RETURNING to Varallo, in the town itself the most important work is the
fresco by Gaudenzio Ferrari in the church of Sta. Maria delle Grazie,
already several times referred to. The reader will find it fully
described in the pages of Colombo; moreover, in January last Signor
Pizetta took excellent negatives of all the compartments into which the
work is divided, and I learn that he has sent impressions—put together so
as to give a very good idea of the work—to the Italian Exhibition that
will open as these pages leave my hands. I have myself also sent to the
same Exhibition a few unreduced impressions from the negatives used in
the illustrations that face earlier pages: these will give the reader a
more correct impression of the works from which they are taken than he
can get from the reduction. I do not yet know whether they will be hung.
The fresco of Sta. Petronilla painted by Gaudenzio by moonlight on a
chapel just outside the town, is now little more than a wreck.
There are a few works by Gaudenzio of no great importance in the
Pinacoteca of the Museum; a few frescoes by Lanini, one or two drawings
by Tanzio D’Enrico, which show that he was a well-trained draughtsman;
two pictures by him, _barocco_ in character, but not without power, and
other works of more or less interest, are also in the Pinacoteca.
In the parish church of S. Gaudenzio, behind the altar, there is an
exceedingly fine Ancona by Gaudenzio, to which I have already referred.
Over an altar in the north transept, but for the most part hidden behind
a painted _tela_, is Tabachetti’s very beautiful Madonna del Rosario,
which the visitor should ask the Sacristan to show him; and last, but
hardly least, there is a Madonna by Dedomenici of Rossa—a village higher
up the Valsesia—painted on linen, in the chapel dedicated to St. Joseph.
I referred to this last-named work in my book “Alps and Sanctuaries” (pp.
177, &c.), and have seen no reason to modify the opinion I then
expressed. I may repeat that about twenty years ago I was much struck
with the painting and could not make out its strong and evidently
unaffected medieval feeling, yet modernness at the same time. On
consulting the Sacristan I learned that Dedomenici had died about 1840.
He added that the extraordinary thing was that Dedomenici had never
studied painting, and had never travelled out of the Valsesia; that he
had, in fact, acquired his art by doing rather than by learning how to
do.
This, as it appeared to me, explained his excellence. As a general rule
the more people study how to do things the more hopelessly academic they
become. Learning how to say ends soon in having nothing to say.
Learning how to paint, in having nothing that one so longs to paint as to
be unable to keep one’s hands off it. It gratifies the lust of doing
sufficiently to appease it, and then kills it. Learning how to write
music, ends in the dreary symphonies, operas, cantatas, and oratorios
which it seems are all that modern composers can give us. The only way
to study an art is to begin at once with doing something that one wants
very badly to do, and doing it—even though it be only very badly. Study,
of course, but synchronously—letting the work be its own exercises.
If a man defers doing till he knows how to do, when is the hunting the
_ignis fatuus_ of a perfect manner to end, and the actual work that he is
to leave behind him to begin? I know nothing so deadening, as a long
course of preliminary study in any art, and nothing so living as work
plunged into at once by one who is studying hard—over it, rather than in
preparation for it. Jones talking with me once on this subject, and
about _agape_ as against _gnosis_ in art, said, “Oh that men should put
an enemy into their brains to steal away their hearts.” At any rate he
and I have written “Narcissus” on these principles, and are not without
hope that what it has lost in erudition it may have gained in freshness.
I have, however, dealt with the question of how to study painting more at
length in the chapter on the Decline of Italian art in “Alps and
Sanctuaries.”
I said I would return to the chapel of Loreto a little way out of Varallo
on the road to Novara. This work has a lunette which is generally, and I
suppose correctly, ascribed to Gaudenzio. It is covered with frescoes
not of extraordinary merit, but still interesting, and the chapel itself
is extremely beautiful. I had intended dwelling upon it at greater
length, but find that my space will not allow me to do so, though I shall
hope to describe it more fully in another work on Italy, for which I have
many notes that I have been unable to use here.
And now to conclude. A friend once said to me on the Sacro Monte, “How
is it that they have no chapel of the Descent of the Holy Spirit?” I
answered that the work of Gaudenzio Ferrari, Tabachetti, D’Enrico, and
Paracca was a more potent witness to, and fitter temple for, the Holy
Spirit, than any that the hands even of these men could have made for it
expressly. For that there is a Holy Spirit, and that it does descend on
those that diligently seek it, who can for a moment question? A man may
speak lightly of the Father and it shall be forgiven him; he may speak
lightly of the Son and it shall be forgiven him; but woe to him if he
speak lightly of that Divine Spirit, inspiration of which alone it is
that makes a work of art either true or permanently desirable.
