Pisa—Hotel Victoria—Pisan weather—The poet Shelley—Historic Pisa—Lung 'Arno—San Stefano di Canalia—Cathedral—Baptistery—Leaning Tower—Campo Santo—The divine angels—The great chain of Pisa—Leghorn—Smollett's grave—Poste-restante—A sweet thing in Beggars—Ugolino's Tower—Departure for Rome.
We arrived at Pisa towards evening, and got into comfortable quarters at the Hotel Victoria, a quiet house, reminding us of the Swiss hotels in its style of entertainment. We soon had a nice little dinner set before us, and were hungry enough to do justice to it.
The next morning we found to our great disgust that it rained heavily. Our hotel was close to the river Arno, the river of Dante and Petrarch. It looked sandy and muddy as it flowed rapidly by. There were several gondola-like barges being towed by ropes on the other side, and Shelley's lines occurred to my memory, more in association of the poet with the place, than from the poetical look of the river itself—
"Within the surface of the fleeting river
The wrinkled image of the city lay
Immovably unquiet, and for ever
It trembles, but never fades away."
It is impossible to visit Pisa without recalling touching memories of the unfortunate and gifted poet who passed the last few years of his stormy life here, and only left it in the summer of 1823 for the Casa Magni, on the wild sea coast between Lerici and San Terenzio. It was from here that the Don Juan set out on its fatal trip to Leghorn one July morning—never to return.
Pisa is another very ancient city. It was founded about six centuries B.C., and was one of the twelve Etruscan cities. Like Genoa, it underwent many changes and vicissitudes, one of the greatest of which was the unexpected receding of the sea for some three or four miles, changing it from a busy, prosperous port to a comparatively unimportant inland town. It is still, however, much respected on account of its ancient greatness and learning, and is generally looked upon as the cradle of Italian art. In these latter days it is again becoming wealthy and enterprising. It is considered a remarkably good place for consumptive invalids. A fellow-traveller informed me that a friend of his had lived here for many years with both lungs gone! The climate is exceedingly mild, almost humid from the quantity of rain that falls: there is said to be, on an average, seventy-three days of rain, and one of snow, between October and April. We remained there only two days, and it rained almost incessantly during the whole time; the place looking very miserable under the circumstances. However, the inhabitants appeared quite used to it, and walked about unconcernedly enough, with their green umbrellas, evidencing at least some sunny days in the past.
The busiest part of the town is the Lung 'Arno (Street along the Arno), a broad, handsome quay extending down both banks of the river. The houses here are very imposing; one, in particular, is fronted with marble so exquisitely smooth and pure it might serve as a looking-glass.
Fortunately for visitors, most of the objects of interest are concentrated in one spot—a large square some ten minutes' walk from our hotel. The streets we passed through on our way thither were very quaint, the overhanging shops and cloistered pavements reminding us much of Chester. On the way we visited San Stefano di Cavalier, the church of the Knights of the Order of St. Stephen, and were much interested in the number of flags—Turkish trophies captured from the Moslem by the valiant Knights Crusaders. There were also some beautiful ceiling paintings of the battle of Lepanto, and other subjects.
On reaching the Piazza del Duomo, we found the four chief objects of interest we had come to seek. Forsyth pithily observes, "Pisa, while the capital of a republic, was celebrated for its profusion of marble, its patrician tower, and its grave magnificence. It can still boast some marble churches, a marble palace, and a marble bridge. Its towers, though no longer a mark of nobility, may be traced in the walls of modernized houses. Its gravity pervades every street, but its magnificence is now confined to one sacred corner. There stands the Cathedral, the Baptistery, the Leaning Tower, and the Campo Santo, all built of the same white marble, all varieties of the same architecture, all venerable with years, and fortunate both in their society and their solitude."
The Cathedral is indeed very fine; the columns, arches, and carvings are curiously beautiful. It was built by the Pisans after their great naval victory in 1063, and is, I think, the finest specimen now existing of the style called by the Italians the Gotico-Moresco. Baedeker says, "This remarkably perfect edifice is constructed entirely of white marble, with black and coloured ornamentation. The most magnificent part is the façade, which in the lower storey is adorned with columns and arches attached to the wall; in the upper parts with four open galleries, gradually diminishing in length: the choir is also imposing. The ancient bronze gates were replaced in 1602 by the present doors, with representations of scriptural subjects, executed by Mocchi, Tacca, Mora, and others from designs by Giovanni da Bologna." The interior is upborne by sixty-eight ancient Greek and Roman columns, captured by the Pisans in war. The nave, transept, and dome are most beautifully decorated with paintings, frescoes, and sculpture by Italy's greatest master, of whom Ariosto truly says—