory and Botanical Gardens, and then to the top of the Leaning Tower, 187 feet high, and whose summit overlooks the base fifteen feet. One of our party began ringing the bells, which brought up a posse of friars; and Graves, pointing to one of them, a very fat man, exclaimed, ‘I’ll be damned if that fellow is not fitted for foreign service with six months’ provisions in his guts.’ I suppose they did not understand him, as they behaved with great civility. Some in this country, who I could mention, would have behaved in a different manner. There’s an old saying
That Pisa looks ill
If you sit still.
This was not the case with us, as we were constantly on the move and saw everything and enjoyed ourselves greatly, particularly among the masks while parading the Lung’ Arno. The day before our departure we took a long and delightful walk upon the banks of the Arno and were within a few miles of the spot where Catiline and his whole army were destroyed 63 B.C., in the consulship of Marcus Tullius Cicero and Caius Antonius Nepos.
Pisa has a university and formerly contained 100,000 inhabitants, but has greatly fallen off and grass grows in the streets. It contains many churches and other superb buildings, particularly the Grand Duke’s palace in the Lung’ Arno, the Hospital, and Exchange. There are three bridges over the Arno, one of them of marble. Several Roman antiquities are to be seen. It was our intention to have gone to Lucca and from thence to Florence; but all sublunary things are vain, as we were ordered to sea sooner than was expected, and returned to Leghorn after five days’ absence, where we dined at an excellent ordinary at one of the best houses in the city. We had a strong party of English officers at the dinner, some of whom got rather merry before the cloth was off the table, and catching hold of the waiter they rolled him in the cloth with plates and dishes, the fellow roaring out all the while to no purpose. One midshipman took a loaf and let if fall out of the window (we were on the second floor) upon the jaw of an Italian in the street, which floored him, while others pelted legs and wings of fowls at those looking out of the opposite windows; but to their kind forbearance everything was taken as a joke and only laughed at. Would this have been the case in England?—where every hole and corner has a board threatening prosecution, and if you pass two or three stopping in the street, their conversation will be about law, hanging, or trade.
Sallied out in the evening and went to a house in Scratch Alley—you that have been at Leghorn I daresay know the place well. In the middle of this lane lived an old woman of enormous size, who was named the Boatswain of Scratch Alley. Saw a figure there I never shall forget—a fellow dressed as a lady, with a fine cap trimmed with blue ribbon and a white frock on, a face like Vulcan with a long black beard. When he came in the room we were sitting in, he danced a fandango and cut such astonishing capers that my old messmate Vosper said drily, ‘Gardner, if that fellow is not the devil he must be his near relation.’ The next evening three of us took a cruise, and, it being very late before we returned, our lodging was shut up and with difficulty we got entrance to a house near the Mole. The accommodations vile in the extreme; only one bed, with sheets as if a sweep had slept in them. At this time it began to rain with drops as big as pistol balls, which obliged us to stay where we were. However, we sat on the chairs, but got very little sleep for the rats and people passing and re-passing to a sewer at the end of the room. The morning luckily turned out fine, and after clearing our uniforms of a few bugs that thought fit to billet themselves on us without being invited, we gladly started from this infernal hotel to breathe the fresh air. Went to Montenero, where the learned Smelfungus has a monument near his remains.[[99]]
Having received orders to sail immediately and join the squadron under Vice-Admiral Hotham off Toulon, we first put into St. Fiorenzo for a short time. Went to see the Mortella tower that beat off the Fortitude, 74, and Juno frigate; the former ship had upwards of sixty killed and wounded, and was on fire in several places from the red-hot shot. This tower had but two guns; one of them was dismounted during the attack and defended by twenty Frenchmen, only one of whom was killed. The tower was taken by mounting some guns on a spot that overlooked it.[[100]]
Sailed from St. Fiorenzo and joined the squadron. Our captain, Sir John Collins, being ill, we had Captain William Shield acting. Sir John soon after departed this life and was committed to the deep. Sixteen minute guns were fired at the funeral to denote the number of years he had been a post captain. Sir John was a well-meaning man, but fractious from long illness. He died with the gout in his head and stomach. The ship’s company paid respect to his memory; they divided their black silk handkerchiefs,[[101]] and wore one part round their hats and the other round their arms, and requested they might see the corpse before the interment; which request was granted, and they walked through the cabin in ranks and bowed to the coffin while passing, and most of them in tears—a sight truly impressive. Billy Shield remained with us about a month after Sir John’s death, and then George Campbell, as good a fellow as ever lived, took command.