A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Alps and Sanctuaries of Piedmont and the Canton Ticino

S >> Samuel Butler >> Alps and Sanctuaries of Piedmont and the Canton Ticino




I once saw an Italian explaining something to another and tapping
his nose a great deal. He became more and more confidential, and
the more confidential he became, the more he tapped, till his
finger seemed to become glued to, and almost grow into his nose.
At last the supreme moment came. He drew the finger down, pressing
it closely against his lower lip, so as to drag it all down and
show his gums and the roots of his teeth. "There," he seemed to
say, "you now know all: consider me as turned inside out: my
mucous membrane is before you."

At Fucine, and indeed in all the valleys hereabout, spinning-wheels
are not uncommon. I also saw a woman sitting in her room with the
door opening on to the street, weaving linen at a hand-loom. The
woman and the hand-loom were both very old and rickety. The first
and the last specimens of anything, whether animal or vegetable
organism, or machine, or institution, are seldom quite
satisfactory. Some five or six years ago I saw an old gentleman
sitting outside the St. Lawrence Hall at Montreal, in Canada, and
wearing a pigtail, but it was not a good pigtail; and when the
Scotch baron killed the last wolf in Scotland, it was probably a
weak, mangy old thing, capable of little further mischief.

Presently I walked a mile or two up the river, and met a godfather
coming along with a cradle on his shoulder; he was followed by two
women, one carrying some long wax candles, and the other something
wrapped up in a piece of brown paper; they were going to get the
child christened at Fucine. Soon after I met a priest, and bowed,
as a matter of course. In towns or places where many foreigners
come and go this is unnecessary, but in small out-of-the-way places
one should take one's hat off to the priest. I mention this
because many Englishmen do not know that it is expected of them,
and neglect the accustomed courtesy through ignorance. Surely,
even here in England, if one is in a small country village, off
one's beat, and meets the clergyman, it is more polite than not to
take off one's hat.

Viu is one of the places from which pilgrims ascend the Rocca
Melone at the beginning of August. This is one of the most popular
and remarkable pilgrimages of North Italy; the Rocca Melone is
11,000 feet high, and forms a peak so sharp, that there is room for
little else than the small wooden chapel which stands at the top of
it. There is no accommodation whatever, except at some rough
barracks (so I have been told) some thousands of feet below the
summit. These, I was informed, are sometimes so crowded that the
people doze standing, and the cold at night is intense, unless
under the shelter just referred to; yet some five or six thousand
pilgrims ascend on the day and night of the festa--chiefly from
Susa, but also from all parts of the valleys of the Dora and the
Stura. They leave Susa early in the morning, camp out or get
shelter in the barracks that evening, reaching the chapel at the
top of the Rocca Melone next day. I have not made the ascent
myself, but it would probably be worth making by one who did not
mind the fatigue.

I may mention that thatch is not uncommon in the Stura valley. In
the Val Mastallone, and more especially between Civiasco (above
Varallo) and Orta, thatch is more common still, and the thatching
is often very beautifully done. Thatch in a stone country is an
indication of German, or at any rate Cisalpine descent, and is
among the many proofs of the extent to which German races crossed
the Alps and spread far down over Piedmont and Lombardy. I was
more struck with traces of German influence on the path from Pella
on the Lago d'Orta, to the Colma on the way to Varallo, than
perhaps anywhere else. The churches have a tendency to have pure
spires--a thing never seen in Italy proper; clipped yews and box-
trees are common; there are lime-trees in the churchyards, and
thatch is the rule, not the exception. At Rimella in the Val
Mastallone, not far off, German is still the current language. As
I sat sketching, a woman came up to me, and said, "Was machen sic?"
as a matter of course. Rimella is the highest village in its
valley, yet if one crosses the saddle at the head of the valley,
one does not descend upon a German-speaking district; one descends
on the Val Anzasca, where Italian is universally spoken. Until
recently German was the language of many other villages at the
heads of valleys, even though these valleys were themselves
entirely surrounded by Italian-speaking people. At Alagna in the
Val Sesia, German is still spoken.

Whatever their origin, however, the people are now thoroughly
Italianised. Nevertheless, as I have already said, it is strange
what a number of people one meets among them, whom most people
would unhesitatingly pronounce to be English if asked to name their
nationality.



