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ALPS   AND    SANCTUARIES. 


1 


'Sanantgne  -presjsc 

BAt.LANTYNE,    HANSON   AND  CO. 
EUINBURliH   ANU  LONDON 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES 


PIEDMONT  AND  THE  CANTON  TICINO 


(Op.  6.) 


By  SAMUKL  butler 

AUTHOR   OF    "EREWHON,"    "LIFE    AND  HABIT,"   ETC. 


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LONDON 
DAVID  BOGUE,  3  ST.  MARTIN'S  PLACE,  W.C. 


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PREFACE. 


I  SHOULD  perhaps  apologise  for  publishing  a  work 
which  professes  to  deal  with  the  sanctuaries  of 
Piedmont,  and  saying  so  little  about  the  most  im- 
portant of  them  all — the  Sacro  Monte  of  Varallo. 
My  excuse  must  be,  that  I  found  it  impossible 
to  deal  with  Varallo  without  making  my  book 
too  long.  Varallo  requires  a  work  to  itself;  1 
must,  therefore,  hope  to  return  to  it  on  another 
occasion. 

For  the  convenience  of  avoiding  explanations,  I 
have  treated  the  events  of  several  summers  as 
though  they  belonged  to  only  one.  This  can  be 
of  no  importance  to  the  reader,  but  as  the  work  is 
chronologically  inexact,  I  had  better  perhaps  say  so. 

The  illustrations  by  Mr.  H.  F.  Jones  are  on  pages 
I02,  274,  292,  309,  330,  337.  The  frontispiece  and 
illustration  on  the  title-page,  and  on  pages  338  and 
339,  are  by  Mr.  Charles  Gogin.  There  are  two  draw- 
ings on  pages  174,  175,  by  an  Italian  gentleman  whose 


vi  PREFACE. 

name  I  have  unfortunately  lost,  and  whose  permis- 
sion to  insert  them  I  have,  therefore,  been  unable  to 
obtain,  and  one  on  page  1 76  by  Signor  Gaetano  Meo. 
The  rest  are  mine,  except  that  all  the  figures  in  my 
drawings  are  in  every  case  by  Mr.  Charles  Gogin, 
unless  when  they  are  merely  copied  from  frescoes 
or  other  sources.  The  two  larger  views  of  Oropa 
are  chiefly  taken  from  photographs.  The  rest  are 
all  of  them  from  studies  taken  upon  the  spot.  All 
except  six,  which  the  reader  will  easily  distinguish, 
are  printed  from  blocks  made  by  what  is  commonly 
known  as  the  Dawson  Process,  through  the  Typo- 
graphic Etching  Co.,  of  No.  23  Farringdon  Street, 
E.C.      The  binding  is  designed  by  Mr.  Gogin. 

I  must  acknowledge  the  great  obligations  I  am 
under  to  Mr.  H.  F.  Jones  as  regards  the  letter- 
press no  less  than  the  illustrations  ;  I  might  almost 
say  that  the  book  is  nearly  as  much  his  as  mine, 
while  it  is  only  through  the  care  which  he  and 
another  friend  have  exercised  in  the  revision  of 
my  pages  that  I  am  able  to  let  them  appear  with 
some  approach  to  confidence. 

November  18S1. 


\ 


TABLE    OF  CONTENTS. 


I.  Introduction 

II.  Faido 

III.  Primadengo,    Calpiognia,    Dalpe,    Cornone, 

Prato         ...... 

IV.  ROSSURA,  Calonico 

V.  Calonico  [continued)  and  Giornico  . 

VI.    PlORA 

VII.    S.   MiCHELE  AND  THE  MONTE  PiRCHIRIANO 

VIII.   S.  MiCHELE  {continued)      .... 
IX.  Reforms  Instituted  at  S.  Michele  in  the 

1478 

X.  The  North  Italian  Priesthood     . 
XI.  S,  Ambrogio  and  Neighbourhood  . 
XII.  Lanzo 

XIII.  Considerations  on  the  Decline  of  Italian 

XIV.  VlU,  FUCINE,  AND  S.   IGNAZIO      . 

XV.  Sanctuary  of  Oropa        .... 
XVI.  Oropa  {continued)      ..... 
XVII.  Sanctuary  of  Graglia    . 


and 


YEAR 


Art 


PACK 
I 


22 

42 

54 
79 
91 
99 

116 

139 
149 
168 
181 
208 
220 
228 
245 


CONTENTS. 


CHATTER 

XVIII.    SOAZZA  AND  THE  VALLEY  OF  MESOCCO 


XXI,  Sanctuary  on  Monte  Bisbino 
XXII.  A  Day  at  the  Cantine    . 

XXIII.  The  Sacro  Monte,  Varese 

XXIV.  Angera  and  Arona 
XXV.  Locarno  .... 

XXVI.  Fusio 


FAGB 
258 


XIX.  Mesocco,  S.  Bernardino,  and  S.  Maria  in  Calanca     269 

XX.  The  Mendrisiotto 296 


307 
315 
323 
334 
347 
3S8 


ALPS   AND    SANCTUARIES. 


CHAPTER-  I. 

1NTR0DUCTI0S\ 

Most  men  will  readily  admit  that  the  two  poets  who 
have  the  greatest  hold  over  Engh'shmen  are  Handel 
and  Shakspeare — for  it  is  as  a  poet,  a  sympathiser 
with  and  renderer  of  all  estates  and  conditions  whether 
of  men  or  things,  rather  than  as  a  mere  musician,  that 
Handel  reigns  supreme.  There  have  been  many  who 
have  known  as  much  English  as  Shakspeare,  and  so, 
doubtless,  there  have  been  no  fewer  who  have  known 
as  much  music  as  Handel :  perhaps  Bach,  probably 
Haydn,  certainly  Mozart ;  as  likely  as  not,  many  a 
known  and  unknown  musician  now  living ;  but  the 
poet  is  not  known  by  knowledge  alone — not  by  gnosis 
only — but  also,  and  in  greater  part,  by  the  agape  which 
makes  him  wish  to  steal  men's  hearts,  and  prompts 
him  so  to  apply  his  knowledge  that  he  shall  succeed. 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


There  has  been  no  one  to  touch  Handel  as  an  observer 
of  all  that  was  observable,  a  lover  of  all  that  was  love- 
able,  a  hater  of  all  that  was  hateable,  and,  therefore, 
as  a  poet.  Shakspeare  loved  not  wisely  but  too  well. 
Handel  loved  as  well  as  Shakspeare,  but  more  wisely. 
He  is  as  much  above  Shakspeare  as  Shakspeare  is 
above  all  others,  except  Handel  himself;  he  is  no  less 
lofty,  impassioned,  tender,  and  full  alike  of  fire  and 
love  of  play ;  he  is  no  less  universal  in  the  range  of 
his  sympathies,  no  less  a  master  of  expression  and 
illustration  than  Shakspeare,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
is  of  robuster,  stronger  fibre,  more  easy,  less  introspec- 
tive. Englishmen  are  of  so  mixed  a  race,  so  inventive, 
and  so  given  to  migration,  that  for  many  generations 
to  come  they  are  bound  to  be  at  times  puzzled,  and 
therefore  introspective ;  if  they  get  their  freedom  at  all 
they  get  it  as  Shakspeare  "  with  a  great  sum,"  whereas 
Handel  was  "  free  born."  Shakspeare  sometimes 
errs  and  grievously,  he  is  as  one  of  his  own  best  men 
"  moulded  out  of  faults,"  who  "  for  the  most  become 
much  more  the  better,  for  being  a  little  bad  ; "  Handel, 
if  he  puts  forth  his  strength  at  all,  is  unerring  :  he  gains 
the  maximum  of  effect  with  the  minimum  of  effort. 
As  Mozart  said  of  him,  "  he  beats  us  all  in  effect,  when 
he   chooses   he   strikes   like   a   thunderbolt."     Shak- 


INTRODUCTION. 


speare's  strength  is  perfected  in  weakness ;  Handel  is 
the  serenity  and  unself-consciousness  of  health  itself. 
"  There,"  said  Beethoven  on  his  deathbed,  pointing  to 
the  works  of  Handel,  "  there — is  truth."  These,  how- 
ever, are  details,  the  main  point  that  will  be  admitted 
is  that  the  average  Englishman  is  more  attracted  by 
Handel  and  Shakspeare  than  by  any  other  two  men 
who  have  been  lonof  enouo^h  dead  for  us  to  have  formed 
a  fairly  permanent  verdict  concerning  them.  We  not 
only  believe  them  to  have  been  the  best  men  familiarly 
known  here  in  England,  but  we  see  foreign  nations 
join  us  for  the  most  part  in  assigning  to  them  the 
highest  place  as  renderers  of  emotion. 

It  is  always  a  pleasure  to  me  to  reflect  that  the 
countries  dearest  to  these  two  master  spirits  are  those 
which  are  also  dearest  to  myself,  I  mean  England  and 
Italy.  Both  of  them  lived  mainly  here  in  London,  but 
both  of  them  turned  mainly  to  Italy  when  realising 
their  dreams.  Handel's  music  is  the  embodiment  of 
all  the  best  Italian  music  of  his  time  and  before  him, 
assimilated  and  reproduced  with  the  enlargements  and 
additions  suggested  by  his  own  genius.  He  studied  in 
Italy ;  his  subjects  for  many  years  were  almost  exclu- 
sively from  Italian  sources;  the  very  language  of  his 
thoughts  was  Italian,  and  to  the  end  of  his  life  he  would 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


have  composed  nothing  but  ItaHan  operas,  if  the  Eng- 
Hsh  pubhc  would  have  supported  him.  His  spirit  flew 
to  Italy,  but  his  home  was  London.  So  also  Shak- 
speare  turned  to  Italy  more  than  to  any  other  country 
for  his  subjects.  Roughly,  he  wrote  nineteen  Italian, 
or  what  to  him  were  virtually  Italian  plays,  to  twelve 
English,  one  Scotch,  one  Danish,  three  French,  and 
two  early  British. 

But  who  does  not  turn  to  Italy  who  has  the  chance 
of  doing  so  ?  What,  indeed,  do  we  not  owe  to  that 
most  lovely  and  loveable  country  ?  Take  up  a  Bank  of 
Enorland  note  and  the  Italian  lanoruaQfe  will  be  found 
still  lingering  upon  it.  It  is  signed  "  for  Bank  of 
England  and  Comp^"  {Compagnia),  not  "  Comp^." 
Our  laws  are  Roman  in  their  origin.  Our  music,  as 
we  have  seen,  and  our  painting  comes  from  Italy.  Our 
very  religion  till  a  few  hundred  years  ago  found  its 
headquarters,  not  in  London  nor  in  Canterbury,  but  in 
Rome.  What,  in  fact,  is  there  which  has  not  filtered 
through  Italy,  even  though  it  arose  elsewhere  ?  On 
the  other  hand,  there  are  infinite  attractions  in  London. 
I  have  seen  many  foreign  cities,  but  I  know  none  so 
commodious,  or,  let  me  add,  so  beautiful.  I  know  of 
nothing  in  any  foreign  city  equal  to  the  view  down 
Fleet  Street,  walking  along  the  north  side  from  the 


INTRODUCTION. 


corner  of  Fetter  Lane.  It  is  often  said  that  this  has 
been  spoiled  by  the  London,  Chatham,  and  Dover  Rail- 
way  bridge  over  Ludgate  Hill ;  I  think,  however,  the 
effect  is  more  imposing  now  than  it  was  before  the 
bridge  was  built.  Time  has  already  softened  it ;  it 
does  not  obtrude  itself;  it  adds  greatly  to  the  sense  of 
size,  and  makes  us  doubly  aware  of  the  movement  of 
life,  the  colossal  circulation  to  which  London  owes  so 
much  of  its  impressiveness.  We  gain  more  by  this 
than  we  lose  by  the  infraction  of  some  pedant's  canon 
about  the  artistically  correct  intersection  of  right 
lines.  Vast  as  is  the  world  below  the  bridge,  there  is 
a  vaster  still  on  high,  and  when  trains  are  passing, 
the  steam  from  the  enorine  will  throw  the  dome  of 
St.  Paul's  into  the  clouds,  and  make  it  seem  as  thouorh 
there  were  a  commingling  of  earth  and  some  far-ofif 
mysterious  palace  in  dreamland.  I  am  not  very  fond 
of  Milton,  but  I  admit  that  he  does  at  times  put  me  in 
mind  of  Fleet  Street. 

While  on  the  subject  of  Fleet  Street,  I  would  put  in 
a  word  in  favour  of  the  much-abused  griffin.  The 
whole  monument  is  one  of  the  handsomest  in  London. 
As  for  its  being  an  obstruction,  I  have  discoursed  with 
a  large  number  of  omnibus  conductors  on  the  subject, 
and  am  satisfied  that  the  obstruction  is  imaginary. 


k 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


When,  again,  I  think  of  Waterloo  Bridge,  and  the 
huge  wide-opened  jaws  of  those  two  Behemoths,  the 
Cannon  Street  and  Charing  Cross  railway  stations,  I  am 
not  sure  that  the  prospect  here  is  not  even  finer  than  in 
Fleet  Street.  See  how  they  belch  forth  puffing  trains 
as  the  breath  ot  their  nostrils,  gorging  and  disgorging 
incessantly  those  humai^  atoms  whose  movement  is 
the  life  of  the  city.  How  like  it  all  is  to  some  great 
bodily  mechanism  of  which  the  people  are  the  blood. 
And  then^  above  all,  see  the  ineffable  St.  Paul's.  I  was 
once  on  Waterloo  Bridge  after  a  heavy  thunderstorm 
in  summer.  A  thick  darkness  was  upon  the  river 
and  the  buildings  upon  the  north  side,  but  just  below 
I  could  see  the  water  hurrying  onward  as  in  an  abyss, 
dark,  gloomy,  and  mysterious.  On  a  level  with  the 
eye  there  was  an  absolute  blank,  but  above,  the  sky 
was  clear,  and  out  of  the  gloom  the  dome  and  towers 
of  St.  Paul's  rose  up  sharply,  looking  higher  than  they 
actually  were,  and  as  though  they  rested  upon  space. 

Then  as  for  the  neighbourhood  within,  we  will  say, 
a  radius  of  thirty  miles.  It  is  one  of  the  main 
businesses  of  my  life  to  explore  this  district.  I  have 
walked  several  thousands  of  miles  in  doing  so,  and 
mark  where  I  have  been  in  red  upon  the  Ordnance 
map,  so  that  I  may  see  at  a  glance  what  parts  I  know 


I 


INTRODUCTION. 


least  well,  and  direct  my  attention  to  them  as  soon  as 
possible.  For  ten  months  in  the  year  I  continue  my 
walks  in  the  home  counties,  every  week  adding  some 
new  village  or  farmhouse  to  my  list  of  things  worth 
seeing ;  and  no  matter  where  else  I  may  have  been,  I 
find  a  charm  in  the  villages  of  Kent,  Surrey,  and 
Sussex,  which  in  its  way  I  know  not  where  to  rival. 

I  have  ventured  to  say  the  above,  because  during 
the  remainder  of  my  book  I  shall  be  occupied  almost 
exclusively  with  Italy,  and  wish  to  make  it  clear  that 
my  Italian  rambles  are  taken  not  because  I  prefer 
Italy  to  England,  but  as  by  way  oi  parergon,  or  by- 
work,  as  every  man  should  have  both  his  profession 
and  his  hobby.  I  have  chosen  Italy  as  my  second 
country,  and  would  dedicate  this  book  to  her  as  a 
thank-offering  for  the  happiness  she  has  afforded  me. 


CHAPTER  II. 

F  A  I  D  O. 

For  some  years  past  I  have  paid  a  visit  of  greater 
or  less  length  to  Faido  in  the  Canton  Ticino,  which 
though  politically  Swiss  is  as  much  Italian  in  character 
as  any  part  of  Italy.  I  was  attracted  to  this  place,  in 
the  first  instance,  chiefly  because  it  is  one  of  the 
easiest  places  on  the  Italian  side  of  the  Alps  to  reach 
from  England.  This  merit  it  will  soon  possess  in  a 
still  greater  degree,  for  when  the  St.  Gothard  tunnel  is 
open,  it  will  be  possible  to  leave  London,  we  will  say, 
on  a  Monday  morning  and  be  at  Faido  by  six  or 
seven  o'clock  the  next  evening,  just  as  one  can  now 
do  with  S.  Ambroofio  on  the  line  between  Susa  and 
Turin,  of  which  more  hereafter. 

True,  by  making  use  of  the  tunnel  one  will  miss 
the  St.  Gothard  scenery,  but  I  would  not,  if  I  were 
the  reader,  lay  this  too  much  to  heart.  Mountain 
scenery,  when  one  is  staying  right  in  the  middle  of 
it,  or  when  one  is  on  foot,  is  one  thing,  and  mountain 


FA  I  DO.  9 

scenery  as  seen  from  the  top  of  a  diligence  very  likely 
smothered  in  dust  is  another.  Besides  I  do  not  think 
he  will  like  the  St.  Gothard  scenery  very  much. 

It  is  a  pity  there  is  no  mental  microscope  to  show 
us  our  likes  and  dislikes  while  they  are  yet  too  vague 
to  be  made  out  easily.  We  are  so  apt  to  let  imaginary 
likings  run  away  with  us,  as  a  person  at  the  far  end  of 
Cannon  Street  railway  platform,  if  he  expects  a  friend 
to  join  him,  will  see  that  friend  in  half  the  impossible 
people  who  are  coming  through  the  wicket.  I  once 
began  an  essay  on  "  The  Art  of  Knowing  what  gives 
One  Pleasure,"  but  soon  found  myself  out  of  the 
diatonic  with  it,  in  all  manner  of  strange  keys,  amid  a 
maze  of  metaphysical  accidentals  and  double  and  treble 
flats,  so  I  left  it  alone  as  a  question  not  worth  the 
trouble  it  seemed  likely  to  take  in  answering.  It  is 
like  everj'thing  else,  if  we  much  want  to  know  our  own 
mind  on  any  particular  point,  we  may  be  trusted  to 
develop  the  faculty  which  will  reveal  it  to  us,  and  if 
we  do  not  greatly  care  about  knowing,  it  does  not 
much  matter  if  we  remain  in  ignorance.  But  in  few 
cases  can  we  get  at  our  permanent  liking  without  at 
least  as  much  experience  as  a  fishmonger  must  have 
had  before  he  can  choose  at  once  the  best  bloater  out 
of  twenty  which,  to  inexperienced  eyes,  seem  one  as 


lo  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

good  as  the  other.  Lord  Beaconsfield  was  a  thorough 
Erasmus  Darwinian  when  he  said  so  well  in  "  Endy- 
mion  : "  "  There  is  nothing  like  will ;  everybody  can  do 
exactly  what  they  like  in  this  world,  provided  they 
really  like  it.  Sometimes  they  think  they  do,  but  in 
general  it's  a  mistake."  ^''  If  this  is  as  true  as  I  be- 
lieve it  to  be,  "  the  longing  after  immortality,"  though 
not  indeed  much  of  an  arsfument  in  favour  of  our 
being  immortal  at  the  present  moment,  is  perfectly 
sound  as  a  reason  for  concluding  that  we  shall  one  day 
develop  immortality,  if  our  desire  is  deep  enough  and 
lasting  enough.  As  for  knowing  whether  or  not  one 
likes  a  picture,  which  under  the  present  aesthetic  reign 
of  terror  is  (i^e  rigueur,  I  once  heard  a  man  say  the 
only  test  was  to  ask  one's  self  whether  one  would  care 
to  look  at  it  if  one  was  quite  sure  that  one  was  alone  ;  I 
have  never  been  able  to  get  beyond  this  test  with  the 
St.  Gothard  scenery,  and  applying  it  to  the  Devil's 
Bridge,  I  should  say  a  stay  of  about  thirty  seconds 
would  be  enough  for  me.  I  daresay  Mendelssohn 
would  have  stayed  at  least  two  hours  at  the  Devil's 
Bridge,  but  then  he  did  stay  sucH  a  long  while  before 
things. 

The   coming    out    from    the    short    tunnel    on    to 

*  Vol.  iii.  p.  300. 


FAIDO.  II 

the  plain  of  Andermatt  does  certainly  give  the 
pleasure  of  a  surprise.  I  shall  never  forget  coming 
out  of  this  tunnel  one  day  late  in  November, 
and  finding  the  whole  Andermatt  valley  in  brilliant 
sunshine,  though  from  Fluelen  up  to  the  Devil's 
Bridge  the  clouds  had  hung  heavy  and  low.  It 
was  one  of  the  most  striking  transformation  scenes 
imaginable.  The  top  of  the  pass  is  good,  and 
the  Hotel  Prosa  a  comfortable  inn  to  stay  at.  I  do 
not  know  whether  this  house  will  be  discontinued 
when  the  railway  is  opened,  but  understand  that  the 
proprietor  has  taken  the  large  hotel  at  Piora,  which  I 
will  speak  of  later  on.  The  descent  on  the  Italian  side 
is  impressive,  and  so  is  the  point  where  sight  is  first 
caught  of  the  valley  below  Airolo,  but  on  the  whole  I 
cannot  see  that  the  St.  Gothard  is  better  than  the 
S.  Bernardino  on  the  Italian  side,  or  the  Lukmanier, 
near  the  top,  on  the  German  ;  this  last  is  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  things  imaginable,  but  it  should  be  seen 
by  one  who  is  travelling  towards  German  Switzer- 
land, and  in  a  fine  summer's  evening  light.  I  was  never 
more  impressed  by  the  St.  Gothard  than  on  the  occa- 
sion already  referred  to  when  I  crossed  it  in  winter. 
We  went  in  sledges  from  Hospenthal  to  Airolo,  and  I 
remember  thinking  what  splendid  fellows  the  postil- 


12  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

lions  and  guards  and  men  who  helped  to  shift  the 
luggage  on  to  the  sledges,  looked;  they  were  so  ruddy 
and  strong  and  full  of  health,  as  indeed  they  might 
well  be — living  an  active  outdoor  life  in  such  an  air ; 
besides,  they  were  picked  men,  for  the  passage  in  winter 
is  never  without  possible  dangers.  It  was  delightful 
travelling  in  the  sledge.  The  sky  was  of  a  deep 
blue  ;  there  was  not  a  single  cloud  either  in  sky  or  on 
mountain,  but  the  snow  was  already  deep,  and  had 
covered  everything  beneath  its  smooth  and  heaving 
bosom.  There  was  no  breath  of  air,  but  the  cold  was 
intense  ;  presently  the  sun  set  upon  all  except  the 
higher  peaks,  and  the  broad  shadows  stole  upwards. 
Then  there  was  a  rich  crimson  flush  upon  the  moun- 
tain tops,  and  after  this  a  pallor  cold  and  ghastly  as 
death.  If  he  is  fortunate  in  his  day,  I  do  not  think 
any  one  will  be  sorry  to  have  crossed  the  St.  Gothard 
in  mid-winter ;  but  one  pass  will  do  as  well  as 
another. 

Airolo,  at  the  foot  of  the  pass  on  the  Italian  side, 
was,  till  lately,  a  quiet  and  beautiful  village,  rising 
from  among  great  green  slopes,  which  in  early  summer 
are  covered  with  innumerable  flowers.  The  place, 
however,  is  now  quite  changed.  The  railway  has 
turned  the  whole   Val    Leventina    topsy-turvy,    and 


FAIDO.  13 

altered  it  almost  beyond  recognition.  When  the  line 
is  finished  and  the  workmen  have  gone  elsewhere, 
things  will  get  right  again  ;  but  just  now  there  is  an 
explosiveness  about  the  valley  which  puzzles  one  who 
has  been  familiar  with  its  former  quietness.  Airolo  has 
been  especially  revolutionised,  being  the  headquarters 
for  the  works  upon  the  Italian  side  of  the  great 
St.  Gothard  tunnel,  as  Goschenen  is  for  those  on  the 
German  side  ;  besides  this,  it  was  burnt  down  two  or 
three  years  ago,  hardly  one  of  the  houses  being  left 
standing,  so  that  it  is  now  a  new  town,  and  has  lost  its 
former  picturesqueness,  but  it  will  be  not  a  bad  place 
to  stay  at  as  soon  as  the  bustle  of  the  works  has 
subsided,  and  there  is  a  good  hotel — the  Hotel  Airolo. 
It  lies  nearly  4000  feet  above  the  sea,  so  that  even  in 
summer  the  air  is  cool.  There  are  plenty  of  delight- 
ful walks — to  Piora,  for  example,  up  the  Val  Canada, 
and  to  Bedretto. 

After  leaving  Airolo  the  road  descends  rapidly  for 
a  few  hundred  feet  and  then  more  slowly  for  four  or 
five  kilometres  to  Piotta.  Here  the  first  signs  of 
the  Italian  spirit  appear  in  the  wood  carving  of  some 
of  the  houses.  It  is  with  these  houses  that  I  always 
consider  myself  as  in  Italy  again.  Then  come  Ronco 
on  the  mountain  side  to  the  left,  and  Ouinto;  all  the 


i 


14 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


way  the  pastures  are  thickly  covered  with  cowslips, 
even  finer  than  those  that  grow  on  Salisbury  Plain. 
A  few  kilometres  farther  on  and  sight  is  caught  of  a 
beautiful  green  hill  with  a  few  natural  terraces  upon  it 
and  a  flat  top — rising  from  amid  pastures,  and  backed 
by  higher  hills  as  green  as  itself.  On  the  top  of  this 
hill  there  stands  a  white  church  with  an  elegant  Lom- 
bard  campanile — the  campanile  left   unwhitewashed. 


•-xU^        V-<S     /„rr        ,'-n.^'„    ^*''  y 


PRATO  FROM  NEAR   DAZIO. 


The  whole  forms  a  lovely  little  bit  of  landscape  such 
as  some  old  Venetian  painter  might  have  chosen  as 
a  background  for  a  Madonna. 

This  place  is  called  Prato.  After  it  is  passed  the 
road  enters  at  once  upon  the  Monte  Piottino  gorge, 
which  is  better  than  the  Devil's  Bridge,  but  not  so  much 
to  my  taste  as  the  auriculas  and  rhododendrons  which 


FAIDO.  15 

grow  upon  the  rocks  that  flank  it.  The  peep,  however, 
at  the  hamlet  of  Vigera,  caught  through  the  opening 
of  the  gorge,  is  very  nice.  Soon  after  crossing  the 
second  of  the  Monte  Piottino  bridges  the  first  chest- 
nuts are  reached,  or  rather  were  so  till  a  year  ago, 
when  they  were  all  cut  down  to  make  room  for  some 
construction  in  connection  with  the  railway.  A  couple 
of  kilometres  farther  on  and  mulberries  and  occa- 
sional fig-trees  begin  to  appear.  On  this  we  find  our- 
selves at  Faido,  the  first  place  upon  the  Italian  side 
which  can  be  called  a  town,  but  which  after  all  is 
hardly  more  than  a  village. 

Faido  is  a  picturesque  old  place.  It  has  several 
houses  dated  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  ; 
and  there  is  one,  formerly  a  convent,  close  to  the 
Hotel  del  Angelo,  which  must  be  still  older.  There 
is  a  brewery  where  excellent  beer  is  made,  as  good 
as  that  of  Chiavenna — and  a  monastery  where  a  few 
monks  still  continue  to  reside.  The  town  is  2365  feet 
above  the  sea,  and  is  never  too  hot  even  in  the  height 
of  summer.  The  Angelo  is  the  principal  hotel  of  the 
town,  and  will  be  found  thoroughly  comfortable  and 
in  all  respects  a  desirable  place  to  stay  at.  I  have 
stayed  there  so  often,  and  consider  the  whole  family 
of  its  proprietor  so  much  among  the  number  of  my 


i6  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

friends,  that  I  have  no  hesitation  in  cordially  recom- 
mending the  house. 

Other  attractions  I  do  not  know  that  the  actual 
town  possesses,  but  the  neighbourhood  is  rich.  Years 
ago,  in  travelling  by  the  St.  Gothard  road,  I  had  noticed 
the  many  little  villages  perched  high  up  on  the  sides 
of  the  mountain,  from  one  to  two  thousand  feet  above 
the  river,  and  had  wondered  what  sort  of  places  they 
would  be.  I  resolved,  therefore,  after  a  time  to  make 
a  stay  at  Faido  and  go  up  to  all  of  them.  I  carried 
out  my  intention,  and  there  is  not  a  village  nor  fraction 
of  avillaofe  in  the  Val  Leventina  from  Airolo  to  Biasca 
which  I  have  not  inspected.  I  never  tire  of  them, 
and  the  only  regret  I  feel  concerning  them  is,  that  the 
greater  number  are  inaccessible  except  on  foot,  so  that 
I  do  not  see  how  I  shall  be  able  to  reach  them  if  I 
live  to  be  old.  These  are  the  places  of  which  I  do 
find  myself  continually  thinking  when  I  am  away 
from  them.  I  may  add  that  the  Val  Leventina  is 
much  the  same  as  every  other  subalpine  valley  on 
the  It  lian  side  of  the  Alps  that  I  have  yet  seen. 

I  had  no  particular  aversion  to  German  Switzerland 
before  I  knew  the  Italian  side  of  the  Alps.  On  the 
contrary,  I  was  under  the  impression  that  I  liked 
German  Switzerland  almost  as  much  as  I  liked  Italy 


FA  I  DO.  17 

itself,  but  now  I  can  look  at  German  Switzerland  no 
lono^er.  As  soon  as  I  see  the  water  "["oinor  down 
Rhinewards  I  hurry  back  to  London.  I  was  unwill- 
ingly compelled  to  take  pleasure  in  the  first  hour  and 
a  half  of  the  descent  from  the  top  of  the  Lukmanier 
towards  Dissentis,  but  this  is  only  a  lipping  over  of 
the  brimfulness  of  Italy  on  to  the  Swiss  side. 

The  first  place  I  tried  from  Faido  was  Malrengo — 
where  there  is  the  oldest  church  in  the  valley — a 
church  older  even  than  the  church  of  St.  Nicolao  of 
Giornico.  There  is  little  of  the  original  structure,  but 
the  rare  peculiarity  remains  that  there  are  two  high 
altars  side  by  side. 

There  is  a  fine  half-covered  timber  porch  to  the 
church.  These  porches  are  rare,  the  only  others  like 
it  I  know  of  being  at  Prato,  Rossura,  and  to  some 
extent  Cornone.  In  each  of  these  cases  the  arrange- 
ment is  different,  the  only  agreement  being  in  the 
having  an  outer  sheltered  place,  from  which  the  church 
is  entered  instead  of  opening  directly  on  to  the  church- 
yard. Mairengo  is  full  of  good  bits,  and  nestles  among 
magfnificent  chestnut-trees.  From  hence  I  went  to 
Osco,  about  3800  feet  above  the  sea,  and  1430  above 
Faido.  It  was  here  I  first  came  to  understand  the 
purpose  of  certain  high  poles  with  cross  bars  to  them 


i8 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


which  I  had  already  seen  elsewhere.  They  are  for 
drying  the  barley  on  ;  as  soon  as  it  is  cut  it  is  hung  up 
on  the  cross  bars  and  secured  in  this   way  from  the 

rain,  but  it  is  obvious 
this  can  only  be   done 


when  cultivation  is  on 
a  small  scale.  These 
rascane,  as  they  are 
called,  are  a  feature  of 
the  Val  Leventina,  and 
look  very  well  when 
they  are  full  of  barley. 
From  Osco   I    tried 


••^^'^^•?    to  coast  alone  to  Cal- 


TICINESE   BARLKY-STACKS. 


piognia,but  was  warned 
that  the  path  was  dangerous,  and  found  it  to  be 
so.  I  therefore  again  descended  to  Mairengo, 
and  reascended  by  a  path  which  went  straight  up 
behind  the  village.  After  a  time  I  got  up  to  the 
level  of  Calpiognia,  or  nearly  so,  and  found  a  path, 
through  pine  woods  which  led  me  across  a  torrent 
in  a  ravine  to  Calpiognia  itself.  This  path  is  very 
beautiful.  While  on  it  I  caught  sight  of  a  lovely  village 
nestling  on  a  plateau  that  now  showed  itself  high  up 
on  the  other  side  the  valley  of  the  Ticino,  perhaps  a 


FAIDO. 


19 


couple  of  miles  off  as  the  crow  flies.  This  I  found 
upon  inquiry  to  be  Dalpe ;  above  Dalpe  rose  pine 
woods  and  pastures  ;  then  the  loftier  aipi,  then  rugged 
precipices,  and  above  all  the  Dalpe  glacier  roseate  with 
sunset.     I    was  enchanted,  and  it  was  only  because 


-  -  '1 

^jZ-O^TiM^. 

*!:B?:' 

f;^:^ 

_^ 

-  '"'-,'•-'' 

-\,- ' 

^^%'ry/1: 

'.  'j'''  • 

<■: 

jC_./ 

■  ■./// 

•'''■■/ 
■J . 

■' ''' J 

I^^BH  -'^'-'' 

i 

CAMPO   SANTO   AT  CALPIOGNIA. 


night  was  coming  on,  and  I  had  a  long  way  to  descend 
before  getting  back  to  Faido,  that  I  could  get  myself 
away.  I  passed  through  Calpiognia,  and  though  the 
dusk  was  deepening,  I  could  not  forbear  from  pausing 
at  the  Campo  Santo  just  outside  the  village.  I  give  a 
sketch  taken  by  daylight,  but  neither  sketch  nor  words 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


can  orive  any  idea  of  the  pathos  of  the  place.  When 
I  saw  it  first  it  was  in  the  month  of  June,  and  the  rank 
dandeHons  were  in  seed.  Wild  roses  in  full  bloom, 
great  daisies,  and  the  never-failing  salvia  ran  riot 
among  the  graves.  Looking  over  the  churchyard  itself 
there  were  the  purple  mountains  of  Biasca  and  the 
valley  of  the  Ticino  some  couple  of  thousand  feet 
below.  There  was  no  sound  save  the  subdued  but 
ceaseless  roar  of  the  Ticino,  and  the  Piumogna. 
Involuntarily  I  found  the  following  passage  from  the 
"Messiah"  sounding  in  my  ears,  and  felt  as  though 
Handel,  who  in  his  travels  as  a  young  man  doubtless 
saw  such  places,  might  have  had  one  of  them  in  his 
mind  when  he  wrote  the  divine  music  which  he  has 
wedded  to  the  words  "  of  them  that  sleep."  * 


J, 


Adaoio.       V       ^-      ^  •>  ^    -•^•^-•^   ^  -I      'I'll 


.  r 


=1: 


2^=:.-*: 


-m-     P 


vii-i*- 


&c. 


a 


"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth." — "  Messiah." 


FA  I  DO. 


21 


Or  asfain :  ^'' 


— ^«= 


Adagio, 


p=z:2sr 


&c 


:i=i-^=zi-- 


From  Calpiognia  I  came  down  to  Primadengo,  and 
thence  to  Faido. 

*  Suites  de  Pieces,  set  i.,  prelude  to  Nd.  8. 


CHAPTER  III. 

PRIMALiENGO,   CALPIOGNIA,   DALPE,    CORNONE,   AND   FRATO. 

Next  morning  I  thought  I  would  go  up  to  Cal- 
piognia  again.  It  was  Sunday.  When  I  got  up  to 
Primadengo  I  saw  no  one,  and  heard  nothing, 
save  always  the  sound  of  distant  waterfalls  ;  all  was 
spacious  and  full  of  what  Mr.  Ruskin  has  called  a 
*'  great  peacefulness  of  light."  The  village  was  so  quiet 
that  it  seemed  as  though  it  were  deserted  ;  after  a 
minute  or  so,  however,  I  heard  a  cherry  fall,  and  look- 
ing up,  saw  the  trees  were  full  of  people.  There  they 
were,  crawlinof  and  lolling^  about  on  the  bouofhs  like 
caterpillars,  and  gorging  themselves  with  cherries. 
They  spoke  not  a  word  either  to  me  or  to  one 
another.  They  were  too  happy  and  goodly  to  make 
a  noise  ;  but  they  lay  about  on  the  large  branches,  and 
ate  and  sighed  for  content  and  ate  till  they  could  eat 
no  longer.  Lotus  eating  was  a  rough  nerve-jarring 
business  in  comparison.  They  were  like  saints  and 
evangelists  by  Filippo  Lippi.     Again  the  rendering  of 


PRIMADENGO. 


