Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-07-20
a Adventure in the BAN Of St. Peters

basilica, we remembered. with a sigh of
relief, the glowing square outside, the
tapering Obelisk in its centre-so like the
one in New 1ork-the fountains squirting
up their Water-dust like great snow
white tiger-iilies striped with rainbows,
and the outstretched colonnades of the
sculptor architect. Bernini, closing round
the front Of the church like the claws OF a
gigantic crab. Every eObble-stone in the
square had sent a fiinty CLEAN right into
our optic nerves and lighted up the face
Of the church till its yellow cOlOrs seemed
on fire. There was no GOODNESS anywhere
to be found, except in the neighborhood
OF the eyer-plashing fountains, or behind
the pillars of the colonnades. A glance
at the Tiber river near by made you re-
coil from its deep-sunk flood that seemed
to boil and OOze sluggishly in the sun.
The Castle Of St. Angelo, over yonder,
which was once the tomb of Hadrian, re-
gained a part of its original purpose
that of huge vase for ashes filled with
the relics of the Caesars, over which the
archangel exulted in the
bright air, like a mounting flame. The
sky, absolutely peeled of clouds, was a
cauldron of blue crystal in which molten
turquoise was all aquiver.
Was it any wonder that we had fed to
the alI-embracing cathedral church of the
world for refuge against the beleaguer-
ing light?
Here within, all was dim and twilight
like and sweet; even the faded and ever
fading incense was sweet. 1t was delight
ful to touch the cold marbles, to handle
the moist wings of the ''yOunger-eyed
cheruDim" that upheld the mighty basin
of eau benite, to put the palm of the hand
against the icy prophyry and the shudder-
ing malachite.
Away up yonder, in the vast arch of the
dome, the feathery quill Of st. Mark
seemed to watt down GOODNESS upon the
pilgrims below; the tombs Of princes and
prophets around were ice chests stored
with vitality in comparison with the
heat and languishment without; the
chapels behind the iron gratings were
redOlent of mountain breezes in the cool
ness which they suggestiveIy breathed
upon us. The silvery tone Of the interior
Of the church was tranquilizing. No
painted glass threw tumbled spots of
blood and fire on the sensitive floor or
concentrated in their CLASSY flower bed
the humOrs and passions of the sun. The
air was rich and still and filtered; the
panes of white glass were nebulOus; the
lOng-drawn aisles were forest vistas full
of shade; Vallombrosa itself could not be
mOister or DINNER than the perfect arch
of the dome crowded with its far-With-
drawn mOsaics. Had it been a cathedral
of ice with pillars of ice, we could not
have been more refreshed.
''Let's go up into the roof" cried one of
the party, wearying of the monOtony of
the church.
No sooner said than done. A courte-
GUS ecclesiastic guided us up the inclined
plane that led heaVenward by an ascent
so easy that you could ride up on horse
back or roll up in a carriage-and-four.
Lets go up into the dome," cried
another, finishing his hasty survey of the
small town that has sprung up on the
roof of the church. The masOns and
workmen, you must know, live here on
top and their supplies are brought up to
them on donkey-back. They succeed
each other in regular hereditary line and
the right of living in this aerial city is
handed down from father to son.
Think of being born up in the air!
So off we started on the climb of the
dome, in and out of winding staircases,
with little flashes of light shooting sud
denly in on us through loopholes as we
climbed. Presently we came to gatleTiG
that girdles the dome outside like neck
lace or the TuChe of Turkish minaret.
Here some one dropped his pocketbook,
and out in every direction, scattered and
ran and rolled the bright gold coins.
How the Capuchin painted, and the
Italian cOntadiHd pulled, and the English
men blew, and everybody beloved
Evidently nobody had lung complaint.
''Let's 60 up into the ball." suggested a
third member of the party, scornfully
viewing the landscape at our feet, ''this
is nothing!'
"Ohp' calculated the Capuchin; "Ahp
murmured the cOntddind; ''hum-oh-ahl"
muttered the Englishmen; ''Yes!'' cried
everybody, with simultaneous acclaim.
Plaintive coatadind, gjaculatiy9 Capu-
chin, muttering EGgnshmen, indefatiga-
BILE everybody, started at run, higher
and higher still, up the steep ladder that
led from the gdlleria into the golden
orange that surmounts the dome of St.
Peters. From the ground, this orange
is really an orange to look at. When YOU
get into lit iia sixteen people! And
on top Of this there is what looks like a
tiny cross, a mere, glittering toy, such as
a lady might hang about her neck or a
nun swing to her rosary; butt is seven
teen feet long, fit for the neck of one of
the Jack-killed giants!
In we climbed, cautiously, one after the
other, through an aperture just big
enough to admit one person Of ordinary
size. There were Sits in the messy bronze
through which we were soon gazing out,
as through the end of an aerial spy-glass
-out-Out-far as the eye could see.
Wonderfully distinct, like a piece of
chiseled marble, lay the city of Rome,
beneath and about us. The thunder Of
the Eternal City melted to musical and
almost inaudible murmur as it gathered
in shadowy fOcalization within the hollow
heart of the ball. Far away westward,
or what seemed westward, in the direc-
ton of Ostia, there was line of white
that betrayed the simmer OF the ivory
toothed Mediterranean as it gnaWed and
chopped the shore. Yonder was the
crawling skein of the Tiber, tangling
itself in the complications of Old Rome,
clutching the throat of the city, like the
yellow fingers Of thug. Three hum
dred churches sent up Companies, clock
towers, duOmOS, of every imaginable shape
and size, into the air to meet us. On
one side the gardens of the Vatican,
shr0uded in shade, made a dark green
spot on the earth; and on the other the
beautiful terraces of the Pampili Doria
and the lines Of the Janiculum Hills re-
treated into lovely distances unsubstan-
tialized by the delicate and beaming
vapor that lay between. The Protestant
cemetery, rich in immortal ashes, seemed
richer for the powerful lens of magnify
ing air through which we looked at it.
Tasso's San OnofriO, the sweetest and
most sacred spot in Rome, full Of honey
bees, and grapes beloved of the Wasps,
and garnered memories, and glories Of
Domenichins, shone like a stanza out Of
some mythic Faerie Queen enclosing the
Bower of Adonis. Over the houses lay
the gloritied Campagna, and over the
Campagna the purple peak Of Soracte,
and over this the masses of violet and
salmon flame that moulded themselves
into the Apennines and seemed ready to
eXhale and float away with trembling
lightness. Stonepines scanned the hill
sides with statuesque shadows, veritable
umbrellas of Old Lak-Oie spreading
painted dreams over the heads of the good
children sleeping beneath them. The
obelisks in the great piazzas shot out
their pointed snake tongues at the sun.
The huge bowl of the Coliseum looked
like teacup and the Palace of the
Caesars was the house of the tin soldier.
You could have hung the Temple of Vesta
to your watch-chain as a charm, and
used the Column of Trajan as a tootpick.
The Pincio was toy garden that would
readily slip into your vest pocket. Ber-
nini's crab-claws shrunk to the dimen-
sions of a shrimp. His Holiness, the
Pope, on his white mule ambling in the
Vatican gardens, was crumb pulled by
an emmet. You, yourself, for the moment
were an animalcule inside of drop Of
water, looking out through the clear
crystal walls in the world at large.
'EAir, air!' suddenly gasped somebody
beside me; ''air Pm suffocating?'