CHAPTER XVI

PISA AND FLORENCE

UR first view of the Leaning Tower at Pisa, on the banks of the Arno, was a complete surprise, for we had not in our most imaginative moods conceived anything so airy and fragile as it seems to be, when viewed from a distance. As one approaches, however, the structure changes from a castle of carved ivory to one of marble, and, despite the fact that it leans to one side. thirteen feet out of the perpendicular, it looks substantial enough to treble the 722 years of its existence. Many theories have been advanced as to the cause of this peculiarity. Now, it is generally believed that one side sunk during the two centuries which elapsed between the laying of its foundation and its completion. It is said that the upper stories, of the eight which compose it, were added in a curved line in order to balance the whole. This Campanile,* the magnificent cathedral, Campo Santot and Baptistery form a remarkable group on the outskirts of the city.

The Baptistery contains the most famous pulpit in the world, the work of Niccolò Pisano. It is of marble exquisitely carved, and upheld by columns which rest on the backs of lions.

Pisa, now six miles from the sea, was once one of the most important ports in Italy, but, for centuries, the rain falling upon the barren hill slopes and mixing with the clay has formed a fluid paste that has silted up the harbor. This disaster might have been averted, if the Pisans had not lost strength through protracted struggles with rival cities. At present, it is a quiet town with fine. quays on both banks of the river, and boasts a University men

* Bell tower.

†Burial ground.

Nicholas of Pisa, an artist of the 13th century.

tioned as early as the 12th century, where Galileo, the celebrated philosopher and astronomer, was educated and afterward taught.

With Galileo "the science of motion began to exist." He did not invent the telescope, but the report of its invention by the Greek scholar, Demiscianus, set him to work to imitate it; the result, after several minor attempts, was an instrument of thirtytwo magnifying power which was used all over Europe. Galileo made his first experiments in gravitation at the top of the Leaning Tower and there proved to the students of the university that a heavy body does not always fall with a velocity in proportion to its weight. After living seventy years in prosperity and receiving the highest honors, he incurred the displeasure of the Church, and as a result retired from public life. He died at Florence in 1642. Our route from Pisa skirted the smiling valley of the Arno rich with farms and gardens, and led us to beautiful Florence, the Queen of Tuscany. Her fair head is crowned by a diadem of glorious workmanship, set with priceless gems of poetry and art, and the secrets of a line of men whose patronage could raise the humblest to affluence and power are locked within her breast.

It was a thrilling moment when we first stood on the Piazza della Signoria,* a splendid square in the heart of the city. Upon one side is the Palazzo Vecchio, the old palace which was the seat of government, and, subsequently, the residence of the Medici.

Close by, is the Uffizi, once a city hall, now containing one of the most celebrated art galleries in the world. It forms three sides of a rectangle and perticoes adorned with statues of great Tuscans face the central court. At the end overlooking the river, the upper stories rest upon arches through which an enchanting vista of the mountains is obtained.

Across one end of the Uffizi, facing the piazza is an open vaulted hall called the Loggia dei Lanzi since the time of the Grand Duke Cosimo I., who posted his German lancers here. The aristocracy sat in this loggia during state ceremonies and the people assembled in the square. It is now a sculpture gallery and contains several noted groups, among them the "Perseus with the

*The square of the government.

head of Medusa," by Benvenuto Cellini, who was not only a sculptor, but the greatest goldsmith that has ever lived.

The Piazza della Signoria has always been the forum of Florence, the meeting-place of the people, where Aristocracy hobnobbed with Genius and Art walked arm in arm with Literature. Its pavement has echoed to the tread of the immortal Dante, whose name is written across the pages of Italy's history, in letters of fire. Here, in the early evening, he loved to greet his friend Giotto, once a shepherd lad, who by the force of his talents became one of the greatest architects and painters of his time. It was here that Michael Angelo, Leonardo da Vinci and their friends chatted over the latest news from Rome, and, here, Savonarola, the Dominican monk, was burned at the stake.

Girolamo Savonarola, born at Ferrara in 1452, accepted a mission to preach in the Convent of San Marco in Florence, when the power of Lorenzo de' Medici, surnamed the Magnificent, was at its zenith. This monk of simple and devout habits was horrified at the wanton luxury, immorality and spiritual torpor of the Florentines, whom at that time he tried in vain to convert. Nine years later he preached his first sermon in the cathedral, which, vast as it was, often failed to accommodate the numbers who flocked to hear his prophetic words. One of his most striking prophecies related to the death of Lorenzo, who, when dying, sent for the great preacher to absolve him from his sins. Savonarola consented to do this, if Lorenzo would liberate Florence from the power of the Medici; upon his refusal, the priest left his bedside, and the ruler died unshriven.

Savonarola's influence became so great that after a revolution, when the city was left without a government, he became the lawgiver. A new republic was established; all Florence was purified for the nonce by the influence of this ruler without a title. A garden of pleasure was changed to a monastery. The people, awakened by the fiery denunciations of the preacher, ceased their revels, burned their fine garments, their ornaments, and entered upon a life of the strictest piety and abstinence. Nevertheless, like all sudden reforms, this was only on the surface, for such severe discipline soon became irksome. The Pope became jealous of

Savonarola and, terrified by the effect of his sermons on the people, began to plot against him. The prophet was invited to Rome, and the rank of cardinal was offered him. He refused it with scorn and, thereafter, paid no heed to the summons of the Pope. As a result of his independence, he was excommunicated in 1497, but refused to accept the decree, maintaining that Alexander was not a true pope, and maintaining that his mission was a divine one. But the shadow of a tragic fate was already impending. In April, 1498, Savonarola and two of his followers were arrested, tried by malicious judges, and imprisoned for forty days, the great preacher in a cell in the lofty tower of the Palazzo Vecchio. The prisoners were subjected to the most awful tortures and though, while in agony, Savonarola promised to recant, as soon as he was unbound, calling upon God to forgive him for his weakness, he would repeat his former statements. Upon the morning of May 23rd, 1498, the three monks were hung from a cross erected on the piazza; the torch was applied to the fagots beneath, and the martyrs were consumed in the flames. It was a black day for Florence, the blot upon whose escutcheon can never be effaced.

In Savonarola's cell at the monastery of San Marco, we saw the vestments he had worn, the rosary he had carried, while from the wall looked down the stern, splendid face, as painted by Fra Bartolommeo.*

We visited the Palazzo Vecchio whence Savonarola was taken to his death. Crossing a spacious court around which were the armorial bearings of different factions that have ruled Florence, we mounted the grand staircase and entered the Hall of the Five Hundred, where the Great Council and Upper Council of the city sat, in turn. At one end are statues of the Medici; at the other, as if by the irony of fate, a colossal figure of Savonarola.

The Duomo, as the cathedral of Florence is usually called, was begun in 1294, and finished, aside from the façade, in 1462. It is of glistening white marble, banded with verde antico.† The beautiful bell tower, designed by Giotto, which stands beside it, is so lofty that it might well be the ladder of Jacob's dream. Ruskin

* A monk at San Marco, 1469-1517.

† Antique green marble.