Handel  came  into  my  mind,  and  I  thought  of  how  the 
goodly  fellowship  of  prophets  praised  God.""'' 

Andante,  non  presto.                  \                 \                 f^-?    I    ;^      ,          J^**^ 
— •-« •-• -^-1 — I — ■ — — I — I — I ^H — ! — — v-\ ^ ' 


1"^ 


kSj-fcjz;£q^-^:{-:g^fz:^*r*i^|:"^r^^ 


i^rrq 


_ — . ! ■  _, .  L 1 C ,  — ^ 


'  ^  D.C. 


And  how  again  in  some  such  another  quiet  ecstasy 
the  muses  sing  about  Jove's  altar  in  the  "Allegro" 
and  "  Penseroso." 

*  Dettingen  Te  Deum. 


24 


.4 LPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


Here  is  a  sketch  of  Primadengo  Church — looking 
over  it  on  to  the  other  side  the  Ticino,  but  I  could 
not  get  the  cherry-trees  nor  cherry  eaters. 

On  leaving  Primadengo  I  went  on  to  Calpiognia, 

and  there  too  I  found 
the  children's  faces  all 
purple  with  cherry  juice; 
thence  I  ascended  till 
I  got  to  a  "  mou/e,"  or 
collection  of  chalets, 
about  5680  feet  above 
the  sea.  It  was  de- 
serted at  this  season. 
I  mounted  farther  and 
reached  an  "a//>e,"  where 
a  man  and  a  boy  were 
tendino'  a  mob  of  calves. 
Going  still  higher,  I  at 
last  came  upon  a  small  lake  close  to  the  top  of  the 
range  :  I  find  this  lake  given  in  the  map  as  about  7400 
feet  above  the  sea.  Here,  being  more  than  5000  feet 
above  Faido,  I  stopped  and  dined. 

I  have  spoken  of  a  "  monte"  and  of  an  '' a//>e." 
An  a//>e,  or  alp,  is  not,  as  so  many  people  in 
England  think,  a  snowy  mountain.     Mont  Blanc  and 


PKIMAUKNGO. 


CALPIOGNIA. 


the  Jungfrau,  for  example,  are  not  alps.  They  are 
mountains  with  alps  upon  them. 

An  alpe  is  a  tract  of  the  highest  summer  pasturage 
just  below  the  snow-line,  and  only  capable  of  being 
grazed  for  two  or  three  months  in  every  year.  It  is 
held  as  common  land  by  one  or  more  villages  in  the 
immediate  neighbourhood,  and  sometimes  by  a  single 
individual  to  whom  the  village  has  sold  it.  A  few 
men  and  boys  attend  the  whole  herd,  whether  of  cattle 
or  goats,  and  make  the  cheese,  which  is  apportioned 
out  among  the  owners  of  the  cattle  later  on.  The  pigs 
go  up  to  be  fattened  on  whey.  The  cheese  is  not 
commonly  made  at  the  alpe,  but  as  soon  as  the  curd 
has  been  pressed  clear  of  whey,  it  is  sent  down  on 
men's  backs  to  the  village  to  be  made  into  cheese. 
Sometimes  there  will  be  a  little  hay  grown  on  an  alpe, 
as  at  Gribbio  and  in  Piora ;  in  this  case  there  will  be 
some  chalets  built,  which  will  be  inhabited  for  a  few 
weeks  and  left  empty  the  rest  of  the  year. 

The  iiionte  is  the  pasture  land  immediately  above 
the  highest  enclosed  meadows  and  below  the  alpe. 
The  cattle  are  kept  here  in  spring  and  autumn  before 
and  after  their  visit  to  the  alpe.  The  monte  has  many 
houses,  dairies,  and  cowhouses, — being  almost  the 
patse,  or  village,  in  miniature.     It  will  always  have  its 


26  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

chapel,  and  is  inhabited  by  so  considerable  a  number 
of  the  villagers,  for  so  long  a  time  both  in  spring  and 
autumn,  that  they  find  it  worth  while  to  make  them- 
selves more  comfortable  than  is  necessary  for  the  few 
who  make  the  short  summer  visit  to  the  a//>e. 

Every  inch  of  the  ascent  was  good,  but  the  descent 
was  even  better  on  account  of  the  views  of  the  Dalpe 
glacier  on  the  other  side  the  Ticino,  towards  which 
one's  back  is  turned  as  one  ascends.  All  day  long  the 
villages  of  Dalpe  and  Cornone  had  been  tempting  me, 
so  I  resolved  to  take  them  next  day.  This  I  did, 
crossing:  the  Ticino  and  followinof  a  broad  well-beaten 
path  which  ascends  the  mountains  in  a  southerly 
direction.  I  found  the  rare  Enorlish  fern  IVoodsia 
hyperborea  growing  in  great  luxuriance  on  the 
rocks  between  the  path  and  the  river.  I  saw  some 
fronds  fully  six  inches  in  length.  I  also  found  one 
specimen  of  Asplenium  al^ernifolmm,  which,  however, 
is  abundant  on  the  other  side  the  valley,  on  the  walls 
that  flank  the  path  between  Primadengo  and  Calpi- 
ognia,  and  elsewhere.  Woodsia  also  grows  on  the 
roadside  walls  near  Airolo,  but  not  so  fine  as  at  Faido. 
I  have  often  looked  for  it  in  other  sub-alpine  valleys  of 
North  Italy  and  the  Canton  Ticino,  but  have  never 
happened  to  light  upon  it. 


DALPE.  27 

About  three  or  four  hundred  feet  above  the  river, 
under  some  pines,  I  saw  a  string  of  ants  crossing  and 
recrossing  the  road ;  I  have  since  seen  these  ants 
every  year  in  the  same  place.  In  one  part  I  almost 
think  the  stone  is  a  little  worn  with  the  daily  passage 
and  repassage  of  so  many  thousands  of  tiny  feet,  but 
for  the  most  part  it  certainly  is  not.  Half-an-hour  or 
so  after  crossing  the  string  of  ants,  one  passes  from 
under  the  pine-trees  into  a  grassy  meadow,  which  in 
spring  is  decked  with  all  manner  of  Alpine  flowers ; 
after  crossing  this,  the  old  St.  Gothard  road  is  reached, 
which  passed  by  Prato  and  Dalpe,  so  as  to  avoid  the 
gorge  of  the  Monte  Piottino.  This  road  is  of  very 
great  antiquity,  and  has  been  long  disused,  except  for 
local  purposes  ;  for  even  before  the  carriage  road  over 
the  St.  Gothard  was  finished  in  1827,  there  was  a  horse 
track  through  the  Monte  Piottino.  In  another  twenty 
minutes  or  so,  on  coming  out  from  a  wood  of  willows 
and  alders,  Dalpe  is  seen  close  at  hand  after  a  walk  of 
from  an  hour-and-a-half  to  two  hours  from  Faido. 

Dalpe  is  rather  more  than  1 500  feet  above  Faido, 
and  is  therefore  nearly  4000  feet  above  the  sea.  It  is 
reckoned  a  bel paese,  inasmuch  as  it  has  a  little  tolerably 
level  pasture  and  tillable  land  near  it,  and  a  fine  alpe. 
This  is  how  the  wealth  of  a  villagfe  is  reckoned.     The 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


Italians  set  great  store  by  a  little  bit  of  bella  pianura, 
or  level  ground  ;  to  them  it  is  as  precious  as  a  hill  or 
rock  is  to  a  Londoner  out  for  a  holiday.  The  peasantry 
are  as  blind  to  the  beauties  of  rou^h  unmanaoreable 

o  o 

land  as  Peter  Bell  was  to  those  of  the  primrose  with  a 


yellow  brim  (I  quote  from  memory).  The  people 
complain  of  the  climate  of  Dalpe,  the  snow  not  going 
off  before  the  end  of  March  or  beginning  of  April.  No 
climate,  they  say,  should  be  colder  than  that  of  Faido ; 
barley,  however,  and  potatoes  do  very  well  at  Dalpe, 


DALPE.  29 

and  nothing  can  exceed  the  hay  crops.  A  good  deal 
of  the  hay  is  sent  down  to  Faido  on  men's  backs  or 
rather  on  their  heads,  for  the  road  is  impracticable 
even  for  sledges.  It  is  astonishing  what  a  weight  the 
men  will  bear  upon  their  heads,  and  the  rate  at  which 
they  will  come  down  while  loaded.  An  average  load 
is  four  hundredweight.  The  man  is  hardly  visible 
beneath  his  burden,  which  looks  like  a  good  big  part 
of  an  ordinary  English  haystack.  With  this  weight 
on  his  head  he  will  go  down  rough  places  almost  at  a 
run  and  never  miss  his  footing.  The  men  generally 
carry  the  hay  down  in  threes  and  fours  together  for 
company.  They  look  distressed,  as  well  they  may  : 
every  muscle  is  strained,  and  it  is  easy  to  see  that  their 
powers  are  being  taxed  to  their  utmost  limit ;  it  is 
better  not  even  to  say  good-day  to  them  when  they  are 
thus  loaded  ;  they  have  enough  to  attend  to  just  then  ; 
nevertheless,  as  soon  as  they  have  deposited  their  load 
at  Faido  they  will  go  up  to  Dalpe  again  or  Calpiognia, 
or  wherever  it  may  be,  for  another,  and  bring  it  down 
without  resting.  Two  such  journeys  are  reckoned 
enough  for  one  day.  This  is  how  the  people  get 
their  "  corpo  di  legno  e  gamba  di  ferro^' — '*  their  bodies 
of  wood  and  legs  of  iron."  But  I  think  they  rather 
overdo  it. 


30  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

Talking  of  legs,  as  I  went  through  the  main  street 
of  Dalpe  an  old  lady  of  about  sixty-five  stopped  me, 
and  told  me  that  while  gathering  her  winter  store  of 
firewood  she  had  had  the  misfortune  to  hurt  her  leg. 
I  was  very  sorry,  but  I  failed  to  satisfy  her  ;  the  more  I 
sympathised  in  general  terms,  the  more  I  felt  that  some- 
thing further  was  expected  of  me.  I  went  on  trying 
to  do  the  civil  thing,  when  the  old  lady  cut  me  short 
by  saying  it  would  be  much  better  if  I  were  to  see  the 
leg  at  once ;  so  she  showed  it  me  in  the  street,  and 
there,  sure  enough,  close  to  the  groin  there  was  a 
swelling.  Again  I  said  how  sorry  I  was,  and  added 
that  perhaps  she  ought  to  show  it  to  a  medical  man. 
"  But  aren't  you  a  medical  man  ? "  said  she  in  an 
alarmed  manner.  "  Certainly  not,"  replied  I.  "  Then 
why  did  you  let  me  show  you  my  leg  .'* "  said  she 
indignantly,  and  pulling  her  clothes  down,  the  poor  old 
woman  began  to  hobble  off;  presently  two  others 
joined  her,  and  I  heard  hearty  peals  of  laughter  as  she 
recounted  her  story.  A  stranger  visiting  these  out-of- 
the  way  villages  is  almost  certain  to  be  mistaken  for  a 
doctor.  What  business,  they  say  to  themselves,  can 
any  one  else  have  there,  and  who  in  his  senses  would 
dream  of  visiting  them  for  pleasure  ?  This  old  lady 
had  rushed  to  the  usual  conclusion,  and  had  been 
trying  to  get  a  little  advice  gratis. 


CORNONE, 


I 


Above  Dalpe  there  is  a  path  through  the  upper  valley 
of  the  Piumocrna,  which  leads  to  the  g^lacier  whence 
the  river  comes.  The  highest  peak  above  this  upper 
valley  just  turns  the  10,000  feet,  but  I  was  never  able 
to  find  out  that  it  has  a  name,  nor  is  there  a  name 
marked  in  the  Ordnance  map  of  the  Canton  Ticino. 
The  valley  promises  well,  but  I  have  not  been  to  its 
head,  where  at  about  7400  feet  there  is  a  small  lake. 
Great  quantities  of  crystals  are  found  in  the  moun- 
tains above  Dalpe.  Some  people  make  a  living  by 
collecting  these  from  the  higher  parts  of  the  ranges 
where  none  but  born  mountaineers  and  chamois  can 
venture ;  many,  again,  emigrate  to  Paris,  London, 
America,  or  elsewhere,  and  return  either  for  a  month 
or  two,  or  sometimes  for  a  permanency,  having  become 
rich.  In  Cornone  there  is  one  larore  white  new  house 
belonorlnof  to  a  man  who  has  made  his  fortune  near 
Como,  and  in  all  these  villages  there  are  similar 
houses.  From  the  Val  Leventina  and  the  Valle  di 
Blenio,  but  more  especially  from  this  last,  very  large 
numbers  come  to  London,  while  hardly  fewer  go  to 
America.  Signor  Gatti,  the  great  ice  merchant,  came 
from  the  Val  Blenio. 

I  once  found  the  words,  "  Tommy,  make  room  for 
your  uncle,"  on  a  chapel  outside  the  walls  of  one  very 


32  '  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

quiet  little  upland  hamlet.  The  writing  was  in  a 
child's  scrawl,  and  in  like  fashion  with  all  else  that  was 
written  on  the  same  wall.  I  should  have  been  much 
surprised,  if  1  had  not  already  found  out  how  many 
families  return  to  these  parts  with  children  to  whom 
English  is  the  native  language.  Many  as  are  the 
villaees  in  the  Canton  Ticino  in  which  I  have  sat 
sketching  for  liours  together,  I  have  rarely  done  so 
without  being  accosted  sooner  or  later  by  some  one 
who  could  speak  English,  either  with  an  American 
accent  or  without  it.  It  is  curious  at  some  out-of-the- 
way  place  high  up  among  the  mountains,  to  see  a  lot 
of  children  at  play»  and  to  hear  one  of  them  shout  out, 
"  Marietta,  if  you  do  that  again,  I'll  go  and  tell 
mother."  One  English  word  has  become  universally 
adopted  by  the  Ticinesi  themselves.  They  say 
"  waitee"  just  as  we  should  say  "  wait,"  to  stop  some 
one  from  going  away.  It  is  abhorrent  to  them  to  end  a 
word  with  a  consonant,  so  they  have  added  "  ee,"  but 
there  can  be  no  doubt  about  the  origfin  of  the  word. 

When  we  bear  in  mind  the  tendency  of  any  language, 
if  it  once  attains  a  certain  predominance,  to  supplant 
all  others,  and  when  we  look  at  the  map  of  the  world, 
and  see  the  extent   now    in    the    hands   of  the    two 
English-speaking   nations,   I    think    it   may   be    pro- 


PRATO.  33 

phesied  that  the  language  in  which  this  book  is  written 
will  one  day  be  almost  as  familiar  to  the  greater 
number  of  Ticinesi  as  their  own. 

I  may  mention  one  other  expression  which,  though 
not  derived  from  English,  has  a  curious  analogy  to 
an  Enalfsh  usacre.  When  the  beautiful  children  with 
names  like  Handel's  operas  come  round  one  while 
one  is  sketching,  some  one  of  them  will  assuredly 
before  long  be  heard  to  whisper  the  words  "  Tira 
giu,"  or  as  children  say  when  they  come  round  one 
in  England,  "  He  is  drawing  it  down."  The  funda- 
mental idea  is,  of  course,  that  the  draughtsman  drags 
the  object  which  he  is  drawing  away  from  its  position, 
and  "  transfers  "  it,  as  we  say  by  the  same  metaphor, 
to  his  paper,  as  St.  Cecilia  "  drew  an  angel  down  "  in 
"  Alexander's  Feast." 

A  good  walk  from  Dalpe  is  to  the  Alpe  di  Campo- 
lungo  and  Fusio,  but  it  is  better  taken  from  Fusio. 
A  very  favourite  path  with  me  is  the  one  leading 
conjointly  from  Cornone  and  Dalpe  to  Prato.  The 
view  up  the  valley  of  the  St.  Gothard  looking  down 
on  Prato  is  fine  ;  I  give  a  sketch  of  it  taken  five  years 
ago  before  the  railway  had  been  begun. 

The  little  objects  looking  like  sentry  boxes  that  go 
all  round  the  church  contain  rough  modern  frescoes, 


34 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


representing,  if  I  remember  rightly,  the  events  atten- 
dant upon  the  crucifixion.  These  are  on  a  small  scale 
what  the  chapels  on  the  sacred  mountain  of  Varallo 
are  on  a  larjje  one.  Small  sing^le  oratories  are  scat- 
tered  about   all   over  the  Canton  Ticino,  and  indeed 


'^^^;^ W.v'\  '^^,''3;)*^a?»^^  //.. 


I'RATO,    AND   VALLEY   OF  ST.  GOTHARD. 


everywhere  in  North  Italy  by  the  roadside,  at  all 
halting-places,  and  especially  at  the  crest  of  any  more 
marked  ascent,  where  the  tired  wayfarer,  probably 
heavy  laden,  might  be  inclined  to  say  a  naughty  word 
or  two  if  not  checked.  The  people  like  them,  and 
miss  them  when  they  come  to  England.     They  some- 


PRATO.  35 

times  do  what  the  lower  animals  do  in  confinement 
when  precluded  from  habits  they  are  accustomed  to, 
and  put  up  with  strange  makeshifts  by  way  of  substi- 
tute. I  once  saw  a  poor  Ticinese  woman  kneeling  in 
prayer  before  a  dentist's  show-case  in  the  Hampstead 
Road ;  she  doubtless  mistook  the  teeth  for  the  relics 
of  some  saint.  I  am  afraid  she  was  a  little  like  a  hen 
sitting  upon  a  chalk  ^gg,  but  she  seemed  quite  con- 
tented. 

Which  of  us,  indeed,  does  not  sit  contentedly  enough 
upon  chalk  eggs  at  times  ?  And  what  would  life  be 
but  for  the  power  to  do  so  ?  We  do  not  sufficiently 
realise  the  part  which  illusion  has  played  in  our  de- 
velopment. One  of  the  prime  requisites  for  evolu- 
tion is  a  certain  power  for  adaptation  to  varying 
circumstances,  that  is  to  say,  of  plasticity,  bodily  and 
mental.  But  the  power  of  adaptation  is  mainly 
dependent  on  the  power  of  thinking  certain  new 
things  sufficiently  like  certain  others  to  which  we 
have  been  accustomed  for  us  not  to  be  too  much 
incommoded  by  the  change — upon  the  power,  in  fact, 
of  mistaking  the  new  for  the  old.  The  power  of  fusing 
ideas  (and  through  ideas,  structures)  depends  upon 
the  power  of  ^^«fusing  them  ;  the  power  to  confuse 
ideas  that  are  not  very  unlike,  and  that  are  presented 


36  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

to  US  in  immediate  sequence,  is  mainly  due  to  the  fact 
of  the  impetus,  so  to  speak,  which  the  mind  has  upon 
it.  We  always,  I  believe,  make  an  effort  to  see  every 
new  object  as  a  repetition  of  the  object  last  before 
us.  Objects  are  so  varied,  and  present  themselves  so 
rapidly,  that  as  a  general  rule  we  renounce  this  effort 
too  promptly  to  notice  it,  but  it  is  always  there,  and  it 
is  because  of  it  that  we  are  able  to  mistake,  and  hence 
to  evolve  new  mental  and  bodily  developments.  Where 
the  effort  is  successful,  there  is  illusion ;  where  nearly 
successful  but  not  quite,  there  is  a  shock  and  a  sense 
of  being  puzzled — more  or  less,  as  the  case  may  be ; 
where  it  is  so  obviously  impossible  as  not  to  be 
pursued,  there  is  no  perception  of  the  effort  at  all. 

Mr.  Locke  has  been  greatly  praised  for  his  essay 
upon  human  understanding.  An  essay  on  human 
misunderstandinor  should  be  no  less  interestinof  and 
important.  Illusion  to  a  small  extent  is  one  of  the 
main  causes,  if  indeed  it  is  not  the  main  cause,  of 
progress,  but  it  must  be  upon  a  small  scale.  All 
abortive  speculation,  whether  commercial  or  philo- 
sophical, is  based  upon  it,  and  much  as  we  may  abuse 
such  speculation,  we  are,  all  of  us,  its  debtors. 

Leonardo  da  Vinci  says  that  Sandro  Botticelli 
spoke  slightingly  of  landscape-painting,  and  called  it 


PRATO.  37 

"  but  a  vain  study,  since  by  throwing  a  sponge  impreg- 
nated with  various  colours  against  a  wall,  it  leaves 
some  spots  upon  it,  which  may  appear  like  a  land- 
scape." Leonardo  da  Vinci  continues  :  "  It  is  true 
that  a  variety  of  compositions  may  be  seen  in  such 
spots  according  to  the  disposition  of  mind  with  which 
they  are  considered  ;  such  as  heads  of  men,  various 
animals,  battles,  rocky  scenes,  seas,  clouds,  words,  and 
the  like.  It  may  be  compared  to  the  sound  of  bells 
which  may  seem  to  say  whatever  we  choose  to 
imagine.  In  the  same  manner  these  spots  may 
furnish  hints  for  composition,  though  they  do  not 
teach  us  how  to  finish  any  particular  part."*  No  one 
can  hate  drunkenness  more  than  I  do,  but  I  am  con- 
fident the  human  intellect  owes  its  superiority  over 
that  of  the  lower  animals  in  great  measure  to  the 
stimulus  which  alcohol  has  given  to  imagination — 
imaorination  beinof  little  else  than  another  name  for 
illusion.  As  for  wayside  chapels,  mine,  when  I  am 
in  London,  are  the  shop  windows  with  pretty  things 
in  them. 

The  flowers  on  the  slopes  above  Prato  are  wonder- 
ful, and  the  village  is  full  of  nice  bits  for  sketching, 
but  the  best  thing,  to   my  fancy,  is  the  church,   and 

*  Treatise  on  Painting,  chap,  cccxlix. 


38  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

the  way  it  stands,  and  the  lovely  covered  porch, 
through  which  it  is  entered.  This  porch  is  not 
striking  from  the  outside,  but  I  took  two  sketches 
of  it  from  within.  There  is,  also,  a  fresco,  half 
finished,  of  St.  George  and  the  Dragon,  probably  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  and  not  without  feeling.  There 
is  not  much  inside  the  church,  which  is  modernised 
and  more  recent  than  the  tower.  The  tower  is  very 
good,  and  only  second,  if  second,  in  the  upper  Leven- 
tina  to  that  of  Quinto,  which,  however,  is  not  nearly 
so  well  placed. 

The  people  of  Prato  are  just  as  fond  of  cherries 
as  those  of  Primadengo,  but  I  did  not  see  any 
men  in  the  trees.  The  children  in  these  parts  are  the 
most  beautiful  and  most  fascinating  that  I  know  any- 
where ;  they  have  black  mouths  all  through  the  month 
of  July  from  the  quantities  of  cherries  that  they  de- 
vour. I  can  bear  witness  that  they  are  irresistible, 
for  one  kind  old  gentleman,  seeing  me  painting  near 
his  house,  used  to  bring  me  daily  a  branch  of  a 
cherry-tree  with  all  the  cherries  on  it.  "  Son  piccole^^ 
he  would  say,  "  ma  son  gnstose  " — "  They  are  small, 
but  tasty,"  which  indeed  they  were.  Seeing  I  ate 
all  he  gave  me — for  there  was  no  stopping  short  as 
long   as  a   single   cherry  was    left — he,  day  by  day, 


PRATO.  39 

increased  the  size  of  the  branch,  but  no  matter  how 
many  he  brought  I  was  always  even  witli  him. 
I  did  my  best  to  stop  him  from  bringing  them,  or 
myself  from  eating  all  of  them,  but  it  was  no 
use. 


PKATO   CHURCH    PORCH,  NO.  I. 


Here  is  the  autograph  of  one  of  the  little  black- 
mouthed  folk.  I  watch  them  growing  up  from  year 
to  year  in  many  a  village.  I  was  sketching  at 
Primadengo,  and  a  little  girl  of  about  three  years 
came  up  with    her   brother,  a  boy  of  perhaps  eight. 


40  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

Before  long  the  smaller  child  began  to  set  her  cap 
at  me,  smiling-  ocjlino-,  and  showino-  all  her  tricks 
like  an  accomplished  little  flirt.  Her  brother  said, 
"  She  always  goes  on  like  that  to  strangers."  I 
said,  "  What's  her  name  ? "  "  Forolinda."  The  name 
being  new  to  me,  I  made  the  boy  write  it,  and  here 
it   is.     He   has    forofotten    to    cross   his    F,    but   the 


^iJiAJV^ 


writing    is    wonderfully  good   for  a  boy  of  his  age. 
The  child's  name,  doubtless,  is  Florinda. 

More  than  once  at  Prato,  and  often  elsewhere, 
people  have  wanted  to  buy  my  sketches :  if  I  had  not 
required  them  for  my  own  use  I  might  have  sold  a 
good  many.  I  do  not  think  my  patrons  intended 
irivinsf  more  than  four  or  five  francs  a  sketch,  but  a 
quick  worker,  who  could  cover  his  three  or  four 
Fortuny  panels  a  day,  might  pay  his  expenses.  It 
often  happens  that  people  who  are  doing  well  in 
London  or  Paris  are  paying  a  visit  to  their  native 
village,  and  like  to  take  back  something  to  remind 
them  of  it  in  the  winter. 


PRATO. 


41 


From  Prato,  there  are  two  ways  to  Faido,  one 
past  an  old  castle,  built  to  defend  the  northern 
entrance  of  the  Monte  Piottino,  and  so  over  a  small 


PRATO   CHURCH   PORCH,  NO.  II. 

pass  which  will  avoid  the  gorge  ;  and  the  other,  by 
Dazio  and  the  Monte  Piottino  gorge.  Beth  are 
good. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


K  OS  S  UR  A,     CALON  I  CO. 


Another  day  I  went  up  to  Rossura,  a   village  that 
can  be  seen  from  the  windows  of  the  Hotel  del  Angelo, 

and  which  stands  about 


3500  feet  above  the  sea, 
or  a  little  more  than  1 100 
feet  above  Faido.  The 
path  to  it  passes  along 
some  meadows,  from 
which  the  church  of  Cal- 
onico  can  be  seen  on 
the  top  of  its  rocks  some 
few  miles  off.  By  and 
by  a  torrent  is  reached, 
and  the  ascent  begins 
in  earnest.  When  the 
level  of  Rossura  has  been 
nearly  attained,  the  path  turns  off  into  meadows  to 
the  right,  and  continues — occasionally  under  magni- 
ficent chestnuts — till  one  comes  to  Rossura. 


ROSSURA   CHURCH. 


ROSSURA.  43 


The  church  has  been  a  good  deal  restored  during 
the  last  few  years,  and  an  interesting  old  chapel — with 
an  altar  in  it — at  which  mass  was  said  during  a  time 
of  plague,  while  the  people  stood  some  way  off  in  a 
meadow,  has  just  been  entirely  renovated  ;  but  as  with 
some  English  churches,  the  more  closely  a  piece  of 
old  work  is  copied  the  more  palpably  does  the 
modern  spirit  show  through  it,  so  here  the  opposite 
occurs,  for  the  old  worldliness  of  the  place  has  not 
been  impaired  by  much  renovation,  though  the  inten- 
tion has  been  to  make  everything  as  modern  as 
possible. 

I  know  few  things  more  touching  in  their  way  than 
the  porch  of  Rossura  Church :  it  is  dated  early  in  the 
last  century,  and  is  absolutely  without  ornament ;  the 
flight  of  steps  inside  it  lead  up  to  the  level  of  the  floor 
of  the  church.  One  lovely  summer  Sunday  morning, 
passing  the  church  betimes,  I  saw  the  people  kneeling 
upon  these  steps,  the  church  within  being  crammed.  In 
the  darker  light  of  the  porch,  they  told  out  against  the 
sky  that  showed  through  the  open  arch  beyond  them  ; 
far  away  the  eye  rested  on  the  mountains — deep 
blue,  save  where  the  snow  still  lingered.  I  never 
saw  anything  more  beautiful — and  these  forsooth 
are  the  people  whom  so  many  of  us  think  to  better 


44 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


by    distributing    tracts    about    Protestantism    among 
them  ! 

While  I  was  looking,  there  came  a  sound  of  music 


KOSSURA   CHURCH   PORCH. 


through  the  open  door — the  people  lifting  up  their 
voices  and  singing,  as  near  as  I  can  remember,  some- 
thing which  on  the  piano  would  come  thus : — 


ROSSURA. 


45 


ES: 


Grave. 


:^=n=|- 


-Si-, 


1^3 


— 9-b — 2^' 


-.-J — -J- 


, _-j_-l     g^^^v^ ._^_1__.__  l_^  _1_^.,.=>,-^ -_-.J 


=t 


d=zd-] 


rj  ©•  >^=N  m i — |— « 

X-Z-Li -_j-..^f^--v.-^ 1 L       _i_ 


:?zi; 


j- 


j — H-s^^ 4-f-o  -+  -i-3  -  I-  ?^  ^^.-i ^-+  -•— a — 3_f_ 


-c*- 


aiz^2-:2;;^ 


I  liked  the  porch  almost  best  under  an  aspect  which 
it  no  longer  presents.  One  summer  an  opening  was 
made  in  the  west  wall,  which  was  afterwards  closed 
because  the  wind  blew  through  it  too  much  and  made 
the  church  too  cold.  While  it  was  open,  one  could 
sit  on  the  church  steps  and  look  down  through  it  on 
to  the  bottom  of  the  Ticino  valley  ;  and  through  the 
windows  one  could   see  the  slopes  about  Dalpe  and 


46 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


Cornone.  Between  the  two  windows  there  is  a  picture 
of  austere  old  S.  Carlo  Borromeo  with  his  hands  joined 
in  prayer. 


ROSSUKA   CHURCH    PORCH    IN    1879. 


It  was  at  Rossura  that  I  made  the  acquaintance  of 
a  word  which  I  have  since  found  very  largely  used 
throughout  North  Italy.     It  is  pronounced    "chow" 


ROSSURA.  47 


pure  and  simple,  but  is  written,  if  written  at  all, 
"  ciau,"  or  "ciao,"  the  "  a  "  being  kept  very  broad.  I 
believe  the  word  is  derived  from  "  schiavo,"  a  slave, 
which  became  corrupted  into  "schiao,"  and  "ciao." 
It  is  used  with  two  meanings,  both  of  which,  how- 
ever, are  deducible  from  the  word  slave.  In  its  first 
and  more  common  use  it  is  simply  a  salute,  either  on 
greeting  or  taking  leave,  and  means,  "  I  am  your  very 
obedient  servant."  Thus,  if  one  has  been  talking  to  a 
small  child,  its  mother  will  tell  it  to  say  "  chow"  before 
it  goes  away,  and  will  then  nod  her  head  and  say 
"chow"  herself.  The  other  use  is  a  kind  of  pious 
expletive,  intending  "  I  must  endure  it,"  "  I  am  the 
slave  of  a  higher  power."  It  was  in  this  sense  I  first 
heard  it  at  Rossura.  A  woman  was  washing  at  a 
fountain  while  I  was  eating  my  lunch.  She  said  she 
had  lost  her  daugrhter  in  Paris  a  few  weeks  earlier. 
"  She  was  a  beautiful  woman,"  said  the  bereaved 
mother,  "  but — chow.  She  had  great  talents — chow.  I 
had  her  educated  by  the  nuns  of  Bellinzona — chow. 
Her  knowledge  of  geography  was  consummate — chow, 
chow,"  &c.  Here  "  chow  "  means  "  pazienza,"  "  I  have 
done  and  said  all  that  I  can,  and  must  now  bear  it  as 
best  I  may." 

I  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  could  do  nothing,  till  at 


48  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

last  it  occurred  to  me  to  say  "  chow  "  too.  I  did  so,  and 
was  astonished  at  the  soothing  effect  it  had  upon  her. 
How  subtle  are  the  laws  that  govern  consolation !  I 
suppose  they  must  ultimately  be  connected  with  re- 
production— the  consoling  idea  being  a  kind  of  small 
cross  which  re-f^enerates  or  re-creates  the  sufferer.  It 
is  important,  therefore,  that  the  new  ideas  with  which 
the  old  are  to  be  crossed  should  differ  from  these  last 
sufficiently  to  divert  the  attention,  and  yet  not  so  much 
as  to  cause  a  painful  shock. 

There  should  be  a  little  shock,  or  there  will  be  no 
variation  in  the  new  ideas  that  are  generated,  but  they 
will  resemble  those  that  preceded  them,  and  grief  will 
be  continued ;  there  must  not  be  too  great  a  shock 
or  there  will  be  no  illusion — no  confusion  and  fusion 
between  the  new  set  of  ideas  and  the  old,  and  in  con- 
sequence, there  will  be  no  result  at  all,  or,  if  any,  an 
increase  in  mental  discord.  We  know  very  little, 
however,  upon  this  subject,  and  are  continually  shown 
to  be  at  fault  by  finding  an  unexpectedly  small  cross 
produce  a  wide  diversion  of  the  mental  images,  while 
in  other  cases  a  wide  one  will  produce  hardly  any  re- 
sult. Sometimes  again,  a  cross  which  we  should  have 
said  was  much  too  wide  will  have  an  excellent  effect. 
I    did    not   anticipate,  for   example,  that   my   saying 


ROSSURA.  49 


"  chow  "  would  have  done  much  for  the  poor  woman 
who  had  lost  her  daug-hter  :  the  cross  did  not  seem 
wide  enough  :  she  was  already,  as  I  thought,  saturated 
with  "  chow."  I  can  only  account  for  the  effect  my 
application  of  it  produced  by  supposing  the  word  to 
have  derived  some  element  of  strangeness  and  novelty 
as  coming  from  a  foreigner — just  as  land  which  will 
give  a  poor  crop,  if  planted  with  sets  from  potatoes 
that  have  been  grown  for  three  or  four  years  on  this 
same  soil,  will  yet  yield  excellently  if  similar  sets  be 
brought  from  twenty  miles  off.  For  the  potato,  so  far 
as  I  have  studied  it,  is  a  good-tempered,  frivolous 
plant,  easily  amused  and  easily  bored,  and  one,  more- 
over, which  if  bored,  yawns  horribly. 

As  an  example  of  a  cross  proving  satisfactory  which 
I  had  expected  would  be  too  wide,  I  would  quote  the 
following,  which  came  under  my  notice  when  I  was  in 
America.  A  young  man  called  upon  me  in  a  flood 
of  tears  over  the  loss  of  his  grandmother,  of  whose 
death  at  the  age  of  ninety-three  he  had  just  heard. 
I  could  do  nothing  with  him  ;  I  tried  all  the  ordinary 
panaceas  without  effect,  and  was  giving  him  up  in 
despair,  when  I  thought  of  crossing  him  with  the 
well-known   ballad    of  Wednesbury    Cocking. '"'"     He 

*  See  Appendix. 


so  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

brightened  up  instantly,  and  left  me  in  as  cheerful  a 
state  as  he  had  been  before  in  a  desponding  one. 
"Chow"  seems  to  do  for  the  Italians  what  Wednes- 
bury  Cocking  did  for  my  American  friend  ;  it  is  a  kind 
of  small  spiritual  pick-me-up,  or  cup  of  tea. 

From  Rossura  I  went  on  to  Tengia,  about  a  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  higher  than  Rossura.  From  Tengia  the 
path  to  Calonico,  the  next  village,  is  a  little  hard  to 
find,  and  a  boy  had  better  be  taken  for  ten  minutes  or 
so  beyond  Tengia.  Calonico  Church  shows  well  for 
sometime  before  it  is  actually  reached.  The  pastures 
here  are  very  rich  in  flowers,  the  tiger  lilies  being  more 
abundant  before  the  hay  is  mown,  than  perhaps  even 
at  Fusio  itself.  The  whole  walk  is  lovely,  and  the 
Gribbiasca  waterfall,  the  most  graceful  in  the  Val 
Leventina,  is  just  opposite. 

