Corpus Christi Church, Nyasvizh

Push open the heavy door and the air changes at once. It is cooler in here, and still. Your footsteps sound sharp on the stone floor, then fade into the height of the nave. Somewhere a candle flickers. Look up, and the walls and vaults are covered in painted figures, columns and false architecture. Your eye cannot quite tell where the real building ends and the painting begins. This is the Corpus Christi Church in Nyasvizh, and it is older and stranger than it first appears.

First, some context. In the sixteenth century, Nyasvizh was the home town of the Radziwiłł family. They were among the most powerful noble houses in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, a large state that once covered much of what is now Poland, Lithuania, Belarus and Ukraine. The Radziwiłłs owned land, castles and whole towns. Here in Nyasvizh they built their main residence. And beside it, they built this church, as a family church and as a statement of faith.

The man behind it was Prince Mikołaj Krzysztof Radziwiłł. History remembers him by a nickname — Sierotka, which means "the Orphan." He had been raised as a Protestant, then converted to Catholicism. He was a traveller, too. He made a long pilgrimage to the Holy Land and later wrote about it. When he came home, he wanted to reshape Nyasvizh. He invited the Jesuits, a Catholic religious order known for education and missionary work, to build a church and a college here.

The Jesuits brought an Italian architect, Giovanni Maria Bernardoni. Construction began in the 1580s, and the church was consecrated in the 1590s. Now here is the first surprise. This building is usually described as one of the very first Baroque churches in all of Eastern Europe. Baroque is the style of drama and movement that grew in Rome at the end of the sixteenth century. Here, in a small town on the plains, that style arrived almost as soon as it was born.

Bernardoni took his model from Rome itself. He looked to the Church of the Gesù, the mother church of the Jesuit order. You can see the family resemblance in the façade. Notice how the front is built in two levels. The lower level is wide, the upper level is narrower, and curved scrolls connect the two. This shape became a pattern for hundreds of churches across the region. Many of them copied it after seeing it here first.

Step back inside and walk slowly down the nave. The plan is simple: one long central space, with chapels opening along the sides. The Jesuits wanted every person in the church to see the altar and hear the preacher. So there are no thick rows of pillars blocking the view. Everything leads your eye forward, toward the main altar. Take a moment to stand in the centre aisle and feel how the whole building points in one direction.

The painted interior came later than the walls. Much of what you see dates from the eighteenth century, when artists covered the surfaces with frescoes. Some of the painting is illusionistic. Painters added columns, niches and openings that do not exist, to make the space look deeper and taller. Look at the area around the altar and try to find the line between real stone and painted stone. It is not always easy. That was exactly the intention.

Now for the second surprise, and it lies beneath your feet. Under the church is the burial crypt of the Radziwiłł family. For centuries, members of the family were laid to rest here. Today the crypt holds dozens of coffins — around seventy is the figure usually given. Some are plain wood. Others are metal, with decoration and inscriptions. The crypt is often described as one of the largest family burial vaults in Europe. Few visitors expect it when they first walk in.

Going down into the crypt is a different experience from the church above. The ceiling is low and vaulted. The light is soft. The air is cool and dry, and it smells faintly of old stone. The coffins rest in rows, some large, some heartbreakingly small. You are looking at many generations of a single family, from princes to children. It is quiet down there. Most people lower their voices without being asked.

This place also has a legend. Locals tell the story of the Black Lady of Nyasvizh. According to the popular tale, she is the ghost of Barbara Radziwiłł, a noblewoman of the sixteenth century. She married the king, Sigismund Augustus, against the wishes of the court, and she died young. Legend has it that her spirit still walks the castle nearby. Nobody can prove a ghost, of course. But the story is part of how people here remember the family.

The church was never meant to stand alone. It was part of a larger plan. The castle of the Radziwiłłs stands close by, across a dam between ponds. The town, the church and the castle grew together as one complex. In 2005, UNESCO added this ensemble to its World Heritage List. That recognition covers both the residence and this church, because each one helps explain the other.

The twentieth century was hard on churches in this region. Under Soviet rule, many were closed, damaged or used for other purposes. This church suffered too, and parts of it were neglected for long periods. In recent decades, restorers have worked on the building, the frescoes and the crypt. Today it is again an active Catholic church. Services take place here, so you may hear prayer or music. Please move quietly if a service is in progress.

When you step back outside, turn around and look at the façade once more. Now you know what you are seeing. This is a Roman idea, carried north by Jesuits, and built for a prince who had seen Jerusalem. Notice the pale walls against the sky, and the way the towers frame the entrance. Then look toward the castle across the water. The two buildings face each other, as they have for more than four hundred years.

As you walk away, listen for a moment. Perhaps you hear birds over the ponds, or bells, or simply the wind in the trees. The Radziwiłłs are still here, in a sense — below the floor you just crossed. Above them, the church continues its everyday life of candles, prayers and visitors. Take one last look back from the path. Then follow the dam toward the castle, and carry the cool quiet of the crypt with you.