St. Peter's Dome

When we last left our awed travelers, they were standing next to Bernini's bronze canopy gazing up at the distant dome, tallest in the world, whose construction so flustered the architects of its day.  Bramante, the original architect, got things underway and his efforts earned him a spot in Raphael's School of Athens; Michelangelo, the same Renaissance man who we've spent a decent amount of time raving about, turned out to be one heck of an architect and foreman; he got the drum completed, but the dome would not be finished until 1590, a quarter century after his long an prolific life had ended.

The dome is lined with eight foot tall letters, "You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church" (in Latin, of course).  The curve of the dome extends and brings the eye centered on the lantern, held on high as if centered on the throne room of heaven itself.  The dome is the tallest in the world, and we were about to climb it.

It was almost a shame to leave the beautiful scene down on floor level.  The artwork, the history; I do not know how anyone would ever tire of this magnificent space.  We made our way to the steps and started our long climb.  Most of the way was quite enclosed, a fear of tight spaces would more likely overwhelm a person than a fear of heights.

That is, of course, until the first main opening right above the drum of the dome, those massive letters, TU ES PETRA..., right below your feet.  That canopy, three stories tall, felt a lot closer to the floor than to us.  I talked before about how St. Peter's plays with your sense of perception due to its large scale, that loss of scale is magnified great five stories in the air. The dome's interior is filled with mosaics of the apostles, it's "ribs" creating 16 distinct divisions and we enjoyed this close up view greatly.

We traversed on, the stairway now taking us inside the gap of the dome's inner and outer shell.  This gap was small enough that Arthur's shoulders were simultaneously touching the inner shell's outer surface and the outer shell's inner surface, but Arthur was undeterred.  Fortunately, the architects of the dome, showing a foresight beyond that of the builders of Giotto's tower, put in two parallel stairways, one for going up, one for going down, so Arthur didn't have to negotiate a crossing.

At last, the stairway ended, and we found ourselves on top of the wondrous dome, looking out over the eternal city.  It was breathtaking, and not just because of the height.  Here we stood, the legacy of genius and the labor of thousands beneath us, a city before us whose expansive history encompasses the founding and fall of the civilization from which the Western society in which we live and go about our lives began.  To look across that horizon spatially is to look back across eons, and the wonder never abates.

After a while, we headed back down, the morning's activity already the fulfillment of all we might hope for the experience.  The "down" stairs takes you to the doorway to the basilica's roof, so we walked along the top and got some great views of the dome.  We walked towards the facade and stood looked out over Bernini's columns, the arms of the church drawing the faithful inward.  What an incredible experience.

As amazing as the dome was, Rome is filled with much much more.  And so it was with awe and stupefaction that we continued on with the days activities.  Omnia Vincit Amour.