How  often  have  I  not  sat  about  here  in  the  shade 
sketching,  and  watched  the  blue  upon  the  mountains 
which  Titian  watched  from  under  the  chestnuts  of 
Cadore.  No  sound  except  the  distant  water,  or  the 
croak  of  a  raven,  or  the  booming  of  the  great  guns  in 
that  battle  which  is  beine  fought  out  between  man  and 
nature  on  the  Biaschina  and  the  Monte  Piottino.  It  is 
always  a  pleasure  to  me  to  feel  that  I  have  known  the 
Val  Leventina  intimately  before  the  great  change  in  it 


CALONICO. 


51 


which  the  railway  wull  effect,  and  that  I  may  hope  to 
see  it  after  the  present  turmoil  is  over.  Our  descend- 
ants a  hundred  years  hence  will  not  think  of  the  inces- 


TENGIA,  NO.  I. 


sant  noise  as  though  of  cannonading  with  which  we 
were  so  familiar.  From  nowhere  was  it  more  striking 
than   from   Calonico,   the   Monte   Piottino  having  no 


52  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

sooner  become  silent  than  the  Biaschina  would  open 
fire,  and  sometimes  both  would  be  firing  at  once. 
Posterity  may  care  to  know  that  another  and  less 
agreeable  feature  of  the  present  time  was  the  quantity 
of  stones  that  would  come  flying  about  in  places  which 
one  would  have  thought  were  out  of  range.  All  along 
the  road,  for  example,  between  Giornico  and  Lavorgo, 
there  was  incessant  blasting  going  on,  and  it  was  sur- 
prising to  see  the  height  to  which  stones  were  some- 
times carried.  The  dwellers  in  houses  near  the  blast- 
ing would  cover  their  roofs  with  boughs  and  leaves 
to  soften  the  fall  of  the  stones.  A  few  people  were 
hurt,  but  much  less  damage  was  done  than  might  have 
been  expected.  I  may  mention  for  the  benefit  of 
Eno^lish  readers  that  the  tunnels  throuorh  Monte  Piot- 
tino  and  the  Biaschina  are  marvels  of  engineering  skill, 
being  both  of  them  spiral ;  the  road  describes  a  com- 
plete circle,  and  descends  rapidly  all  the  while,  so  that 
the  point  of  egress  as  one  goes  from  Airolo  towards 
Faido  is  at  a  much  lower  level  than  that  of  ineress. 

If  an  accident  does  happen,  they  call  it  a  disgrazia, 
thus  confirming  the  soundness  of  a  philosophy  which 
I  put  forward  in  an  earlier  work. .  Every  misfortune 
they  hold  (and  quite  rightly)  to  be  a  disgrace  to  the 
person    who    suffers    it ;    "  Son   disgraziato "    is    the 


CALONICO. 


53 


Italian  for  "  I  have  been  unfortunate."  I  was  once 
going  to  give  a  penny  to  a  poor  woman  by  the  road- 
side, when   two   other  women   stopped    me.       "  Non 


TENGIA,   NO.  II. 


merita,"  they  said  ;  "  She  is  no  deserving  object  for 
charity"  —  the  fact  being  that  she  was  an  idiot. 
Nevertheless  they  were  very  kind  to  her. 


CHAPTER  V. 

CALONICO   CONTINUED,   AND    GIORNICO. 

Our  inventions  increase  in  geometrical  ratio.  They 
are  like  living  beings,  each  one  of  which  may  become 
parent  of  a  dozen  others — some  good  and  some  ne'er- 
do-weels  ;  but  they  differ  from  animals  and  vegetables 
inasmuch  as  they  not  only  increase  in  a  geometrical 
ratio,  but  the  period  of  their  gestation  decreases  in 
geometrical  ratio  also.  Take  this  matter  of  Alpine 
roads  for  example.  For  how  many  millions  of  years 
was  there  no  approach  to  a  road  over  the  St.  Gothard, 
save  the  untutored  watercourses  of  the  Ticino  and 
the  Reuss,  and  the  track  of  the  bouquetin  or  the 
chamois  ?  For  how  many  more  ages  after  this  was 
there  not  a  mere  shepherd's  or  huntsman's  path  by  the 
river  side — without  so  much  as  a  log  thrown  over  so 
as  to  form  a  rude  bridge  ?  No  one  would  probably 
have  ever  thought  of  making  a  bridge  out  of  his  own 
unaided  imagination,  more  than  any  monkey  that  we 
know  of  has  done  so.  But  an  avalanche  or  a  flood 
once  swept  a  pine  into  position  and  left  it  there ;  on 


CALONICO.  55 


this  a  genius,  who  was  doubtless  thought  to  be  doing 
something  very  infamous,  ventured  to  make  use  of 
it.  Another  time  a  pine  was  found  nearly  across  the 
stream,  but  not  quite,  and  not  quite,  again,  in  the 
place  where  it  was  wanted.  A  second  genius,  to  the 
horror  of  his  fellow-tribesmen — who  declared  that  this 
time  the  world  really  would  come  to  an  end — shifted 
the  pine  a  few  feet  so  as  to  bring  it  across  the  stream 
and  into  the  place  where  it  was  wanted.  This  man 
was  the  inventor  of  bridges — his  family  repudiated 
him,  and  he  came  to  a  bad  end.  From  this  to  cutting 
down  the  pine  and  bringing  it  from  some  distance  is 
an  easy  step.  To  avoid  detail,  let  us  come  to  the  old 
Roman  horse  road  over  the  Alps.  The  time  between 
the  shepherd's  path  and  the  Roman  road  is  probably 
short  in  comparison  with  that  between  the  mere 
chamois  track  and  the  first  thing  that  can  be  called 
a  path  of  men.  From  the  Roman  we  go  on  to  the 
mediaeval  road  with  more  frequent  stone  bridges, 
and  from  the  mediaeval  to  the  Napoleonic  carriage 
road. 

The  close  of  the  last  century  and  the  first  quarter 
of  this  present  one  was  the  great  era  for  the  making 
of  carriage  roads.  Fifty  years  have  hardly  passed  and 
here  we  are  already  in  the  age  of  tunnelling  and  rail- 


56  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


roads.  The  first  period,  from  the  chamois  track  to  the 
foot  road,  was  one  of  millions  of  years ;  the  second, 
from  the  first  foot  road  to  the  Roman  mihtary  way, 
was  one  of  many  thousands;  the  third,  from  the 
Roman  to  the  mediaeval,  was  perhaps  a  thousand ; 
from  the  mediaeval  to  the  Napoleonic,  five  hundred  ; 
from  the  Napoleonic  to  the  railroad,  fifty.  What  will 
come  next  we  know  not,  but  it  should  come  within 
twenty  years,  and  will  probably  have  something  to  do 
with  electricity. 

It  follows  by  an  easy  process  of  reasoning  that,  after 
another  couple  of  hundred  years  or  so,  great  sweeping 
changes  should  be  made  several  times  in  an  hour,  or 
indeed  in  a  second,  or  fraction  of  a  second,  till  they 
pass  unnoticed  as  the  revolutions  we  undergo  in  the 
embryonic  stages,  or  are  felt  simply  as  vibrations. 
This  would  undoubtedly  be  the  case  but  for  the 
existence  of  a  friction  which  interferes  between  theory 
and  practice.  This  friction  is  caused  partly  by  the 
disturbance  of  vested  interests  which  every  invention 
involves,  and  which  will  be  found  intolerable  when 
men  become  millionaires  and  paupers  alternately  once 
a  fortnight — living  one  week  in  a  palace  and  the  next 
in  a  workhouse,  and  having  perpetually  to  be  sold  up, 
and  then  to  buy  a  new  house  and  refurnish,  &c. — so 


CALONICO.  57 


that  artificial  means  for  stopping  inventions  will  be 
adopted ;  and  partly  by  the  fact  that  though  all  inven- 
tions breed  in  geometrical  ratio,  yet  some  multiply 
more  rapidly  than  others,  and  the  backwardness  of  one 
art  will  impede  the  forwardness  of  another.  At  any 
rate,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  the  present  is  about  the  only 
comfortable  time  for  a  man  to  live  in,  that  either  ever 
has  been  or  ever  will  be.  The  past  was  too  slow,  and 
the  future  will  be  much  too  fast. 

Another  thing  which  we  do  not  bear  in  mind  when 
thinking  of  the  Alps  is  their  narrowness,  and  the 
small  extent  of  ground  they  really  cover.  From 
Goschenen,  for  example,  to  Airolo  seems  a  very 
long  distance.  One  must  go  up  to  the  Devil's 
Bridge,  and  then  to  Andermatt.  From  here  by 
Hospenthal  to  the  top  of  the  pass  seems  a  long 
way,  and  again  it  is  a  long  way  down  to  Airolo  ; 
but  all  this  would  easily  go  on  to  the  ground  between 
Kensinofton  and  Stratford.  From  Goschenen  to 
Andermatt  is  about  as  far  as  from  Holland  House 
to  Hyde  Park  Corner.  From  Andermatt  to  Hos- 
penthal is  much  the  same  distance  as  from  Hyde 
Park  Corner  to  the  Oxford  Street  end  of  Tottenham 
Court  Road.  From  Hospenthal  to  the  hospice  on 
the  top  of  the  pass  is  about  equal  to  the  space  be- 


58  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

tween  Tottenham  Court  Road  and  Bow ;  and  from 
Bow  you  must  go  down  three  thousand  feet  of  zig- 
zags into  Stratford,  for  Airolo.  I  have  made  the 
deviation  from  the  straight  Hne  about  the  same  in 
one  case  as  in  the  other ;  in  each,  the  direct  distance 
is  nine  and  a  half  miles.  The  whole  distance  from 
Fluelen,  on  the  Lake  of  Lucerne,  to  Biasca,  which  is 
almost  on  the  same  level  with  the  Lago  Maggiore, 
is  only  forty  miles,  and  could  be  all  got  in  between 
London  and  Lewes,  while  from  Lucerne  to  Locarno, 
actually  on  the  Lago  Maggiore  itself,  would  go,  with 
a  good  large  margin  to  spare,  between  London  and 
Dover.  We  can  hardly  fancy,  however,  people  going 
backwards  and  forwards  to  business  daily  between 
Fluelen  and  Biasca,  as  some  doubtless  do  between 
London  and  Lewes. 

But  how  small  all  Europe  is.  We  seem  almost 
able  to  take  it  in  at  a  single  cou/>  cCoeil.  From  Mont 
Blanc  we  can  see  the  mountains  on  the  Paris  side  of 
Dijon  on  the  one  hand,  and  those  above  Florence 
and  Bologna  on  the  other.  What  a  hole  would  not 
be  made  in  Europe  if  this  great  eyeful  were  scooped 
out  of  it ! 

The  fact  is  (but  it  is  so  obvious  that  I  am  ashamed 
to  say  anything  about  it),  science  is  rapidly  reducing 


CALONICO.  59 


space  to  the    same    unsatisfactory   state    that   it   has 
already  reduced  time.     Take  lamb  :  we  can  get  lamb 
all  the  year  round.     This  is  perpetual  spring  ;  but  per- 
petual spring  is  no  spring  at  all ;  it  is  not  a  season  ; 
there  are   no  more   seasons,  and   being   no   seasons, 
there   is  no  time.     Take    rhubarb,   again.      Rhubarb 
to   the   philosopher  is    the   beginning   of  autumn,   if 
indeed,    the    philosopher   can    see    anything   as   the 
beginning   of    anything.       If    any   one   asks    why,    I 
suppose  the  philosopher  would   say  that    rhubarb   is 
the  beginning  of  the  fruit   season,   which    is    clearly 
autumnal,    according    to    our    present    classification. 
From  rhubarb  to  the  green  gooseberry  the  step  is 
so   small  as  to  require  no  bridging — with  one's  eyes 
shut,  and  plenty  of  cream  and  sugar,  they  are  almost 
indistinguishable — but    the   gooseberry    is    quite    an 
autumnal  fruit,  and   only  a  little  earlier  than  apples 
and   plums,  which    last   are  almost   winter  ;    clearly, 
therefore,  for  scientific  purposes  rhubarb  is  autumnal. 
As  soon  as  we  can  find  gradations,  or  a  sufficient 
number  of  uniting   links   between  two    things,    they 
become  united  or  made  one  thing,  and  any  classifica- 
tion of  them  must  be  illusory.     Classification  is  only 
possible  where  there  is  a  shock  given  to  the  senses  by 
reason  of  a  perceived  difference,  which,  if  it  is  con- 


6o  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

siderable,  can  be  expressed  in  words.  When  the  world 
was  younger  and  less  experienced,  people  were  shocked 
at  what  appeared  great  differences  between  living  forms ; 
but  species,  whether  of  animals  or  plants,  are  now 
seen  to  be  so  united,  either  inferentially  or  by  actual 
finding  of  the  links,  that  all  classification  is  felt  to  be 
arbitrary.  The  seasons  are  like  species — they  were 
at  one  time  thought  to  be  clearly  marked,  and  capable 
of  being  classified  with  some  approach  to  satisfac- 
tion. It  is  now  seen  that  they  blend  either  in  the 
present  or  the  past  insensibly  into  one  another,  and 
cannot  be  classified  except  by  cutting  Gordian  knots  in 
a  way  which  none  but  plain  sensible  people  can  tole- 
rate. Strictly  speaking,  there  is  only  one  place,  one 
time,  one  action,  and  one  individual  or  thing ;  of  this 
thing  or  individual  each  one  of  us  is  a  part.  It  is  per- 
plexing, but  it  is  philosophy ;  and  modern  philosophy 
like  modern  music  is  nothing  if  it  is  not  perplexing. 

A  simple  verification  of  the  autumnal  character  of 
rhubarb  may,  at  first  sight,  appear  to  be  -found  in 
Covent  Garden  Market,  where  we  can  actually  see 
the  rhubarb  towards  the  end  of  October.  But  this 
way  of  looking  at  the  matter  argues  a  fatal  ineptitude 
for  the  pursuit  of  true  philosophy.  It  would  be  a 
most  serious  error   to   regard  the  rhubarb  that  will 


CALONICO. 


6i 


appear  in  Covent  Garden  Market  next  October  as 
belonging  to  the  autumn  then  supposed  to  be  current. 
Practically,  no  doubt,  it  does  so,  but  theoretically  it 
must  be  considered  as  the  first-fruits  of  the  autumn 
(if  any)  of  the  following  year,  which  begins  before  the 


CALONICO  CHURCH,  NO.  I. 


preceding  summer  (or,  perhaps,  more  strictly,  the  pre- 
ceding summer  but  one — and  hence,  but  any  number), 
has  well  ended.  Whether  this,  however,  is  so  or  no, 
the  rhubarb  can  be  seen  in  Covent  Garden,  and  I  am 
afraid  it  must  be  admitted  that  to  the  philosophically 
minded  there  lurks  within  it  a  theory  of  evolution,  and 


62 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


even  Pantheism,  as  surely  as  Theism  was  Uirking  in 
Bishop  Berkeley's  tar  water. 

To  return,  however,  to  Calonico.  The  church  is 
built  on  the  extreme  edge  of  a  cliff  that  has  been  formed 
by  the  breaking  away  of  a  large  fragment  of  the  moun- 
tain.    This  fragment  may  be  seen  lying  down  below 


CALONICO  CHURCH,  NO.  II. 

shattered  into  countless  pieces.  There  is  a  fissure  in 
the  cliff  which  suggests  that  at  no  very  distant  day 
some  more  will  follow,  and  I  am  afraid  carry  the 
church  too.  My  favourite  view  of  the  church  is  from 
the  other  side  of  the  small  valley  which  separates  it 
from  the  village,  (see  preceding  page).  Another  very 
good  view  is  from  closer  up  to  the  church. 

The  curato  of  Calonico  was  very  kind  to  me.     We 


CALONICO.  63 


had  long  talks  together.  I  could  see  it  pained 
him  that  I  was  not  a  Catholic.  He  could  never  quite 
get  over  this,  but  he  was  very  good  and  tolerant. 
He  was  anxious  to  be  assured  that  I  was  not  one  of 
those  English  who  went  about  distributing  tracts,  and 
trying  to  convert  people.  This  of  course  was  the  last 
thing  I  should  have  wished  to  do ;  and  when  I  told 
him  so,  he  viewed  me  with  sorrow,  but  henceforth 
without  alarm. 

All  the  time  I  was  with  him  I  felt  how  much  I 
wished  I  could  be  a  Catholic  in  Catholic  countries,  and 
a  Protestant  in  Protestant  ones.  Surely  there  are 
some  things  which,  like  politics,  are  too  serious  to  be 
taken  quite  seriously.  Surtout point  de  zele  is  not  the 
saying  of  a  cynic,  but  the  conclusion  of  a  sensible 
man;  and  the  more  deep  our  feeling  is  about  any 
matter,  the  more  occasion  have  we  to  be  on  our  guard 
against  zele  in  this  particular  respect.  There  is  but 
one  step  from  the  "  earnest "  to  the  "  intense."  When 
St.  Paul  told  us  to  be  all  things  to  all  men  he  let  in  the 
thin  end  of  the  wedge,  nor  did  he  mark  it  to  say  how 
far  it  was  to  be  driven. 

I  have  Italian  friends  whom  I  greatly  value,  and 
who  tell  me  they  think  I  flirt  just  a  trifle  too  much 
with  "  il  partito  nero  "  when    I   am  in  Italy,  for  they 


64  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

know  that  in  the  main  I  think  as  they  do.  "  These 
people,"  they  say,  "  make  themselves  very  agreeable 
to  you,  and  show  you  their  smooth  side  ;  we,  who  see 
more  of  them,  know  their  rough  one.  Knuckle  under 
to  them,  and  they  will  perhaps  condescend  to  patron- 
ise you  ;  have  any  individuality  of  your  own,  and  they 
know  neither  scruple  nor  remorse  in  their  attempts  to 
get  you  out  of  their  way.  '' II prete',^  they  say,  with 
a  significant  look,  "  e  setnpre  prete.  For  the  future 
let  us  have  professors  and  men  of  science  instead  of 
priests."  I  smile  to  myself  at  this  last,  and  reply,  that 
I  am  a  foreigner  come  among  them  for  recreation, 
and  anxious  to  keep  clear  of  their  internal  discords. 
I  do  not  wish  to  cut  myself  off  from  one  side  of  their 
national  character — a  side  which,  in  some  respects, 
is  no  less  interesting  than  the  one  with  which  I 
suppose  I  am  on  the  whole  more  sympathetic.  If  I 
were  an  Italian,  I  should  feel  bound  to  take  a  side; 
as  it  is,  I  wish  to  leave  all  quarrelling  behind  me, 
having  as  much  of  that  in  England  as  suffices  to  keep 
me  in  good  health  and  temper. 

In  old  times  people  gave  their  spiritual  and  intel- 
lectual sop  to  Nemesis.  Even  when  most  positive, 
they  admitted  a  percentage  of  doubt.  Mr.  Tennyson 
has  said  well,  "There   lives    more  doubt" — I  quote 


CALONICO.  65 


from  memory — "  in  honest  faith,  beheve  me,  than  in 
half  the  "  systems  of  philosophy,  or  words  to  that 
effect.  The  victor  had  a  slave  at  his  ear  durinsf  his 
triumph ;  the  slaves  during  the  Roman  Saturnalia, 
dressed  in  their  masters'  clothes,  sat  at  meat  with 
them,  told  them  of  their  faults,  and  blacked  their  faces 
for  them.  They  made  their  masters  wait  upon  them. 
In  the  ages  of  faith,  an  ass  dressed  in  sacerdotal  robes 
was  gravely  conducted  to  the  cathedral  choir  at  a 
certain  season,  and  mass  was  said  before  him,  and 
hymns  chanted  discordantly.  The  elder  D' Israeli, 
from  whom  I  am  quoting,  writes :  "  On  other  occa- 
sions, they  put  burnt  old  shoes  to  fume  in  the  censors ; 
ran  about  the  church  leaping,  singing,  dancing,  and 
playing  at  dice  upon  the  altar,  while  a  doy  bishop  or 
pope  of  fools  burlesqued  the  divine  service  ;  "  and  later 
on  he  says  :  "So  late  as  1645,  "^  pupil  of  Gassendi, 
writing  to  his  master  what  he  himself  witnessed  at  Aix 
on  the  feast  of  Innocents,  says — '  I  have  seen  in  some 
monasteries  in  this  province  extravagances  solemnised, 
which  pagans  would  not  have  practised.  Neither  the 
clergy  nor  the  guardians  indeed  go  to  the  choir  on 
this  day,  but  all  is  given  up  to  the  lay  brethren,  the 
cabbage  cutters,  errand  boys,  cooks,  scullions,  and 
gardeners  ;  in  a  word,  all  the  menials  fill  their  places 

K 


66  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

m  the  church,  and  insist  that  they  perform  the  offices 
proper  for  the  day.  They  dress  themselves  with  all 
the  sacerdotal  ornaments,  but  torn  to  rags,  or  wear 
them  inside  out ;  they  hold  in  their  hands  the  books 
reversed  or  sideways,  which  they  pretend  to  read  with 
large  spectacles  without  glasses,  and  to  which  they  fix 
the  rinds  of  scooped  oranges  .  .  .  ;  particularly  while 
dangling  the  censors  they  keep  shaking  them  in  de- 
rision, and  letting  the  ashes  fly  about  their  heads  and 
faces,  one  against  the  other.  In  this  equipage  they 
neither  sing  hymns  nor  psalms  nor  masses,  but  mumble 
a  certain  gibberish  as  shrill  and  squeaking  as  a  herd 
of  pigs  whipped  on  to  market.  The  nonsense  verses 
they  chant  are  singularly  barbarous  : — 


"  '  HiBC  est  clara  dies,  clararum  clara  dierum, 
Haec  est  festa  dies  festarum  festa  dierum.'  "  * 


Faith  was  far  more  assured  in  the  times  when 
the  spiritual  saturnalia  were  allowed  than  now.  The 
irreverence  which  was  not  dangerous  then,  is  now 
intolerable.  It  is  a  bad  sign  for  a  man's  peace  in  his 
own  convictions  when  he  cannot  stand  turnino-  the 
canvas  of  his  life  occasionally  upside  down,  or  re- 
versing it   in    a    mirror,    as    painters   do   with    their 

*  Curiosities  of  Literature,  Lend.  1866,  Routledge  &  Co.,  p.  272. 


CALONICO.  67 


pictures  that  they  may  judge  the  better  concerning 
them.  I  would  persuade  all  Jews,  Mohammedans, 
Comtists,  and  freethinkers  to  turn  high  Anglicans,  or 
better  still,  down-right  Catholics  for  a  week  in  every 
year,  and  I  would  send  people  like  Mr.  Gladstone  to 
attend  Mr.  Bradlaugh's  lectures  in  the  forenoon,  and 
the  Grecian  pantomime  in  the  evening,  two  or  three 
times  every  winter.  I  should  perhaps  tell  them  that 
the  Grecian  pantomime  has  nothing  to  do  with  Greek 
plays.  They  little  know  how  much  more  keenly  they 
would  relish  their  normal  opinions  during  the  rest  of 
the  year  for  the  little  spiritual  outing  which  I  would 
prescribe  for  them,  which,  after  all,  is  but  another 
phase  of  the  wise  saying — "  Surtout  point  de  zele." 
St.  Paul  attempted  an  obviously  hopeless  task  (as  the 
Church  of  Rome  very  well  understands)  when  he  tried 
to  put  down  seasonarianism.  People  must  and  will 
eo  to  church  to  be  a  little  better,  to  the  theatre  to  be 

o 

a  little  naughtier,  to  the  Royal  Institution  to  be  a  little 
more  scientific,  than  they  are  in  actual  life.  It  is  only 
by  pulsations  of  goodness,  naughtiness,  and  whatever 
else  we  affect  that  we  can  get  on  at  all.  I  grant  that 
when  in  his  office,  a  man  should  be  exact  and  precise, 
but  our  holidays  are  our  garden,  and  too  much  pre- 
cision here  is  a  mistake. 


68  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

Surely  truces,  without  even  an  arriere  pensde  of 
difference  of  opinion,  between  those  who  are  com- 
pelled to  take  widely  different  sides  during  the  greater 
part  of  their  lives,  must  be  of  infinite  service  to  those 
who  can  enter  on  them.  There  are  few  merely  spiri- 
tual pleasures  comparable  to  that  derived  from  the 
temporary  laying  down  of  a  quarrel,  even  though  we 
may  know  that  it  must  be  renewed  shortly.  It  is  a 
great  grief  to  me  that  there  is  no  place  where  I  can 
go  among  Mr.  Darwin,  Professors  Huxley,  Tyndal, 
and  Ray  Lankester,  Miss  Buckley,  Mr.  Romanes,  Mr. 
Allen,  and  others  whom  I  cannot  call  to  mind  at  this 
moment,  as  I  can  go  among  the  Italian  priests.  I 
remember  in  one  monastery  (^but  this  was  not  in  the 
Canton  Ticino)  the  novice  taught  me  how  to  make 
sacramental  wafers,  and  I  played  him  Handel  on  the 
organ  as  well  as  I  could.  I  told  him  that  Handel 
was  a  Catholic;  he  said  he  could  tell  that  by  his 
music  at  once.  There  is  no  chance  of  orettinof  amonof 
our  scientists  in  this  way. 

Some  friends  say  I  was  telling  a  lie  when  I  told  the 
novice  Handel  was  a  Catholic,  and  ought  not  to  have 
done  so.  I  make  it  a  rule  to  swallow  a  few  gnats 
a  day,  lest  I  should  come  to  strain  at  them,  and  so  bolt 
camels ;  but  the  whole  question  of  lying  is  difficult. 


CALONICO.  69 


What  is  "  lying "  ?  Turning  for  moral  guidance  to 
my  cousins  the  lower  animals,  whose  unsophisticated 
nature  proclaims  what  God  has  taught  them  with  a 
directness  we  may  sometimes  study,  I  find  the 
plover  lying  when  she  lures  us  from  her  young  ones 
under  the  fiction  of  a  broken  wing.  Is  God  angry, 
think  you,  with  this  pretty  deviation  from  the  letter 
of  strict  accuracy  ?  or  was  it  not  He  who  whispered 
to  her  to  tell  the  falsehood — to  tell  it  with  a  circum- 
stance, without  conscientious  scruple,  not  once  only, 
but  to  make  a  practice  of  it,  so  as  to  be  a  plausible, 
habitual,  and  professional  liar  for  some  six  weeks 
or  so  in  the  year  ?  I  imagine  so.  When  I  was 
young  I  used  to  read  in  good  books  that  it  was  God 
who  taueht  the  bird  to  make  her  nest,  and  if  so  He 
probably  taught  each  species  the  other  domestic 
arrangements  best  suited  to  it.  Or  did  the  nest- 
buildine  information  come  from  God,  and  was  there 
an  evil  one  among  the  birds  also  who  taught  them 
at  any  rate  to  steer  clear  of  priggishness  ? 

Think  of  the  spider  again — an  ugly  creature,  but  I 
suppose  God  likes  it.  What  a  mean  and  odious  lie 
is  that  web  which  naturalists  extol  as  such  a  marvel 
of  ingenuity ! 

Once  on  a  summer  afternoon  in  a  far  country  I  met 


^o  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

one  of  those  orchids  who  make  it  their  business  to 
imitate  a  fly  with  their  petals.  This  lie  they  dispose 
so  cunningly  that  real  flies,  thinking  the  honey  Is 
being  already  plundered,  pass  them  without  molesting 
them.  Watching  intently  and  keeping  very  still, 
methought  I  heard  this  orchid  speaking  to  the  off- 
spring which  she  felt  within  her,  though  I  saw  them 
not.  "  My  children,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  must  soon 
leave  you  ;  think  upon  the  fly,  my  loved  ones,  for  this 
is  truth ;  cling  to  this  great  thought  in  your  passage 
through  life,  for  it  is  the  one  thing  needful,  once  lose 
sight  of  it  and  you  are  lost !  "  Over  and  over  again 
she  sang  this  burden  in  a  small  still  voice,  and  so  I 
left  her.  Then  straightway  I  came  upon  some  butter- 
flies whose  profession  it  was  to  pretend  to  believe  in 
all  manner  of  vital  truths  which  in  their  inner  practice 
they  rejected;  thus,  asserting  themselves  to  be  certain 
other  and  hateful  butterflies  which  no  bird  will  eat 
by  reason  of  their  abominable  smell,  these  cunning 
ones  conceal  their  own  sweetness,  and  live  long  in 
the  land  and  see  good  days.  No  :  lying  is  so  deeply 
rooted  in  nature  that  we  may  expel  it  with  a  fork,  and 
yet  it  will  always  come  back  again  :  it  is  like  the  poor, 
we  must  have  it  always  with  us;  we  must  all  eat  a  peck 
of  moral  dirt  before  we  die. 


CALONICO.  71 


All  depends  upon  who  it  is  that  is  lying.  One 
man  may  steal  a  horse  when  another  may  not  look 
over  a  hedge.  The  good  man  who  tells  no  lies  wit- 
tingly to  himself  and  is  never  unkindly,  may  lie  and 
lie  and  lie  whenever  he  chooses  to  other  people,  and 
he  will  not  be  false  to  any  man  :  his  lies  become  truths 
as  they  pass  into  the  hearers'  ear.  If  a  man  deceives 
himself  and  is  unkind,  the  truth  is  not  in  him,  it  turns 
to  falsehood  while  yet  in  his  mouth,  like  the  quails  in 
the  Wilderness  of  Sinai.  How  this  is  so  or  why,  I 
know  not,  but  that  the  Lord  hath  mercy  on  whom  He 
will  have  mercy  and  whom  He  willeth  He  hardeneth. 

My  Italian  friends  are  doubtless  in  the  main  right 
about  the  priests,  but  there  are  many  exceptions,  as 
they  themselves  gladly  admit.  For  my  own  part  I 
have  found  the  curato  in  the  small  subalpine  villages 
of  North  Italy  to  be  more  often  than  not  a  kindly 
excellent  man  to  whom  I  am  attracted  by  sympathies 
deeper  than  any  mere  superficial  differences  of  opinion 
can  counteract.  With  monks,  however,  as  a  general 
rule  I  am  less  able  to  get  on  :  nevertheless,  I  have 
received  much  courtesy  at  the  hands  of  some. 

My  young  friend  the  novice  was  delightful — only  it 
was  so  sad  to  think  of  the  future  that  is  before  him. 
He  wanted  to  know  all  about  England,  and  when   I 


72  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

told  him  it  was  an  island,  clasped  his  hands  and  said, 
"Oh  che  Providenza!"  He  told  me  how  the  other 
young  men  of  his  own  age  plagued  him  as  he  trudged 
his  rounds  high  up  among  the  most  distant  hamlets 
begging  alms  for  the  poor.  "  Be  a  good  fellow,"  they 
would  say  to  him,  "  drop  all  this  nonsense  and  come 
back  to  us,  and  we  will  never  plague  you  again. "  Then 
he  would  turn  upon  them  and  put  their  words  from 
him.  Of  course  my  sympathies  were  with  the  other 
young  men  rather  than  with  him,  but  it  was  impossible 
not  to  be  sorry  for  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been 
humbugged  from  the  day  of  his  birth,  till  he  was  now 
incapable  of  seeing  things  from  any  other  standpoint 
than  that  of  authority. 

What  he  said  to  me  about  knowing  that  Handel 
was  a  Catholic  by  his  music,  put  me  in  mind  of  what 
another  good  Catholic  once  said  to  me  about  a 
picture.  He  was  a  Frenchman  and  very  nice,  but  a 
ddvot,  and  anxious  to  convert  me.  He  paid  a  few 
days'  visit  to  London,  so  I  showed  him  the  National 
Gallery.  While  there  I  pointed  out  to  him  Sebastian 
del  Piombo's  picture  of  the  raising  of  Lazarus  as  one 
of  the  supposed  masterpieces  of  our  collection.  He 
had  the  proper  orthodox  fit  of  admiration  over  it,  and 
then  we  went  through  the  other  rooms.     After  a  while 


GIORNICO.  73 


we  found  ourselves  before  West's  picture  of  "  Christ 
healing  the  sick."  My  French  friend  did  not,  I 
suppose,  examine  it  very  carefully,  at  any  rate  he 
believed  he  was  agfain  before  the  raisinor  of  Lazarus 
by  Sebastian  del  Piombo  ;  he  paused  before  it  and 
had  his  fit  of  admiration  over  again  :  then  turning  to 
me  he  said,  "  Ah  !  you  would  understand  this  picture 
better  if  you  were  a  Catholic."  I  did  not  tell  him 
of  the  mistake  he  had  made,  but  I  thought  even  a 
Protestant  after  a  certain  amount  of  experience  would 
learn  to  see  some  difference  between  Benjamin  West 
and  Sebastian  del  Piombo. 

From  Calonico  I  went  down  into  the  main  road  and 
walked  to  Giornico,  taking  the  right  bank  of  the  river 
from  the  bridge  at  the  top  of  the  Biaschina.  Not  a  sod  of 
the  railway  was  as  yet  turned.  At  Giornico  I  visited 
the  grand  old  church  of  S.  Nicolao,  which,  though  a 
later  foundation  than  the  church  at  Mairengo, retains  its 
original  condition,  and  appears,  therefore,  to  be  much 
the  older  of  the  two.  The  stones  are  very  massive, 
and  the  courses  are  here  and  there  irregular  as  in 
Cyclopean  walls ;  the  end  wall  is  not  bonded  into  the 
side  walls  but  simply  built  between  them ;  the  main 
door  is  very  fine,  and  there  is  a  side  door  also  very 
eood.     There  are  two  altars,  one  above  the  other,  as 


74 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


in  the  churches  of  S.  Abbondio  and  S.  Cristoforo  at 
Como,  but  I  could  not  make  the  lower  altar  intelligible 
in  my  sketch,  and  indeed  could  hardly  see  it,  so  was 
obliged  to  leave  it  out.  The  remains 
of  some  very  early  frescoes  can  be 
seen,  but  I  did  not  think  them  re- 
markable. Altogether,  however,  the 
church  is  one  which  no  one  should 
miss  seeing  who  takes  an  interest  in 
early  architecture. 

While  painting  the  study  from  which 
the  followin<jf  sketch  is  taken,  I  was 
struck  with  the  wonderfully  vivid  green 
which  the  whitewashed  vault  of  the 
chancel  and  the  arch  dividing  the 
chancel  from  the  body  of  the  church 
took  by  way  of  reflection  from  the  grass  and  trees 
outside.  It  is  not  easy  at  first  to  see  how  the  green 
manages  to  find  its  way  inside  the  church,  but  the 
grass  seems  to  get  in  everywhere.  I  had  already 
often  seen  green  reflected  from  brilliant  pasturage  on 
to  the  shadow  under  the  eaves  of  whitewashed  houses, 
but  I  never  saw  it  suffuse  a  whole  interior  as  it  does 
on  a  fine  summer's  day  at  Giornico.     I   do  not  re- 


i&*-^^t.<'*o.  6.y.tuta.7ie'rtto.s^^ij^ 


MAIN   DOORWAY, 
S.  NICOLAO. 


member  to  have  seen  this  effect  in  Engrland. 


GIORNICO. 


75 


Looking  up  again  against  the  mountain  through  the 
open  door  of  the  church  when  the  sun  was  in  a  certain 
position,  I  could  see  an  infinity  of  insect  life  swarming 
throughout  the  air.  No  one  could  have  suspected 
its  existence,  till  the  sun's  rays  fell  on  the  wings  of 


INTERIOR  OF   OLD   CHURCH,  GIORNICO. 


these  small  creatures  at  a  proper  angle ;  on  this  they 
became  revealed  aeainst  the  darkness  of  the  mountain 
behind  them.  The  swallows  that  were  flying  among 
them  cannot  have  to  hunt  them,  they  need  only  fly 


76  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

with  their  mouths  wide  open  and  they  must  run 
against  as  many  as  will  be  good  for  them.  I  saw  this 
incredibly  multitudinous  swarm  extending  to  a  great 
height,  and  am  satisfied  that  it  was  no  more  than  what 
is  always  present  during  the  summer  months,  though 
it  is  only  visible  in  certain  lights.  To  these  minute 
creatures  the  space  between  the  mountains  on  the  two 
sides  of  the  Ticino  valley  must  be  as  great  as  that 
between  England  and  America  to  a  codfish.  Many, 
doubtless,  live  in  the  mid-air,  and  never  touch  the 
bottom  or  sides  of  the  valley,  except  at  birth  and 
death,  if  then.  No  doubt  some  atmospheric  effects 
of  haze  on  a  summer's  afternoon  are  due  to  nothing 
but  these  insects.  What,  again,  do  the  smaller  of 
them  live  upon  ?  On  germs,  which  to  them  are  com- 
fortable mouthfuls,  though  to  us  invisible  even  with  a 
microscope  ? 

