THE

PISA AND ITS FOUR FABRICS.

HERE is no Tuscan city of which we hear so much in childhood as Pisa, and this because of the wonderful Leaning Tower which almost every child loves to hear described and craves to see. It was, therefore, quite natural, when we found ourselves in the north-west corner of Pisa, among the wonders which the Pisans call "the Four Fabrics," by way of eminence,-the Duomo, the Baptistery, the Leaning Tower, and the Campo Santo-that our eyes should seek first the Leaning Tower. There it stood, leaning against the soft, beautiful sky, apparently ready to topple over, yet older than every dynasty in Europe, save the august dynasty of Rome; and so like the pictures we had studied in our early days that we greeted it as an old and dear friend. Some of our party climbed to the top, and were rewarded with a good view of Lucca, fifteen miles off, and several villages, chateaux, and gardens, on the plain which separates the Lucchese from their ancient enemies, the Pisans.

Almost every town in Italy has its Campo Santo, or God's Acre, as the Christians of other lands style their cemeteries, or resting places for their dead. The Campo Santo of Pisa is unusually fine. The ground is sacred earth brought in ship-loads from Mount Calvary. It is an immense square surrounded by cloistered halls or colonnades. Two of the enclosing walls are the ancient city walls.

The walls are covered with wonderful frescoes which portray with fearful realism the Triumphs of Death. The corridors have many curious monuments and some sculptures by the great masters. Popes, emperors, artists, are commemorated. The sweet singer

Catalani sleeps her last sleep in the Holy Field of Pisa. Within the colonnades is an immense courtyard laid out in lawns and flower-beds. But we could find nothing holier in this ancient graveyard than the earth brought hither, so many ages ago, in Pisan galleys, and considering that it may have once been pressed by the Blessed Feet of our Saviour, we reverently gathered a small portion and kissed it, with a Requiem æternam for those who sleep their last sleep in so holy a bed.

The four wonders of Pisa are entirely outside the city, or

Wandering among them,

The view is probably much

rather outside its business portions. one sees nothing of modern Pisa. the same as the keen eyes of Gallileo gazed on; one can easily imagine the great philosopher in scientific contemplation here. A pathway from the, Duomo to the cemetery ends in an iron gate by which the inner square is reached. Hundreds of tombs, statues, and sarcophagi, may be seen; many are of extraordinary interest. Gioth is well represented in the Campo Santo. Many travellers content themselves with looking through the bars of the iron gate at the wonders of the Campo Santo. But, indeed, this Holy Field and its glorious cloisters are well worth a special visit.

We wandered about the fragrant meadow from which rise the Four Fabrics, a group of unique beauty and interest; gazing now at the Campanile, now at the Cathedral, now at the Baptistery, and finally crossing the smooth turf to the Campo Santo. An old woman sat on the steps of the Duomo, saying her beads; a few little children played in the field; otherwise the place was as solitary as the Thebaid. Within the Duomo hung the lamps from whose rhythmical swaying the philosopher took the idea of the pendulum. High up in the roof of a side-chapel hung a cardinal's hat, which told us the see was vacant. In the Cathedral of Lucca, an iron hook hangs from the nave, on which flax is burned before the prelate whenever he pontificates, that he may be reminded how transitory is all earthly dignity. Even the humble St. Alfonso acknowledged that he felt movements of selfcomplacency when he was receiving incense at High Mass. The Lucca prelate is reminded, at every celebration, of the true nature of place and pre-eminence here below, and should he be attacked by a temptation that did not spare a saint who so thoroughly despised mere earthly grandeur, the flames of the grass of the field will remind him that, "so passes the glory of this world."

In the grand Cathedrals of Europe one frequently hears the canons chanting the Divine Office in some private chapel, in grave, sonorous unison. The façade of the Pisa Cathedral is divine. The Baptistery near it is glorious. We feared we should have to leave without hearing the wonderful echo ; but, as we were about to move, several ecclesiastics entered and sang the songs of Siou. A unique concert was the result, and we felt that only the music of heaven could surpass the divine melodies, harmonies, echoes and cadences of the Pisan Baptistery on that bright evening.

The environs of Pisa are pleasing but not picturesque. The walls and bridges are interesting, and the sweep of the Arno by the circular quays, a lovely sight. The city has a very old Duomo and many beautiful churches. The people seem active and healthy. Here and there on low steps, and sometimes by the parapets of bridges, may be seen groups of sleeping Tuscans—a fine climate is responsible for some laziness. Pisa is about fifty miles from Florence, and but a smart walk from Lucca. It has about 50,000 inhabitants. Its history is, to a great extent, the history of its wars with the Lucchese What extraordinary people those were who built the great churches of Europe! They dreamt not of a perishable home who thus could build."

