1848. Such then was the interior of the church, spiritual in its overall effect, and ingenious in its details. The church, aware of its neglected beauty, began to say something in praise of itself. “My interior,” she began, “although not of note in any art history book is actually a very fine example of early Baroque workmanship.
1849. “No famous sculptor or architect is known to have a hand in its construction, but we were fortunate that the standards of the time were so high that modest structures like myself benefited by the tenor of the times.” I could see that what the church was saying was obviously an apology for the dreadful condition of her exterior. Sensing my concern about the exterior by my silence, she continued.
1850. “I must admit,” she said, “that the wonderful condition of my interior is simply a result of my poverty. When we are forced to do repairs it is always only the exterior we spend our limited resources on, and the interior is never attended to. Years ago there was always enough money for my repairs but in this present age, unless a church has a resident Caravaggio painting, or some sculpture by Donatello, it is very hard going