I  find  nothing  more  in  my  notes  about  Giornico 
except  that  the  people  are  very  handsome,  and,  as  I 
thought,  of  a  Roman  type.  The  place  was  a  Roman 
military  station,  but  it  does  not  follow  that  the  soldiers 
were  Romans  ;  nevertheless,  there  is  a  strain  of  bullet- 
headed  blood  in  the  place.  Also  I  remember  being 
told  in  1869  that  two  bears  had  been  killed  in  the 
mountains  above   Giornico  the   preceding   year.     At 


GIORNICO.  77 


Giornico  the  vine  begins  to  grow  lustily,  and  wine  is 
made.  The  vines  are  trellised,  and  looking  down 
upon  them  one  would  think  one  could  walk  upon  them 
as  upon  a  solid  surface,  so  closely  and  luxuriantly  do 
they  grow. 

From  Giornico  I  began  to  turn  my  steps  homeward 
in  company  with  an  engineer  who  was  also  about  to 
walk  back  to  Faido,  but  we  resolved  to  take  Chironico 
on  our  way,  and  kept  therefore  to  the  right  bank  of 
the  river.  After  about  three  or  four  kilometres  from 
Giornico  we  reached  Chironico,  which  is  well  placed 
upon  a  filled-up  lake  and  envied  as  a  paese  ricco,  but 
is  not  so  captivating  as  some  others.  Hence  we 
ascended  till  at  last  we  reached  Gribbio  (3960  ft.),  a 
collection  of  chalets  inhabited  only  for  a  short  time  in 
the  year,  but  a  nice  place  in  summer,  rich  in  gentians 
and  sulphur-coloured  anemones.  From  Gribbio  there 
is  a  path  to  Dalpe,  offering  no  difficulty  whatever  and 
perfect  in  its  way.  On  this  occasion,  however,  we 
went  straight  back  to  Faido  by  a  rather  shorter  way 
than  the  ordinary  path,  and  this  certainly  was  a  little 
difficult,  or  as  my  companion  called  it,  "  un  tantino 
difficoltoso,"  in  one  or  two  places ;  I  at  least  did  not 
quite  like  them. 

Another  day  I  went  to  Lavorgo,  below  Calonico,  and 


78  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

thence  up  to  Anzonico.  The  church  and  churchyard 
at  Anzonico  are  very  good  ;  from  Anzonico  there  is  a 
path  to  Cavagnago — which  is  also  full  of  good  bits 
for  sketchinof — and  Sobrio.  The  hig^hest  villagfes  in  the 
immediate  neighbourhood  of  Faido  are  Campello  and 
Molare  ;  they  can  be  seen  from  the  market-place  of  the 
town,  and  are  well  worth  the  trouble  of  a  climb. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


PI  OR A. 


An  excursion  which  maybe  very  well  made  from  Faido 
is  to  the  Val  Piora,  which  I  have  already  more  than 
once  mentioned.  There  is  a  larae  hotel  here  which 
has  been  opened  some  years,  but  has  not  hitherto 
proved  the  success  which  it  was  hoped  it  would  be. 
I  have  stayed  there  two  or  three  times  and  found  it 
very  comfortable ;  doubtless,  now  that  Signor  Lom- 
bardi  of  the  Hotel  Prosa  has  taken  it,  it  will  become 
a  more  popular  place  of  resort. 

I  took  a  trap  from  Faido  to  Ambri,  and  thence 
walked  over  to  Quinto  ;  here  the  path  begins  to  ascend, 
and  after  an  hour  Ronco  is  reached.  There  is  a  house 
at  Ronco  where  refreshments  and  excellent  Faido  beer 
can  be  had.  The  old  lady  who  keeps  the  house  would 
make  a  perfect  Fate ;  I  saw  her  sitting  at  her  window 
spinning,  and  looking  down  over  the  Ticino  valley  as 
though  it  were  the  world  and  she  were  spinning  its 
destiny.     She  had  a  somewhat  stern  expression,  thin 


8o  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

lips,  iron-grey  eyes,  and  an  aquiline  nose ;  her  scanty 
locks  straofofled  from  under  the  handkerchief  which 
she  wore  round  her  head.  Her  employment  and  the 
wistful  far-away  look  she  cast  upon  the  expanse  below 
made  a  very  fine  ensemble.  "  She  would  have  afforded," 
as  Sir  Walter  Scott  says,  "  a  study  for  a  Rembrandt, 
had  that  celebrated  painter  existed  at  the  period,"* 
but  she  must  have  been  a  smart-looking  handsome  girl 
once. 

She  brightened  up  in  conversation.  I  talked  about 
Piora,  which  I  already  knew,  and  the  Lago  Tom, 
the  hiorhest  of  the  three  lakes.  She  said  she  knew  the 
Lago  Tom.  I  said  laughingly,  "  Oh,  I  have  no  doubt 
you  do.  We've  had  many  a  good  day  at  the  Lago 
Tom,  I  know."     She  looked  down  at  once. 

In  spite  of  her  nearly  eighty  years  she  was  active 
as  a  woman  of  forty,  and  altogether  she  was  a  very 
grand  old  lady.  Her  house  is  scrupulously  clean. 
While  I  watched  her  spinning,  I  thought  of  what 
must  so  often  occur  to  summer  visitors.  I  mean  what 
sort  of  a  look-out  the  old  woman  must  have  in  winter, 
when  the  wind  roars  and  whistles,  and  the  snow  drives 
down  the  valley  with  a  fury  of  which  we  in  England 
can  have  little  conception.     What  a  place  to  see  a 

*  Ivanhoe,  chap,  xxiii.,  near  the  beginning. 


PIORA.  8 1 

snowstorm  from !  and  what  a  place  from  which  to 
survey  the  landscape  next  morning  after  the  storm  is 
over  and  the  air  is  calm  and  brilliant.  There  are  such 
mornings  :  I  saw  one  once,  but  I  was  at  the  bottom 
of  the  valley  and  not  high  up,  as  at  Ronco.  Ronco 
would  take  a  little  sun  even  in  midwinter,  but  at  the 
bottom  of  the  valley  there  is  no  sun  for  weeks  and 
weeks  together ;  all  is  in  deep  shadow  below,  though 
the  upper  hillsides  may  be  seen  to  have  the  sun  upon 
them.  I  walked  once  on  a  frosty  winter's  morning 
from  Airolo  to  Giornico,  and  can  call  to  mind  nothing 
in  its  way  more  beautiful :  everything  was  locked  in 
frost — there  was  not  a  waterwheel  but  was  sheeted 
and  coated  with  ice  :  the  road  was  hard  as  granite — 
all  was  quiet  and  seen  as  through  a  dark  but  incredibly 
transparent  medium.  Near  Piotta  I  met  the  whole 
village  dragging  a  large  tree ;  there  were  many  men 
and  women  dragging  at  it,  but  they  had  to  pull  hard 
and  they  were  silent ;  as  I  passed  them  I  thought 
what  comely,  well-begotten  people  they  were.  Then, 
looking  up,  there  was  a  sky,  cloudless  and  of  the  deep- 
est blue,  against  which  the  snow-clad  mountains  stood 
out  splendidly.  No  one  will  regret  a  walk  in  these 
valleys  during  the  depth  of  winter.  But  I  should  have 
liked  to  have  looked  down  from  the  sun  into  the  sun- 


82  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

lessness,  as  the  old  Fate  woman  at  Ronco  can  do  when 
she  sits  in  winter  at  her  window ;  or,  again,  I  should 
like  to  see  how  things  would  look  from  this  same 
window  on  a  leaden  morning  in  midwinter  after  snow 
has  fallen  heavily  and  the  sky  is  murky  and  much 
darker  than  the  earth.  When  the  storm  is  at  its 
height,  the  snow  must  search  and  search  and  search 
even  through  the  double  windows  with  which  the  houses 
are  protected.  It  must  rest  upon  the  frames  of  the 
pictures  of  saints,  and  of  the  sister's  "grab,"  and  of 
the  last  hours  of  Count  Ugolino,  which  adorn  the  walls 
of  the  parlour.  No  wonder  there  is  a  ^S.  Maria  delta 
Neve — a  "  St.  Mary  of  the  Snow  ; "  but  I  do  wonder 
that  she  has  not  been  painted. 

From  Ronco  the  path  keeps  level  and  then  descends 
a  little  so  as  to  cross  the  stream  that  comes  down 
from  Piora.  This  is  near  the  village  of  Altanca,  the 
church  of  which  looks  remarkably  well  from  here. 
Then  there  is  an  hour  and  a  half's  rapid  ascent,  and 
at  last  all  on  a  sudden  one  finds  one's  self  on  the  Lago 
Rifom,  close  to  the  hotel. 

The  lake  is  about  a  mile,  or  a  mile  and  a  half,  long, 
and  half  a  mile  broad.  It  is  6000  feet  above  the  sea, 
very  deep  at  the  lower  end,  and  does  not  freeze  where 
the  stream  issues  from  it,  so  that  the  magnificent  trout 


PIORA.  83 

in  the  lake  can  get  air  and  live  through  the  winter. 
In  many  other  lakes,  as  for  example  the  La£-o  di 
Tremorgio,  they  cannot  do  this,  and  hence  perish, 
though  the  lakes  have  been  repeatedly  stocked.  The 
trout  in  the  Lago  Ritom  are  said  to  be  the  finest  in 
the  world,  and  certainly  I  know  none  so  fine  myself. 
They  grow  to  be  as  large  as  moderate-sized  salmon, 
and  have  a  deep  red  flesh,  very  firm  and  full  of  flavour, 
I  had  two  cutlets  off  one  for  breakfast  and  should  have 
said  they  were  salmon  unless  I  had  known  otherwise. 
In  winter,  when  the  lake  is  frozen  over,  the  people  bring 
their  hay  from  the  farther  Lake  of  Cadagna  in  sledges 
across  the  Lake  Ritom.  Here,  again,  winter  must 
be  worth  seeing,  but  on  a  rough  snowy  day  Piora  must 
be  an  awful  place.  There  are  a  few  stunted  pines  near 
the  hotel,  but  the  hillsides  are  for  the  most  part  bare 
and  green.  Piora  in  fact  is  a  fine  breezy  open  upland 
valley  of  singular  beauty,  and  with  a  sweet  atmosphere 
of  cow  about  it ;  it  is  rich  in  rhododendrons,  and  all 
manner  of  Alpine  flowers,  just  a  trifle  bleak,  but  as 
bracing  as  the  Engadine  itself. 

The  first  nig^ht  I  was  ever  in  Piora  there  was  a 
brilliant  moon,  and  the  unruffled  surface  of  the  lake 
took  the  reflection  of  the  mountains.  I  could  see  the 
cattle  a  mile  off,  and  hear  the  tinkling  of  their  bells 


84  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

which  danced  multitudinously  before  the  ear  as  fire- 
flies come  and  go  before  the  eyes  ;  for  all  through 
a  fine  summer's  nio^ht  the  cattle  will  feed  as  thougrh 
it  were  day.  A  little  above  the  lake  I  came  upon  a 
man  in  a  cave  before  a  furnace,  burning  lime,  and  he 
sat  looking  into  the  fire  with  his  back  to  the  moon- 
light. He  was  a  quiet  moody  man,  and  I  am  afraid 
I  bored  him,  for  I  could  get  hardly  anything  out  of 
him  but  "  Oh  altro  " — polite  but  not  communicative. 
So  after  a  while  I  left  him  with  his  face  burnished 
as  with  gold  from  the  fire,  and  his  back  silver  with  the 
moonbeams ;  behind  him  were  the  pastures  and  the 
reflections  in  the  lake  and  the  mountains  ;  and  the 
distant  cowbells  were  rino^ino^. 

Then  I  wandered  on  till  I  came  to  the  chapel  of 
S.  Carlo ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  found  myself  on  the 
JLa^-o  di  Cadagna.  Here  I  heard  that  there  were 
people,  and  the  people  were  not  so  much  asleep  as 
the  simple  peasantry  of  these  upland  valleys  are  ex- 
pected to  be  by  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening.  For  now 
was  the  time  when  they  had  moved  up  from  Ronco, 
Altanca,  and  other  villages  in  some  numbers  to  cut  the 
hay,  and  were  living  for  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks  in 
the  chalets  upon  the  Lago  di  Cadagna.  As  I  have 
said,   there  is  a  chapel,    but   I   doubt    whether  it   is 


PIORA. 


85. 


attended  during  this  season  with  the  regularity  with 
which  the  parish  churches  of  Ronco,  Altanca,  &c.,  are 
attended  during  the  rest  of  the  year.  The  young 
people,  I  am  sure,  like  these  annual  visits  to  the 
high  places,  and  will  be  hardly  weaned  from  them. 


CHAPEL  OF  S.  CARLO,  PIORA. 


Happily  the  hay  will  be  always  there,  and  will  have 
to  be  cut  by  some  one,  and  the  old  people  will  send 
the  young  ones. 

As  I  was  thinking  of  these  things,  I  found  myself 
going   off  into    a  doze,    and    thought    the   burnished 


86  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

man  from  the  furnace  came  up  and  sat  beside  me,  and 
laid  his  hand  upon  my  shoulder.  Then  I  saw  the 
green  slopes  that  rise  all  round  the  lake  were  much 
higher  than  I  had  thought;  they  went  up  thousands 
of  feet,  and  there  were  pine  forests  upon  them,  while 
two  larofe  glaciers  came  down  in  streams  that  ended  in 
a  precipice  of  ice,  falling  sheer  into  the  lake.  The 
edges  of  the  mountains  against  the  sky  were  rugged 
and  full  of  clefts,  through  which  I  saw  thick  clouds  of 
dust  being  blown  by  the  wind  as  though  from  the 
other  side  of  the  mountains. 

And  as  I  looked,  I  saw  that  this  was  not  dust,  but 
people  coming  in  crowds  from  the  other  side,  but  so 
small  as  to  be  visible  at  first  only  as  dust.  And  the 
people  became  musicians,  and  the  mountainous  amphi- 
theatre a  huge  orchestra,  and  the  glaciers  were  two 
noble  armies  of  women-singers  in  white  robes,  ranged 
tier  above  tier  behind  each  other,  and  the  pines 
became  orchestral  players,  while  the  thick  dust-like 
cloud  of  chorus-singers  kept  pouring  in  through  the 
clefts  in  the  precipices  in  inconceivable  numbers. 
When  I  turned  my  telescope  upon  them  I  saw  they 
were  crowded  up  to  the  extreme  edge  of  the  moun- 
tains, so  that  I  could  see  underneath  the  soles  of  their 
boots  as  their  legs  dangled  in  the  air.     In  the  midst 


PIORA.  87 

of  all,  a  precipice  that  rose  from  out  of  the  glaciers 
shaped  itself  suddenly  into  an  organ,  and  there 
was  one  whose  face  I  well  knew  sitting  at  the  key- 
board, smiling  and  pluming  himself  like  a  bird  as  he 
thundered  forth  a  giant  fugue  by  way  of  overture.  I 
heard  the  great  pedal  notes  In  the  bass  stalk  majesti- 
cally up  and  down,  as  the  rays  of  the  Aurora  that  go 
about  upon  the  face  of  the  heavens  off  the  coast  of 
Labrador.  Then  presently  the  people  rose  and  sang 
the  chorus  "Venus  Laughing  from  the  Skies;"  but 
ere  the  sound  had  well  died  away,  I  awoke,  and  all 
was  changed ;  a  light  fleecy  cloud  had  filled  the  whole 
basin,  but  I  still  thought  I  heard  a  sound  of  music,  and 
a  scampering-off  of  great  crowds  from  the  part  where 
the  precipices  should  be.     The  music  went  thus  : — '"' 


1 


'=^- 


■^^mm] 


Andantino. 


eEta"=EiE^EiZEEEf=^EtEEEEEiEiEt^=i 


±IZ± 


-*     " — *      ^-9 — • — • — ■*-#—# — 4 — -" 


l^^^^g=^^i^p^] 


*  Handel's  third  set  of  organ  concertos,  No.  6. 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


1 


'0-    -^-m-    -^-»- ^-  0     -w-^ 


:«iz=rzz:i»=zz:^-;_ g_^£g^fzS^Ez^ 


&c. 


ieeEr5==^=t=[i=f=^ 


By  and  by  the  cantering,  galloping  movement  became 
a  trotting  one,  thus  : — 


:tc<_^izr3l: 


?ia==!^^^ 


:f^=^=f^ 


( 


th-- 


'■~^« j-#-a a-»-i 


<_1 gJrt 


Z!X~«- 


i^qiq; 


Lintzg iii/zfc 


lid2-^S^J:=i= 


-.^=^^-.=^ 


1 


i=J 


*-j-K a-*-j »->-»— l-i    I    I  -giT~  --i- 


1=zizizp: 

'    •    I 


ggZ£g^y^a^jZ^Z^^^^=i 


PIORA. 


I 

1 
I 


-■^qzrri: 


^£3^3 


•=rd 


gfej^E^EESE^fE^-EE^EEg^zJEig^^^ 


After  that  I  heard  no  more  but  a  little  singing  from 
the  chalets,  and  turned  homewards.  When  I  got  to 
the  chapel  of  S.  Carlo,  I  was  in  the  moonlight  again, 
and  when  near  the  hotel,  I  passed  the  man  at  the 
mouth  of  the  furnace  with  the  moon  still  gleaming 
upon  his  back,  and  the  fire  upon  his  face,  and  he  was 
very  grave  and  quiet. 

Next  mornings  I  went  alongf  the  lake  till  I  came  to 
a  good-sized  streamlet  on  the  north  side.  If  this  is 
followed  for  half-an-hour  or  so — and  the  walk  is  a  very- 
good  one — Lake  Tom  is  reached,  about  7500  feet  above 
the  sea.  The  lake  is  not  large,  and  there  are  not  so 
many  chalets  as  at  Cadagna  ;  still  there  are  some. 
The  view  of  the  mountain  tops  on  the  other  side  the 
Ticino  valley,  as  seen  from   across  the  lake,  is  very 


90  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

fine.  I  tried  to  sketch,  but  was  fairly  driven  back  by 
a  cloud  of  black  gnats.  The  ridges  immediately  at 
the  back  of  the  lake,  and  no  great  height  above  it,  are 
the  main  dividing  line  of  the  watershed ;  so  are  those 
that  rise  from  the  Lago  di  Cadagna  ;  in  fact,  about  600 
feet  above  this  lake  is  the  top  of  a  pass  which  goes 
through  the  piano  dei  porci,  and  leads  down  to  S. 
Maria  Mao^oriore,  on  the  German  side  of  the  Luk- 
manier.  I  do  not  know  the  short  piece  between  the 
Lago  di  Cadagna  and  S.  Maria, , but  it  is  sure  to  be 
good.  It  is  a  pity  there  is  no  place  at  S.  Maria 
where  one  can  put  up  for  a  night  or  two.  There  is  a 
small  inn  there,  but  it  did  not  look  tempting. 

Before  leaving  the  Val  Leventina,  I  would  call 
attention  to  the  beautiful  old  parish  church  at  Biasca, 
where  there  is  now  an  excellent  inn,  the  Hotel  Biasca. 
This  church  is  not  so  old  as  the  one  at  Giornico,  but 
it  is  a  good  though  plain  example  of  early  Lombard 
architecture. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

i'.    MICHELE   AND    THE   MONTE   PIRCHIRIANO. 

Sometime  after  the  traveller  from  Paris  to  Turin  has 
passed  through  the  Mont  Cenis  tunnel,  and  shortly 
before  he  arrives  at  Bussoleno  station,  the  line  turns 
eastward,  and  a  view  is  obtained  of  the  valley  of  the 
Dora,  with  the  hills  beyond  Turin,  and  the  Superga,  in 


S.  MICHELE   FROM   NEAR   BUSSOLENO. 


S.  MICHELE. 


the  distance.  On  the  right-hand  side  of  the  valley  and 
about  half  way  between  Susa  and  Turin  the  eye  is 
struck  by  an  abruptly-descending  mountain  with  a  large 
building  like  a  castle  upon  the  top  of  it,  and  the  nearer 
it  is  approached  the  more  imposing  does  it  prove  to 


92  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

be.  Presently  the  mountain  is  seen  more  edgeways, 
and  the  shape  changes.  In  half-an-hour  or  so  from  this 
point,  S.  Ambrogio  is  reached,  once  a  thriving  town, 
where  carriages  used  to  break  the  journey  between 
Turin  and  Susa,  but  left  stranded  since  the  opening 
of  the  railway.  Here  we  are  at  the  very  foot  of  the 
Monte  Pirchiriano,  for  so  the  mountain  is  called,  and 
can  see  the  front  of  the  buildinof — which  is  none  other 
than  the  famous  sanctuary  of  S.  Michele,  commonly 
called  "  della  chiusa,"  from  the  wall  built  here  by  Desi- 
derius,  king  of  the  Lombards,  to  protect  his  kingdom 
from  Charlemagne. 

The  history  of  the  sanctuary  is  briefly  as  follows  : — 
At  the  close  of  the  tenth  century,  when  Otho 
III.  was  Emperor  of  Germany,  a  certain  Hugh  de 
Montboissier,  a  noble  of  Auvergne,  commonly  called 
"  Hugh  the  Unsewn  "  {/o  sdi'uscito) ,  was  commanded  by 
the  Pope  to  found  a  monastery  in  expiation  of  some 
erave  offence.  He  chose  for  his  site  the  summit  of  the 
Monte  Pirchiriano  in  the  valley  of  Susa,  being  attracted 
partly  by  the  fame  of  a  church  already  built  there  by 
a  recluse  of  Ravenna,  Giovanni  Vincenzo  by  name, 
and  partly  by  the  striking  nature  of  the  situation. 
Huofh  de  Montboissier  when  returninof  from  Rome  to 
France  with  Isengarde  his  wife,  would,  as  a  matter  of 


5.  MICHELE.  93 


course,  pass  through  the  valley  of  Susa.  The  two — 
perhaps  when  stopping  to  dine  at  S.  Ambrogio — would 
look  up  and  observe  the  church  founded  by  Giovanni 
Vincenzo :  they  had  got  to  build  a  monastery  some- 
where ;  it  would  very  likely,  therefore,  occur  to  them 
that  they  could  not  perpetuate  their  names  better  than 
by  choosing  this  site,  which  was  on  a  much  travelled 
road,  and  on  which  a  fine  building  would  show  to 
advantage.  If  my  view  is  correct,  we  have  here  an 
illustration  of  a  fact  which  is  continually  observable — 
namely,  that  all  things  which  come  to  much,  whether 
they  be  books,  buildings,  pictures,  music,  or  living 
beings,  are  suggested  by  others  of  their  own  kind.  It 
is  always  the  most  successful,  like  Handel  and  Shak- 
speare,  who  owe  most  to  their  forerunners,  in  spite  of 
the  modifications  with  which  their  works  descend. 

Giovanni  Vincenzo  had  built  his  church  about  the 
year  987.  It  is  maintained  by  some  that  he  had  been 
bishop  of  Ravenna,  but  Clareta  gives  sufficient  reason 
for  thinking  otherwise.  In  the  "  Cronaca  Clusina  "  it 
is  said  that  he  had  for  some  years  previously  lived  as 
a  recluse  on  the  Monte  Caprasio,  to  the  north  of  the 
present  Monte  Pirchiriano ;  but  that  one  night  he 
had  a  vision,  in  which  he  saw  the  summit  of  Monte 
]pirchiriano   enveloped   in   heaven -descended    flames, 


94  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

and  on  this  founded  a  church  there,  and  dedicated 
it  to  St.  Michael.  This  is  the  origin  of  the  name 
Pirchiriano,  which  means  irvp  Kvplavo^,  or  the  Lord's 
fire. 

The  fame  of  the  heavenly  flames  and  the  piety  of 
pilgrims  brought  in  enough  money  to  complete  the 
building — which,  to  judge  from  the  remains  of  it  em- 
bodied in  the  later  work,  must  have  been  small,  but 
still  a  church,  and  more  than  a  mere  chapel  or  ora- 
tory. It  was,  as  I  have  already  suggested,  probably 
imposing  enough  to  fire  the  imagination  of  Hugh  de 
Montboissier,  and  make  him  feel  the  capabilities  of  the 
situation,  which  a  mere  ordinary  wayside  chapel  might 
perhaps  have  failed  to  do.  Having  built  his  church, 
Giovanni  Vincenzo  returned  to  his  solitude  on  the  top 
of  Monte  Caprasio,  and  thenceforth  went  backwards 
and  forwards  from  one  place  of  abode  to  the  other. 

Avog^adro  is  amongf  those  who  make  Giovanni 
Bishop,  or  rather  Archbishop,  of  Ravenna,  and  gives 
the  following  account  of  the  circumstances  which  led 
to  his  resigning  his  diocese  and  going  to  live  at  the 
top  of  the  inhospitable  Monte  Caprasio.  It  seems 
there  had  been  a  confirmation  at  Ravenna,  during 
which  he  had  accidentally  forgotten  to  confirm  the 
child  of  a  certain  widow.     The  child,  being  in  weakly 


5.  MICHELE.  95 


health,  died  before  Giovanni  could  repair  his  oversight, 
and  this  preyed  upon  his  mind.  In  answer,  however, 
to  his  earnest  prayers,  it  pleased  the  Almighty  to  give 
him  power  to  raise  the  dead  child  to  life  again  :  this 
he  did,  and  having  immediately  performed  the  rite  of 
confirmation,  restored  the  boy  to  his  overjoyed  mother. 
He  now  became  so  much  revered  that  he  began  to 
be  alarmed  lest  pride  should  obtain  dominion  over 
him ;  he  felt,  therefore,  that  his  only  course  was  to 
resign  his  diocese,  and  go  and  live  the  life  of  a  recluse 
on  the  top  of  some  high  mountain.  It  is  said  that  he 
suffered  agonies  of  doubt  as  to  whether  it  was  not 
selfish  of  him  to  take  such  care  of  his  own  eternal 
welfare,  at  the  expense  of  that  of  his  flock,  whom 
no  successor  could  so  well  guide  and  guard  from 
evil ;  but  in  the  end  he  took  a  reasonable  view  of  the 
matter,  and  concluded  that  his  first  duty  was  to  secure 
his  own  spiritual  position.  Nothing  short  of  the  top 
of  a  very  uncomfortable  mountain  could  do  this,  so 
he  at  once  resigned  his  bishopric  and  chose  Monte 
Caprasio  as  on  the  whole  the  most  comfortable  uncom- 
fortable mountain  he  could  find. 

The  latter  part  of  the  story  will  seem  strange 
to  Englishmen.  We  can  hardly  fancy  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  or  York  resigning  his  diocese 


96  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

and  settling  down  quietly  on  the  top  of  Scafell  or 
Cader  Idris  to  secure  his  eternal  welfare.  They  would 
hardly  do  so  even  on  the  top  of  Primrose  Hill.  But 
nine  hundred  years  ago  human  nature  was  not  the 
same  as  nowadays. 

The  valley  of  Susa,  then  little  else  than  marsh  and 
forest,  was  held  by  a  marquis  of  the  name  of  Arduin,  a 
descendant  of  a  French  or  Norman  adventurer  Roger, 
who,  with  a  brother,  also  named  Arduin,  had  come 
to  seek  his  fortune  in  Italy  at  the  beginning  of  the 
tenth  century.  Roger  had  a  son,  Arduin  Glabrio, 
who  recovered  the  valley  of  Susa  from  the  Saracens, 
and  established  himself  at  Susa,  at  the  junction  of  the 
roads  that  come  down  from  Mont  Cenis  and  the 
Mont  Genevre.  He  built  a  castle  here  which  com- 
manded the  valley,  and  was  his  base  of  operations 
as  Lord  of  the  Marches  and  Warden  of  the  Alps. 

Hugh  de  Montboissier  applied  to  Arduin  for  leave 
to  build  upon  the  Monte  Pirchiriano,  Arduin  was 
then  holding  his  court  at  Avigliana,  a  small  town  near 
S.  Ambrogio,  even  now  singularly  little  altered,  and 
full  of  mediaeval  remains  ;  he  not  only  gave  his  con- 
sent, but  volunteered  to  sell  a  site  to  the  monastery, 
so  as  to  ensure  it  against  future  disturbance. 

The  first  church  of  Giovanni  Vincenzo  had  been  built 


S.  MICHELE.  97 


upon  whatever  little  space  could  be  found  upon  the 
top  of  the  mountain,  without,  so  far  as  I  can  gather, 
enlarging  the  ground  artificially.  The  present  church 
— the  one,  that  is  to  say,  built  by  Hugh  de  Mont- 
boissier  about  a.d.  iooo — rests  almost  entirely  upon 
stone  piers  and  masonry.  The  rock  has  been  masked 
by  a  lofty  granite  wall  of  several  feet  in  thickness, 
which  presents  something  of  a  keep-like  appearance. 
The  spectator  naturally  imagines  that  there  are  rooms, 
&c.,  behind  this  wall,  whereas  in  point  of  fact  there  is 
nothing  but  the  staircase  leading  up  to  the.  floor  of  the 
church.  Arches  spring  from  this  masking  wall,  and 
are  continued  thence  until  the  rock  is  reached  ;  it  is 
on  the  level  surface  thus  obtained  that  the  church  rests. 
The  true  floor,  therefore,  does  not  begin  till  near 
what  appears  from  the  outside  to  be  the  top  of  the 
building. 

There  is  some  uncertainty  as  to  the  exact  date  of 
the  foundation  of  the  monastery,  but  Clareta*  inclines 
decidedly  to  the  date  999,  as  against  966,  the  one 
assigned  by  Mabillon  and  Torraneo.  Clareta  relies 
on  the  discovery,  by  Provana,  of  a  document  in  the 
royal   archives    which    seems    to     place    the    matter 

*  "Storia  Diplomatica  dell'  antica  abbazia  di  S.  Michele  della  chiusa," 
by  Gaudenzio  Clareta.    Turin,  1870.    Pp.  8,  9. 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


beyond  dispute.  The  first  abbot  was  undoubtedly 
Avverto  or  Arveo,  who  estabHshed  the  rules  of  the 
Benedictine  Order  in  his  monastery.  "In  the  seven 
hours  of  daily  work  prescribed  by  the  Benedictine 
rule,"  writes  Cesare  Balbo,  **  innumerable  were  the 
fields  they  ploughed,  and  the  houses  they  built  in 
deserts,  while  in  more  frequented  places  men  were 
laying  cultivated  ground  waste,  and  destroying  build- 
ings :  innumerable,  again,  were  the  works  of  the  holy 
fathers  and  of  ancient  authors  which  were  copied 
and  preserved."  * 

From  this  time  forward  the  monastery  received 
gifts  in  land  and  privileges,  and  became  in  a  few 
years  the  most  important  religious  establishment  in 
that  part  of  Italy. 

There  have  been  several  fires — one,  among  others, 
in  the  year  1 340,  which  destroyed  a  great  part  of  the 
monastery,  and  some  of  the  deeds  under  which  it 
held  valuable  grants ;  but  though  the  part  inhabited 
by  the  monks  may  have  been  rebuilt  or  added  to,  the 
church  is  certainly  untouched. 

*  "  Storia  Diplomatica  dell'  antica  abbazia  di  S.  Michele  della  chiusa," 
by  Gaudenzio  Clareta.     Turin,  1870.      P.  14. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

s.  MiCHELE  {contimied). 

I  HAD  often  seen  this  wonderful  pile  of  buildings,  and 
had  marvelled  at  it,  as  all  must  do  who  pass  from  Susa 
to  Turin,  but  I  never  went  actually  up  to  it  till  last 
summer,  in  company  with  my  friend  and  collaborateur, 
Mr.  H.  F.  Jones.  We  reached  S.  Ambrogio  station 
one  sultry  evening  in  July,  and,  before  many  minutes 
were  over,  were  on  the  path  that  leads  to  San 
Pietro,  a  little  more  than  an  hour's  walk  above 
S.  Ambroofio. 

In  spite  of  what  I  have  said  about  Kent,  Surrey, 
and  Sussex,  we  found  ourselves  thinking  how  thin  and 
wanting,  as  it  were,  in  adipose  cushion  is  every  other 
country  in  comparison  with  Italy  ;  but  the  charm  is 
enhanced  in  these  days  by  the  feeling  that  it  can  be 
reached  so  easily.  Wednesday  morning,  Fleet  Street  ; 
Thursday  evening,  a  path  upon  the  quiet  mountain 
side,  under  the  overspreading  chestnuts,  with  Lom- 
bardy  at  one's  feet. 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


Some  twenty  minutes  after  we  had  begun  to  climb, 
the  sanctuary  became  lost  to  sight,  large  drops  of 
thunder-rain  began  to  fall,  and  by  the  time  we  reached 
San  Pietro  it  was  pouring  heavily,  and  had  become 
quite  dark.  An  hour  or  so  later  the  sky  had  cleared, 
and  there  was  a  splendid  moon  :  opening  the  windows, 
we  found  ourselves  looking  over  the  tops  of  trees  on 
to  some  lovely  upland  pastures,  on  a  winding  path 
through  which  we  could  almost  fancy  we  saw  a  youth 
led  by  an  angel,  and  there  was  a  dog  with  him,  and  he 
held  a  fish  in  his  hand.  Far  below  were  lights  from 
villages  in  the  valley  of  the  Dora.  Above  us  rose  the 
mountains,  bathed  in  shadow,  or  glittering  in  the 
moonbeams,  and  there  came  from  them  the  pleasant 
murmuring  of  streamlets  that  had  been  swollen  by  the 
storm. 

Next  morning  the  sky  was  cloudless  and  the  air 
invio^oratinor.  S.  Ambroo^io,  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  must  be  some  800  feet  above  the  sea,  and 
San  Pietro  about  1500  feet  above  S.  Ambrogio.  The 
sanctuary  at  the  top  of  the  mountain  is  2800  feet 
above  the  sea-level,  or  about  500  feet  above  San 
Pietro.     A  situation  more  dehVhtful  than  that  of  San 

o 

Pietro  it  is  impossible  to  conceive.     It  contains  some 
200    inhabitants,  and   lies  on   a  ledge  of  level  land. 


5.  MICHELE. 


which  is,  of  course,  covered  with  the  most  beautifully 
green  grass,  and  in  spring  carpeted  with  wild-flowers ; 
great  broad  -  leaved  chestnuts  rise  from  out  the 
meadows,  and  beneath  their  shade  are  strewn  masses 
of  sober  mulberry-coloured  rock ;  but  above  all  these 
rises  the  great  feature  of  the  place,  from  which,  when 


S.  MICHELE  FROM  S.  PIETRO. 


it  is  in  sight,  the  eyes  can  hardly  be  diverted, — I  mean 
the  sanctuary  of  S.  Michele  itself. 

The  sketch  gives  but  little  idea  of  the  place.  In 
nature  it  appears  as  one  of  those  fascinating  things 
like  the  smoke  from  Vesuvius,  or  the  town  on  the 
Sacro  Monte  at  Varese,  which  take  possession  of  one 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


to  the  exclusion  of  all  else,  as  long"  as  they  are  in 
sight.  From  each  point  of  view  it  becomes  more  and 
more  striking.  Climbing  up  to  it  from  San  Pietro 
and  getting  at  last  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  lower 
parts  of  the  building,  or  again  keeping  to  a  pathway 
alonor  the  side  of  the  mountain  towards  Avisfliana,  it 
will  come  as  on  the  following  page. 

