is little known. In a little church
in Palermo, in which the humble priest Antonio Del Duca officiated, he
discovered under the wall-plaster a beautiful fresco or mosaic of the
Seven Archangels, with their names and attributes. Day after day he
looked at the fair figures till they took possession of his mind and
heart and soul, and inspired him with the apparently hopeless desire to
erect a church in Rome in their honour. To Rome he came, persuaded of
his righteous mission, to fail of course, after seven years of
indefatigable effort. Back to Palermo then, to the contemplation of his
beloved angels. And again they seemed to drive him to Rome. Scarcely had
he returned when in a dream he seemed to see his ideal church among the
ruins of the Baths of Diocletian, which had been built, as tradition
said, by thousands of condemned Christians. To dream was to wake with
new enthusiasm, to wake was to act. In an hour, in the early dawn, he
was in the great hall which is now the Church of Santa Maria degli
Angeli, 'Saint Mary of the Angels.'

But it was long before his purpose was finally accomplished. Thirty
years of his life he spent in unremitting labour for his purpose, and an
accident at last determined his success. He had brought a nephew with
him from Sicily, a certain Giacomo Del Duca, a sculptor, who was
employed by Michelangelo to carve the great mask over the Porta Pia.
Pope Pius the Fourth, for whom the gate was named, praised the stone
face to Michelangelo, who told him who had made it. The name recalled
the sculptor's uncle and his mad project, which appealed to
Michelangelo's love of the gigantic. Even the coincidence of appellation
pleased the Pope, for he himself had been christened Angelo, and his
great architect and sculptor bore an archangel's name. So the work was
done in short time, the great church was consecrated, and one of the
noblest of Roman buildings was saved from ruin by the poor
Sicilian,--and there, in 1896, the heir to the throne of Italy was
married with great magnificence, that particular church being chosen
because, as a historical monument, it is regarded as the property of the
Italian State, and is therefore not under the immediate management of
the Vatican. Probably not one in a thousand of the splendid throng that
filled the church had heard the name of Antonio Del Duca, who lies
buried before the high altar without a line to tell of all he did. So
lies Bernini, somewhere in Santa Maria Ma