CHAPTER XIV--Sanctuary of Oropa



From Lanzo I went back to Turin, where Jones again joined me, and
we resolved to go and see the famous sanctuary of Oropa near
Biella. Biella is about three hours' railway journey from Turin.
It is reached by a branch line of some twenty miles, that leaves
the main line between Turin and Milan at Santhia. Except the view
of the Alps, which in clear weather cannot be surpassed, there is
nothing of very particular interest between Turin and Santhia, nor
need Santhia detain the traveller longer than he can help. Biella
we found to consist of an upper and a lower town--the upper, as may
be supposed, being the older. It is at the very junction of the
plain and the mountains, and is a thriving place, with more of the
busy air of an English commercial town than perhaps any other of
its size in North Italy. Even in the old town large rambling old
palazzi have been converted into factories, and the click of the
shuttle is heard in unexpected places.

We were unable to find that Biella contains any remarkable pictures
or other works of art, though they are doubtless to be found by
those who have the time to look for them. There is a very fine
campanile near the post-office, and an old brick baptistery, also
hard by; but the church to which both campanile and baptistery
belonged, has, as the author of "Round about London" so well says,
been "utterly restored;" it cannot be uglier than what we sometimes
do, but it is quite as ugly. We found an Italian opera company in
Biella; peeping through a grating, as many others were doing, we
watched the company rehearsing "La forza del destino," which was to
be given later in the week.

The morning after our arrival, we took the daily diligence for
Oropa, leaving Biella at eight o'clock. Before we were clear of
the town we could see the long line of the hospice, and the chapels
dotted about near it, high up in a valley at some distance off;
presently we were shown another fine building some eight or nine
miles away, which we were told was the sanctuary of Graglia. About
this time the pictures and statuettes of the Madonna began to
change their hue and to become black--for the sacred image of Oropa
being black, all the Madonnas in her immediate neighbourhood are of
the same complexion. Underneath some of them is written, "Nigra
sum sed sum formosa," which, as a rule, was more true as regards
the first epithet than the second.

It was not market-day, but streams of people were coming to the
town. Many of them were pilgrims returning from the sanctuary, but
more were bringing the produce of their farms, or the work of their
hands for sale. We had to face a steady stream of chairs, which
were coming to town in baskets upon women's heads. Each basket
contained twelve chairs, though whether it is correct to say that
the basket contained the chairs--when the chairs were all, so to
say, froth running over the top of the basket--is a point I cannot
settle. Certainly we had never seen anything like so many chairs
before, and felt almost as though we had surprised nature in the
laboratory wherefrom she turns out the chair supply of the world.
The road continued through a succession of villages almost running
into one another for a long way after Biella was passed, but
everywhere we noticed the same air of busy thriving industry which
we had seen in Biella itself. We noted also that a preponderance
of the people had light hair, while that of the children was
frequently nearly white, as though the infusion of German blood was
here stronger even than usual. Though so thickly peopled, the
country was of great beauty. Near at hand were the most exquisite
pastures close shaven after their second mowing, gay with autumnal
crocuses, and shaded with stately chestnuts; beyond were rugged
mountains, in a combe on one of which we saw Oropa itself now
gradually nearing; behind and below, many villages with vineyards
and terraces cultivated to the highest perfection; further on,
Biella already distant, and beyond this a "big stare," as an
American might say, over the plains of Lombardy from Turin to
Milan, with the Apennines from Genoa to Bologna hemming the
horizon. On the road immediate before us, we still faced the same
steady stream of chairs flowing ever Biella-ward.