There  is  a  very  beautiful  view  from  near  the  spot 
where  the  first  of  these  sketches  is  taken.  We 
are  then  on  the  very  ridge  or  crest  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  look  down  on  the  one  hand  upon  the  valley 
of  the  Dora  going  up  to  Susa,  with  the  glaciers  of  the 
Mont  Cenis  in  the  background,  and  on  the  other 
upon  the  plains  near  Turin,  with  the  colline  bounding 
the  horizon.  Immediately  beneath  is  seen  the  glaring 
white  straiofht  line  of  the  old  Mont  Cenis  road,  look* 
ing  much  more  important  than  the  dingy  narrow  little 
strip  of  railroad  that  has  superseded  it.  The  trains 
that  pass  along  the  line  look  no  bigger  than  cater- 
pillars, but  even  at  this  distance  they  make  a  great 
roar.  If  the  path  from  which  the  second  view  is  taken 
is  followed  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  so,  another  no 
less  beautiful  point  is  reached  from  which  one  can 
look  down  upon  the  two  small  lakes  of  Avigliana. 
These  lakes  supply  Turin  with  water,  and,  I  may  add, 


S.   MICHELE,   NEAR   VIEW. 


mj^^ 

if-^T"TT,B 

yt'iijTiiiT'if  jri 

^J^tt^t:?:' 

^J^':^^'jl^^^ 

ft-dt?3^-,jTHL 

5^ 

"Cx-.  jy'feteu. 

^^s 

S.    MICHELE,    FROM   PATH  TO  AVIGLIANA. 


I04 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


with  the  best  water  that  I  know  of  as  supplied  to  any 
town. 

We  will  now  return  to  the  place  from  which  the  first 


MAIN  ENTRANCE  TO  THE  SANCTUARY. 


of  the  sketches  on  p.  103  was  taken,  and  proceed  to  the 
sanctuary  itself.  Passing  the  small  but  very  massive 
circular  ru"n  shown  on  the  right  hand  of  the  sketch, 


S.  MICHELE.  lo; 


and  about  which  nothing  whatever  is  known  either  as 
regards  its  date  or  object,  we  ascend  by  a  gentle 
incHne  to  the  outer  gate  of  the  sanctuary.  The 
battered  plates  of  iron  that  cover  the  wooden  doors 
are  marked  with  many  a  bullet.  Then  we  keep  under 
cover  for  a  short  space,  after  which  we  find  ourselves 
at  the  foot  of  a  long  flight  of  steps.  Close  by  there  is  a 
little  terrace  with  a  wall  round  it,  where  one  can  stand 
and  enjoy  a  view  over  the  valley  of  the  Dora  to  Turin. 

Having  ascended  the  steps,  we  are  at  the  main 
entrance  to  the  building — a  massive  Lombard  door- 
way, evidently  the  original  one.  In  the  space  above 
the  door  there  have  been  two  frescoes,  an  earlier  and  a 
later  one,  one  painted  over  the  other,  but  nothing  now 
remains  save  the  signature  of  the  second  painter, 
signed  in  Gothic  characters.  On  entering,  more  steps 
must  be  at  once  climbed,  and  then  the  staircase  turns 
at  rieht  angles  and  tends  towards  the  rock. 

At  the  head  of  the  flight  shown  p.  io6,  the  natural 
rock  appears.  The  arch  above  it  forms  a  recess  filled 
with  desiccated  corpses.  The  great  pier  to  the  left, 
and,  indeed,  all  the  masonry  that  can  be  seen,  has  no 
other  object  than  to  obtain  space  for,  and  to  support, 
the  floor  of  the  church  itself.  My  drawing  was  taken 
from  about  the  level  of  the  top  of  the  archway  through 


I06 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


which  the  building  is  entered.  There  comes  in  at  this 
point  a  third  small  staircase  from  behind  ;  ascending 
this,  one  finds  one's  self  in  the  window  above  the  door, 


STEPS   LEADING   TO   THE   CHURCH.      NO.    I. 

from  the  balcony  of  which  there  is  a  marvellous 
panorama.  I  took  advantage  of  the  window  to 
measure  the  thickness  of  the  walls,  and  found  them 
a  little  over  seven  feet  thick  and  built  of  massive 


5.  MICHELE.  icy 


granite  blocks.  The  stones  on  the  inside  are  so  sharp 
and  clean  cut  that  they  look  as  if  they  were  not  more 
than  fifty  years  old.  On  the  outside,  the  granite,  hard 
as  it  is,  is  much  weathered,  which,  indeed,  considering 
the  exposed  situation,  is  hardly  to  be  wondered  at. 

Here  again  how  the  wind  must  howl  and  whistle, 
and  how  the  snow  must  beat  in  winter !  No  one  who 
has  not  seen  snow  falling  during  a  time  when  the 
thermometer  is  about  at  zero  can  know  how  searchino- 
a  thing  it  is.  How  softly  would  it  not  lie  upon  the 
skulls  and  shoulders  of  the  skeletons.  Fancy  a  dull 
dark  January  afternoon's  twilight  upon  this  staircase, 
after  a  heavy  snow,  when  the  soft  fleece  clings  to  the 
walls,  having  drifted  in  through  many  an  opening. 
Or  fancy  a  brilliant  winter's  moonlight,  with  the  moon 
falling  upon  the  skeletons  after  snow.  And  then  let 
there  be  a  burst  of  music  from  an  organ  in  the  church 
above  (I  am  sorry  to  say  they  have  only  a  harmo- 
nium ;  I  wish  some  one  would  give  them  a  fine  organ). 
I  should  like  the  following  for  example  : —  * 


"C^   "®^      Sv^s 

*  Handel ;  slow  movement  in  the  fifth  grand  concerto. 


io8 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


A 


^^^^ 


^^^i^ 


^^t-gj: 


?i^^i 


c2^pS==.^i=:  :=^^i:zDZt-, 


Jrt, 


zdz 


r- 


aii^ 


E^^^^f 


I 


id= 


33^t-^3fe^ 


Sz'^j. 


How  this  would  sound  upon  these  stairs,  if  they  would 
leave  the  church-door  open.  It  is  said  in  Murray's 
handbook  that  formerly  the  corpses  which  are  now 
under  the  arch,  used  to  be  placed  in  a  sitting  position 
upon  the  stairs,  and  the  peasants  would  crown  them 
with  flowers.  Fancy  twilight  or  moonlight  on  these 
stairs,  with  the  corpses  sitting  among  the  withered 
flowers  and  snow,  and  the  pealing  of  a  great  organ. 

After  ascending  the  steps  that  lead  towards  the 
skeletons,  we  turn  again  sharp  round  to  the  left,  and 
come  upon  another  noble  flight — broad  and  lofty,  and 
cut  in  great  measure  from  the  living  rock. 

At    the   top  of  this   flight    there    are  two  sets   of 


S.  MICHELE. 


109 


Lombard  portals,  both  of  them  very  fine,  but  in  such 
darkness  and  so  placed  that  it  was  impossible  to  get  a 
drawing   of  them  in  detail.      After  passing  through 


STEPS  LEADING  TO  THE  CHURCH.   NO.  2. 


them,   the  staircase  turns  again,  and,  as  far  as  I  can 
remember,  some  twenty  or  thirty  steps  bring  one  up 


no  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

to  the  level  of  the  top  of  the  arch  which  forms  the 
recess  where  the  corpses  are.  Here  there  is  another 
beautiful  Lombard  doorway,  with  a  small  arcade  on 
either  side  which  I  thought  English,  rather  than  Italian, 
in  character.  An  impression  was  produced  upon  both 
of  us  that  this  doorway  and  the  arcade  on  either  side 
were  by  a  different  architect  from  the  two  lower  arch- 
ways, and  from  the  inside  of  the  church  ;  or  at  any 
rate,  that  the  details  of  the  enrichment  were  cut  by  a 
different  mason,  or  gang  of  masons.  I  think,  however, 
the  whole  doorway  is  in  a  later  style,  and  must  have 
been  put  in  after  some  fire  had  destroyed  the  earlier 
one. 

Opening  the  door,  which  by  day  is  always  un- 
locked, we  found  ourselves  in  the  church  itself. 
As  I  have  said,  it  is  of  pure  Lombard  architecture, 
and  very  good  of  its  kind  ;  I  do  not  think  it  has  been 
touched  since  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  century, 
except  that  it  has  been  re-roofed  and  the  pitch  of  the 
roof  altered.  At  the  base  of  the  most  westerly  of  the 
three  piers  that  divide  the  nave  from  the  aisles,  there 
crops  out  a  small  piece  of  the  living  rock ;  this  is  at 
the  end  farthest  from  the  choir.  It  is  not  likely  that 
Giovanni  Vincenzo's  church  reached  east  of  this  point, 
for   from    this  point  onwards  towards   the  choir    the 


5.  MICHELE.  Ill 


floor  is  artificially  supported,  and  the  supporting 
structure  is  due  entirely  to  Hugo  de  Montboissier. 
The  part  of  the  original  church  which  still  remains 
is  perhaps  the  wall,  which  forms  the  western  limit  of 
the  present  church.  This  wall  is  not  external.  It 
forms  the  eastern  wall  of  a  large  chamber  with 
frescoes.  I  am  not  sure  that  this  chamber  does  not 
occupy  the  whole  space  of  the  original  church. 

There  are  a  few  nice  votive  pictures  in  the  church, 
and  one  or  two  very  early  frescoes,  which  are  not  with- 
out interest ;  but  the  main  charm  of  the  place  is  in  the 
architecture,  and  the  sense  at  once  of  age  and  strength 
which  it  produces.  The  stock  things  to  see  are  the 
vaults  in  which  many  of  the  members  of  the  royal 
house  of  Savoy,  legitimate  and  illegitimate,  lie  buried  ; 
they  need  not,  however,  be  seen. 

I  have  said  that  the  whole  building  is  of  much  about 
the  same  date,  and,  unless  perhaps  in  the  residential 
parts,  about  which  I  can  say  little,  has  not  been  altered. 
This  is  not  the  view  taken  by  the  author  of  Murray's 
Handbook  for  North  Italy,  who  says  that  "injudicious 
repairs  have  marred  the  effect  of  the  building ; "  but 
this  writer  has  fallen  into  several  errors.  He  talks, 
for  example,  of  the  "  open  Lombard  gallery  of  small 
circular  arches"  as  being  "  one  of  the  oldest  and  most 


112  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

curious  features  of  the  building,"  whereas  it  is  obviously 
no  older  than  the  rest  of  the  church,  nor  than  the 
keep-like  construction  upon  which  it  rests.  Again,  he 
is  clearly  in  error  when  he  says  that  the  "  extremely 
beautiful  circular  arch  by  which  we  pass  from  the 
staircase  to  the  corridor  leading  to  the  church,  is  a 
vestige  of  the  original  building."  The  double  round 
arched  portals  through  which  we  pass  from  the  main 
staircase  to  the  corridor  are  of  exactly  the  same  date 
as  the  staircase  itself,  and  as  the  rest  of  the  church. 
They  certainly  formed  no  part  of  Giovanni  Vincenzo's 
edifice ;  for,  besides  being  far  too  rich,  they  are  not 
on  a  level  with  what  remains  of  that  building,  but 
several  feet  below  it.  It  is  hard  to'  know  what  the 
writer  means  by  "the  original  building;"  he  appears 
to  think  it  extended  to  the  present  choir,  which, 
he  says,  "retains  traces  of  an  earlier  age."  The  choir 
retains  no  such  traces.  The  only  remains  of  the  ori- 
ginal church  are  at  the  back  of  the  west  end,  invisible 
from  the  inside  of  the  church,  and  at  the  opposite  end 
to  the  choir.  As  for  the  church  being  "  in  a  plain 
Gothic  style,"  it  is  an  extremely  beautiful  example  of 
pure  Lombard,  of  the  first  few  years  of  the  eleventh 
century.  True,  the  middle  arch  of  the  three  which 
divide  the  nave  from  the  aisles  is  pointed,  whereas  the 


S.  MICHELE. 


"3 


two  others  are  round,  but  this  is  evidently  done  to 
economise  space,  which  was  here  unusually  costly. 
There  was  room  for  more  than  two  round  arches,  but 
not  room  enough  for  three,  so  it  was  decided  to  dock 
the  middle  arch  a  little.  It  is  a  she-arch — that  is  to 
say,  it  has  no  keystone,  but  is  formed  simply  by  prop- 
ping two  segments  of  a  circle  one  against  the  other. 
It  certainly  is  not  a  Gothic  arch  ;  it  is  a  Lombard  arch, 
modified  in  an  unusual  manner,  owing  to  its  having 
been  built  under  unusual  conditions. 


GARDEN   AT  THE  SANCTUARY  OF  S.    MICHELE. 


The  visitor  should  on  no  account  omit  to  ring  the 
bell  and  ask  to  be  shown  the  open  Lombard  gallery 
already  referred  to  as  running  round  the  outside  of 
the  choir.  It  is  well  worth  walking  round  this,  if  only 
for  the  view. 


114  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

The  official  who  showed  us  round  was  very  kind, 
and  as  a  personal  favour  we  were  allowed  to  visit  the 
father's  private  garden.  The  large  arm-chairs  are 
made  out  of  clipped  box-trees.  While  on  our  way  to 
the  garden  we  passed  a  spot  where  there  was  an  alarm- 
ing buzzing,  and  found  ourselves  surrounded  by  what 
appeared  to  be  an  angry  swarm  of  bees  ;  closer  inspec- 
tion showed  that  the  host  was  a  medley  one,  composed 
of  wasps,  huge  hornets,  hive-bees,  humble-bees,  flies, 
dragon-flies,  butter-flies,  and  all  kinds  of  insects,  flying 
about  a  single  patch  of  ivy  in  full  blossom,  which 
attracted  them  so  strongly  that  they  neglected  every- 
thing else.  I  think  some  of  them  were  intoxicated. 
If  this  was  so,  then  perhaps  Bacchus  is  called  "ivy 
crowned"  because  ivy-blossoms  intoxicate  insects,  but 
I  never  remember  to  have  before  observed  that  ivy- 
blossoms  had  any  special  attraction  for  insects. 

I  have  forgotten  to  say  anything  about  a  beam  of 
wood  which  may  be  seen  standing  out  at  right  angles 
from  the  tower  to  the  right  of  the  main  building.  This 
I  believe  to  have  been  the  gallows.  Another  like  it 
may  be  seen  at  S.  Giorio,  but  I  have  not  got  it  in  my 
sketch  of  that  place.  The  attendant  who  took  us 
round  S.  Michele  denied  that  it  was  the  gallows,  but 
I  think  it  must  have  been.     Also,  the  attendant  showed 


S.  MICHELE.  115 


US  one  place  which  is  called  "  La  Salta  delta  bella 
Aldci."  Alda  was  being  pursued  by  a  soldier ;  to 
preserve  her  honour,  she  leaped  from  a  window  and 
fell  over  a  precipice  some  hundreds  of  feet  below ;  by 
the  intercession  of  the  virgin  she  was  saved,  but 
became  so  much  elated  that  she  determined  to  repeat 
the  feat.  She  jumped  a  second  time  from  the  window, 
but  was  dashed  to  pieces.  We  were  told  this  as  being 
unworthy  of  actual  credence,  but  as  a  legend  of  the 
place.  We  said  we  found  no  great  difficulty  in  believ- 
ing the  first  half  of  the  story,  but  could  hardly  believe 
that  any  one  would  jump  from  that  window  twice. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

REFOR^fS   INSTITUTED  AT  S.   MICHELE   IN    THE 
YEAR   1478. 

The  palmiest  days  of  the  sanctuary  were  during  the 
time  that  Rodolfo  di  Montebello  or  Mombello  was  abbot 
— that  is  to  say,  roughly,  between  the  years  1325-60. 
"  His  rectorate,"  says  Clareta,  "was  the  golden  age  of 
the  Abbey  of  La  Chiusa,  which  reaped  the  glory  ac- 
quired by  its  head  in  the  difficult  negotiations  entrusted 
to  him  by  his  princes.  But  after  his  death,  either  lot  or 
intrigue  caused  the  election  to  fall  upon  those  who 
prepared  the  ruin  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  and 
illustrious  monasteries  in  Piedmont."  * 

By  the  last  quarter  of  the  fifteenth  century  things 
got  so  bad  that  a  commission  of  inquiry  was  held 
under  one  Giovanni  di  Varax  in  the  year  1478.  The 
following  extracts  from  the  ordinances  then  made  may 
not  be  unwelcome  to  the  reader.  The  document  from 
which  they  are  taken  is  to  be  found,  pp.  322-336  of 

*  "Storia  Diplomatica  dell'antica  abbazia  di  S,  Michele  della  chiusa," 
by  Gaudenzio  Clareta.     Turin,  Civelli  &  Co.     1870.     P,  116. 


S.  MICHELE.  117 


Clareta's  work.  The  text  is  evidently  in  many  places 
corrupt  or  misprinted,  and  there  are  several  words 
which  I  have  looked  for  in  vain  in  all  the  dictionaries — 
Latin,  Italian,  and  French — in  the  reading-room  of  the 
British  Museum  which  seemed  in  the  least  likely  to 
contain  them.  I  should  say  that  for  this  translation, 
I  have  availed  myself,  in  part,  of  the  assistance  of  a 
well-known  mediaeval  scholar,  the  Rev.  Ponsonby  A. 
Lyons,  but  he  is  in  no  way  responsible  for  the  transla- 
tion as  a  whole. 

After  a  preamble,  stating  the  names  of  the  com- 
missioners, with  the  objects  of  the  commission  and  the 
circumstances  under  which  it  had  been  called  together, 
the  following  orders  were  unanimously  agreed  upon, 
to  wit : — 

"  Firstly,  That  repairs  urgently  required  to  prevent 
the  building  from  falling  into  a  ruinous  state  (as  shown 
by  the  ocular  testimony  of  the  commissioners,  assistecf 
by  competent  advisers  whom  they  instructed  to  survey 
the  fabric),  be  paid  for  by  a  true  tithe,  to  be  rendered 
by  all  priors,  provosts,  and  agents  directly  subject  to 
the  monastery.  This  tithe  is  to  be  placed  in  the  hands 
of  two  merchants  to  be  chosen  by  the  bishop  com- 
mendatory, and  a  sum  is  to  be  taken  from  it  for  the 
restoration  of  the  fountain  which  played  formerly  in 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


the  monastery.  The  proctors  who  collect  the  tithes 
are  to  be  instructed  by  the  abbot  and  commendatory 
not  to  press  harshly  upon  the  contrlbutories  by  way 
of  expense  and  labour  ;  and  the  money  when  collected 
is,  as  already  said,  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  two 
suitable  merchants,  clients  of  the  said  monastery,  who 
shall  hold  it  on  trust  to  pay  it  for  the  above-named 
purposes,  as  the  reverends  the  commendatory  and 
chamberlain  and  treasurer  of  the  said  monastery  shall 
direct.  In  the  absence  of  one  of  these  three  the  order 
of  the  other  two  shall  be  sufficient. 

"  Item,  it  is  ordered  that  the  mandds*  or  customary 
alms,  be  made  daily  to  the  value  of  what  would  suffice 
for  the  support  of  four  monks. 

"  Item,  that  the  offices  in  the  gift  of  the  monastery 
be  conferred  by  the  said  reverend  the  lord  commen- 
datory, and  that  those  which  have  been  hitherto  at  the 
personal  disposition  of  the  abbot  be  reserved  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  Apostolic  See.  Item,  that  no  one  do 
beg  a  benefice  without  reasonable  cause  and  consonancy 

*  "  Item,  ordinaverunt  quod  fiant  mandata  seu  ellemosinae  consiietae  quae 
sint  valloris  quatuor  prebendariim  religiosorum  omni  die  ut  moris  est " 
(Clareta,  Storia  Diplomatica,  p.  325.)  The  vtandatttm  generally  refers  to 
"  the  washing  of  one  another's  feet,"  according  to  the  mandate  of  Christ 
during  the  last  supper.  In  the  Benedictine  order,  however,  with  which 
we  are  now  concerned,  alms,  in  lieu  of  the  actual  washing  of  feet,  are 
alone  intended  by  the  word. 


S.  MICHELE.  119 


of  justice.  Item,  that  those  who  have  had  books, 
privileges,  or  other  documents  belonging  to  the 
monastery  do  restore  them  to  the  treasury  within 
three  months  from  the  publication  of  these  presents, 
under  pain  of  excommunication.  Item,  that  no  one 
henceforth  take  privileges  or  other  documents  from 
the  monastery  without  a  deposit  of  caution  money,  or 
taking  oath  to  return  the  same  within  three  months, 
under  like  pain  of  excommunication.  Item,  that  no 
laymen  do  enter  the  treasury  of  the  monastery  without 
the  consent  of  the  prior  of  cloister,*  nor  without  the 
presence  of  those  who  hold  the  keys  of  the  treasury, 
or  of  three  monks,  and  that  those  who  hold  the  keys 
do  not  deliver  them  to  laymen.  Item,  it  is  ordered 
that  the  places  subject  to  the  said  monastery  be 
visited  every  five  years  by  persons  in  holy  orders,  and 
by  seculars  ;  and  that,  in  like  manner,  every  five  years 
a  general  chapter  be  held,  but  this  period  may  be 
extended  or  shortened  for  reasonable  cause ;  and  the 
proctors-general  are  to  be  bound  in  each  chapter  to 

*  The  prior-claustralis,  as  distinguished  from  the  prior-major,  was  the 
working  head  of  a  monastery,  and  was  supposed  never,  or  hardly  ever,  to 
leave  the  precincts.  He  was  the  vicar-majnr  of  the  prior  major.  The 
prior-m  jor  was  vice-abbot  when  the  abbot  was  absent,  but  he  could  not 
exercise  the  full  functions  of  an  abbot.  The  abbot,  prior-major,  and  prior- 
claustralis  may  be  compared  loosely  to  the  master,  vice-master,  and  senior 
tutor  of  a  larjie  college. 


I20  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

bring  their  procurations,  and  at  some  chapter  each 
monk  is  to  bring  the  account  of  the  fines  and  all  other 
rights  appertaining  to  his  benefice,  drawn  up  by  a 
notary  in  public  form,  and  undersigned  by  him,  that 
they  may  be  kept  in  the  treasury,  and  this  under  pain 
of  suspension.  Item,  that  henceforth  neither  the  office 
of  prior  nor  any  other  benefice  be  conferred  upon  lay- 
men. The  lord  abbot  is  in  future  to  be  charged  with 
the  expense  of  all  new  buildings  that  are  erected 
within  the  precincts  of  the  monastery.  He  is  also  to 
give  four  pittances  or  suppers  to  the  convent  during 
infirmary  time,  and  six  pints  of  wine  according  to 
the  custom.*  Furthermore,  he  is  to  keep  beds  in  the 
monastery  for  the  use  of  guests,  and  other  monks  shall 
return  these  beds  to  the  chamberlain  on  the  departure 

*  "  Item,  quod  dominus  abbas  teneatur  dare  quatuor  pitancias  seu  cenas 
conventui  tempore  infirmariae,  et  quatuor  sextaria  vini  ut  consuetum  est " 
(Clareta,  Storia  Diplomatica,  p.  326).  The  "infirmariae  generales"  were 
stated  times  during  which  the  monks  were  to  let  blood — "Stata  nimirum 
tempora  quibus  sanguis  monachis  minuebatur,  seu  vena  secabatur." 
There  were  five  "  minutiones  generales  "  in  each  year — namely,  in  Sep- 
tember, Advent,  before  Lent,  after  Easter,  and  after  Pentecost.  The 
letting  of  blood  was  to  last  three  days  ;  after  the  third  day  the  patients 
were  to  return  to  matins  again,  and  on  the  fourth  they  were  to  receive 
absolution.  Bleedmg  was  strictly  forbidden  at  any  other  than  these 
stated  times,  unless  for  grave  illness.  During  the  time  of  blood-letting 
the  monks  stayed  in  the  infirmary,  and  were  provided  with  supper  by  the 
abbot.  During  the  actual  oi)eration  the  brethren  sat  all  to;;ether  after 
orderly  fashion  in  a  single  room,  amid  silence  and  singing  of  psalms. 
(Ducange.) 


5.  MICHELE.  121 


of  the  guests,  and  it  shall  be  the  chamberlain's  business 
to  attend  to  this  matter.  Item,  delinquent  monks  are 
to  be  punished  within  the  monastery  and  not  without 
it.  Item,  the  monks  shall  not  presume  to  give  an 
order  for  more  than  two  days'  board  at  the  expense 
of  the  monastery,  in  the  inns  at  S.  Ambrogio,  during 
each  week,  and  they  shall  not  give  orders  for  fifteen 
days  unless  they  have  relations  on  a  journey  staying 
with  them,  or  nobles,  or  persons  above  suspicion,  and 
the  same  be  understood  as  applying  to  officials  and 
cloistered  persons.* 

"  Item,  within  twelve  months  from  date  the  monks 
are  to  be  at  the  expense  of  building  an  almshouse 
in  S.  Ambrogio,  where  one  or  two  of  the  oldest  and 
most  respected  among  them  are  to  reside,  and  have 
their  portions  there,  and  receive  those  who  are  in 
religion.  Item,  no  monk  is  to  wear  his  hair  longer 
than  two  fingers  broad. t  Item,  no  hounds  are  to  be 
kept  in  the  monastery  for  hunting,  nor  any  dogs  save 

*  "  Item,  quod  religiosi  non  audeant  in  Sancto  Ambrosio  videlicet  in 
hospiciis  concedere  ultra  duos  pastos  videlicet  oflficiariis  singulis  hebdo- 
madis  claustrales  non  de  quindecim  diebus  nisi  forte  aliquae  personae  de 
eorum  parentela  transeuntes  aut  nobiles  aut  tales  de  quibus  verisimiliter 
non  habetur  suspicio  eos  secum  moniri  faciant,  et  sic  intelligatur  de  offi- 
ciariis  et  de  claustralibus  "  (Clareta,  Storia  Diplomatica,  p.  326). 

+  The  two  fingers  are  the  barber's,  who  lets  one  finger,  or  two,  or 
three,  intervene  between  the  scissors  and  the  head  of  the  person  whose 
hair  he  is  cutting,  according  to  the  length  of  hair  he  wishes  to  remain. 


122  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

watch-dog^s.  Persons  in  reliorion  who  come  to  the 
monastery  are  to  be  entertained  there  for  two  days, 
durinor  which  time  the  cellarer  is  to  orive  them  bread 
and  wine,  and  the  pittancer,""  pittance. 

"  Item,  women  of  bad  character,  and  indeed  all 
women,  are  forbidden  the  monk's  apartments  without 
the  prior's  license,  except  in  times  of  indulgence,  or 
such  as  are  noble  or  above  suspicion.  Not  even  are 
the  women  from  San  Pietro,  or  any  suspected  women, 
to  be  admitted  without  the  prior's  permission. 

"  The  monks  are  to  be  careful  how  they  hold  con- 
verse with  suspected  women,  and  are  not  to  be  found 
in  the  houses  of  such  persons,  or  they  will  be  punished. 
Item,  the  epistle  and  gospel  at  high  mass  are  to  be 
said  by  the  monks  in  church,  and  in  Lent  the  epistle 
is  to  be  said  by  one  monk  or  sub-deacon. 

*  "  Cellelarius  teneatur  ministrare  panem  et  vinum  et  pittanciarius 
pittanciam"  (Clareta,  Stor.  Dip.,  p.  327).  Pittancia  is  believed  to  be  a 
corruption  of  "  pietantia."  "  Pietantiae  modus  et  ordo  sic  conscript! — 
observentur.  In  primis  videlicet,  quod  pietantiarius  qui  pro  tempore 
fuerit  omni  anno  singulis  festivitatibus  infra  scriptis  duo  ova  in  brodio 
(broth  ?)  pipere  et  croco  bene  conditi  omnibus  et  singulis  fratribus  .  .  . 
teneatur  ministrare."  A  "pittance"  ordinarily  is  served  to  two  persons 
in  a  single  dish,  but  there  need  not  be  a  dish  necessarily,  for  a  piece  of 
raw  cheese  or  four  eggs  would  be  a  pittance.  The  pittancer  was  the 
official  whose  business  it  was  to  serve  out  their  pittances  to  each  of  the 
monks.  Practically  he  was  the  inaiti'e  d^hotel  of  the  establishment. 
(Ducange.) 


S.  MICHELE.  123 


**  Item,  two  candelabra  are  to  be  kept  above  the 
altar  when  mass  is  being  said,  and  the  lord  abbot  is 
to  provide  the  necessary  candles. 

"  Any  one  absent  from  morning  or  evening  mass  is 
to  be  punished  by  the  prior,  if  his  absence  arises  from 
neg-liorence. 

**  The  choir,  and  the  monks  residinor  in  the  monas- 
tery,  are  to  be  provided  with  books  and  a  convenient 
breviary  *  .  .  .  .  according  to  ancient  custom  and 
statute,  nor  can  those  things  be  sold  which  are  neces- 
sary or  useful  to  the  convent. 

"  Item,  all  the  religious  who  are  admitted  and  enter 
the  monastery  and  religion,  shall  bring  one  alb  and 
one  amice,  to  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the 
treasurer  and  preserved  by  him  for  the  use  of  the 
church. 

"The  treasurer  is  to  have  the  books  that  are  in 
daily  use  in  the  choir  re-bound,  and  to  see  that  the 
capes  which  are  unsewn,  and  all  the  ecclesiastical 
vestments  under  his  care,  are  kept  in  proper  repair. 
He  is  to  have  the  custody  of  the  plate  belonging  to 
the  monastery,  and  to  hold  a  key  of  the  treasury.     He 

*  Here  the  text  seems  to  be  corrupt. 


124  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

is  to  furnish  in  each  year  an  inventory  of  the  property 
of  which  he  has  charge,  and  to  hand  the  same  over  to 
the  lord  abbot.  He  is  to  make  one  common  pittance* 
of  bread  and  wine  on  the  day  of  the  feast  of  St.  Nicholas 
in  December,  according  to  custom ;  and  if  it  happens 
to  be  found  necessary  to  make  a  chest  to  hold  charters, 
&c.,  the  person  whose  business  it  shall  be  to  make 
this  shall  be  bound  to  make  it. 

"  As  regards  the  office  of  almoner,  the  almoner  shall 
each  day  give  alms  in  the  monastery  to  the  faithful 
poor — to  wit,  barley  bread  to  the  value  of  twopence 
current  money,  and  on  Holy  Thursday  he  shall  make 
an  alms  of  threepence  t  to  all  comers,  and  shall  give 
them  a  plate  of  beans  and  a  drink  of  wine.  Item, 
he  is  to  make  alms  four  times  a  year — that  is  to  say, 
on  Christmas  Day,  on  Quinquagesima  Sunday,  and  at 
the  feasts  of  Pentecost  and  Easter ;  and  he  is  to  give 
to  every  man  a  small  loaf  of  barley  and  a  grilled  pork 
chop,  I  the  third  of  a  pound  in  weight.  Item,  he  shall 
make  a  pittance  to  the  convent  on  the  vigil  of  St. 

*  That  is  to  say,  he  is  to  serve  out  rations  of  bread  and  wine  to 
every  one. 

t  "  Tres  denarios." 

;{:  *'  Unam  carbonatam  porci."  I  suppose  I  have  translated  this 
correctly ;  I  cannot  find  that  there  is  any  substance  known  as  "  car- 
bonate of  pork." 


S.  MICH  EL  E.  125 


Martin  of  bread,  wine,  and  mincemeat  dumplings,"' — - 
that  is  to  say,  for  each  person  two  loaves  and  two  .  .  .  f 
of  wine  and  some  leeks, — and  he  is  to  lay  out  sixty 
shillings  ( ?)  in  fish  and  seasoning,  and  all  the  servants 
are  to  have  a  ration  of  dumplings ;  and  in  the  morning 
he  is  to  give  them  a  dumpling  cooked  in  oil,  and  a 
quarter  of  a  loaf,  and  some  wine.  Item,  he  shall  give 
another  pittance  on  the  feast  of  St.  James — to  wit,  a 
good  sheep  and  some  cabbages  |  with  seasoning. 

"Item,  during  infirmary  time  he  must  provide  four 
meat  suppers  and  two  pints  §  (?)  of  wine,  and  a  pittance 
of  mincemeat  dumplings  during  the  rogation  days,  as 
do  the  sacristan  and  the  butler.  He  is  also  to  give 
each  monk  one  bundle  of  straw  in  every  year,  and  to 
keep  a  servant  who  shall  bring  water  from  the  spring 
for  the  service  of  the  mass  and  for  holy  water,  and 
light  the  fire  for  the  barber,  and  wait  at  table,  and 
do  all  else  that  is  reasonable  and  usual ;  and  the  said 
almoner   shall  also   keep   a   towel  in  the  church  for 

*  "  RapioUa"  I  presume  to  be  a  translation  of  "raviolo,"  or  '-raviuolo," 
which,  as  served  at  San  Pietro  at  the  present  day,  is  a  small  dumpling 
containing  minced  meat  and  herbs,  and  either  boiled  or  baked  accord- 
ing to  preference. 

t  "  Luiroletos."  This  word  is  not  to  be  found  in  any  dictionary : 
litre  (?). 

J  "  Caulos  cabutos  cum  salsa"  (choux  cabotds  ?). 

§  "Sextaria." 


126  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

drying  the  hands,  and  he  shall  make  preparation  for 
the  mandds  on  Holy  Thursday,  both  in  the  monastery 
and  in  the  cloister.  Furthermore,  he  must  keep  beds 
in  the  hospital  of  S.  Ambrogio,  and  keep  the  said 
hospital  in  such  condition  that  Christ's  poor  may  be 
received  there  in  orderly  and  godly  fashion  ;  he  must 
also  maintain  the  chapel  of  St.  Nicholas,  and  keep 
the  chapel  of  St.  James  in  a  state  of  repair,  and 
another  part  of  the  building  contiguous  to  the  chapel. 
Item,  it  shall  devolve  upon  the  chamberlain  to  pay 
yearly  to  each  of  the  monks  of  the  said  monastery 
of  St.  Martin  who  say  mass,  except  those  of  them 
who  hold  office,  the  sum  of  six  florins  and  six  groats,* 
and  to  the  treasurer,  precentor,  and  surveyor,t  to  each 
one  of  them  the  same  sum  for  their  clothing,  and  to 
each  of  the  young  monks  who  do  not  say  mass  four 
florins  and  six  groats.     And   in  every  year  he  is  to 

'*  "  Grosses." 

t  "  Operarius."  "  Cui  opeiibus  publicis  ecclesiarum  vel  monasterio- 
rum  vacare  incumbit.  Latius  interdum  patebant  operarii  munera  siqui- 
dem  ad  ipsum  spectabat  librorum  et  ornamentorum  provincia  " — "  Let 
one  priest  and  two  laymen  be  elected  in  every  year,  who  shall  be  called 
operarii  of  the  said  Church  of  St.  Lawrence,  and  shall  have  the  care  of 
the  whole  fabric  of  the  church  itself  .  .  but  it  shall  also  pertain  to 
them  to  receive  all  the  moneys  belonging  to  the  said  church,  and  to  be 
at  the  charge  of  all  necessary  repairs,  whether  of  the  building  itself  or 
of  the  ornaments  "  (Ducange). 


S.  MICHELE.  127 


do  one  O  '"  for  the  greater  priorate  t  during  Advent. 
Those  who  have  benefices  and  who  are  resident 
within  the  monastery,  but  whose  benefice  does  not 
amount  to  the  value  of  their  clothes,  are  to  receive 
their  clothes  accordins^  to  the  existinof  custom. 

