If you come into the Piazza, as most travellers do, from the Lung’ Arno, as you turn into the Via S. Maria or out of the Borgo into the beautiful Piazza dei Cavalieri, gradually as you pass on your way life hesitates and at last deserts you.  In the Via S. Maria, for instance, that winds like a stream from the Duomo towards Arno, at first all is gay with the memory and noise of the river, the dance of the sun and the wind.  Then you pass a church; some shadow seems to glide across the way, and it is almost in dismay you glance up at the silent palaces, the colour of pearl, barred and empty; and then looking down see the great paved way where your footsteps make an echo; while there amid the great slabs of granite the grass is peeping.  It is generally out of such a shadowy street as this that one comes into the dazzling Piazza del Duomo.  But indeed, all Pisa is like that.  You pass from church to church, from one deserted Piazza to another, and everywhere you disturb some shadow, some silence is broken, some secret seems to be hid.  The presence of those marvellous abandoned things in the far corner of the city is felt in every byway, in every alley, in every forgotten court.  “Amid the desolation of a city” this splendour is immortal, this glory is not dead.

II

“Varie sono le opinioni degli Scrittori circa l’edificazione di Pisa,” says Tronci in his Annali Pisani, published at Livorno in the seventeenth century.  “Various are the opinions of writers as to the building of Pisa, but all agree that it was founded by the Greeks.  Cato in his Fragment, and Dionysius Halicarnassus in the first book of his History, affirm that the founders were the Pisi Alfei Pelasgi, who had for their captain the King Pelops, as Pliny says in his Natural History (lib. 5), and Solinus too, as though it were indubitable:  who does not know that Pisa was from Pelops?” Certainly Pisa is very old, and whether or no King Pelops, as Pliny thought, founded the city, the Romans thought her as old as Troy.  In 225 B.C. she was an Etruscan city, and the friend of Rome; in Strabo’s day she was but two miles from the sea; Caesar’s time she became a Roman military station; while in 4 A.D. we read that the disturbances at the elections were so serious that she was left without magistrates.  That fact in itself seems to bring the city before our eyes:  it is so strangely characteristic of her later history.

[Illustration:  PISA

Alinari]

But in spite of her enormous antiquity, there are very few left of her Etruscan and Roman days, the remains of some Roman Thermae, Bagni di Nerone near the Porta Lucca being, indeed, all that we may claim, save the urns and sarcophagi scattered in the Campo Santo, from the great days of Rome.  The glory of Pisa is the end of the Middle Age and the early dawn of the Renaissance.  There, amid all the hurly-burly