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As to their cost, it can scarcely be approximated, so much of the work was done by the great artists and architects as a labour of love. Priests and people put their best into God's temples, and were honored by His acceptance of their most precious gifts. Though they are ablaze with the richest materials known to man, there was no church debt. These were truly Ages of Faith, ignorantly or foolishly called Dark Ages.

With all our progress, and all the riches at the command of the modern builders, not one of these superb edifices could even be duplicated to-day. The dyes that produced some of their coloring are unknown. The chisel is all but powerless in the hand of the modern artist who would reproduce these marvels-by machinery. What godlike beings the christian artists of the dark ages must have been! For, an artist must produce the ideal beauty in his own soul before he can transfer it in glowing colors to the canvas. Before the chisel of the sculptor can draw beauty from the senseless block, he must create it within himself.

These were the ages when the best of everything was consecrated to the Almighty Giver-the genius of the artist, the labor of the poor, the gold, silver, and jewels of the rich. Money could never have reared aloft these superb edifices, money cannot duplicate them. Every one of them seems to be instinct with life, with a living soul; to throb with a genuine human heart; to be as a paradise of pleasure to Him whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain. Some philosophers said it was a sign of decadence when churches and public buildings are mean structures, and private dwellings grand. Such decadence does not certainly appear in Italy.

To me it is a proof of the truth of our holy Faith that such temples have been reared by human hands to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords; that human genius, inspired no doubt by heaven, planned and erected them, and that even Time, the great destroyer has scarcely touched them, save to add the venerable to the beautiful. These thoughts filled our mind when we looked our last upon the medieval wonders that rise from the green turf in the quietest corner of Pisa-the gorgeous Cathedral against the blue sky; the Leaning Tower, pointing towards Rome; the Campo Santo which hides the dust of the great and commemorate their glory in works of immortal art.

Pisa has many beautiful churches, convents, palaces, and, at least, eight good hotels. It has studios where one may buy models of the Four Fabrics. In a quiet unfrequented street what should loom up before us-not very high--but the "Chiesa Evangelica Metodista Italiana?" But there was no sign of a congregation; the sharp-witted Italians have often told non-Catholic missioners to agree among themselves before they preach to others. Even their own country people who stroll about the arcaded streets do not patronize the new Chiesa, though they may contribute to the support of ministers who have not, like the Apostles, the gift of tongues, and who disgust the Tuscans by their slaughter of the beautiful language which Tuscans boast, as spoken in its perfection in Tuscany.

M. A. C.

CLAVIS ACROSTICA.

A KEY TO "DUBLIN ACROSTICS."

III.

EFORE proposing some new Acrostics, we may give the solutions of those that have been already set before our readers. Amongst those who have tried to solve them for themselves, the only competitors who deserve to be mentioned with honour are J. M., J. W. A., and C. T. W. These may be said to have gained full merit, as far as their efforts reached; for, where they have failed to hit on the exact solution intended by the authors of the acrostics, the acrostics themselves seem to be faulty.

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The subject of the first acrostic is "Blue Book." The uprights" or "lights," whose initials form blue and whose finals form book, are" barb," "limbo," "Udolpho," and "elk." J. M. gave "Ugolino" as the third light; but of course "The Mysteries of Udolpho" was meant here as the forerunner of "Lady Audley's Secret."

The answer to the second acrostic is "Solo," and the lights are stall and Oswego. Mr. Reeves evidently referred to the stalls in the pit of a theatre; but J. M. and C. T. W. may be excused for finding his allusion too obscure. Solvers of these Dublin Acrostics are supposed to be familiar with history, geography, literature, and several other things; but a great many worthy people would not be helped by that second light, with its inverted commas showing that it is quoted from some poem- namely, from Goldsmith's "Traveller," line 411:

"Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around." The other line of the couplet shows that "Niagara" was not pronounced then as it is nowadays.

Those who refer back to our March Number, page 118, will perceive that solo in its parts and in its entirety fulfils the terms of Mr. Reeves' ingenious lines. I have "stall" in his own handwriting as the first light.

The third of the "Dublin Acrostics" has been solved only by C. T. W., who however gives "Ariadne" for the second light, which, according to Mr. Reeves, is [Major] André. How many ingenious puns the Lord Justice links with car and pet and carpet (“carpet knight," "to bring on the carpet," etc.), and then with the uprights, carp, André, and ricochet.