Orvieto Miracle

 

 

 

Often in his books Edward Hutton liked to describe personal encounters. One of the most unusual occurred early in his career in the Cappella del Corporale in Orvieto's Cathedral.

 

It happened that one summer morning, long ago, Padre Bernardino and I were standing together in the Cappella del Corporale in the Cathedral looking at that marvellous reliquary of silver-gilt goldsmith’s work with its twelve scenes of the miracle of Bolsena in translucent enamels, the work of Ugolino di Maestro Vieri of Siena in 1338. We had been visiting some Franciscan sanctuaries in the neighbourhood and had come to Orvieto because Padre Bernardino, who had a friend in the Cathedral, hoped to be able to show me the great reliquary without my having to pay the very large fee demanded for a sight of it. In this he had been successful.

 

As we examined this masterpiece of medieval art… we were joined by two of my fellow countrymen, in appearance Dons of some University. They stood there looking at the reliquary, till one of them, shutting his guidebook, turned to me and asked:

 

“What is the miracle of Bolsena?”

 

When I had told him as briefly as I could, I went on to explain how fortunate we were, owing to Padre Bernardino’s kindness, to see this great masterpiece of goldsmithery of its shrine of marble mosaic. 

 

[A long conversation ensued that continued in a nearby café. The two Englishmen were skeptical about the miracle of Bolsena, about miracles in general, and even about Catholic doctrines like transubstantiation, and the Resurrection which they regarded as unnatural. Finally, Padre Bernardino mentioned that he himself had performed a miracle.]

 

“It may surprise you caro signore,” he said, “when I tell you that through the infinite power and grace of God, I have myself performed a miracle. Oh, only a little one, a mere bagatelle. Permit me to tell you how it happened.”

 

“But I thought,” said the first stranger, “it was only saints who were supposed to work miracles.”

 

“You are mistaken caro signore. Even the simplest and rudest of the faithful may sometimes. though rarely, by the power of Christ’s grace, perform these wonders. But let me tell you of my own experience.

 

“It befell in one of our smallest and most humble santuarii, with but half a dozen frati in occupation. I was on a visit there and very uncomfortable I found it, for the place was subject to a diabolical infestation, and within the limits permitted by God, was all but uninhabitable. Everything possible had been tried, the whole place had been washed out with holy water, scrubbed with soap, even lime-washed, and it stank of paraffin, but still it swarmed—swarmed with bugs, hundreds,  thousands, myriads of bugs. As one lay on one’s bed they came over the pillow in mass formation, as one sat at table they were climbing up the table legs and dropping from the ceiling.

 

“What to do? I conferred with the Padre Guardiano; we considered the house to be diabolically possessed and I decided—the powers having been duly accorded me—to resort to Exorcism.

 

“I prepared holy water, salt and oil, and very early in the morning after a sleepless night I began the rite.

 

Exerciso vos immundissimi…

Adjure vos per judicem vivorum et mortuorum…

 

At the third Exorcismus—

 

Adjure ergo vos omnes immundissimi …

 

There was seen to be a long dark line like some five or six inches in width, like the serpens antiquus of the exorcism, winding and undulating and throbbing along the passage-way out of the door into the olive garden. It consisted of thousands, myriads of bugs. Under the olives they went, through the grove and up over the rough wall of stones, out of the convent podere. That night we slept, that day we ate, in peace.”

 

But this was too much for our hosts, who suddenly seemed to have had enough of Padre Bernardino. They rose, paid for our refreshment and departed. We both watched them as they went.

 

Then I turned to that triumphant fountain of irony and remembering past admonitions wickedly said:

 

“Humility is rare, is it not, among the learned?”

 

He caught my eye. Then gazing after the strangers now almost out of sight, Padre Bernardino murmured:

 

“And even rarer among the ignorant.” 

 

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Edward Hutton: Assisi and Umbria Revisited, London, 1953. Pp. 142-145.