Of the letter in which the Sacro Monte is written, I have at times in the
preceding pages spoken lightly enough. Who in these days but the
advocates whose paid profession it is to maintain the existing order, and
those whom custom and vested interests hold enthralled, accepts the
letter of Christianity more than he accepts the letter of Oriental
exaggerated phraseology? If three days and three nights means in reality
only thirty-six hours, so should full fifty per cent. be deducted
wherever else seems necessary, and “dead” be read as “very nearly dead,”
and “the Son of God” as “rarely perfect man.” Who, on the other hand,
that need be reckoned with, denies the eternal underlying verity that
there is an omnipresent unknown something for which Mind, Spirit, or God,
is, as Professor Mivart has well said, “the least misleading” expression?
Who doubts that this Mind or God is immanent throughout the whole
universe, sustaining it, guiding it, living in it, he in it and it in
him? I heard of one not long since who said he had been an atheist this
ten years—and added, “thank God.” Who, again, doubts that the spirit of
self-sacrifice for a noble end is lovelier and brings more peace at the
last than one of self-seeking and self-indulgence? And who doubts that
of the two great enemies both to religion and science referred to in the
passage I have taken for my motto, “the too much” is even more dangerous
than “the too little”?
I, and those who think as I do, would see the letter whether of science
or of Christianity made less of, and the spirit more. Slowly, but very
slowly—far, as it seems to our impatience, too slowly—things move in this
direction. See how even the Church of Rome, and indeed all churches, are
dropping miracles that they once held proper objects of faith and
adoration. The Sacro Monte is now singularly free from all that we
Protestants are apt to call superstition.
The miracles and graces so freely dealt in by Fassola and Torrotti find
no place in the more recent handbooks. The Ex Votos and images in wax
and silver with which each chapel formerly abounded have long
disappeared, and the sacred drama is told with almost as close an
adherence to the facts recorded in the Gospels, as though the whole had
been done by Protestant workmen. Where is the impress of Christ’s
footprint now? carted away or thrown into a lumber room as a child’s toy
that has been outgrown—so surely as has been often said do the famous
words “_E pur si muove_” apply to the Church herself, as well as to that
world whose movement she so strenuously denied.
The same thing is happening here among ourselves. As the good churchmen
at Varallo have thrown away their Flemish dancer, their footprint of the
Saviour, and their Virgins that box thieves’ ears and persist in turning
round and smiling even after they have been asked not to do so, so we, by
the mouths of our Bishops, are flinging away our Genesis, our Exodus, and
I know not how much more. In the _Nineteenth Century_ for last December
the Bishop of Carlisle says that the account of Creation given in the
Book of Genesis “does not pretend to be historical in any ordinary
sense”—or, in other words, that it does not pretend to be historical, or
true, at all. Surely this is rather a startling jettison. The Bishop
goes on to say that “the account of the flood is a very precious
tradition full of valuable teaching,” and is, he doubts not, a record of
some great event that actually occurred; “but,” he continues, “I confess
that until Bishop Colenso brought his arithmetic to bear upon it and some
other portions of Old Testament history, I was quite [why “quite?”] under
the impression that the common sense of Christians abstained from
criticising this ancient record by the canons applicable to ordinary
history.” This was not my own impression, but the Bishop’s is doubtless
more accurate. If things, however, go on at this rate, a hundred years
hence we shall have a Bishop writing to the _Twentieth Century_ that till
X, Y or Z brought their canons of historical criticism to bear on the
Resurrection itself, he was “quite” under the impression that the common
sense of Christians abstained from criticising this ancient record by the
canons applicable to ordinary history. The Bishop appeals, and rightly,
to common sense. This is of all courts the safest and rightest to abide
by, but it must not be forgotten that the common sense of one generation
is not that of the next, and that the modification with which common
sense descends cannot be effected, however gently we may try to do so,
without some disturbance of the pre-existing common sense, and some
reversal of its decrees.
That the letter of the coming faith will be greatly truer than that of
the many that have preceded it I for one do not believe. Let us have no
more “Lo heres” and “Lo theres” in this respect. I would as soon have a
winking Madonna or a forged decretal, as the doubtful experiments or
garbled articles which the high priests of modern science are applauded
with one voice for trying to palm off upon their devotees; and I should
look as hopefully for good result from a new monastery, as from a new
school of art, college of music, or scientific institution. Whatever
faith or science the world at large bows down to will in its letter be
tainted with the world that worships it. Whoever clings to the spirit
that underlies all the science obtaining among civilised peoples will
assuredly find that he cannot serve God and Mammon. The true Christ ever
brings a sword on earth as well as peace, and if he maketh men to be of
one mind in an house, he divideth a house no less surely. The way will
be straight in the future as in the past. All that can be hoped for is
that it may perhaps become a trifle more easy through the work of the
just men made perfect through suffering that have gone before, and that
he who in bygone ages would have been burnt will now be only scouted.
I have in the last few foregoing pages been trenching on somewhat
dangerous ground, but who can leave such a work as the Sacro Monte
without being led to trench on this ground, and who that trenches upon it
can fail to better understand the lesson of the Sacro Monte itself? I am
aware, however, that I have said enough if not too much, and will return
to the note struck at the beginning of my work—namely, that I have
endeavoured to stimulate study of the great works on the Sacro Monte
rather than to write the full account of them which their importance
merits. At the same time I must admit that I have had great advantages.
