The Catholic World, Vol. 20, October 1874‐March 1875Various
Religion
The Catholic World, Vol. 20, October 1874‐March 1875
Various
Catholic Church -- Periodicals
The cloister breathes the very spirit of peace. The white‐marble Doric
columns gleam in the sunshine, and cut the tessellated pavement with the
black shadows of their shafts, carrying them up the white wall with the
arches of intense light between. I can imagine the monks learning to know
the exact hour of the day by the fall of those shadows without needing to
consult the old clock, also with a glaring white face, which is just below
the little belfry with its two bells, one large, one small, that the deep‐
toned toll of one or the sharp, quick tinkle of the other might denote the
various offices and duties to which they summoned the inmates. The
cloister court is laid out with formal box‐hedges enclosing little plots
of garden ground, and one garden more precious than the others,
_Gottesacker_,(46) where are sown the mortal remains of the departed
brethren, awaiting in the midst of their survivors and successors the day‐
dawn of immortality. There is an iron cross in the centre on a twisted
white‐marble pilaster. And the oblong square of this interesting cemetery
is surrounded by a white‐marble balustrade, with skulls carved at
intervals. In the centre of the court is a marble well of singularly
graceful proportions. Around it is a pavement of bricks symmetrically
arranged, but now with the blades of grass and tiny weeds intruding their
innocent familiarity where they have no right. Statues of saints, vases
and balls alternating, run along the entablature of the cloister. We
longed for a vision of the old, white‐robed inhabitants of this white
marble dwelling; and for once I felt not the lack of color, but, on the
contrary, perceived a harmony in the white and subdued gray tints,
relieved only by the blue sky and green grass. But when we looked out from
the _loggia_ on the wide view beneath us, it was not color that was
wanting. There lay Naples, with its motley buildings, backed by purple
Vesuvius, and the rose‐colored cliffs of Sorrento beyond. Nature had used
all the pigments of her pallet when she painted that lovely scene.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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