SANCTUARIES OF OROPA AND GRAGLIA. (FROM CHAPTERS XV. AND XVI. OF ALPS
AND SANCTUARIES.)
The morning after our arrival at Biella, 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; farther 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 immediately 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 shew 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 find ourselves in
the second or inner court, which is a complete quadrangle, and is, so at
least 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, but 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.
On the east side of the main block of buildings there is a grassy slope
adorned with chapels that contain figures 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. It is said that at one time there was actually an
inscription on the image in Greek characters, of which the translation
is, "Eusebius. A token of respect and affection from his sincere friend,
Luke;" but this being written in chalk or pencil only, has been worn off,
and is known by tradition only. 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, 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
lineament 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, {311} 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. section 2); secondly, that as the medical profession does
not exclude that of artists, 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."