In 1263 or 64, a Bohemian priest was on his way home from a pilgrimage to Rome. He stopped at Lake Bolsena, near the Umbrian town of Orvieto, to celebrate a holy mass, and was astounded to see so much blood drip out of the communion wafers that it soaked through the cloth below. Pope Urban IV had the cloth carried to Orvieto and, to commemorate the miracle, he established the sacred holiday of Corpus Domini.
At the time, the cathedral of Orvieto was an old dilapidated building, certainly unworthy of housing such an important relic. It took the Popes sixty years to convince the townspeople to sponsor the construction of a new one.
Not until 1290 was the cornerstone laid, but soon the old basilica began to acquire a whole new gothic appearance, which blended Byzantine and northern elements and softened them into the so-called Italian Gothic style, of which the cathedral of Orvieto is a prime example. Still, as so often happens in Italy, no one is entirely certain who the author was. The prevailing opinion is that it was a rather obscure monk named Fra' Bevignate da Perugia, but many scholars think he was merely executing plans drawn up much earlier by the great Florentine architect Arnolfo di Cambio.
Perhaps it is irrelevant to try to link one name to this magnificent sanctuary, which took well over two centuries to reach its greatest splendor.
Visitors to Orvieto stroll down narrow medieval alleyways and suddenly find themselves face to face with this astounding façade, which soars seven stories into the sky. Begun by Lorenzo Maitani in the year 1300, it took more than 100 years to complete.
It might be hard to imagine that behind the incredibly ornate façade of the church lurks this simple oblong structure. No one knows who designed it, but the horizontal stripes of black and white marble, the bifore windows and the external niches all suggest that the Florentine architect Arnolfo di Cambio drew up the original plans.
The delicately carved rose window of the façade is surrounded by framed marble busts and life-sized sculpted figures in gothic niches.
Among the most important examples of early 14th-century Italian sculpture, the panels surrounding the main doors serve a function that was quite common in those days, when only the privileged few knew how to read: they tell stories. These are from Genesis. In the lower left, God is seen creating Eve from Adam's rib; above, the snake presides as Eve hands Adam the apple of original sin.
Elaborate in its simplicity, the cathedral's majestic interior is divided into a main nave and two flanking ones. Notice the delicate capitals atop the columns.
Influenced greatly by Dante's "Divine Comedy," but also and perhaps more vividly by the recent public death by torture of Savonarola, the apocalypse-preaching Florentine zealot, Luca Signorelli created what is perhaps the greatest masterpiece in this treasure trove. The Brizio Chapel is entirely frescoed with scenes depicting the end of the world, the resurrection of the dead, heaven and hell. Here, sinners condemned to eternal damnation bemoan their terrifying fate.
On the wall featuring stories of the Antichrist, Signorelli painted an exquisite portrait of himself (left) and his fellow artist, Fra' Angelico, who was renowned not only for his artistic genius, but also for the sweet naivete of his utter Christian devotion.
"Published by and reprinted with the kind permission of In Italy Online."
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