This celebrated tower, a view of which is given in the cut below,
likewise called the Campanile, on account of its having been erected for
the purpose of containing bells, stands in a square close to the
cathedral of Pisa. It is built entirely of white marble, and is a
beautiful cylinder of eight stories, each adorned with a round of
columns, rising one above another. It inclines so far on one side from
the perpendicular, that dropping a plummet from the top, which is one
hundred and eighty-eight feet in hight, it falls sixteen feet from the
base. Much pains have been taken by connoisseurs to prove that this was
done purposely by the architect; but it is evident that the inclination
has proceeded from another cause, namely, from an accidental subsidence
of the foundation on that side. The pillars are there considerably sunk;
and this is also the case with the very threshold, which shows that the
position of the building is accidental, caused by the settling of the
ground on one side, and not, as some think, by the ambition of the
architect, endeavoring to show how far he could with safety deviate from
the perpendicular, and thus display a novel specimen of his art; for had
this been his design, he would have shortened the pilasters on that
side, so as to exhibit them entire, without the appearance of sinking.
[Illustration: THE LEANING TOWER AT PISA]
This tower, from its singular appearance and position, has attracted the
notice of all travelers passing near Pisa, who, of course, fail not to
visit it. We give the impressions of two of these: Professor Silliman,
who saw it in 1851; and Mr. Hillard, who was there at a still later
date. The former says, “This structure has excited so much surprise, and
been seen with such deep interest by thousands of travelers for more
than six hundred years, that it is almost universally known, and it is
not difficult for one who has not seen it to form a clear and distinct
conception of it. Still, on approaching the tower, you are strongly
impressed by its grandeur and beauty; and when you ascend it, you obtain
an almost overwhelming conception of its majesty; although it is
perfectly safe; and if you do not feel apprehension that it will fall,
you may not be able to keep that idea quite out of your mind. The hight
of the leaning tower is one hundred and seventy-eight feet, the
thickness of the wall ten feet, and the diameter is fifty feet at the
base. It is composed of eight stories, all adorned by columns and
arches. Its form is slightly conical. It is ascended by three hundred
and thirty very easy steps, very well lighted, and it is a pleasant
journey to the top. There are seven bells in this grand belfry; they
were rung while we were near, and the sound is very soft and musical,
especially of the great bell, which weighs twelve thousand pounds, and
is placed upon the side of the tower, opposite to that which overhangs.
It was this bell which was formerly used to give notice of public
executions. The leaning of the tower of Pisa was evidently caused by
unequal subsidence of the ground; and it is obvious that the architect,
as the work rose, before the tower was half up, perceived it, and he
endeavored to counteract it as far as possible by balancing his
materials. After a particular hight, the columns are higher on the
leaning side, and, of course, shorter on the other. The builder appeared
to be aiming to bring the upper part of the tower into a vertical
position, although he did not succeed. It is about thirteen or fourteen
feet beyond the vertical; but the center of gravity still falls within
the base; and as the blocks of stone, being now firmly united by cement,
can not slide upon each other, they, in fact, form one mass. The walls
are, moreover, fortified by iron bars, and it is not probable that
anything short of an earthquake can produce its downfall. I can not
think with some, that it requires strong nerves to ascend the leaning
tower of Pisa. We ascended with a perfect consciousness of security, and
it is certain that were it filled in every story by an armed host, it
would not quiver or vibrate. The view from the summit of the tower is
most splendid. The beautiful city is at your feet, and you are in the
midst of it. The Mediterranean is in the horizon, Leghorn is visible in
the distance, the Arno shows its windings, here and there, and a rich
plain in full cultivation reaches far inland to the lofty Apennines, in
the vicinity of Lucca. It is said, that, in clear weather, Corsica may
be discerned. This tower is one of the most beautiful objects in Italy,
and one would never be tired with looking at it or from it; so beautiful
is it, that its leaning becomes a mere incident, interesting indeed, but
the tower possesses commanding attractions independently of this
circumstance. We can not descend from it without remembering that here
Galileo made his decisive experiments upon the law of the descent of
falling bodies, and upon the vibration of the pendulum. His great name
is associated with the permanent glory of his country, and will be
honored to the end of time, while his persecutors are remembered only to
be despised and detested.”
Mr. Hillard, the other tourist to whom we have alluded, says, “On a
bright, sunny morning, I first saw the leaning tower of Pisa. This piece
of architectural eccentricity was, and I suppose is, one of the
common-places of geography, and is put into the same educational
state-room with the wall of China, the great tun of Heidelberg, and the
natural bridge of Virginia. I can not recall the time when its name was
not familiar to me; and now, here it was, bodily before me; no vision,
no delusion, but a very decided fact, with a most undeniable inclination
on one side; so much so, that a nervous person would not sleep soundly
in the house that stands under its lee, on a windy night. This singular
structure is simply a campanile, or bell-tower, appurtenant to the
cathedral, as is the general custom in Italy. It is not merely quaint,
but beautiful; that is, take away the quaintness, and the beauty will
remain. It is built of white marble, wonderfully fresh and pure, when we
remember that nearly seven centuries have swept over it. I will not
describe it, nor give its dimensions, for these may be found in every
guide-book, and nearly every book of travels; nor will I condense the
arguments which have been called forth by the question, whether the
inclination be accidental or designed. To one who has been on the spot,
and observed the spongy nature of the soil, as evidenced by the slight
subsidence of the cathedral, there is really no room for argument or
doubt. The ascent is very easy and gradual. The summit is secured by
double rails, and the inclination is less perceptible when on the top
than when it is observed from the ground. There is no peculiar sense of
danger to interfere with the full enjoyment of the beauty of the view,
which embraces mountain and plain, land and sea; a combination at once
varied, extensive and picturesque. This was my first sight of the
Mediterranean, whose blue waters blended in the distant horizon with the
blue of the sky. To the eye, it was but common water reflecting the
universal sky; but a man must be very insensible, not to recognize
peculiar elements in his first view of that many-nationed sea, upon
whose shores so much of the poetry and history of the world has grown.”