fresco and fanciful
carving, has been converted into one of those dull soulless caverns of
stucco that the wanderer in all parts of Italy meets with only too
frequently. This deplorable act of vandalism at Ravello dates of course
from the eighteenth century, and appears to have been the work of a bishop
named Tafuri, who in his frenzied eagerness to possess a cathedral worthy
of comparison with the fashionable atrocities in plaster then being
erected at Naples, did not hesitate to destroy wholesale almost all the
ancient and elaborate ornamentation of his Duomo. His architect--perhaps
the miserable Fuga, who ruined the interior of the Cathedral at Palermo,
who knows?--dug up the fine old pavement, tore out the mosaics and had them
carted away, effaced the frescoes, and at last transformed the venerable
building with its memories of popes and princes into a commonplace
white-washed chamber. Why this wretched prelate stayed his hand at the
pulpit, it is difficult to say: perhaps he was meanwhile translated for
his private virtues, perhaps Death overtook him in the work of
destruction; at any rate, the famous pulpit of Ravello mercifully escaped
the general onslaught, though it must have been by fortunate accident and
not by design that Monsignore Tafuri omitted to remove this unique
specimen of a style of architecture, which doubtless he considered
barbaric and un-Christian in its character. For this pulpit is one of the
finest examples of the ornate, if somewhat bizarre art of the thirteenth
century, and belongs to a type of work that is not unfrequently met with
throughout Italy. Six spiral columns, springing from the backs of crouched
lions, support the rostrum of marble inlaid with beautiful mosaics; whilst
above the arch of the stair-way of ascent stands the famous portrait,
usually called that of Sigilgaita Rufolo, wife of the founder of the
Cathedral. The striking face, which is surmounted by an elaborate diadem
with two pendent lappets, is evidently an excellent likeness of the
original; yet there can be no doubt that this interesting bust has been
wrongly named, since the pulpit itself, as a Latin inscription duly
records, was erected in the year 1272 by Niccolo Rufolo, a descendant of
the famous Grand Admiral, so that we may fairly conclude that the portrait
represents the wife, or perhaps sister or daughter, of the donor. But
popular tradition dies hard; and the name of Sigilgaita will probably
cling for ever to