"  Item,  the  pittancer  shall  give  a  pittance  of  cheese 
and  eggs  to  each  of  the  monks  on  every  day  from  the 
feast  of  Easter  to  the  feast  of  the  Holy  Cross  in 
September — to  wit,  three  quarters  of  a  pound  of 
cheese ;  but  when  there  is  a  principal  processional 
duplex  feast,  each  monk  is  to  have  a  pound  of  cheese 
per  diem,  except  on  fast  days,  when  he  is  to  have  half 
a  pound  only.  Also  on  days  when  there  is  a  principal 
or  processional  feast,  each  one  of  them,  including  the 
hebdomadary,  is  to  have  five  eggs.  Also,  from  the 
feast  of  Easter  to  the  octave  of  St.  John  the  Baptist 
the  pittancer  is  to  serve  out  old  cheese,  and  new 
cheese  from  the  octave  of  St.  John  the  Baptist  to 
the  feast  of  St.  Michael.  From  the  feast  of  St.  Michael 
to  Quinquagesima  the  cheese  is  to  be  of  medium 
quality.  From  the  feast  of  the  Holy  Cross  in  Sep- 
tember  until    Lent   the  pittancer  must  serve  out  to 

*  O.  The  seven  antiphons  which  were  sung  in  Advent  were  called 
O's  (Ducange). 

t  "  Pro  prioratu  majori."  I  have  been  unable  to  understand  what  is 
here  intended. 


128  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

each  monk  three  quarters  of  a  pound  of  cheese,  if  it  is 
a  feast  of  twelve  lessons,  and  if  it  is  a  feast  of  three 
lessons,  whether  a  week-day  or  a  vigil,  the  pittancer 
is  to  give  each  monk  but  half  a  pound  of  cheese.  He 
is  also  to  give  all  the  monks  during  Advent  nine 
pounds  of  wax  extra  allowance,  and  it  is  not  proper 
that  the  pittancer  should  weigh  out  cheese  for  any 
one  on  a  Friday,  unless  it  be  a  principal  processional 
or  duplex  feast,  or  a  principal  octave.  It  is  also 
proper,  seeing  there  is  no  fast  from  the  feast  of  Christ- 
mas to  the  octave  of  the  Epiphany,  that  every  man 
should  have  his  three  quarters  of  a  pound  of  cheese 
per  diem.  Also,  on  Christmas  and  Easter  days  the 
pittancer  shall  provide  five  dumplings  per  monk  per 
dieniy  and  one  plate  of  sausage  meat, '"'  and  he  shall 
also  give  to  each  of  the  servants  on  the  said  two  days 
five  dumplings  for  each  several  day ;  and  the  said 
pittancer  on  Christmas  Day  and  on  the  day  of  St. 
John  the  Baptist  shall  make  a  relish,  f  or  seasoning, 
and  give  to  each  monk  one  good  glass  thereof,  that  is 
to  say,  the  fourth  part  of  one  J  .  .  for  each  monk— to 

*   "  Carmingier."  f  "Primmentum  vel  salsam." 

+  "  Biroleti."  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  the  words  "  carmingier," 
"  primmentum,"  and  "  biroletus  "  in  any  dictionary.  "  Biroletus  "  is 
probably  the  same  as  "  luirolelus  "  which  we  have  met  with  above,  and 
the  word  is  misprinted  in  one  or  both  cases. 


S.  MICHELE.  129 


wit,  on  the  first,  second,  and  third  day  of  the  feast  of 
the  Nativity,  the  Circumcision,  the  Epiphany,  and  the 
Purification  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  ;  and  the  pittancer 
is  to  put  spice  in  the  said  rehsh,  and  the  cellarer  is  to 
provide  wine  and  honey,  and  during  infirmary  time 
those  who  are  being  bled  are  to  receive  no  pittance 
from  the  pittancer.  Further,  from  the  feast  of  Easter 
to  that  of  the  Cross  of  September,  there  is  no  fast 
except  on  the  prescribed  vigils ;  each  monk,  therefore, 
should  always  have  three  quarters  of  a  pound  of  cheese 
after  celebration  on  a  week-day  until  the  above-named 
day.  Further,  the  pittancer  is  to  provide  for  three 
mandds  in  each  week  during  the  whole  year,  except- 
inof  Lent,  and  for  each  mandd  he  is  to  find  three 
pounds  of  cheese.  From  the  feast  of  St.  Michael  to 
that  of  St.  Andrew  he  is  to  provide  for  an  additional 
mandd  in  each  week.  Item,  he  is  to  pay  the  prior  of 
the  cloister  six  florins  for  his  fine ""  .  .  .  and  three 
florins  to  the  .  .  .  ,t  and  he  should  also  give  five 
eggs  per  diem  to  the  hebdomadary  of  the  high  altar, 

*  *'  Item,  priori  claustrali  pro  sui  duplS.  sex  florinos."  "  Dupla"  has 
the  meaning  "  mulcta  "  assigned  to  it  in  Ducange  among  others,  none 
of  which  seem  appropriate  here.  The  translation  as  above,  however,  is 
not  satisfactory. 

+  •'  Pastamderio."  I  have  been  unable  to  find  this  word  in  any  dic- 
tionary. The  text  in  this  part  is  evidently  full  of  misprints  and  cor- 
ruptions. 


ijo  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

except  in  Lent.  Further,  he  is  to  give  to  the  wood- 
man, the  baker,  the  keeper  of  the  church,  the  servants 
of  the  Infirmary,  the  servant  at  the  Eleemosynary,  and 
the  stableman,  to  each  of  them  one  florin  in  every 
year.  Item,  any  monks  who  leave  the  monastery 
before  vespers  when  it  is  not  a  fast,  shall  lose  one 
quarter  of  a  pound  of  cheese,  even  though  they  return 
to  the  monastery  after  vespers ;  but  if  it  is  a  fast  day, 
they  are  to  lose  nothing.  Item,  the  pittancer  is  to 
serve  out  mashed  beans  to  the  servants  of  the  con- 
vent during  Lent  as  well  as  to  those  who  are  in 
religion,  and  at  this  season  he  is  to  provide  the 
prior  of  the  cloister  and  the  hebdomadary  with 
bruised  cicerate ; '''  but  if  any  one  of  the  same  is 
hebdomadary,  he  is  only  to  receive  one  portion.  If 
there  are  two  celebrating  high  mass  at  the  high  altar, 
each  of  them  is  to  receive  one  plate  of  the  said  bruised 
cicerate. 

"As  regards  the  office  of  cantor,  the  cantor  is  to 
intone  the  antiphon  *  ad  benedidus  ad  magnificat  at 
terce.t  and  at  all  other  services,  and  he  is  himself  to 
intone  the  antiphons  or  provide  a  substitute  who  can 

*  "  Ciceratam  fractam."  This  word  is  not  given  in  any  dictionary. 
Cicer  is  a  small  kind  of  pea,  so  cicerata  fracta  may  perhaps  mean 
something  like  pease  pudding. 

t  Terce.     A  service  of  the  Roman  Church. 


5.  MICHELE. 


intone  them  ;  and  he  is  to  intone  the  psalms  according 
to  custom.  Also  if  there  is  any  cloistered  person  who 
has  begun  his  week  of  being  hebdomadary,  and  falls 
into  such  sickness  that  he  cannot  celebrate  the  same, 
the  cantor  is  to  say  or  celebrate  three  masses.  The 
cantor  is  to  lead  all  the  monks  of  the  choir  at  matins, 
high  mass,  vespers,  and  on  all  other  occasions.  On 
days  when  there  is  a  processional  duplex  feast,  he  is 
to  write  down  the  order  of  the  office ;  that  is  to  say, 
those  who  are  to  say  the  invitatory,'"  the  lessons,  the 
epistle  of  the  gospel  t  and  those  who  are  to  wear  copes 
at  high  mass  and  at  vespers.  The  cantor  must  sing  the 
processional  hymns  which  are  sung  on  entering  the 
church,  but  he  is  exempt  from  taking  his  turn  of  being 
hebdomadary  by  reason  of  his  intoning  the  offices ; 
and  he  is  to  write  down  the  names  of  those  who  cele- 
brate low  masses  and  of  those  who  get  them  said  by 
proxy  ;  and  he  is  to  report  these  last  to  the  prior  that 
they  may  be  punished.  The  cantor  or  his  delegate 
is  to  read  in  the  refectory  during  meal  times  and 
during  infirmary  time,  and  he  who  reads  in  the  refec- 
tory is  to  have  a  quart  [?]  of  bread,  as  also  are  the  two 

*  *'  Invitatorium.''  Ce  nom  est  donnd  a  un  verset  qui  se  chante  ou 
se  recite  au  commencement  de  I'office  de  matines.  II  varie  selon  les 
fetes  et  m6me  les  fdries.     Migne.     Encyclop^die  Tdologique. 

t  "  Epistolam  Evangelii."    There  are  probably  several  misprints  here. 


132  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

junior  monks  who  wait  at  table.  The  cantor  is  to 
instruct  the  boys  in  the  singing  of  the  office  and  in 
morals,  and  is  to  receive  their  portions  of  bread,  wine 
and  pittance,  and  besides  all  this  he  is  to  receive  one 
florin  for  each  of  them,  and  he  is  to  keep  them  decently; 
and  the  prior  is  to  certify  himself  upon  this  matter, 
and  to  see  to  it  that  he  victuals  them  properly  and 
gives  them  their  food. 

"  The  sacristan  is  to  provide  all  the  lights  of  the 
church  whether  oil  or  wax,  and  he  is  to  give  out  small 
candles  to  the  hebdomadary,  and  to  keep  the  eight 
lamps  that  burn  both  night  and  day  supplied  with  oil. 
He  is  to  keep  the  lamps  in  repair  and  to  buy  new  ones 
if  the  old  are  broken,  and  he  is  to  provide  the  incense. 
He  is  to  maintain  the  covered  chapel  of  St.  Nicholas, 
and  the  whole  church  except  the  portico  of  the  same ; 
and  the  lord  abbot  is  to  provide  sound  timber  for  doors 
and  other  necessaries.  He  is  to  keep  the  frames  ^^'  of 
the  bells  in  repair,  and  also  the  ropes  for  the  same, 
and  during  Lent  he  is  to  provide  two  pittances  of  eels 
to  the  value  of  eighteen  groats  for  each  pittance,  and 
one  other  pittance  of  dumplings  and  seasoning  during 
rogation  time,  to  wit,  five  dumplings  cooked  in  oil  for 
each  person,  and  one  quart  of  bread  and  wine,  and  all 

*  *•  Monnas."     Word  not  to  be  found. 


S.  MICHELE.  133 


the  house  domestics  and  servinor  men  of  the  convent 
who  may  be  present  are  to  have  the  same.  At  this 
time  all  the  monks  are  to  have  one  quarter  of  a  pound 
of  cheese  from  the  sacristan.  And  the  said  sacristan 
should  find  the  convent  two  pittances  during  infirmary 
time  and  two  pints ""'  of  wine,  and  two  suppers,  one  of 
chicken  and  salt  meat,  with  white  chestnuts,  inasmuch 
as  there  is  only  to  be  just  so  much  chicken  as  is 
sufficient.  Item,  he  is  to  keep  the  church  clean. 
Item,  he  has  to  pay  to  the  keeper  of  the  church  one 
measure  of  barley,  and  eighteen  groats  for  his  clothes 
yearly,  and  every  Martinmas  he  is  to  pay  to  the  cantor 
sixty  soldi,  and  he  shall  place  at  .  .  .  or  boss |  in  the 
choir  during-  Lent.  Also  he  must  do  one  O  in  Advent 
and  take  charge  of  all  the  ornaments  of  the  altars 
and  all  the  relics.  Also  on  high  days  and  when 
there  is  a  procession  he  is  to  keep  the  paschal  candle 
before  the  altar,  as  is  customary,  but  on  other  days 
he  shall  keep  a  burning  lamp  only,  and  when  the 
candle  is  burning  the  lamp  may  be  extinguished. 

"  As  touching  the  office  of  infirmarer,  the  infirmarer 

*   "  Sextaria,"  t  Word  missing  in  the  original. 

I   "Borchiam."    Word  not  to  be  found.     Borchia  in  Italian  is  a  kind 
of  ornamental  boss. 


134  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

is  to  keep  the  whole  convent  fifteen  days  during  infir- 
mary time,  to  wit,  the  one-half  of  them  for  fifteen  days 
and  the  other  half  for  another  fifteen  days,  except 
that  on  the  first  and  last  days  all  the  monks  will  be 
in  the  infirmary.  Also  when  he  makes  a  pittance  he 
is  to  give  the  monks  beef  and  mutton,'"'  sufficient  in 
quantity  and  quality,  and  to  receive  their  portions. 
The  prior  of  the  cloister,  cantor,  and  cellarer  may  be 
in  the  infirmary  the  whole  month.  And  the  infirmarer 
is  to  keep  a  servant,  who  shall  go  and  buy  meat  three 
times  a  week,  to  wit,  on  Saturdays,  Mondays,  and 
Wednesdays,  but  at  the  expense  of  the  sender,  and 
the  said  servant  shall  on  the  days  following  prepare 
the  meat  at  the  expense  of  the  infirmarer ;  and  he  shall 
salt  it  and  make  seasoning  as  is  customary,  to  wit,  on 
all  high  days  and  days  when  there  is  a  processional 
duplex  feast,  and  on  other  days.  On  the  feast  of  St. 
Michael  he  shall  serve  out  a  seasonino^  made  of  sasfe 
and  onions  ;  but  the  said  servant  shall  not  be  bound  to 
go  and  buy  meat  during  Advent,  and  on  Septuagesima 
and  Quinquagesima  Sundays  he  shall  serve  out  season- 
ing. Also  when  the  infirmarer  serves  out  fresh  meat, 
he  is  to  provide  fine  salt.  Also  the  said  servant  is  to 
go  and  fetch   medicine  once  or  oftener  when  neces- 

*  "  Teneatur  dare  religiosis  de  carnibus  bovinis  et  montonis  decenter." 


S.  MICHELE.  135 


sary,  at  the  expense  of  the  sick  person,  and  to  visit 
him.  If  the  sick  person  requires  it,  he  can  have 
aid  in  the  payment  of  his  doctor,  and  the  lord  abbot 
is  to  pay  for  the  doctor  and  medicines  of  all  cloistered 
persons. 

"  On  the  principal  octaves  the  monks  are  to  have 
seasoning,  but  during  the  main  feasts  they  are  to  have 
seasoning  upon  the  first  day  only.  The  infirmarer  is 
not  bound  to  do  anything  or  serve  out  anything  on 
days  when  no  flesh  is  eaten.  The  cellarer  is  to  do 
this,  and  during  the  times  of  the  said  infirmaries,  the 
servants  of  the  monastery  and  convent  are  to  be,  as 
above,  on  the  same  footing  as  those  who  are  in 
religion,  that  is  to  say,  half  of  them  are  to  be  bled 
during  one  fifteen  days,  and  the  other  half  during  the 
other  fifteen  days,  as  is  customary. 

"  Item,  touching  the  office  of  cellarer,  it  is  ordered 
that  the  cellarer  do  serve  out  to  the  whole  convent 
bread,  wine,  oil,  and  salt ;  as  much  of  these  two  last 
as  any  one  may  require  reasonably,  and  this  on  all 
days  excepting  when  the  infirmarer  serves  out  kitchen 
meats,  but  even  then  the  cellarer  is  to  serve  his 
rations  to  the  hebdomadarv.  Item,  he  is  to  make  a 
pittance  of  dumplings  with  seasoning  to  the  convent 
on  the  first  of  the  rogation  days ;  each  monk  and  each 


136  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

servant  is  to  have  five  dumplings  uncooked  with  his 
seasoning-,  and  one  cooked  with  [oil  ?]  and  a  quart 
of  bread  and  wine,  and  each  monk  is  to  have  one 
quarter    of  a  pound    of  cheese.     Item,    upon    Holy 
Thursday  he  is  to  give  to  the  convent  a  pittance  of 
leeks  and  fish  to  the  value  of  sixty  soldi,  and  ....  * 
Item,  another  pittance  upon  the  first  day  of  August  ; 
and  he  is  to  present  the  convent  with  a  good  sheep 
and  cabbages  with  seasoning.     Item,  in  infirmary  time 
he  is  to  provide  two  pittances,  one  of  fowls  and  the 
other  of  salt  meat  and  white  chestnuts,  and  he  is  to 
give  two  pints  of  wine.     Item,  in  each  week  he  is  to 
give  one  flagon  [?].t     Item,  the  cellarer  is  to  provide 
napkins  and  plates  at  meal  times  in  the  refectory,  and 
he  is  to  find  the  bread  for  making  seasoning,  and  the 
vinegar  for  the  mustard ;    and   he  is  to  do  an  O  in 
Advent,  and  in  Lent  he  is  to  provide  white  chestnuts, 
and  cicerate  all  the  year.     From  the  feast  of  St.  Luke 
to  the  octave  of  St.   Martin  he  is  to  provide  fresh 
chestnuts,  to  wit,  on  feasts  of  twelve  lessons ;  and  on 
dumpling  days  he  is  to  find  the  oil  and   flour  with 
which  to  make  the  dumplings. 

"  Item,  as  to  the  office  of  surveyor,  it  is  ordered 
that  the  surveyor  do  pay  the  master  builder  and  also 
*  "  Foannotos."     Word  not  be  found.  t  '*  Laganum." 


I 


S.  MICHELE.  137 


the  wages  of  the  day  labourers ;  the  lord  abbot  is  to 
find  all  the  materials  requisite  for  this  purpose.  Item, 
the  surveyor  is  to  make  good  any  plank  or  post  or 
nail,  and  he  is  to  repair  any  hole  in  the  roofs  which 
can  be  repaired  easily,  and  any  beam  or  piece  of 
boarding.  Touching  the  aforesaid  materials  it  is  to 
be  understood  that  the  lord  abbot  furnish  beams, 
boards,  rafters,  scantling,  tiles,  and  anything  of  this 
description ;'""  the  said  surveyor  is  also  to  renew  the 
roof  of  the  cloister,  chapter,  refectory,  dormitory,  and 
portico ;  and  the  said  surveyor  i^  to  do  an  O  in 
Advent. 

"  Item,  concerning  the  office  of  porter.  The  porter 
is  to  be  in  charge  of  the  gate  night  and  day,  and  if  he 
go  outside  the  convent,  he  must  find  a  sufficient  and 
trustworthy  substitute  ;  on  every  feast  day  he  is  t  .  .  . 
to  lose  none  of  his  provender ;  and  to  receive  his 
clothing  in  spring  as  though  he  were  a  junior  monk ; 
and  if  he  is  in  holy  orders,  he  is  to  receive  clothing 
money ;  and  to  have  his  pro  rata  portions  in  all 
distributions.  Item,  the  said  porter  shall 'enjoy  the 
income  derived  from  S.  Michael  of  Canavesio ;    and 

*  "  EnreduUas  hujusmodi  "  [et  res  ullas  hujusmodi  ?], 
+  "  In  processionibus  deferre  et  de  sui  prebenda  nihil  perdat  vesti- 
arium  vere  suum  salvatur  eidem  sicut  uni  monacullo." 


138  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

when  a  monk  is  received  into  the  monastery,  he  shall 
pay  to  the  said  porter  five  good  sous ;  and  the  said 
porter  shall  shut  the  gates  of  the  convent  at  sunset, 
and  open  them  at  sunrise." 

The  rest  of  the  document  is  little  more  than  a 
resumd  of  what  has  been  given,  and  common  form  to 
the  effect  that  nothing  in  the  foregoing  is  to  override 
any  orders  made  by  the  Holy  Apostolic  See  which 
may  be  preserved  in  the  monastery,  and  that  the 
rights  of  the  Holy  See  are  to  be  preserved  in  all 
respects  intact.  If  doubts  arise  concerning  the  inter- 
pretation of  any  clause  they  are  to  be  settled  by  the 
abbot  and  two  of  the  senior  monks. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   NORTH   ITALIAN  PRIESTHOOD. 

There  is  now  a  school  in  the  sanctuary ;  we  met  the 
boys  several  times.  They  seemed  well  cared  for  and 
contented.  The  priests  who  reside  in  the  sanctuary 
were  courtesy  itself;  they  took  a  warm  interest  in 
England,  and  were  anxious  for  any  information  I 
could  give  them  about  the  monastery  near  Lough- 
borough— a  name  which  they  had  much  difficulty  in 
pronouncing.  They  were  perfectly  tolerant,  and  ready 
to  extend  to  others  the  consideration  they  expected  for 
themselves.  This  should  not  be  saying  much,  but  as 
things  go  it  is  saying  a  good  deal.  What  indeed  more 
can  be  wished  for  ?      " 

The  faces  of  such  priests  as  these — and  I  should  say 
such  priests  form  a  full  half  of  the  North  Italian  priest- 
hood— are  perfectly  free  from  that  bad  furtive  expres- 
sion which  we  associate  with  priestcraft,  and  which, 
when  seen,  cannot  be  mistaken  :  their  faces  are  those 
of  our  own  best  English  country  clergy,  with  perhaps  a 


140  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

trifle  less  flesh  about  them  and  a  trifle  more  of  a  not 
unkindly  asceticism. 

Comparing  our  own  clergy  with  the  best  North 
Italian  and  Ticinese  priests,  I  should  say  there  was 
little  to  choose  between  them.  The  latter  are  in  a 
logically  stronger  position,  and  this  gives  them  greater 
courage  in  their  opinions ;  the  former  have  the  ad- 
vantage in  respect  of  money,  and  the  more  varied 
knowledge  of  the  world  which  money  will  command. 
When  I  say  Catholics  have  logically  the  advantage 
over  Protestants,  I  mean  that  starting  from  premises 
which  both  sides  admit,  a  merely  logical  Protestant 
will  find  himself  driven  to  the  Church  of  Rome.  Most 
men  as  they  grow  older  will,  I  think,  feel  this,  and 
they  will  see  in  it  the  explanation  of  the  comparatively 
narrow  area  over  which  the  reformation  extended,  and 
of  the  gain  which  Catholicism  has  made  of  late  years 
here  in  England.  On  the  other  hand,  reasonable 
people  will  look  with  distrust  upon  too  much  reason. 
The  foundations  of  action  lie  deeper  than  reason  can 
reach.  They  rest  on  faith — for  there  is  no  absolutely 
certain  incontrovertible  premise  which  can  be  laid  by 
man,  any  more  than  there  is  any  investment  for  money 
or  security  in  the  daily  affairs  of  life  which  is  absolutely 
unimpeachable.      The  funds  are  not  absolutely  safe ; 


NORTH  ITALIAN  PRIESTHOOD.  141 


a  volcano  might  break  out  under  the  Bank  of  England. 
A  railway  journey  is  not  absolutely  safe ;  one  person, 
at  least,  in  several  millions  gets  killed.  We  invest 
our  money  upon  faith  mainly.  We  choose  our  doctor 
upon  faith,  for  how  little  independent  judgment  can  we 
form  concerning  his  capacity?  We  choose  schools 
for  our  children  chiefly  upon  faith.  The  most  impor- 
tant things  a  man  has  are  his  body,  his  soul,  and 
his  money.  It  is  generally  better  for  him  to  commit 
these  interests  to  the  care  of  others  of  whom  he 
can  know  little,  rather  than  be  his  own  medical  man, 
or  invest  his  money  on  his  own  judgment ;  and  this 
is  nothing  else  than  making  a  faith  which  lies  deeper 
than  reason  can  reach,  the  basis  of  our  action  in  those 
respects  which  touch  us  most  nearly. 

On  the  other  hand,  as  good  a  case  could  be  made 
out  for  placing  reason  as  the  foundation,  inasmuch  as 
it  would  be  easy  to  show  that  a  faith,  to  be  worth 
anything,  must  be  a  reasonable  one — one,  that  is  to 
say,  which  is  based  upon  reason.  The  fact  is,  that 
faith  and  reason  are  like  desire  and  power,  or  demand 
and  supply  ;  it  is  impossible  to  say  which  comes  first : 
they  come  up  hand  in  hand,  and  are  so  small  when  we 
can  first  descry  them,  that  it  is  impossible  to  say  which 
we  first  cauofht  sio^ht  of.     All  we  can  now  see  is  that 


142  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

each  has  a  tendency  continually  to  outstrip  the  other 
by  a  little,  but  by  a  very  little  only.  Strictly  they  are 
not  two  things,  but  two  aspects  of  one  thing;  for 
convenience  sake,  however,  we  classify  them  sepa- 
rately. 

It  follows,  therefore — but  whether  it  follows  or  no, 
it  is  certainly  true — that  neither  faith  alone  nor  reason 
alone  is  a  sufficient  guide :  a  man's  safety  lies  neither 
in  faith  nor  reason,  but  in  temper — in  the  power  of 
fusing  faith  and  reason,  even  when  they  appear  most 
mutually  destructive.  A  man  of  temper  will  be  certain 
in  spite  of  uncertainty,  and  at  the  same  time  uncertain 
in  spite  of  certainty ;  reasonable  in  spite  of  his  resting 
mainly  upon  faith  rather  than  reason,  and  full  of  faith 
even  when  appealing  most  strongly  to  reason.  If  it 
is  asked.  In  what  should  a  man  have  faith  ?  To  what 
faith  should  he  turn  when  reason  has  led  him  to  a 
conclusion  which  he  distrusts  ?  the  answer  is,  To  the 
current  feeling  among  those  whom  he  most  looks  up 
to — looking  upon  himself  with  suspicion  if  he  is  either 
among  the  foremost  or  the  laggers.  In  the  rough, 
homely  common  sense  of  the  community  to  which  we 
belong  we  have  as  firm  ground  as  can  be  got.  This, 
though  not  absolutely  infallible,  is  secure  enough  for 
practical  purposes. 


NORTH  ITALIAN  PRIESTHOOD.  143 

As  I  have  said,  Catholic  priests  have  rather  a 
fascination  for  me — when  they  are  not  Englishmen. 
I  should  say  that  the  best  North  Italian  priests 
are  more  openly  tolerant  than  our  English  clergy 
generally  are.  I  remember  picking  up  one  who  was 
walking  along  a  road,  and  giving  him  a  lift  in  my  trap. 
Of  course  we  fell  to  talking,  and  it  came  out  that  I 
was  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England.  "  Ebbene, 
Caro  Signore,"  said  he  when  we  shook  hands  at 
parting ;  "  mi  rincresce  che  lei  non  crede  come  io,  ma 
in  questi  tempi  non  possiamo  avere  tutti  i  medesimi 
principii."  * 

I  travelled  another  day  from  Susa  to  S.  Ambrogio 
with  a  priest,  who  told  me  he  took  in  "  The  Catholic 
Times,"  and  who  was  well  up  to  date  on  English 
matters.  Being  myself  a  Conservative,  I  found  his 
opinions  sound  on  all  points  but  one — I  refer  to  the 
Irish  question  :  he  had  no  sympathy  with  the  obstruc- 
tionists in  Parliament,  but  nevertheless  thought  the 
Irish  were  harshly  treated.  I  explained  matters  as 
well  as  I  could,  and  found  him  very  willing  to  listen 
to  our  side  of  the  question. 

The  one  thing,  he  said,  which  shocked  him  with 

*  "  Well,  my  dear  sir,  I  .a;n  sorry  you  do  not  think  as  I  do,  but  in  these 
days  we  cannot  all  of  us  start  with  the  same  principles." 


144  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

the  English,  was  the  manner  in  which  they  went 
about  distributing  tracts  upon  the  Continent.  I  said 
no  one  could  deplore  the  practice  more  profoundly 
than  myself,  but  that  there  were  stupid  and  conceited 
people  in  every  country,  who  would  insist  upon  thrust- 
ing their  opinions  upon  people  who  did  not  want 
them.  He  replied  that  the  Italians  travelled  not  a 
little  in  England,  but  that  he  was  sure  not  one  of  them 
would  dream  of  offering  Catholic  tracts  to  people,  for 
example,  In  the  streets  of  London.  Certainly  I  have 
never  seen  an  Italian  to  be  guilty  of  such  rudeness. 
It  seems  to  me  that  It  is  not  only  toleration  that  is  a 
duty ;  we  ought  to  go  beyond  this  now ;  we  should 
conform,  when  we  are  among  a  sufficient  number  of 
those  who  would  not  understand  our  refusal  to  do 
so ;  any  other  course  is  to  attach  too  much  import- 
ance at  once  to  our  own  opinions  and  to  those  of 
our  opponents.  By  all  means  let  a  man  stand  by  his 
convictions  when  the  occasion  requires,  but  let  him 
reserve  his  strength,  unless  It  is  Imperatively  called 
for.  Do  not  let  him  exaggerate  trifles,  and  let  him 
remember  that  everything  Is  a  trifle  in  comparison 
with  the  not  giving  offence  to  a  large  number  of 
kindly,  simple-minded  people.  Evolution,  as  we  all 
know,  is  the  great  doctrine  of  modern  times  ;  the  very 


NORTH  ITALIAN  PRIESTHOOD.  145 

essence  of  evolution  consists  in  the  not  shocking  any- 
thing too  violently,  but  enabling  it  to  mistake  a  new 
action  for  an  old  one,  without  "making  believe"  too 
much. 

One  day  when  I  was  eating  my  lunch  near  a 
fountain,  there  came  up  a  moody,  meditative  hen, 
crooning  plaintively  after  her  wont.  I  threw  her  a 
crumb  of  bread  while  she  was  still  a  good  way  off,  and 
then  threw  more,  getting  her  to  come  a  little  closer 
and  a  little  closer  each  time ;  at  last  she  actually  took 
a  piece  from  my  hand.  She  did  not  quite  like  it,  but 
she  did  it.  This  is  the  evolution  principle ;  and  if  we 
wish  those  who  differ  from  us  to  understand  us,  it  is 
the  only  method  to  proceed  upon.  I  have  sometimes 
thought  that  some  of  my  friends  among  the  priests 
have  been  treatingf  me  as  I  treated  the  meditative  hen. 
But  what  of  that  ?  They  will  not  kill  and  eat  me,  nor 
take  my  eggs.  Whatever,  therefore,  promotes  a  more 
friendly  feeling  between  us  must  be  pure  gain. 

The  mistake  our  advanced  Liberals  make  is  that  of 
flinging  much  too  large  pieces  of  bread  at  a  time,  and 
flinging  them  at  their  hen,  instead  of  a  little  way  off 
her.  Of  course  the  hen  is  fluttered  and  driven  away. 
Sometimes,  too,  they  do  not  sufficiently  distinguish 
between  bread  and  stones. 


146  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

As  a  general  rule,  the  common  people  treat  the 
priests  respectfully,  but  once  I  heard  several  attack- 
ing one  warmly  on  the  score  of  eternal  punishment. 
"Sara,"  said  one,  "  per  cento  anni,  per  cinque  cento, 
per  mille  o  forse  per  dieci  mille  anni,  ma  non  sara 
eterna ;  perche  il  Dio  e  un  uomo  forte  —  grande, 
generoso,  di  buon  cuore."  '"'  An  Italian  told  me  once 
that  if  ever  I  came  upon  a  priest  whom  I  wanted  to 
tease,  I  was  to  ask  him  if  he  knew  a  place  called  La 
Torre  Pellice.  I  have  never  yet  had  the  chance  of 
doing  this ;  for,  though  I  am  fairly  quick  at  seeing 
whether  I  am  likely  to  get  on  with  a  priest  or  no,  I 
find  the  priest  is  generally  fairly  quick  too  ;  and  I  am 
no  sooner  in  a  diligence  or  railway  carriage  with  an 
unsympathetic  priest,  than  he  curls  himself  round  into 
a  moral  ball  and  prays  horribly — bristling  out  with 
collects  all  over  like  a  cross-grained  spiritual  hedge- 
hog. Partly,  therefore,  from  having  no  wish  to  go 
out  of  my  way  to  make  myself  obnoxious,  and  partly 
through  the  opposite  party  being  determined  that  I 
shall  not  get  the  chance,  the  question  about  La  Torre 
Pellice  has  never  come  off,  and  I  do  not  know  what 

*  "  It  may  be  for  a  hundred,  or  for  five  hundred  years,  or  for  a 
thousand,  or  even  ten  thousand,  but  it  will  not  be  eternal  3  for  God  is  a 
strong  man — great,  generous,  and  of  large  heart." 


NORTH  ITALIAN  PRIESTHOOD.  147 

a  priest  would  say  if  the  subject  were  introduced, — 
but  I  did  get  a  talking  about  La  Torre  Pellice  all 
the  same. 

I  was  g'oing'  from  Turin  to  Pinerolo,  and  found 
myself  seated  opposite  a  fine-looking  elderly  gentleman 
who  was  reading  a  paper  headed,  "  Le  Temoin,  Echo 
des  Vallees  Vaudoises " :  for  the  Vaudois,  or  Wal- 
denses,  though  on  the  Italian  side  of  the  Alps,  are 
French  in  language  and  perhaps  in  origin.  I  fell  to 
talking  with  this  gentleman,  and  found  he  was  on 
his  way  to  La  Torre  Pellice,  the  headquarters  of  indi- 
genous Italian  evangelicism.  He  told  me  there  were 
about  25,000  inhabitants  of  these  valleys,  and  that 
they  were  without  exception  Protestant,  or  rather 
that  they  had  never  accepted  Catholicism,  but  had 
retained  the  primitive  Apostolic  faith  in  its  original 
purity.  He  hinted  to  me  that  they  were  descendants 
of  some  one  or  more  of  the  lost  ten  tribes  of  Israel. 
The  English,  he  told  me  (meaning,  I  gather,  the 
English  of  the  England  that  affects  Exeter  Hall),  had 
done  great  things  for  the  inhabitants  of  La  Torre  at 
different  times,  and  there  were  streets  called  the  Via 
Williams  and  Via  Beckwith.  They  were,  he  said, 
a  very  growing  sect,  and  had  missionaries  and  estab- 
lishments in  all  the  principal  cities  in  North  Italy  ;  in 


148  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

fact,  SO  far  as  I  could  gather,  they  were  as  aggressive 
as  malcontents  generally  are,  and,  Italians  though  they 
were,  would  give  away  tracts  just  as  readily  as  we  do. 
I  did  not,  therefore,  go  to  La  Torre. 

Sometimes  priests  say  things,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
which  would  make  any  English  clergyman's  hair 
stand  on  end.  At  one  town  there  is  a  remarkable 
fourteenth-century  bridge,  commonly  known  as  "  The 
Devil's  Bridge."  I  was  sketching  near  this  when  a 
jolly  old  priest  with  a  red  nose  came  up  and  began 
a  conversation  with  me.  He  was  evidently  a  popular 
character,  for  every  one  who  passed  greeted  him.  He 
told  me  that  the  devil  did  not  really  build  the  bridge. 
I  said  I  presumed  not,  for  he  was  not  in  the  habit 
of  spending  his  time  so  well. 

"  I  wish  he  had  built  it,"  said  my  friend ;  "for  then 
perhaps  he  would  build  us  some  more." 

"  Or  we  might  even  get  a  church  out  of  him,"  said  I, 
a  little  slyly. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  we  will  convert  him,  and  make  a 
ofood  Christian  of  him  in  the  end." 

When  will  our  Protestantism,  or  Rationalism,  or 
whatever  it  may  be,  sit  as  lightly  upon  ourselves  ? 


CHAPTER  XI. 


5.   AMBROGIO   AND  NEIGHBOURHOOD. 

Since  the  opening  of  the  railway,  the  old  inn  where 
the  diligences  and  private  carriages  used  to  stop  has 
been  closed ;  but  I  was  made,  in  a  homely  way,  ex- 
tremely comfortable  at  the  Scudo  di  Francia,  kept 
by  Signor  Bonaudo  and 
his  wife.  I  stayed  here 
over  a  fortnight,  during 
which  I  made  several 
excursions. 

One  day  I  went  to 
San  Giorio,  as  it  is 
always  written,  though 
San  Gioro^io  is  evident- 
ly  intended.  Here  there 
is  a  ruined  castle,  beau- 
tifully placed  upon  a  Xiu^-i^-^r-^, 
hill ;  this  castle  shows 
well  from  the  railway  shortly  after  leaving  Bussoleno 
station,  on  the  right  hand  going  towards  Turin.  Hav- 
ing been  struck  with  it,  I  went  by  train  to  Bussoleno 


INN    AT    S.    AMBROGIO. 


