Lucca Cathedral

Stand in the small square and listen for a moment. Footsteps echo off the stone, and bicycle tyres hiss over the paving. Pigeons settle on carved ledges high above you. In front of you rises a white and green façade so delicate that it looks less like a wall and more like lace. This is the Cathedral of Saint Martin, the spiritual heart of Lucca. Before we step inside, take a slow look upward.

The first thing many visitors notice is that something seems slightly wrong. The façade is not symmetrical. Its right side presses tight against the tall bell tower, so the right-hand arch of the porch is narrower than the others. The builders did not move the older tower to make room. Instead, they squeezed the new front into the space they had. Once you see this, you cannot stop seeing it. It is a small, very human compromise, written in stone.

Now follow the three tiers of open galleries above the porch. Rows of slender columns stand side by side, like a crowd shoulder to shoulder. Look closely, and you will see that almost no two columns are the same. Some twist like rope. Some carry carved patterns, and others are inlaid with coloured marble. This is the style often called Pisan Romanesque. That name means the rounded arches and striped stone of the medieval period, made popular by nearby Pisa. An inscription on the façade names a master builder called Guidetto, and it dates his work to the early thirteenth century.

The church itself is much older than this front. A cathedral has stood here since the early Middle Ages. In the eleventh century, Bishop Anselm of Lucca rebuilt it on a grander scale. Anselm later became Pope Alexander the Second, a sign of how important this city once was. Later generations kept changing the building. The interior was rebuilt in the Gothic style during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. So what you see today is a conversation between several eras, all under one roof.

High on the façade, look for a rider on horseback. This is Saint Martin, the soldier saint, cutting his cloak in half to share it with a poor man. It is the defining story of his life. The sculpture outside is a copy. The original, carved in the thirteenth century, was moved indoors to protect it from the weather. You will find it inside, just to the right of the main door. Up close, the stone horse and rider feel surprisingly gentle.

Before you go in, stay under the porch for a moment. Here is a detail that most people walk straight past. On the pillar to the right, a small labyrinth is carved into the stone. It is about the size of a dinner plate. Beside it, a Latin inscription tells the ancient Greek story of Theseus, the hero who found his way out of the Minotaur's maze. For centuries, pilgrims traced the path with a finger. If you look carefully, you can see the grooves worn smooth by those many hands.

The porch walls also carry carved panels showing the months of the year. Each month has its own task — pruning vines, harvesting, slaughtering a pig before winter. These scenes show the ordinary farming life that fed medieval Lucca. Above the doors, more panels show the life of Saint Martin and other sacred scenes. Take a moment here. This was a picture book in stone for people who could not read.

Now step inside. The light changes at once. The bright square becomes a cool, dim nave, and your eyes need a moment to adjust. Tall pointed arches lead your gaze toward the altar. The air is quieter here, and voices drop to a murmur. In the left aisle stands a small eight-sided marble chapel. It looks almost like a little temple inside the church. It was designed in the fifteenth century by Matteo Civitali, a local sculptor and architect. It was built to hold the city's most treasured object.

That object is the Volto Santo, which means the Holy Face. It is a large wooden crucifix. Christ is shown not naked and suffering, but dressed in a long robe, with wide, open eyes. Legend has it that Nicodemus carved it in the Holy Land, the same Nicodemus who helped bury Jesus. According to the tale, it then travelled to Italy on a boat with no crew. Then it came to Lucca on a cart pulled by oxen that no one was driving. Historians see a different story. Recent scientific studies suggest that the carving is much older than scholars once believed.

The Holy Face was famous across medieval Europe. Pilgrims walking the great road to Rome often stopped here to see it. Its fame was so wide that the poet Dante mentions it in his Inferno. Every year, on the evening of the thirteenth of September, Lucca honours the crucifix with the Luminara procession. Thousands of small candles are lit in windows and along the streets. The whole old town glows softly in the dark, and the procession ends here at the cathedral.

Now find the tomb of Ilaria del Carretto. It is one of the most tender sculptures in Italy. Jacopo della Quercia carved it in the early fifteenth century for the young wife of Paolo Guinigi, who ruled Lucca at the time. She died young. She lies in calm sleep, with her gown falling in soft folds. At her feet sits a small dog, a symbol of loyalty. Many visitors find that the little dog moves them most of all. Viewing the tomb may require a separate ticket.

The cathedral holds other surprises for patient eyes. In the right aisle hangs a Last Supper by Tintoretto, the Venetian painter. Look at how his light falls across the table in sudden, restless flashes. In the sacristy, a calm altarpiece by Domenico Ghirlandaio shows the Virgin with saints. And look down as well as up. The marble floor is laid in patterns of different colours, and centuries of footsteps have softened its edges.

When you step back out into the square, turn and look once more at the bell tower. Its lower part is stone, and its upper storeys are brick, with windows that grow wider toward the top. That change in material shows the different periods of its building. Around you, life goes on — a café opening its shutters, a child chasing pigeons, church bells marking the hour. The narrow arch, the worn labyrinth, the little stone dog... they have all waited here a very long time. Take one last look at that lopsided façade before you walk on.