After a couple of hours the houses became more rare; we got above
the sources of the chair-stream; bits of rough rock began to jut
out from the pasture; here and there the rhododendron began to show
itself by the roadside; the chestnuts left off along a line as
level as though cut with a knife; stone-roofed cascine began to
abound, with goats and cattle feeding near them; the booths of the
religious trinket-mongers increased; the blind, halt, and maimed
became more importunate, and the foot-passengers were more entirely
composed of those whose object was, or had been, a visit to the
sanctuary itself. The numbers of these pilgrims--generally in
their Sunday's best, and often comprising the greater part of a
family--were so great, though there was no special festa, as to
testify to the popularity of the institution. They generally
walked barefoot, and carried their shoes and stockings; their
baggage consisted of a few spare clothes, a little food, and a pot
or pan or two to cook with. Many of them looked very tired, and
had evidently tramped from long distances--indeed, we saw costumes
belonging to valleys which could not be less than two or three days
distant. They were almost invariably quiet, respectable, and
decently clad, sometimes a little merry, but never noisy, and none
of them tipsy. As we travelled along the road, we must have fallen
in with several hundreds of these pilgrims coming and going; nor is
this likely to be an extravagant estimate, seeing that the hospice
can make up more than five thousand beds. By eleven we were at the
sanctuary itself.

Fancy a quiet upland valley, the floor of which is about the same
height as the top of Snowdon, shut in by lofty mountains upon three
sides, while on the fourth the eye wanders at will over the plains
below. Fancy finding a level space in such a valley watered by a
beautiful mountain stream, and nearly filled by a pile of
collegiate buildings, not less important than those, we will say,
of Trinity College, Cambridge. True, Oropa is not in the least
like Trinity, except that one of its courts is large, grassy, has a
chapel and a fountain in it, and rooms all round it; but I do not
know how better to give a rough description of Oropa than by
comparing it with one of our largest English colleges.

The buildings consist of two main courts. The first comprises a
couple of modern wings, connected by the magnificent facade of what
is now the second or inner court. This facade dates from about the
middle of the seventeenth century; its lowest storey is formed by
an open colonnade, and the whole stands upon a raised terrace from
which a noble flight of steps descends into the outer court.

Ascending the steps and passing under the colonnade, we found
ourselves in the second or inner court, which is a complete
quadrangle, and is, we were told, of rather older date than the
facade. This is the quadrangle which gives its collegiate
character to Oropa. It is surrounded by cloisters on three sides,
on to which the rooms in which the pilgrims are lodged open--those
at least that are on the ground-floor, for there are three storeys.
The chapel, which was dedicated in the year 1600, juts out into the
court upon the north-east side. On the north-west and south-west
sides are entrances through which one may pass to the open country.
The grass, at the time of our visit, was for the most part covered
with sheets spread out to dry. They looked very nice, and, dried
on such grass and in such an air, they must be delicious to sleep
on. There is, indeed, rather an appearance as though it were a
perpetual washing-day at Oropa, but this is not to be wondered at
considering the numbers of comers and goers; besides, people in
Italy do not make so much fuss about trifles as we do. If they
want to wash their sheets and dry them, they do not send them to
Ealing, but lay them out in the first place that comes handy, and
nobody's bones are broken.



CHAPTER XV--Oropa (continued)



On the east side of the main block of buildings there is a grassy
slope adorned with chapels that contain illustrating scenes in the
history of the Virgin. These figures are of terra-cotta, for the
most part life-size, and painted up to nature. In some cases, if I
remember rightly, they have hemp or flax for hair, as at Varallo,
and throughout realism is aimed at as far as possible, not only in
the figures, but in the accessories. We have very little of the
same kind in England. In the Tower of London there is an effigy of
Queen Elizabeth going to the city to give thanks for the defeat of
the Spanish Armada. This looks as if it might have been the work
of some one of the Valsesian sculptors. There are also the figures
that strike the quarters of Sir John Bennett's city clock in
Cheapside. The automatic movements of these last-named figures
would have struck the originators of the Varallo chapels with envy.
They aimed at realism so closely that they would assuredly have had
recourse to clockwork in some one or two of their chapels; I cannot
doubt, for example, that they would have eagerly welcomed the idea
of making the cock crow to Peter by a cuckoo-clock arrangement, if
it had been presented to them. This opens up the whole question of
realism versus conventionalism in art--a subject much too large to
be treated here.