Not one single previous writer had ever seen an earlier work than that of
Fassola, published in 1670 [1], whereas I have had before me one that
appeared in 1586 [7]. I had written the greater part of my book before
last Christmas, and going out to Varallo at the end of December to verify
and reconsider it on the spot, found myself forced over and over again to
alter what I had written, in consequence of the new light given me by the
1586 [7] and 1590 [1] editions of Caccia. It is with profound regret
that though I have continued to search for the 1565 and 1576 editions up
to the very last moment that these sheets leave my hands, my search has
been fruitless.
Over and above the advantage of having had even the later Caccia before
me, I have seen Cav. Aless. Godio’s “Cronaca di Crea,” which no previous
writer had done, inasmuch as this work has been only very lately
published. Moreover, when I was at Varallo, it being known that I was
writing on the Sacro Monte, every one helped me, and so many gave me such
important and interesting information that I found my labour a very light
and pleasant one. Especially must I acknowledge my profound obligations
to Signor Dionigi Negri, town clerk of Varallo, to Signor Galloni the
present director of the Sacro Monte, to Cav. Prof. Antonini and his son,
Signori Arienta and Tonetti, and to many other kind friends whom if I
were to begin to name I must name half the town of Varallo. With such
advantages I am well aware that the work should be greatly better than it
is; if, however, it shall prove that I have succeeded in calling the
attention of abler writers to Varallo, and if these find the present work
of any, however small, assistance to them, I shall hold that I have been
justified in publishing it. In the full hope that this may turn out to
be the case, I now leave the book to the generous consideration and
forbearance of the reader.
* * * * *
Photographs of Subjects
ON
THE SACRO MONTE.
Unreduced Prints from the Negatives used for the Illustrations given in
the foregoing pages, and from about twenty additional Negatives also
taken on the Sacro Monte at Varallo, can be had of Mr. GEORGE SALLNOW
MARTIN, Optician, Birkbeck Institution, Bream’s Buildings, Chancery Lane,
at the following prices:—
WHOLE PLATES (about 8 in. x 6 in.)—
Silver Prints, unmounted, 1s. 9d. each.
Do. in permanent Bromide Process, resembling an Engraving, 2s. 6d.
each.
Mounting on plain board, 6d., and on India tinted board, 9d. extra.
HALF PLATES (about 6 in. × 4 in.)—
Silver Prints, unmounted, 1s. each.
Do. in permanent Bromide Process, resembling an Engraving, 1s. 6d.
Mounting on plain board, 4d., and on India tinted board, 6d. extra.
Some few of the Negatives are unsuited for Bromide Process, and these
will only be printed in Silver. The original photographs used for this
book that are from Whole Plate negatives are marked with an asterisk in
the List of Illustrations at the beginning of the volume. Those not so
marked are Half Plates.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES.
{40} “Uomini e Fatti,” &c., p. 65, &c.
{52} “Uomini e fatti,” p. 83.
{57} Fassola, p. 112.
{62} These chapels are grouped together in the 1586 edition as “la
natività di N.S. nel Presepio,” but they are separated, as they doubtless
should have been earlier, in the edition of 1590 [1591].
{65} English translation of the “Life of St. Charles Borromeo,” with
preface by Cardinal Manning. Burns & Oates, London and New York, 1884,
vol. ii. p. 47.
{66} “Storia a Guida,” ed. 1857, Varallo, p. 68.
{90} In the register of the houses in Varallo, taken in 1536, his house
is thus described—“_Magister Gaudentius pictor fqm Magistri Franchini
Vallis Ugiæ habitator Varalli_, _tabet sedimen unum cum domo una magna
plodata et alia contigua peleis_, _et curte ante_, _et curteto ad plateam
putei_, _cui cohoeret Franciscus Draghettus sive de Boglia et strata_,
_et soror Catarina de Pioldo_.” (See Signor Tonetti’s Memoir.)
{100a} Parma, 1823.
{100b} Munich, 1841.
{104} Torino-Tipografia S. Giuseppe—Collegio degli Artigianelli Corso
Palestro, No. 14. 1887.
{106} See Signor Galloni’s first and tenth notes, pp. 175 and 180.
{140} Their words run thus;—“Il volto di quella Vergine Maria mirava
altre volte al Bambino Giesù, mà dall’ anno, il giorno, ed hora, che fù
creato Pontefice Innocenzo X. al suono di Campane miracolosamente si
voltò alli Visitanti. Dicono alcuni, che prima ancora staua riuoltata al
Popolo, e che accommodata, non accorgendosi del miracolo in detto giorno,
poi lo diede a conoscere.” Fassola, p. 86.
“Si dice che la Vergine mirava il Bambino, e quando si sonarono le
campane per l’esaltazione d’Innocenzio X. tornò il volto ai Visitanti,
che racconciata nuovamente voltollo al popolo come invitante.” Torrotti,
p. 70.
{181} The projected Palazzo di Pilato blocks.
{206} A famous model of some five-and-twenty years ago.