The Catholic World, Vol. 20, October 1874‐March 1875Various
Religion
The Catholic World, Vol. 20, October 1874‐March 1875
Various
Catholic Church -- Periodicals
If this ascent was difficult, it must be confessed one felt repaid for the
trouble of making it by the view from the terrace. Here the visitor
wandered along the narrow, gloomy streets through the old, historic city,
as well as its more elegant quarters, towards that side of the bay where
Vesuvius was to be seen in its most striking aspect, and from the summit
of the volcano followed its descent to the vast, smiling plain, more
charming even in that direction than that to the sea by Ottagno, Stabia,
and Castellamare. On every side the eye reposed on the verdant orange‐
trees growing in numberless gardens. Such was the outer world that
encircled my sister’s cloistered home. Such was the view from every window
on this side of the convent. On the other there was a more quiet prospect,
perhaps even better suited to contemplation—that of the cloister, with its
broad arcades of fine architecture, which surrounded an enclosure planted
with lemon‐trees, in the centre of which stood a massive antique fountain
of marble. The pines of Capo di Monte stood out against the clear sky,
further off were the heights of Sant’ Elmo, and along the horizon
stretched the majestic line of mountains which form the background of the
picture.
When able to tear my eyes from this magnificent prospect, lit up by all
the fires of the setting sun, I suddenly found myself in the somewhat
gloomy vestibule of the monastery, whence I was conducted to a large
parlor divided by a grate, behind which fell a long, black curtain. Here I
was left alone, with the assurance I should soon see my sister. I felt an
emotion I had not anticipated, and for the first time it seemed as if the
most horrible separation had taken place between us. The admiration I had
just experienced, and my joy at the prospect of seeing her again, both
vanished. My heart swelled with painful emotion, and it was with more
terror than devotion I looked up at a large crucifix—the only ornament on
the bare wall in front of the _grille_. As to the grate itself, it filled
me with horror, and I did not dare look at it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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