As I have said, the founders of these Italian chapels aimed at
realism. Each chapel was intended as an illustration, and the
desire was to bring the whole scene more vividly before the
faithful by combining the picture, the statue, and the effect of a
scene upon the stage in a single work of art. The attempt would be
an ambitious one, though made once only in a neighbourhood, but in
most of the places in North Italy where anything of the kind has
been done, the people have not been content with a single
illustration; it has been their scheme to take a mountain as though
it had been a book or wall and cover it with illustrations. In
some cases--as at Orta, whose Sacro Monte is perhaps the most
beautiful of all as regards the site itself--the failure is
complete, but in some of the chapels at Varese and in many of those
at Varallo, great works have been produced which have not yet
attracted as much attention as they deserve. It may be doubted,
indeed, whether there is a more remarkable work of art in North
Italy than the Crucifixion chapel at Varallo, where the twenty-five
statues, as well as the frescoes behind them, are (with the
exception of the figure of Christ, which has been removed) by
Gaudenzio Ferrari. It is to be wished that some one of these
chapels--both chapel and sculptures--were reproduced at South
Kensington.

Varallo, which is undoubtedly the most interesting sanctuary in
North Italy, has forty-four of these illustrative chapels; Varese,
fifteen; Orta, eighteen; and Oropa, seventeen. No one is allowed
to enter them, except when repairs are needed; but when these are
going on, as is constantly the case, it is curious to look through
the grating into the somewhat darkened interior, and to see a
living figure or two among the statues; a little motion on the part
of a single figure seems to communicate itself to the rest and make
them all more animated. If the living figure does not move much,
it is easy at first to mistake it for a terra-cotta one. At Orta,
some years since, looking one evening into a chapel when the light
was fading, I was surprised to see a saint whom I had not seen
before; he had no glory except what shone from a very red nose; he
was smoking a short pipe, and was painting the Virgin Mary's face.
The touch was a finishing one, put on with deliberation, slowly, so
that it was two or three seconds before I discovered that the
interloper was no saint.

The figures in the chapels at Oropa are not as good as the best of
those at Varallo, but some of them are very nice notwithstanding.
We liked the seventh chapel the best--the one which illustrates the
sojourn of the Virgin Mary in the temple. It contains forty-four
figures, and represents the Virgin on the point of completing her
education as head girl at a high-toned academy for young
gentlewomen. All the young ladies are at work making mitres for
the bishop, or working slippers in Berlin wool for the new curate,
but the Virgin sits on a dais above the others on the same platform
with the venerable lady-principal, who is having passages read out
to her from some standard Hebrew writer. The statues are the work
of a local sculptor, named Aureggio, who lived at the end of the
seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth century.

The highest chapel must be a couple of hundred feet above the main
buildings, and from near it there is an excellent bird's-eye view
of the sanctuary and the small plain behind; descending on to this
last, we entered the quadrangle from the north-west side and
visited the chapel in which the sacred image of the Madonna is
contained. We did not see the image itself, which is only exposed
to public view on great occasions. It is believed to have been
carved by St. Luke the Evangelist. I must ask the reader to
content himself with the following account of it which I take from
Marocco's work upon Oropa.:-

"That this statue of the Virgin is indeed by St. Luke is attested
by St. Eusebius, a man of eminent piety and no less enlightened
than truthful. St. Eusebius discovered its origin by revelation;
and the store which he set by it is proved by his shrinking from no
discomforts in his carriage of it from a distant country, and by
his anxiety to put it in a place of great security. His desire,
indeed, was to keep it in the spot which was most near and dear to
him, so that he might extract from it the higher incitement to
devotion, and more sensible comfort in the midst of his austerities
and apostolic labours.

"This truth is further confirmed by the quality of the wood from
which the statue is carved, which is commonly believed to be cedar;
by the Eastern character of the work; by the resemblance both of
the lineaments and the colour to those of other statues by St.
Luke; by the tradition of the neighbourhood, which extends in an
unbroken and well-assured line to the time of St. Eusebius himself;
by the miracles that have been worked here by its presence, and
elsewhere by its invocation, or even by indirect contact with it;
by the miracles, lastly, which are inherent in the image itself,
{23} and which endure to this day, such as is its immunity from all
worm and from the decay which would naturally have occurred in it
through time and damp--more especially in the feet, through the
rubbing of religious objects against them.

* * *

"The authenticity of this image is so certainly and clearly
established, that all supposition to the contrary becomes
inexplicable and absurd. Such, for example, is a hypothesis that
it should not be attributed to the Evangelist, but to another Luke,
also called 'Saint,' and a Florentine by birth. This painter lived
in the eleventh century--that is to say, about seven centuries
after the image of Oropa had been known and venerated! This is
indeed an anachronism.