ISO  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

(where  there  is  much  that  I  was  unwillingly  compelled 
to  neglect),  and  walked  back  to  San  Giorio.  On  my 
way,  however,  I  saw  a  patch  of  Cima-da-Conegliano- 
looking  meadow-land  on  a  hill  some  way  above  me, 
and  on  this  there  rose  from  among  the  chestnuts  what 
looked  like  a  castellated  mansion.  I  thought  it  well 
to  make  a  digression  to  this,  and  when  I  got  there, 
after  a  lovely  walk,  knocked  at  the  door,  having  been 
told  by  peasants  that  there  would  be  no  difficulty 
about  my  taking  a  look  round.  The  place  is  called 
the  Castel  Burrello,  and  is  tenanted  by  an  old  priest 
who  has  retired  hither  to  end  his  days.  I  sent  in  my 
card  and  business  by  his  servant,  and  by-and-by  he 
came  out  to  me  himself. 

"  Vous  etes  Anglais,  monsieur  }  "  said  he  in  French. 

"  Oui,  monsieur." 

"  Vous  etes  Catholique  ? " 

"  Monsieur,  je  suis  de  la  religion  de  mes  peres." 

"  Pardon,  monsieur,  vos  ancetres  etaient  Catholiques 
jusqu'au  temps  de  Henri  Huit." 

"  Mais  il  y  a  trois  cent  ans  depuis  le  temps  de 
Henri  Huit." 

"  Eh  bien  ;  chacun  a  ses  convictions  ;  vous  ne  parlez 
pas  contre  la  religion  .'* " 


SAN  GIORIO.  151 


"  Jamais,  jamais,  monsieur,  j'ai  un  respect  enorme 
pour  I'eglise  Catholique." 

"  Monsieur,  faites  comme  chez  vous ;  allez  ou  vous 
voulez ;  vous  trouverez  toutes  les  portes  ouvertes. 
Amusez  vous  bien." 

He  then  explained  to  me  that  the  castle  had  never 
been  a  properly  fortified  place,  being  intended  only 
as  a  summer  residence  for  the  barons  of  Bussoleno, 
who  used  to  resort  hither  during  the  extreme  heat,  if 
times  were  tolerably  quiet.  After  this  he  left  me. 
Taking  him  at  his  word,  I  walked  all  round,  but  there 
was  only  a  shell  remaining  ;  the  rest  of  the  building 
had  evidently  been  burnt,  even  the  wing  in  which  the 
present  proprietor  resides  being,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
modernised.  The  site,  however,  and  the  sloping 
meadows  which  the  castle  crowns,  are  of  extreme 
beauty. 

I  now  walked  down  to  San  Giorio,  and  found  a  small 
inn  where  I  could  get  bread,  butter,  eggs,  and  good 
wine.  I  was  waited  upon  by  a  good-natured  boy,  the 
son  of  the  landlord,  who  was  accompanied  by  a  hawk 
that  sat  always  either  upon  his  hand  or  shoulder.  As 
I  looked  at  the  pair  I  thought  they  were  very  much 
alike,  and  certainly  they  were  very  much  in  love 
with  one  another.     After  dinner  I  sketched  the  castle. 


152 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


While  I  was  doing  so,  a  gentleman  told  me  that  a  large 
breach  in  the  wall  was  made  a  few  years  ago,  and  a 
part  of  the  wall  found  to  be  hollow ;  the  bottom  of  the 
hollow  part  being  unwittingly  removed,  there  fell 
through  a  skeleton  in  a  full  suit  of  armour.  Others, 
whom  I  asked,  had  heard  nothing  of  this. 


S.   GIORIO— COMBA   DI  SUSA. 


Talking  of  hawks,  I  saw  a  good  many  boys  with 
tame  young  hawks  in  the  villages  round  about.  There 
was  a  tame  hawk  at  the  station  of  S.  Ambrogio.  The 
stationmaster  said  it  used  to  go  now  and  again  to  the 
church-steeple    to  catch  sparrows,  but  would  always 


S.  AMBROGIO.  153 


return  in  an  hour  or  two.  Before  my  stay  was  over 
it  got  in  the  way  of  a  passing  train  and  was  run  over. 

Young  birds  are  much  eaten  in  this  neighbourhood. 
The  houses  and  barns,  not  to  say  the  steeples  of  the 
churches,  are  to  be  seen  stuck  about  with  what  look 
like  terra-cotta  water-bottles  with  the  necks  outwards. 
Two  or  three  may  be  seen  in  the  illustration  on 
page  149  outside  the  window  that  comes  out  of  the 
roof,  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  picture.  I  have  seen 
some  outside  an  Italian  restaurant  near  Lewisham. 
They  are  artificial  bird's-nests  for  the  sparrows  to 
build  in  :  as  soon  as  the  young  are  old  enough  they 
are  taken  and  made  into  a  pie.  The  church-tower 
near  the  Hotel  de  la  Poste  at  Lanzo  is  more  stuck 
about  with  them  than  any  other  building  that  I  have 
seen. 

Swallows  and  haw^ks  are  about  the  only  birds  whose 
young  are  not  eaten.  One  afternoon  I  met  a  boy 
with  a  jay  on  his  finger :  having  imprudently  made 
advances  to  this  young  gentleman  in  the  hopes  of 
getting  acquainted  with  the  bird,  he  said  he  thought 
I  had  better  buy  it  and  have  it  for  my  dinner; 
but  I  did  not  fancy  it.  Another  day  I  saw  the 
padrona  at  the  inn -door  talking  to  a  lad,  who 
pulled  open  his  shirt-front  and  showed  some  twenty 


154  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

or  thirty  nestlings  in  the  simple  pocket  formed  by  his 
shirt  on  the  one  side  and  his  skin  upon  tlie  other. 
The  padrona  wanted  me  to  say  I  should  like  to  eat 
them,  in  which  case  she  would  have  bought  them  ;  but 
one  cannot  get  all  the  nonsense  one  hears  at  home 
out  of  one's  head  in  a  moment,  and  I  am  afraid 
1  preached  a  little.  The  padrona,  who  is  one  of  the 
most  fascinating  women  in  the  world,  and  at  sixty  is 
still  handsome,  looked  a  little  vexed  and  puzzled  :  she 
admitted  the  truth  of  what  I  said,  but  pleaded  that 
the  boys  found  it  very  hard  to  gain  a  few  soldi,  and 
if  people  didn't  kill  and  eat  one  thing,  they  would 
another.  The  result  of  it  all  was  that  I  determined 
for  the  future  to  leave  young  birds. to  their  fate;  they 
and  the  boys  must  settle  that  matter  between  them- 
selves. If  the  young  bird  was  a  boy,  and  the  boy  a 
young  bird,  it  would  have  been  the  boy  who  was 
taken  ruthlessly  from  his  nest  and  eaten.  An  old 
bird  has  no  right  to  have  a  homestead,  and  a  young 
bird  has  no  right  to  exist  at  all,  unless  they  can  keep 
both  homestead  and  existence  out  of  the  way  of  boys 
who  are  in  want  of  halfpence.  It  is  all  perfectly  right, 
and  when  we  go  and  stay  among  these  charming 
people,  let  us  do  so  as  learners,  not  as  teachers. 

I  watched  the  padrona   getting  my  supper  ready. 


5.  AMBROGIO.  155 


With  what  art  do  not  these  people  manage  their  fire. 
The  New  Zealand  Maories  say  the  white  man  is  a 
fool :  "  He  makes  a  large  fire,  and  then  has  to  sit 
away  from  it ;  the  Maori  makes  a  small  fire,  and  sits 
over  it."  The  scheme  of  an  Italian  kitchen-fire  is 
that  there  shall  always  be  one  stout  log  smouldering 
on  the  hearth,  from  which  a  few  live  coals  may  be 
chipped  off  if  wanted,  and  put  into  the  small  square 
gratings  which  are  used  for  stewing  or  roasting. 
Any  warming  up,  or  shorter  boiling,  is  done  on  the 
Maori  principle  of  making  a  small  fire  of  light  dry 
wood,  and  feeding  it  frequently.  They  economise 
ever3^thing.  Thus  I  saw  the  padrona  wash  some  hen's 
eggs  well  in  cold  water;  I  did  not  see  why  she  should 
wash  them  before  boiling  them,  but  presently  the  soup 
which  I  was  to  have  for  my  supper  began  to  boil. 
Then  she  put  the  eggs  into  the  soup  and  boiled  them 
in  it. 

After  supper  I  had  a  talk  with  the  padrone,  who 
told  me  I  was  working  too  hard.  "  Totam  noctem," 
said  he  in  Latin,  "  lavoravimus  et  nihil  incepimus." 
(We  have  laboured  all  night  and  taken  nothing.) 
"Oh!"  he  continued,  "  I  have  eyes  and  ears  in  my 
head."  And  as  he  spoke,  with  his  right  hand  he 
drew  down  his  lower  eyelid,  and  with  his  left  pinched 


156  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

the  pig  of  his  ear.  "  You  will  be  ill  if  you  go  on  like 
this."  Then  he  laid  his  hand  along  his  cheek,  put 
his  head  on  one  side,  and  shut  his  eyes,  to  imitate 
a  sick  man  in  bed.  On  this  I  arranged  to  go  an 
excursion  with  him  on  the  day  following  to  a  farm 
he  had  a  few  miles  off,  and  to  which  he  went  every 
Friday. 

We  went  to  Borgone  station,  and  walked  across 
the  valley  to  a  village  called  Villar  Fochiardo. 
Thence  we  began  gently  to  ascend,  passing  under 
some  noble  chestnuts.  Signor  Bonaudo  said  that  this 
is  one  of  the  best  chestnut-growing  districts  in  Italy. 
A  good  tree,  he  told  me,  would  give  its  forty  francs  a 
year.  This  seems  as  though  chestnut-growing  must 
be  lucrative,  for  an  acre  should  carry  some  five  or 
six  trees,  and  there  is  no  outlay  to  speak  of.  Besides 
the  chestnuts,  the  land  gives  a  still  further  return  by 
way  of  the  grass  that  grows  beneath  them.  Walnuts 
do  not  yield  nearly  so  much  per  tree  as  chestnuts  do. 
In  three  quarters  of  an  hour  or  so  we  reached  Signor 
Bonaudo's  farm,  which  was  called  the  "  Casina  di 
Bandar  The  buildings  had  once  been  a  monastery, 
founded  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury and  secularised  by  the  first  Napoleon,  but  had 
been  purchased  from    the  state   a  few  years  ago  by 


CASINA  DI  BAN  DA. 


157 


Signor  Bonaudo,  in  partnership  with  three  others, 
after  the  passing  of  the  Church  Property  Act.  It 
is  beautifully  situated  some  hundreds  of  feet  above 
the  valley,  and  commands  a  lovely  view  of  the 
"  Comda"  as  it  is  called,  or  "Combe"  of  Susa.  The 
accompanying  sketch  will  give  an  idea  of  the  view 
lo?)kinof  towards  Turin.  The  laro^e  buildinor  on  the 
hill  is,  of  course,  S.  Michele.  The  very  distant  dome 
is  the  Superga  on  the  other  side  of  Turin. 

The  first  thino^  Signor 
Bonaudo  did  when  he 
got  to  his  farm  w'as  to 
see  whether  the  water 
had  been  duly  turned 
on  to  his  own  portion 
of  the  estate.  Each  of 
the  four  purchasers  had 
his  separate  portion,  and  each  had  a  right  to  the  water 
for  thirty-six  hours  per  week.  Signor  Bonaudo  went 
round  with  his  hind  at  once,  and  saw  that  the  dams 
in  the  ducts  were  so  opened  or  closed  that  his  own 
land  was  being  irrigated. 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  ingenuity  with  which  the 
little  canals  are  arranged  so  that  each  part  of  a 
meadow,    however    undulating,    shall    be    saturated 


CASINA   DI   BANDA. 


158  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

equally.  The  people  are  very  jealous  of  their  water 
rights,  and  indeed  not  unnaturally,  for  the  yield  of 
grass  depends  in  very  great  measure  upon  the  amount 
of  irrigation  which  the  land  can  get. 

The  matter  of  the  water  having  been  seen  to,  we 
went  to  the  monastery,  or,  as  it  now  is,  the  homestead. 
As  we  entered  the  farmyard  we  found  two  cows  figWt- 
ing,  and  a  great  strapping  wench  belabouring  them  in 
order  to  separate  them.  "  Let  them  alone,"  said  the 
padrone;  "let  them  fight  it  out  here  on  the  level 
ground."  Then  he  explained  to  me  that  he  wished 
them  to  find  out  which  was  mistress,  and  fall  each  of 
them  into  her  proper  place,  for  if  they  fought  on  the 
rough  hillsides  they  might  easily  break  each  other's 
necks. 

We  walked  all  over  the  monastery.  The  day  was 
steamy  with  frequent  showers,  and  thunderstorms  in 
the  air.  The  rooms  were  dark  and  mouldy,  and 
smelt  rather  of  rancid  cheese,  but  it  was  not  a  bad 
sort  of  rambling  old  place,  and  if  thoroughly  done  up 
would  make  a  delightful  inn.  There  is  a  report  that 
there  is  hidden  treasure  here.  I  do  not  know  a 
single  old  castle  or  monastery  in  North  Italy  about 
which  no  such  report  is  current,  but  in  the  present 
case  there  seems  more  than  usual  ground  (so  the  hind 


CASINA  DI  BANDA.  159 


told  me)  for  believing  the  story  to  be  well  founded, 
for  the  monks  did  certainly  smelt  the  quartz  in  the 
neighbourhood,  and  as  no  gold  was  ever  known  to 
leave  the  monastery,  it  is  most  likely  that  all  the 
Enormous  quantity  which  they  must  have  made  in  the 
course  of  some  two  centuries  is  still  upon  the  premises, 
if  one  could  only  lay  one's  hands  upon  it.  So  reason- 
able did  this  seem,  that  about  two  years  ago  it  was 
resolved  to  call  in  a  somnambulist  or  clairvoyant 
from  Turin,  who,  when  he  arrived  at  the  spot,  became 
seized  with  convulsions,  betokening  of  course  that 
there  was  treasure  not  far  off:  these  convulsions 
increased  till  he  reached  the  choir  of  the  chapel,  and 
here  he  swooned — falling  down  as  if  dead,  and  being 
resuscitated  with  apparent  difficulty.  He  afterwards 
declared  that  it  was  in  this  chapel  that  the  treasure 
was  hidden.  In  spite  of  all  this,  however,  the  chapel 
has  not  been  turned  upside  down  and  ransacked, 
perhaps  from  fear  of  offending  the  saint  to  whom  it 
is  dedicated. 

In  the  chapel  there  are  a  few  votive  pictures,  but 
not  very  striking  ones.  I  hurriedly  sketched  one,  but 
have  failed  to  do  it  justice.  The  hind  saw  me  copying 
the  little  girl  in  bed,  and  I  had  an  impression  as 
though  he  did  not  quite  understand  my   motive.      I 


i6o 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


told  him  I  had  a  dear  Httle  girl  of  my  own  at  home, 
who  had  been  alarmingly  ill  in  the  spring,  and  that 
this  picture  reminded  me  of  her.  This  made  every- 
thing quite  comfortable. 

We  had  brought  up  our  dinner  from  S.  Ambrogio, 


VOTIVE  PICTURE. 


and  ate  it  in  what  had  been  the  refectory  of  the  monas- 
tery. The  windows  were  broken,  and  the  swallows, 
who  had  built  upon  the  ceiling  inside  the  room,  kept 
flying  close  to  us  all  the  time  we  were  eating.  Great 
mallows  and  hollyhocks  peered  in  at  the  window,  and 
beyond  them  there  w^as  a  pretty  Devonshire-looking 
orchard.  The  noontide  sun  streamed  in  at  intervals 
between  the  showers. 


CASINA  DI  BANDA.  i6i 

After  dinner  we  went  "al  cresto  della  collina" — to 
the  crest  of  the  hill — to  use  Signor  Bonaudo's  words, 
and  looked  down  upon  S.  Giorio,  and  the  other 
villages  of  the  combe  of  Susa.  Nothing  could  be 
more  delightful.  Then,  getting  under  the  chest- 
nuts, I  made  the  sketch  which  I  have  already  given. 
While  making  it  I  was  accosted  by  an  underjawed 
man  (there  is  an  unusually  large  percentage  of  under- 
jawed  people  in  the  neighbourhood  of  S.  Ambrogio), 
who  asked  whether  my  taking  this  sketch  must  not 
be  considered  as  a  sign  that  war  was  imminent.  The 
people  in  this  valley  have  bitter  and  comparatively 
recent  experience  of  war,  and  are  alarmed  at  any- 
thing which  they  fancy  may  indicate  its  recurrence. 
Talking  further  with  him,  he  said,  "  Here  we  have 
no  signori ;  we  need  not  take  off  our  hats  to  any  one 
except  the  priest.  We  grow  all  we  eat,  we  spin  and 
weave  all  we  wear ;  if  all  the  world  except  our  own 
valley  were  blotted  out,  it  would  make  no  difference, 
so  long  as  we  remain  as  we  are  and  unmolested." 
He  was  a  wild,  weird,  St.  John  the  Baptist  looking 
person,  with  shaggy  hair,  and  an  Andrea  Manteg- 
nesque  feeling  about  him.  I  gave  him  a  pipe  of  English 
tobacco,  which  he  seemed  to  relish,  and  so  we  parted. 

I   stayed   a  week    or   so   at    another  place    not   a 

L 


i62  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

hundred  miles  from  Susa,  but  I  will  not  name  it, 
for  fear  of  causing  offence.  It  was  situated  high, 
above  the  valley  of  the  Dora,  among  the  pastures, 
and  just  about  the  upper  limit  of  the  chestnuts.  It 
offers  a  summer  retreat,  of  which  the  people  in  Turin 
avail  themselves  in  considerable  numbers.  The  inu 
was  a  more  sophisticated  one  than  Signor  Bonaudo's 
house  at  S.  Ambrogio,  and  there  were  several  Turia 
people  staying  there  as  well  as  myself,  but  there  were 
no  Ensi^lish.  Durinor  the  whole  time  I  was  in  that 
neighbourhood  I  saw  not  a  single  English,  French, 
or  German  tourist.  The  ways  of  the  inn,  therefore, 
were  exclusively  Italian,  and  I  had  a  better  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  the  Italians  as  they  are  among  them- 
selves than  I  ever  had  before. 

Nothing  struck  me  more  than  the  easy  terms  on 
which  every  one,  including  the  waiter,  appeared  to  be 
with  every  one  else.  This,  which  in  England  would 
be  impossible,  is  here  not  only  possible  but  a  matter 
of  course,  because  the  general  standard  of  good  breed- 
ing is  distinctly  higher  than  it  is  among  ourselves. 
I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there  are  no  rude  or  un- 
mannerly Italians,  but  that  there  are  fewer  in  propor- 
tion than  there  are  in  any  other  nation  with  which 
I  have  acquaintance.     This  is  not  to  be  wondered  at. 


NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  S.  AMBROGIO.  163 

for  the  Italians  have  had  a  civilisation  for  now  some 
three  or  four  thousand  years,  whereas  all  other  nations 
are,  comparatively  speaking,  new  countries,  with  a 
something  even  yet  of  colonial  roughness  pervading 
them.  As  the  colonies  to  England,  so  is  England  to 
Italy  in  respect  of  the  average  standard  of  courtesy 
and  good  manners.  In  a  new  country  everything  has 
a  tendency  to  go  wild  again,  man  included  ;  and  the 
longer  civilisation  has  existed  in  any  country  the 
more  trustworthy  and  agreeable  will  its  inhabitants 
be.  This  preface  is  necessary,  as  explaining  how  it 
is  possible  that  things  can  be  done  in  Italy  without 
offence  which  would  be  intolerable  elsewhere  ;  but  I 
confess  to  feeling  rather  hopeless  of  being  able  to 
describe  what  I  actually  saw  without  giving  a  wrong 
impression  concerning  it. 

Amonof  the  visitors  was  the  head  confidential  clerk 
of  a  well-known  Milanese  house,  with  his  wife  and 
sister.  The  sister  was  an  invalid,  and  so  also  was 
the  husband,  but  the  wife  was  a  very  pretty  woman 
and  a  very  merry  one.  The  waiter  was  a  good- 
looking  young  fellow  of  about  five-and-twenty,  and 
between  him  and  Signora  Bonvicino — for  we  will  say 
this  was  the  clerk's  name — there  sprang  up  a  violent 
flirtation,  all  open  and  above  board.     The  waiter  was 


i64  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

evidently  very  fond  of  her,  but  said  the  most  atro- 
ciously impudent  things  to  her  from  time  to  time. 
Dining  under  the  veranda  at  the  next  table,  I  heard 
the  Signora  complain  that  the  cutlets  were  burnt.  So 
they  were — very  badly  burnt.  The  waiter  looked  at 
them  for  a  moment  —  threw  her  a  contemptuous 
glance,  clearly  intended  to  provoke  war — "  Chi  non  ha 
appetito  *"  .  .  ."  he  exclaimed,  and  was  moving  off 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  The  Signora  recog- 
nising a  challenge,  rose  instantly  from  the  table,  and 
catching  him  by  the  nape  of  his  neck,  kicked  him 
deftly  downstairs  into  the  kitchen,  both  laughing 
heartily,  and  the  husband  and  sister  joining.  I  never 
saw  anything  more  neatly  done.  Of  course,  in  a  few 
minutes  some  fresh  and  quite  unexceptionable  cutlets 
made  their  appearance. 

Another  morning,  when  I  came  down  to  breakfast, 
I  found  an  altercation  going  on  between  the  same 
pair  as  to  whether  the  lady's  nose  was  too  large  or 
not.  It  was  not  at  all  too  large.  It  was  a  very 
pretty  little  nose.  The  waiter  was  maintaining  that  it 
was  too  large,  and  the  lady  that  it  was  not. 

One  evening  Signor  Bonvicino  told  me  that  his 
employer  had  a  very  large  connection   in   England, 

*  "  If  a  person  has  not  got  an  appetite  .  .  ." 


NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  S.  AMBROGIO.  165 

and  that  though  he  had  never  been  in  London,  he 
knew  all  about  it  almost  as  well  as  if  he  had.  The 
great  centre  of  business,  he  said,  was  in  Red  Lion 
Square.  It  was  here  his  employer's  agent  resided, 
and  this  was  a  more  important  part  than  even  the  city 
proper.  I  threw  a  drop  or  two  of  cold  water  on  this, 
but  without  avail.  Presently  I  asked  what  the  waiter's 
name  was,  not  having  been  able  to  catch  it.  I  asked 
this  of  the  Signora,  and  saw  a  little  look  on  her  face 
as  though  she  were  not  quite  prepared  to  reply.  Not 
understanding  this,  I  repeated  my  question. 

"  Oh  !  his  name  is  Cesare,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Cesare !  but  that  is  not  the  name  I  hear  you  call 
him  by." 

**  Well,  perhaps  not ;  we  generally  call  him  Cricco," 
and  she  looked  as  if  she  had  suddenly  remembered 
having  been  told  that  there  were  such  things  as  prigs, 
and  might,  for  aught  she  knew,  be  in  the  presence  of 
one  of  these  creatures  now. 

Her  husband  came  to  the  rescue.  "  Yes,"  said  he, 
"his  real  name  is  Julius  Caesar,  but  we  call  him  Cricco. 
Cricco  e  un  nome  di  paese ;  a  parlando  cosi  non  si 
ofFende  la  religione."  * 

The  Roman  Catholic  religion^  if  left  to  itself  and  not 

*  "  Cricco  is  a  rustic  appellation,  and  thus  religion  is  not  offended." 


1 66  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

compelled  to  be  introspective,  is  more  kindly  and  less 
given  to  taking  offence  than  outsiders  generally  believe. 
At  the  Sacro  Monte  of  Varese  they  sell  little  round  tin 
boxes  that  look  like  medals,  and  contain  pictures  of  all 
the  chapels.  In  the  lid  of  the  box  there  is  a  short 
printed  account  of  the  Sacro  Monte,  which  winds  up 
with  the  words,  "  La  religione  e  lo  siupendo  panorama 
tirano  numerosi  ed  allegri  visitatori." '"' 

Our  people  are  much  too  earnest  to  allow  that  a 
view  could  have  anything  to  do  with  taking  people  up 
to  the  top  of  a  hill  where  there  was  a  cathedral,  or 
that  people  could  be  "  merry"  while  on  an  errand  con- 
nected with  religion. 

On  leaving  this  place  I  wanted  to  say  good-bye  to 
Signora  Bonvicino,  and  could  not  find  her ;  after  a 
time  I  heard  she  was  at  the  fountain,  so  I  went  and 
found  her  on  her  knees  washingr  her  husband's  and 
her  own  clothes,  with  her  pretty  round  arms  bare 
nearly  to  the  shoulder.  It  never  so  much  as  occurred 
to  her  to  mind  beinor  cauorht  at  this  work. 

o  o 

Some  months  later,  shortly  before  winter,  I  returned 
to  the  same  inn  for  a  few  days,  and  found  it  somewhat 
demoralised.     There  had  been  grand  doings  of  some 

*  "  Religion  and  the  magnificent  panorama  attract  numerous  and 
merry  visitors." 


NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  S.  AMBROGIO.  167 

sort,  and,  though  the  doings  were  over,  the  moral  and 
material  debris  were  not  yet  quite  removed.  The 
famiglia  Bonvicino  was  gone,  and  so  was  Cricco.  The 
cook,  the  new  waiter,  and  the  landlord  (who  sings 
a  good  comic  song  upon  occasion)  had  all  drunk  as 
much  wine  as  they  could  carry ;  and  later  on  I  found 
Veneranda,  the  one-eyed  old  chambermaid,  lying  upon 
my  bed  fast  asleep.  I  afterwards  heard  that,  in  spite 
of  the  autumnal  weather,  the  landlord  spent  his  night 
on  the  grass  under  the  chestnuts,  while  the  cook  was 
found  at  four  o'clock  in  the  mornino-  Ivinof  at  full 
length  upon  a  table  under  the  veranda.  Next  day, 
however,  all  had  become  normal  again. 

And  so  we  left  this  part  of  Italy,  wishing  that  more 
Hugo  de  Montboissiers  had  committed  more  crimes, 
and  had  had  to  expiate  them  by  building  more  sanc- 
tuaries. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LANZO. 

From  S.  Ambrogio  we  went  to  Turin,  a  city  so  well 
known  that  I  need  not  describe  it.  The  Hotel  d' 
Europa  is  the  best,  and,  indeed,  one  of  the  best  hotels 
on  the  continent.  Nothing  can  exceed  it  for  comfort 
and  good  cookery.  The  gallery  of  old  masters  con- 
tains some  great  gems.  Especially  remarkable  are 
two  pictures  of  Tobias  and  the  angel,  by  Antonio 
Pollaiuolo  and  Sandro  Botticelli ;  and  a  magnificent 
tempera  painting  of  the  Crucifixion,  by  Gaudenzio 
Ferrari — one  of  his  very  finest  works.  There  are 
also  several  other  pictures  by  the  same  master,  but 
the  Crucifixion  is  the  best. 

From  Turin  I  went  alone  to  Lanzo,  about  an  hour 
and  a  half's  railway  journey  from  Turin,  and  found  a 
comfortable  inn — "the  Hotel  de  la  Poste."  There  is 
a  fine  fourteenth-century  tower  here,  and  the  general 
effect  of  the  town  is  good. 

One  morning  while  I  was  getting  my  breakfast, 
English  fashion,  with  some  cutlets  to  accompany  my 


LANZO. 


169 


bread  and  butter,  I  saw  an  elderly  Italian  gentleman, 
with  his  hand  up  to  his  chin,  eyeing  me  with  thoughtful 


MEDIEVAL  TOWER   AT  LANZO. 


interest.      After  a  time  he  broke  silence. 

"  Ed  il  latte,"  he  said,  "serva  per  la  suppa."* 

*  "And  the  milk£in  your  coffee]  does  for  you  instead  of  soup." 


170  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

I  said  that  that  was  the  view  we  took  of  it.  He 
thought  it  over  a  while,  and  then  feelingly  ex- 
claimed— 

"  Oh  bel !  " 

Soon  afterwards  he  left  me  with  the  words — 

"  La  !  diinque  !  cerrea !  chow  !  stia  bene." 

"  La"  is  a  very  common  close  to  an  Italian  conver- 
sation. I  used  to  be  a  little  afraid  of  it  at  first.  It 
sounds  rather  like  saying,  *'  There,  that's  that.  Please 
to  bear  in  mind  that  I  talked  to  you  very  nicely,  and 
let  you  bore  me  for  a  long  time ;  I  think  I  have 
now  done  the  thing  handsomely,  so  you'll  be  good 
enough  to  score  me  one  and  let  me  go."  But  I  soon 
found  out  that  it  was  quite  a  friendly  and  civil  way  of 
saying  good-bye. 

The  "dunque"  is  softer;  it  seems  to  say,  "I  can- 
not bring  myself  to  say  so  sad  a  word  as  '  farewell,' 
but  we  must  both  of  us  know  that  the  time  has  come 
for  us  to  part,  and  so  " 

**  Cerrea"  is  an  abbreviation  and  corruption  of  "  di 
sua  Signoria," — "  by  your  highness's  leave."  "  Chow  " 
I  have  explained  already.  "  Stia  bene "  is  simply 
"  farewell." 

The  principal  piazza  of  Lanzo  is  nice.  In  the 
upper   part  of    the    town    there    is    a    large    school 


LANZO. 


171 


or  college.  One  can  see  into  the  school  through 
a  grating  from  the  road.  I  looked  down,  and 
saw  that  the  boys  had  cut  their  names  all  over 
the    desks,   just   as    English    boys  would    do.     They 


PIAZZA   AT   LANZO. 


were  very  merry  and  noisy,  and  though  there  was 
a  priest  standing  at  one  end  of  the  room,  he  let 
them  do  much  as  they  liked,  and  they  seemed  quite 
happy.  I  heard  one  boy  shout  out  to  another,  "  Non 
c'  e  pericolo,"  in  answer  to  something  the  other  had 


172  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

said.  This  is  exactly  the  "  no  fear"  of  America  and 
the  colonies.  Near  the  school  there  is  a  field  on  the 
slope  of  the  hill  which  commands  a  view  over  the 
plain.  A  woman  was  mowing  there,  and,  by  way  of 
making  myself  agreeable,  I  remarked  that  the  view 
was  fine.  **  Yes,  it  is,"  she  answered  ;  "  you  can  see 
all  the  trains." 

The  baskets  with  which  the  people  carry  things  in 
this  neighbourhood  are  of  a  different  construction 
from  any  I  have  seen  elsewhere.  They  are  made  to 
fit  all  round  the  head  like  something  between  a  saddle 
and  a  helmet,  and  at  the  same  time  to  rest  upon  the 
shoulders — the  head  being,  as  it  were,  ensaddled  by 
the  basket,  and  the  weight  being  supported  by  the 
shoulders  as  well  as  by  the  head.  Why  is  it  that  such 
contrivances  as  this  should  prevail  in  one  valley  and 
not  in  another?  If,  one  is  tempted  to  argue,  the  plan 
is  a  convenient  one,  why  does  it  not  spread  further  ? 
If  inconvenient,  why  has  it  spread  so  far  ?  If  it  is 
good  in  the  valley  of  the  Stura,  why  is  it  not  also 
good  in  the  contiguous  valley  of  the  Dora  .'*  There 
must  be  places  where  people  using  helmet  -  made 
baskets  live  next  door  to  people  who  use  baskets  that 
are  borne  entirely  by  back  and  shoulders.  Why  do 
not  the  people  in  one  or  other  of  these  houses  adopt 


LANZO.  173 

their  neighbour's  basket  ?  Not  because  people  are 
not  amenable  to  conviction,  for  within  a  certain  radius 
from  the  source  of  the  invention  they  are  convinced 
to  a  man.  Nor  again  is  it  from  any  insuperable 
objection  to  a  change  of  habit.  The  Stura  people 
have  changed  their  habit — possibly  for  the  worse  ; 
but  if  they  have  changed  it  for  the  worse,  how  is  it 
they  do  not  find  it  out  and  change  again  ? 

Take,  again,  the  />ane  Grissino,  from  which  the 
neighbourhood  of  Turin  has  derived  its  nickname  of 
"  II  Grissinotto."  It  is  made  in  long  sticks,  rather 
thicker  than  a  tobacco  pipe,  and  eats  crisp  like  toast. 
It  is  almost  universally  preferred  to  ordinary  bread 
by  the  inhabitants  of  what  was  formerly  Piedmont, 
but  beyond  these  limits  it  is  rarely  seen.  Why  so  ? 
Either  it  is  good  or  not  good.  If  not  good,  how  has 
it  prevailed  over  so  large  an  area  ?  If  good,  why 
does  it  not  extend  its  empire  ?  The  Reformation  is 
another  case  in  point :  granted  that  Protestantism  is 
illogical,  how  is  it  that  so  few  within  a  given  area  can 
perceive  it  to  be  so  ?  The  same  question  arises  in 
respect  of  the  distribution  of  many  plants  and  animals; 
the  reason  of  the  limits  which  some  of  them  cannot 
pass,  being,  indeed,  perfectly  clear,  but  as  regards 
perhaps  the  greater  number  of  them,  undiscoverable. 


174 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


The  upshot  of  it  is  that  things  do  not  in  practice  find 
their  perfect  level  any  more  than  water  does  so,  but 
are  liable  to  disturbance  by  way  of  tides  and  local 
currents,  or  storms.  It  is  in  his  power  to  perceive 
and  profit  by  these  irregularities  that  the  strength  or 
weakness  of  a  commercial  man  will  be  apparent. 


STUDY  BY   AN   ITALIAN   AMATEUR.      NO.  I. 

One  day  I  made  an  excursion  from  Lanzo  to  a 
place,  the  name  of  which  I  cannot  remember,  but 
which  is  not  far  from  the  Groscavallo  glacier.  Here 
I  found  several  Italians  staying  to  take  the  air,  and 
among  them  one  young  gentleman,  who  told  me  he 
was  writing  a  book  upon  this  neighbourhood,  and 
was   going   to    illustrate   it   with    his    own  drawings. 


LANZO. 


175 


This  naturally  interested  me,  and  I  encouraged  him 
to  tell  me  more,  which  he  was  nothing  loth  to  do. 
He  said  he  had  a  passion  for  drawing,  and  was 
making  rapid  progress ;  but  there  was  one  thing 
that  held  him  back — the  not  having  any  Conte 
chalk  :  if   he    had    but    this,  all  his  difficulties  would 


^^^ 


■■■■•■; '  f^-^  vOv' ♦ '^iJ'I.  v<>f 


vanish.  Unfortunately  I  had  no  Conte  chalk  with 
me,  but  I  asked  to  see  the  drawings,  and  was  shown 
about  twenty,  all  of  which  greatly  pleased  me.  I  at 
once  proposed  an  exchange,  and  have  thus  become 
possessed  of  the  two  which  I  reproduce  here.  Being 
pencil  drawings,  and  not  done  with  a  view  to  Mr. 
Dawson's  process,  they  have  suffered    somewhat  in 


176 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


reproduction,  but  I  decided  to  let  them  suffer  rather 
than  attempt  to  copy  them.  What  can  be  more  abso- 
lutely in  the  spirit  of  the  fourteenth  century  than  the 
drawings  given  above  ?  They  seem  as  though  done 
by  some  fourteenth-century   painter   who    had   risen 


STUDY   BY   A  SELF-TAUGHT   ITALIAN. 


from  the  dead.  And  to  show  that  they  are  no  rare 
accident,  I  will  give  another,  also  done  by  an  entirely 
self-taught  Italian,  and  intended  to  represent  the  castle 
of  Laurenzana  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Potenza. 

