Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - XXI. The Miracle of Sant’Antonio
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cipollino, alabastro, all now forming the
pavement of the big loggia, the chapel and some of
the terraces. A broken cup of agate of exquisite
shape, several broken and unbroken Greek vases,
innumerable fragments of early Roman sculpture,
including, according to Mastro Nicola, la gamba
di Timberio, dozens of Greek and Roman
inscriptions came to light as we were digging. While
we were planting the cypresses bordering the
little lane to the chapel, we came upon a tomb
with a skeleton of a man, he had a Greek coin in
his mouth, the bones are still there where we
found them, the skull is lying on my
writing-table.
The huge arcades of the big loggia rose rapidly
out of the earth, one by one the hundred white
columns of the pergola stood out against the sky.
What had once been Mastro Vincenzo’s house and
his carpenter workshop was gradually
transformed and enlarged into what was to become my
future home. How it was done I have never
been able to understand nor has anybody else
who knows the history of the San Michele of
to-day. I knew absolutely nothing about
architecture nor did any of my fellow-workers, nobody
who could read or write ever had anything to do
with the work, no architect was ever consulted,
no proper drawing or plan was ever made, no
exact measurements were ever taken. It was all
done all’ occhio as Mastro Nicola called it.
Often of an evening when the others had gone
away I used to sit alone on the broken parapet
outside the little chapel where my sphinx was to
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