"Other difficulties drawn either from the ancient discipline of the
Church, or from St. Luke the Evangelist's profession, which was
that of a physician, vanish at once when it is borne in mind--
firstly, that the cult of holy images, and especially of that of
the most blessed Virgin, is of extreme antiquity in the Church, and
of apostolic origin as is proved by ecclesiastical writers and
monuments found in the catacombs which date as far back as the
first century (see among other authorities, Nicolas, "La Vergine
vivente nella Chiesa," lib. iii. cap. iii. SS 2); secondly, that
as the medical profession does not exclude that of artist, St. Luke
may have been both artist and physician; that he did actually
handle both the brush and the scalpel is established by respectable
and very old traditions, to say nothing of other arguments which
can be found in impartial and learned writers upon such matters."

I will only give one more extract. It runs:-

"In 1855 a celebrated Roman portrait-painter, after having
carefully inspected the image of the Virgin Mary at Oropa, declared
it to be certainly a work of the first century of our era." {24}

I once saw a common cheap china copy of this Madonna announced as
to be given away with two pounds of tea, in a shop near Hatton
Garden.

The church in which the sacred image is kept is interesting from
the pilgrims who at all times frequent it, and from the collection
of votive pictures which adorn its walls. Except the votive
pictures and the pilgrims the church contains little of interest,
and I will pass on to the constitution and objects of the
establishment.-

The objects are--1. Gratuitous lodging to all comers for a space
of from three to nine days as the rector may think fit. 2. A
school. 3. Help to the sick and poor. It is governed by a
president and six members, who form a committee. Four members are
chosen by the communal council, and two by the cathedral chapter of
Biella. At the hospice itself there reside a director, with his
assistant, a surveyor to keep the fabric in repair, a rector or
dean with six priests, called cappellani, and a medical man. "The
government of the laundry," so runs the statute on this head, "and
analogous domestic services are entrusted to a competent number of
ladies of sound constitution and good conduct, who live together in
the hospice under the direction of an inspectress, and are called
daughters of Oropa."

The bye-laws of the establishment are conceived in a kindly genial
spirit, which in great measure accounts for its unmistakeable
popularity. We understood that the poorer visitors, as a general
rule, avail themselves of the gratuitous lodging, without making
any present when they leave, but in spite of this it is quite clear
that they are wanted to come, and come they accordingly do. It is
sometimes difficult to lay one's hands upon the exact passages
which convey an impression, but as we read the bye-laws which are
posted up in the cloisters, we found ourselves continually smiling
at the manner in which almost anything that looked like a
prohibition could be removed with the consent of the director.
There is no rule whatever about visitors attending the church; all
that is required of them is that they do not interfere with those
who do. They must not play games of chance, or noisy games; they
must not make much noise of any sort after ten o'clock at night
(which corresponds about with midnight in England). They should
not draw upon the walls of their rooms, nor cut the furniture.
They should also keep their rooms clean, and not cook in those that
are more expensively furnished. This is about all that they must
not do, except fee the servants, which is most especially and
particularly forbidden. If any one infringes these rules, he is to
be admonished, and in case of grave infraction or continued
misdemeanour he may be expelled and not readmitted.

Visitors who are lodged in the better-furnished apartments can be
waited upon if they apply at the office; the charge is twopence for
cleaning a room, making the bed, bringing water, &c. If there is
more than one bed in a room, a penny must be paid for every bed
over the first. Boots can be cleaned for a penny, shoes for a
half-penny. For carrying wood, &c., either a halfpenny or a penny
will be exacted according to the time taken. Payment for these
services must not be made to the servant, but at the office.

The gates close at ten o'clock at night, and open at sunrise, "but
if any visitor wishes to make Alpine excursions, or has any other
sufficient reason, he should let the director know." Families
occupying many rooms must--when the hospice is very crowded, and
when they have had due notice--manage to pack themselves into a
smaller compass. No one can have rooms kept for him. It is to be
strictly "first come, first served." No one must sublet his room.
Visitors must not go away without giving up the key of their room.
Candles and wood may be bought at a fixed price.

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