If    the     reader     will     pardon     a     digression,     I 
will  refer  to   a    more    important   example  of  an  old 


DEDOMENICI  OF  ROSS  A.  177 

master  born  out  of  due  time.  One  day,  in  the 
cathedral  at  Varallo,  I  saw  a  picture  painted  on  linen 
of  which  I  could  make  nothinof.  It  was  not  old 
and  it  was  not  modern.  The  expression  of  the 
Virgin's  face  was  lovely,  and  there  was  more  indi- 
viduality than  is  commonly  found  in  modern  Italian 
work.  Modern  Italian  colour  is  generally  either 
cold  and  dirty,  or  else  staring.  The  colour  here 
was  tender,  and  reminded  me  of  fifteenth-century 
Florentine  work.  The  folds  of  the  drapery  were  not 
modern ;  there  was  a  sense  of  effort  about  them, 
as  though  the  painter  had  tried  to  do  them  better, 
but  had  been  unable  to  get  them  as  free  and  flowing 
as  he  had  wished.  Yet  the  picture  was  not  old  ;  to 
all  appearance  it  might  have  been  painted  a  matter 
of  ten  years ;  nor  again  was  it  an  echo — it  was  a 
sound  :  the  archaism  was  not  affected  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, there  was  something  which  said,  as  plainly  as 
though  the  living  painter  had  spoken  it,  that  his 
somewhat  constrained  treatment  was  due  simply  to 
his  having  been  puzzled  with  the  intricacy  of  what  he 
saw,  and  giving  as  much  as  he  could  with  a  hand 
which  was  less  advanced  than  his  judgment.  By 
some  strange  law  it  comes  about  that  the  imperfection 
of  men  who  are  at  this  stage  of  any  art  is  the  only 


178  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

true  perfection  ;  for  the  wisdom  of  the  wise  is  set  at 
naught,  and  the  foolishness  of  the  simple  is  chosen, 
and  it  is  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings 
that  strength  is  ordained. 

Unable  to  arrive  at  any  conclusion,  I  asked  the 
sacristan,  and  was  told  it  was  by  a  certain  Dedomenici 
of  Rossa,  in  the  Val  Sesia,  and  that  it  had  been 
painted  some  forty  or  fifty  years  ago.  I  expressed 
my  surprise,  and  the  sacristan  continued  :  "  Yes,  but 
what  is  most  wonderful  about  him  is  that  he  never 
left  his  native  valley,  and  never  had  any  instruc- 
tion, but  picked  up  his  art  for  himself  as  best  he 
could." 

I  have  been  twice  to  Varallo  since,  to  see  whether 
I  should  change  my  mind,  but  have  not  done  so.  If 
Dedomenici  had  been  a  Florentine  or  Venetian  in  the 
best  times,  he  would  have  done  as  well  as  the  best ; 
as  it  is,  his  work  is  remarkable.  He  died  about  1840, 
very  old,  and  he  kept  on  improving  to  the  last.  His 
last  work — at  least  I  was  told  upon  the  spot  that  it 
was  his  last — is  in  a  little  roadside  chapel  perched 
high  upon  a  rock,  and  dedicated,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  to  S.  Michele,  on  the  path  from  Fobello  in 
the  Val  Mastellone  to  Taponaccio.     It  is  a  Madonna 


I 


DEDOMENICI  OF  ROSS  A.  179 

and  child  in  clouds,  with  two  full-length  saints  stand- 
ing beneath — all  the  figures  life-size.  I  came  upon 
this  chapel  quite  accidentally  one  evening,  and,  look- 
ing in,  recognised  the  altar-piece  as  a  Dedomenici. 
I  inquired  at  the  next  village  who  had  painted  it, 
and  was  told,  "  un  certo  Dedomenici  da  Rossa."  I 
was  also  told  that  he  was  nearly  eighty  years  old 
when  he  painted  this  picture.  I  went  a  couple  of 
years  ago  to  reconsider  it,  and  found  that  I  remained 
much  of  my  original  opinion.  I  do  not  think  that  any 
of  my  readers  who  care  about  the  history  of  Italian 
art  will  regret  having  paid  it  a  visit. 

Such  men  are  more  common  in  Italy  than  is 
believed.  There  is  a  fresco  of  the  crucifixion  out- 
side the  Campo  Santo  at  Fusio,  in  the  Canton  Ticino, 
done  by  a  local  artist,  which,  though  far  inferior  to  the 
work  of  Dedomenici,  is  still  remarkable.  The  painter 
evidently  knows  nothing  of  the  rules  of  his  art,  but 
he  has  made  Christ  on  the  cross  bowingf  His  head 
towards  the  souls  in  purgatory,  instead  of  in  the  con- 
ventional fine  frenzy  to  which  we  are  accustomed. 
There  is  a  storm  which  has  caught  and  is  sweeping 
the  drapery  round  Christ's  body.  The  angel's  wings 
are  no   longer  white,  but  many   coloured   as   in  old 


i8o  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

times,  and  there  is  a  touch  of  humour  in  the  fact  that 
of  the  six  souls  in  purgatory,  four  are  women  and  only- 
two  men.  The  expression  on  Christ's  face  is  very 
fine,  but  otherwise  the  drawing  could  not  well  be  more 
imperfect  than  it  is. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CONSIDERATIONS    ON    THE  DECLINE    OF  ITALIAN  ART. 

Those  who  know  the  Italians  will  see  no  sign  of 
decay  about  them.  They  are  the  quickest  witted 
people  in  the  world,  and  at  the  same  time  have  much 
more  of  the  old  Roman  steadiness  than  they  are 
generally  credited  with.  Not  only  is  there  no  sign  of 
degeneration,  but,  as  regards  practical  matters,  there 
is  every  sign  of  health  and  vigorous  development. 
The  North  Italians  are  more  like  Englishmen,  both 
in  body  and  mind,  than  any  other  people  whom 
I  know;  I  am  continually  meeting  Italians  whom  I 
should  take  for  Encrlishmen  if  I  did  not  know  their 
nationality.  They  have  all  our  strong  points,  but 
they  have  more  grace  and  elasticity  of  mind  than 
we  have. 

Priggishness  is  the  sin  which  doth  most  easily 
beset  middle-class,  and  so-called  educated  English- 
men :  we  call  it  purity  and  culture,  but  it  does  not 
much  matter  what  we  call  it.  It  is  the  almost  inevi- 
table outcome  of  a  university  education,  and  will  last 


1 82  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

as  long  as  Oxford  and  Cambridge  do,  but  not  much 
longer. 

Lord  Beaconsfield  sent  Lothair  to  Oxford ;  it  is 
with  great  pleasure  that  I  see  he  did  not  send  Endy- 
mion.  My  friend  Jones  called  my  attention  to  this, 
and  we  noted  that  the  growth  observable  throughout 
Lord  Beaconsfield's  life  was  continued  to  the  end. 
He  was  one  of  those  who,  no  matter  how  long  he 
lived,  would  have  been  always  growing  :  this  is  what 
makes  his  later  novels  so  much  better  than  those  of 
Thackeray  or  Dickens.  There  was  something  of  the 
child  about  him  to  the  last.  Earnestness  was  his 
greatest  danger,  but  if  he  did  not  quite  overcome  it 
(as  who  indeed  can  ?  It  is  the  last  enemy  that  shall  be 
subdued),  he  managed  to  veil  it  with  a  fair  amount 
of  success.  As  for  Endymion,  of  course  if  Lord 
Beaconsfield  had  thought  Oxford  would  be  good  for 
him,  he  could,  as  Jones  pointed  out  to  me,  just  as  well 
have  killed  Mr.  Ferrars  a  year  or  two  later.  We  feel 
satisfied,  therefore,  that  Endymion's  exclusion  from  a 
university  was  carefully  considered,  and  are  glad. 

I  will  not  say  that  priggishness  is  absolutely  un- 
known among  the  North  Italians;  sometimes  one 
comes  upon  a  young  Italian  who  wants  to  learn 
German,  but  not  often.     Priggism,  or  whatever  the 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART.  183 

substantive  is,  is  as  essentially  a  Teutonic  vice  as 
holiness  is  a  Semitic  characteristic;  and  if  an  Italian 
happens  to  be  a  prig,  he  will,  like  Tacitus,  invariably 
show  a  hankerine  after  German  institutions.  The 
idea,  however,  that  the  Italians  were  ever  a  finer 
people  than  they  are  now,  will  not  pass  muster  with 
those  who  know  them. 

At  the  same  time,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
modern  Italian  art  is  in  many  respects  as  bad  as  it 
was  once  good.  I  will  confine  myself  to  painting  only. 
The  modern  Italian  painters,  with  very  few  excep- 
tions, paint  as  badly  as  we  do,  or  even  worse,  and 
their  motives  are  as  poor  as  is  their  painting.  At  an 
exhibition  of  modern  Italian  pictures,  I  generally  feel 
that  there  is  hardly  a  picture  on  the  walls  but  is  a 
sham — that  is  to  say,  painted  not  from  love  of  this 
particular  subject  and  an  irresistible  desire  to  paint 
it,  but  from  a  wish  to  paint  an  academy  picture,  and 
win  money  or  applause. 

The  same  holds  good  in  England,  and  in  all  other 
countries  that  I  know  of.  There  is  very  little  toler- 
able painting  anywhere.  In  some  kinds,  indeed,  of 
black  and  white  work  the  present  age  is  strong.  The 
illustrations  to  "  Punch,"  for  example,  are  often  as  good 
as    anything   that    can    be    imagined.      We   know   of 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


nothing  like  them  in  any  past  age  or  country.  This 
is  the  one  kind  of  art — and  it  is  a  very  good  one — in 
which  we  excel  as  distinctly  as  the  age  of  Phidias 
excelled  in  sculpture.  Leonardo  da  Vinci  would 
never  have  succeeded  in  getting  his  drawings  accepted 
at  85  Fleet  Street,  any  more  than  one  of  the  artists  on 
the  staff  of "  Punch"  could  paint  a  fresco  which  should 
hold  its  own  against  Da  Vinci's  Last  Supper.  Michael 
Angelo  again  and  Titian  would  have  failed  disastrously 
at  modern  illustration.  They  had  no  more  sense  of 
humour  than  a  Hebrew  prophet ;  they  had  no  eye  for 
the  more  trivial  side  of  anything  round  about  them. 
This  aspect  went  in  at  one  eye  and  out  at  the  other — 
and  they  lost  more  than  ever  poor  Peter  Bell  lost  in 
the  matter  of  primroses.  I  never  can  see  what  there 
was  to  find  fault  with  in  that  young  man. 

Fancy  a  street- Arab  by  Michael  Angelo.  Fancy 
even  the  result  which  would  have  ensued  if  he  had 
tried  to  put  the  figures  into  the  illustrations  of  this 
book.  I  should  have  been  very  sorry  to  let  him  try 
his  hand  at  it.  To  him  a  priest  chucking  a  small  boy 
under  the  chin  was  simply  non-existent.  He  did  not 
care  for  it,  and  had  therefore  no  eye  for  it.  If  the 
reader  will  turn  to  the  copy  of  a  fresco  of  St.  Chris- 
topher on  p.  272,  he  will  see  the  conventional  treatment 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART.  185 

of  the  rocks  on  either  side  the  saint.  This  was  the 
best  thing  the  artist  could  do,  and  probably  cost  him  no 
little  trouble.  Yet  there  were  rocks  all  around  him — 
little,  in  fact,  else  than  rock  in  those  days  ;  and  the 
artist  could  have  drawn  them  well  enough  if  it  had 
occurred  to  him  to  try  and  do  so.  If  he  could  draw 
St.  Christopher,  he  could  have  drawn  a  rock  ;  but  he 
had  an  interest  in  the  one,  and  saw  nothing  in  the 
other  which  made  him  think  it  worth  while  to  pay 
attention  to  it.  What  rocks  were  to  him,  the  com- 
mon occurrences  of  everyday  life  were  to  those  who 
are  generally  held  to  be  the  giants  of  painting.  The 
result  of  this  neglect  to  kiss  the  soil — of  this  attempt 
to  be  always  soaring — is  that  these  giants  are  for  the 
most  part  now  very  uninteresting,  while  the  smaller 
men  who  preceded  them  grow  fresher  and  more 
delightful  yearly.  It  was  not  so  with  Handel  and 
Shakspeare.      Handel's 

"  Ploughman  near  at  hand,  whistling  o'er  the  furrowed  land," 

is  intensely  sympathetic,  and  his  humour  is  admirable 
whenever  he  has  occasion  for  it. 

Leonardo  da  Vinci  is  the  only  one  of  the  giant 
Italian  masters  who  ever  tried  to  be  humorous,  and  he 
failed  completely  :  so,  indeed,  must  any  one  if  he  tries 


1 86  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

to  be  humorous.  We  do  not  want  this  ;  we  only  want 
them  not  to  shut  their  eyes  to  by-play  when  it  comes 
in  their  way,  and  if  they  are  giving  us  an  account  of 
what  they  have  seen,  to  tell  us  something  about  this 
too.  I  believe  the  older  the  world  grows,  the  better  it 
enjoys  a  joke.  The  medizeval  joke  generally  was  a 
heavy,  lumbering  old  thing,  only  a  little  better  than 
the  classical  one.  Perhaps  in  those  days  life  was 
harder  than  it  is  now,  and  people  if  they  looked  at  it 
at  all  closely  dwelt  upon  its  soberer  side.  Certainly  in 
humorous  art,  we  may  claim  to  be  not  only  principes, 
hMt  facile  principes.  Nevertheless,  the  Italian  comic 
journals  are,  some  of  them,  admirably  illustrated, 
though  in  a  style  quite  different  from  our  own  ;  some- 
times, also,  they  are  beautifully  coloured. 

As  regards  painting,  the  last  rays  of  the  sunset  of 
genuine  art  are  to  be  found  in  the  votive  pictures  at 
Locarno  or  Oropa,  and  in  many  a  wayside  chapel. 
In  these,  religious  art  still  lingers  as  a  living  language, 
however  rudely  spoken.  In  these  alone  is  the  story 
told,  not  as  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  verses  of  the 
scholar,  who  thinks  he  has  succeeded  best  when  he 
has  most  concealed  his  natural  manner  of  expressing 
himself,  but  by  one  who  knows  what  he  wants  to  say, 
and  says  it  in  his  mother-tongue,  shortly,  and  without 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART. 


187 


carinor  whether  or  not  his  words  are  in  accordance 
with  academic  rules.  I  regret  to  see  photography- 
being  introduced  for  votive  purposes,  and  also  to 
detect  in  some  places  a  disposition  on  the  part  of  the 
authorities  to  be  a  little  ashamed  of  these  pictures 
and  to  place  them  rather  out  of  sight. 

Sometimes  in  a  little  country  village,  as  at  Doera 
near  Mesocco,  there  is  a  modern  fresco  on  a  chapel 
in  which  the  old  spirit  appears,  with  its  absolute 
indifference  as  to  whether  it 
was  ridiculous  or  no,  but  such 
examples  are  rare. 

Sometimes,  again,  I  have 
even  thought  I  have  detected 
a  ray  of  sunset  upon  a  millr 
man's  window-blind  in  London, 
and  once  upon  an  undertaker's, 
but  it  was  too  faint  a  ray  to 
read  by.  The  best  thing  of 
the  kind  that  I  have  seen  in  London  is  the  picture 
of  the  lady  who  is  cleaning  knives  with  Mr.  Spong's 
patent  knife-cleaner,  in  his  shop  window  nearly  op- 
posite Day  &  Martin's  in  Holborn.  It  falls  a  long 
way  short,  however,  of  a  good  Italian  votive  picture  ; 
but  it  has  the  advantage  of  moving. 


PARADISO  !     PARADISO  ! 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


I  knew  of  a  little  girl  once,  rather  less  than  four 
years  old,  whose  uncle  had  promised  to  take  her  for  a 
drive  in  a  carriage  with  him,  and  had  failed  to  do  so. 
The  child  was  found  soon  afterwards  on  the  stairs 
weeping,  and  being  asked  what  was  the  matter,  replied, 
"  Mans  is  all  alike."  This  is  Giottesque.  I  often 
think  of  it  as  I  look  upon  Italian  votive  pictures.  The 
meaning  is  so  sound  in  spite  of  the  expression  being 
so  defective — if,  indeed,  expression  can  be  defective 
when  it  has  so  well  conveyed  the  meaning. 

I  knew,  again,  an  old  lady  whose  education  had 
been  neglected  in  her  youth.  She  came  into  a  large 
fortune,  and  at  some  forty  years  of  age  put  herself 
under  the  best  masters.  She  once  said  to  me  as 
follows,  speaking  very  slowly  and  allowing  a  long 
time  between  each  part  of  the  sentence  ; — "  You 
see,"  she  said,  "  the  world,  and  all  that  it  contains, 
is  wrapped  up  in  such  curious  forms,  that  it  is  only 
by  a  knowledge  of  human  nature,  that  we  can  rightly 
tell  what  to  say,  to  do,  or  to  admire."  I  copied  the 
sentence  into  my  note-book  immediately  on  taking  my 
leave.     It  is  like  an  academy  picture. 

But  to  return  to  the  Italians.  The  question  is,  how 
has  the  deplorable  falling-off  in  Italian  painting  been 
caused  ?      And   by   doing  what   may  we   again   get 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART. 


Bellinis  and  Andrea  Mantegnas  as  in  old  time  ? 
The  fault  does  not  lie  in  any  want  of  raw  material  : 
the  drawings  I  have  already  given  prove  this.  Nor, 
again,  does  it  lie  in  want  of  taking  pains.  The 
modern    Italian    painter  frets  himself  to   the   full    as 


BY   AN   ITALIAN   SCHOOLBOY. 


much  as  his  predecessor  did — if  the  truth  were  known, 
probably  a  great  deal  more.  It  does  not  lie  in  want 
of  schooling  or  art  education.  For  the  last  three 
hundred  years,  ever  since  the  Caraccis  opened  their 
academy  at  Bologna,  there  has  been  no  lack  of  art 


I90  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

education  in  Italy.  Curiously  enough,  the  date  of  the 
opening  of  the  Bolognese  Academy  coincides  as  nearly 
as  may  be  with  the  complete  decadence  of  Italian 
painting. 

On  p.  189  is  an  example  of  the  way  in  which  Italian 
boys  begin  their  art  education  now.  The  drawing 
which  I  reproduce  here  was  given  me  by  the  eminent 
sculptor,  Professor  Vela,  as  the  work  of  a  lad  of  twelve 
years  old,  and  as  doing  credit  alike  to  the  school 
where  the  lad  was  taught  and  to  the  pupil  himself. 

So  it  undoubtedly  does.  It  shows  as  plainly  the 
receptiveness  and  docility  of  the  modern  Italian,  as 
the  illustrations  given  above  show  his  freshness  and 
naivete  when  left  to  himself.  The  drawing  is  just 
such  as  we  try  to  get  our  own  young  people  to  do, 
and  few  English  elementary  schools  in  a  small  county 
town  would  succeed  in  turning  out  so  good  a  one. 
I  have  nothing,  therefore,  but  praise  both  for  the 
pupil  and  the  teacher ;  but  about  the  system  which 
makes  such  teachers  and  such  pupils  commendable, 
I  am  more  sceptical.  That  system  trains  boys  to 
study  other  people's  works  rather  than  nature,  and, 
as  Leonardo  da  Vinci  so  well  says,  it  makes  them 
nature's  grandchildren  and  not  her  children.  The 
boy  who  did  the  drawing  given  above  is  not  likely  to 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART. 


191 


produce  good  work  in  later  life.  He  has  been  taught 
to  see  nature  with  an  old  man's  eyes  at  once,  without 
going  through  the  embryonic  stages.  He  has  never 
said  his  "  mans  is  all  alike,"  and  by  twenty  will  be 
painting  like  my  old  friend's  long  academic  sentence. 
All  his  individuality  has  been  crushed  out  of  him. 

I  will  now  give  a  reproduction  of  the  frontispiece 
to  Avogadro's  work  on  the  sanctuary  of  S.  Michele, 


AVOGADRO  S  VIEW   OF   S.    MICHELE. 


from  which  I  have  already  quoted  ;  it  is  a  very  pretty 
and  effective  piece  of  work,  but  those  who  are  good 
enough  to  turn  back  to  page  10 1,  and  to  believe  that 
I  have  drawn  carefully,  will  see  how  disappointing 
Avogadro's  frontispiece  must  be  to  those  who  hold, 
as  most  of  us  will,  that  a  draughtsman's  first  business 


192  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

is  to  put  down  what  he  sees,  and  to  let  prettiness  take 
care  of  itself.  The  main  features,  indeed,  can  still  be 
traced,  but  they  have  become  as  transformed  and 
lifeless  as  rudimentary  organs.  Such  a  frontispiece, 
however,  is  the  almost  inevitable  consequence  of  the 
system  of  training  that  will  make  boys  of  twelve  do 
drawings  like  the  one  given  on  page  189. 

If  half  a  dozen  young  Italians  could  be  got  together 
with  a  taste  for  drawing  like  that  shown  by  the  authors 
of  the  sketches  on  pp.  1 74,  1 75,  1 76  ;  if  they  had  power 
to  add  to  their  number ;  if  they  were  allowed  to  see 
paintings  and  drawings  done  up  to  the  year  a.d.  15 10, 
and  votive  pictures  and  the  comic  papers  ;  if  they  were 
left  with  no  other  assistance  than  this,  absolutely  free 
to  please  themselves,  and  could  be  persuaded  not  to 
try  and  please  any  one  else,  I  believe  that  in  fifty 
years  we  should  have  all  that  was  ever  done  repeated 
with  fresh  naivete,  and  as  much  more  delightfully 
than  even  by  the  best  old  masters,  as  these  are  more 
delightful  than  anything  we  know  of  in  classic  painting. 
The  young  plants  keep  growing  up  abundantly  every 
day — look  at  Bastianini,  dead  not  ten  years  since — 
but  they  are  browsed  down  by  the  academics.  I 
remember  there  came  out  a  book  many  years  ago 
with  the  title,  "  What  becomes  of  all  the  clever  little 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART.  193 

children  ? "      I    never  saw   the   book,  but  the  title   is 
pertinent. 

Any  man  who  can  write,  can  draw  to  a  not  incon- 
siderable extent.  Look  at  the  Bayeux  tapestry ;  yet 
Matilda  probably  never  had  a  drawing  lesson  in  her 
life.  See  how  well  prisoner  after  prisoner  in  the 
Tower  of  London  has  cut  this  or  that  out  in  the 
stone  of  his  prison  wall,  without,  in  all  probability, 
having^  ever  tried  his  hand  at  drawinor  before.  Look 
at  my  friend  Jones,  who  has  several  illustrations  in 
this  book.  The  first  year  he  went  abroad  with  me 
he  could  hardly  draw  at  all.  He  was  no  year  away 
from  England  more  than  three  weeks.  How  did  he 
learn  ?  On  the  old  principle,  if  I  am  not  mistaken. 
The  old  principle  was  for  a  man  to  be  doing  some- 
thing which  he  was  pretty  strongly  bent  on  doing, 
and  to  get  a  much  younger  one  to  help  him.  The 
younger  paid  nothing  for  instruction,  but  the  elder 
took  the  work,  as  long  as  the  relation  of  master  and 
pupil  existed  between  them,  I,  then,  was  making 
illustrations  for  this  book,  and  got  Jones  to  help  me. 
I  let  him  see  what  I  was  doing,  and  derive  an  idea  of 
the  sort  of  thing  I  wanted,  and  then  left  him  alone — 
beyond  giving  him  the  same  kind  of  small  criticism 
that  I  expected  from  himself — but  I  appropriated  his 


194  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

work.  That  is  the  way  to  teach,  and  the  result  was 
that  in  an  incredibly  short  time  Jones  could  draw. 
The  taking  the  work  is  a  sine  qua  non.  If  I  had 
not  been  going  to  have  his  work,  Jones,  in  spite  of  all 
his  quickness,  would  probably  have  been  rather  slower 
in  learning  to  draw.  Being  paid  in  money  is  nothing 
like  so  good. 

This  is  the  system  of  apprenticeship  versus  the 
academic  system.  The  academic  system  consists  in 
giving  people  the  rules  for  doing  things.  The  appren- 
ticeship system  consists  in  letting  them  do  it,  with 
just  a  trifle  of  supervision.  "For  all  a  rhetorician's 
rules,"  says  my  great  namesake,  "  teach  nothing,  but 
to  name  his  tools  ;  "  and  academic  rules  generally  are 
much  the  same  as  the  rhetorician's.  Some  men  can 
pass  through  academies  unscathed,  but  they  are  very 
few,  and  in  the  main  the  academic  influence  is  a 
baleful  one,  whether  exerted  in  a  university  or  a 
school.  While  young  men  at  universities  are  being 
prepared  for  their  entry  into  life,  their  rivals  have 
already  entered  it.  The  most  university  and  examina- 
tion ridden  people  in  the  world  are  the  Chinese,  and 
they  are  the  least  progressive. 

Men  should  learn  to  draw  as  they  learn  convey- 
ancing :    they  should  go  into  a  painter's  studio  and 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART.  195 

paint  on  his  pictures.  I  am  told  that  half  the  con- 
veyances in  the  country  are  drawn  by  pupils ;  there 
is  no  more  mystery  about  painting  than  about  con- 
veyancing— not  half  in  fact,  I  should  think,  so  much. 
One  may  ask,  How  can  the  beginner  paint,  or  draw 
conveyances,  till  he  has  learnt  how  to  do  so  ?  The 
answer  is,  How  can  he  learn,  without  at  any  rate 
trying  to  do  ?  If  he  likes  his  subject,  he  will  try  : 
if  he  tries,  he  will  soon  succeed  in  doinof  somethinof 
which  shall  open  a  door.  It  does  not  matter  what  a 
man  does ;  so  long  as  he  does  it  with  the  attention 
which  affection  engenders,  he  will  come  to  see  his  way 
to  something  else.  After  long  waiting  he  will  certainly 
find  one  door  open,  and  go  through  it.  He  will  say 
to  himself  that  he  can  never  find  another.  He  has 
found  this,  more  by  luck  than  cunning,  but  now  he  is 
done.  Yet  by  and  by  he  will  see  that  there  is  07ie 
more  small,  unimportant  door  which  he  had  over- 
looked, and  he  proceeds  through  this  too.  If  he 
remains  now  for  a  long  while  and  sees  no  other,  do 
not  let  him  fret  ;  doors  are  like  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
they  come  not  by  observation,  least  of  all  do  they 
come  by  forcing  :  let  him  just  go  on  doing  what  comes 
nearest,  but  doing  it  attentively,  and  a  great  wide 
door  will  one  day  spring  into  existence  where  there 


196  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

had  been  no  sign  of  one  but  a  little  time  previously. 
Only  let  him  be  always  doing  something,  and  let  him 
cross  himself  now  and  again,  for  belief  in  the  wondrous 
efficacy  of  crosses  and  crossing  is  the  corner-stone 
of  the  creed  of  the  evolutionist.  Then  after  years 
— but  not  probably  till  after  a  great  many — doors  will 
open  up  all  round,  so  many  and  so  wide  that  the 
difficulty  will  not  be  to  find  a  door,  but  rather  to 
obtain  the  means  of  even  hurriedly  surveying  a 
portion  of  those  that  stand  invitingly  open. 

I  know  that  just  as  good  a  case  can  be  made  out 
for  the  other  side.  It  may  be  said  as  truly  that 
unless  a  student  is  incessantly  on  the  watch  for  doors 
he  will  never  see  them,  and  that  unless  he  is  inces- 
santly pressing  forward  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven  he 
will  never  find  it — so  that  the  kingdom  does  come 
by  observation.  It  is  with  this  as  with  everything 
else — there  must  be  a  harmonious  fusing  of  two  prin- 
ciples which  are  in  flat  contradiction  to  one  another. 

The  question  whether  it  is  better  to  abide  quiet 
and  take  advantage  of  opportunities  that  come,  or 
to  go  further  afield  in  search  of  them,  is  one  of  the 
oldest  which  living  beings  have  had  to  deal  with.  It 
was  on  this  that  the  first  great  schism  or  heresy  arose 
in  what  was  heretofore  the  catholic  faith  of  protoplasm. 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART.  197 

The  schism  still  lasts,  and  has  resulted  in  two  great 
sects — animals  and  plants.  The  opinion  that  it  is 
better  to  go  in  search  of  prey  is  formulated  in  animals  ; 
the  other — that  it  is  better  on  the  whole  to  stay  at 
home  and  profit  by  what  comes — in  plants.  Some 
intermediate  forms  still  record  to  us  the  long  struggle 
during  which  the  schism  was  not  yet  complete. 

If  I  may  be  pardoned  for  pursuing  this  digression 
further,  I  would  say  that  it  is  the  plants  and  not  we 
who  are  the  heretics.  There  can  be  no  question  about 
this  ;  we  are  perfectly  justified,  therefore,  in  devouring 
them.  Ours  is  the  original  and  orthodox  belief,  for 
protoplasm  is  much  more  animal  than  vegetable  ;  it 
is  much  more  true  to  say  that  plants  have  descended 
from  animals  than  animals  from  plants.  Nevertheless, 
like  many  other  heretics,  plants  have  thriven  very 
fairly  well.  There  are  a  great  many  of  them,  and  as 
regards  beauty,  if  not  wit — of  a  limited  kind  indeed, 
but  still  wit — it  is  hard  to  say  that  the  animal  king- 
dom has  the  advantage.  The  views  of  plants  are  sadly 
narrow  ;  all  dissenters  are  narrow-minded  ;  but  within 
their  own  bounds  they  know  the  details  of  their  busi- 
ness sufficiently  well — as  well  as  though  they  kept 
the  most  nicely-balanced  system  of  accounts  to  show 
them  their  position.     They  are  eaten,  it  is  true  ;  to  eat 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


them  is  our  bigoted  and  intolerant  way  of  trying  to 
convert  them :  eating  is  only  a  violent  mode  of  pro- 
selytising or  converting ;  and  we  do  convert  them — 
to  good  animal  substance,  of  our  own  way  of  thinking. 
But  then,  animals  are  eaten  too.  They  convert  one 
another,  almost  as  much  as  they  convert  plants.  And 
an  animal  is  no  sooner  dead  than  a  plant  will  convert 
it  back  again.  It  is  obvious,  however,  that  no  schism 
could  have  been  so  long  successful,  without  having 
a  good  deal  to  say  for  itself. 

Neither  party  has  been  quite  consistent.  Who  ever 
is  or  can  be  ?  Every  extreme — every  opinion  carried 
to  its  logical  end — will  prove  to  be  an  absurdity. 
Plants  throw  out  roots  and  boughs  and  leaves ;  this 
is  a  kind  of  locomotion  ;  and  as  Dr.  Erasmus  Darwin 
long  since  pointed  out,  they  do  sometimes  approach 
nearly  to  what  may  be  called  travelling ;  a  man  of  con- 
sistent character  will  never  look  at  a  bough,  a  root, 
or  a  tendril  without  regarding  it  as  a  melancholy 
and  unprincipled  compromise.  On  the  other  hand, 
many  animals  are  sessile,  and  some  singularly  suc- 
cessful genera,  as  spiders,  are  in  the  main  liers-in- 
wait.  It  may  appear,  however,  on  the  whole,  like 
reopening  a  settled  question  to  uphold  the  principle  of 
being  busy  and  attentive  over  a  small  area,  rather  than 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART.  199 

going  to  and  fro  over  a  larger  one,  for  a  mammal  like 
man,  but  I  think  most  readers  will  be  with  me  in 
thinking  that,  at  any  rate  as  regards  art  and  literature, 
it  is  he  who  does  his  small  immediate  work  most  care- 
fully who  will  find  doors  open  most  certainly  to  him, 
that  will  conduct  him  into  the  richest  chambers. 

Many  years  ago,  in  New  Zealand,  I  used  some- 
times to  accompany  a  dray  and  team  of  bullocks  who 
would  have  to  be  turned  loose  at  night  that  they 
miofht  feed.  There  were  no  hedo^es  or  fences  then,  so 
sometimes  I  could  not  find  my  team  in  the  morning, 
and  had  no  clue  to  the  direction  in  which  they  had 
gone.  At  first  I  used  to  try  and  throw  my  soul  into 
the  bullocks'  souls,  so  as  to  divine  if  possible  what 
they  would  be  likely  to  have  done,  and  would  then 
ride  off  ten  miles  in  the  wrong  direction.  People  used 
in  those  days  to  lose  their  bullocks  sometimes  for  a 
week  or  fortnight — when  they  perhaps  were  all  the 
time  hiding  in  a  gully  hard  by  the  place  where  they 
were  turned  out.  After  some  time  I  changed  my 
tactics.  On  losing  my  bullocks  I  would  go  to  the 
nearest  accommodation  house,  and  stand  occasional 
drinks  to  travellers.  Some  one  would  ere  long,  as  a 
general  rule,  turn  up  who  had  seen  the  bullocks. 
This  case  does  not  go  quite  on  all  fours  with  what 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


I  have  been  saying  above,  inasmuch  as  I  was  not  very 
industrious  in  my  limited  area ;  but  the  standing 
drinks  and  inquiring  was  being  as  industrious  as  the 
circumstances  would  allow. 

To  return,  universities  and  academies  are  an  obstacle 
to  the  finding  of  doors  in  later  life  ;  partly  because  they 
push  their  young  men  too  fast  through  doorways  that 
the  universities  have  provided,  and  so  discourage  the 
habit  of  being  on  the  look-out  for  others  ;  and  partly 
because  they  do  not  take  pains  enough  to  make  sure 
that  their  doors  are  do^id  fide  ones.  If,  to  change  the 
metaphor,  an  academy  has  taken  a  bad  shilling,  it  is 
seldom  very  scrupulous  about  trying  to  pass  it  on.  It 
will  stick  to  it  that  the  shillinof  is  a  g-ood  one  as  lonor 
as  the  police  will  let  it.  I  was  very  happy  at  Cam- 
brido^e  :  when  I  left  it  I  thought  I  never  ag-ain  could 
be  so  happy  anywhere  else  ;  I  shall  ever  retain  a  most 
kindly  recollection  both  of  Cambridge  and  of  the 
school  where  I  passed  my  boyhood  ;  but  I  feel,  as  I 
think  most  others  must  in  middle  life,  that  I  have 
spent  as  much  of  my  maturer  years  in  unlearning  as 
in  learn inof. 

The  proper  course  is  for  a  boy  to  begin  the  prac- 
tical business  of  life  many  years  earlier  than  he  now 
commonly  does.      He  should  begin  at  the  very  bottom 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART. 


of  a  profession  ;  if  possible  of  one  which  his  family 
has  pursued  before  him  —  for  the  professions  will 
assuredly  one  day  become  hereditary.  The  ideal  rail- 
way director  will  have  begun  at  fourteen  as  a  railway 
porter.  He  need  not  be  a  porter  for  more  than  a 
week  or  ten  days,  any  more  than  he  need  have  been  a 
tadpole  more  than  a  short  time ;  but  he  should  take  a 
turn  in  practice,  though  briefly,  at  each  of  the  lower 
branches  in  the  profession.  The  painter  should  do 
just  the  same.  He  should  begin  by  setting  his 
employer's  palette  and  cleaning  his  brushes.  As  for 
the  good  side  of  universities,  the  proper  preservative 
of  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  club. 

If,  then,  we  are  to  have  a  renaissance  of  art,  there 
must  be  a  complete  standing  aloof  from  the  academic 
system.  That  system  has  had  time  enough.  Where 
and  who  are  its  men  ?  Can  it  point  to  one  painter 
who  can  hold  his  own  with  the  men  of,  say,  from 
1450  to  1550?  Academies  will  bring  out  men  who 
can  paint  hair  very  like  hair,  and  eyes  very  like  eyes, 
but  this  is  not  enough.  This  is  grammar  and  deport- 
ment ;  we  want  wit  and  a  kindly  nature,  and  these 
cannot  be  got  from  academies.  As  far  as  mere 
technique  is  concerned,  almost  every  one  now  can  paint 
as  well  as  is  in  the  least  desirable.     The  same  mutatis 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


mutandis  holds  good  with  writing  as  with  painting. 
We  want  less  word-painting  and  fine  phrases,  and 
more  observation  at  first  -  hand.  Let  us  have  a 
periodical  illustrated  by  people  who  cannot  draw, 
and  written  by  people  who  cannot  write  (perhaps, 
however,  after  all,  we  have  some),  but  who  look  and 
think  for  themselves,  and  express  themselves  just  as 
they  please, — and  this  we  certainly  have  not.  Every 
contributor  should  be  at  once  turned  out  if  he  or  she 
is  generally  believed  to  have  tried  to  do  something 
which  he  or  she  did  not  care  about  trying  to  do,  and 
anything  should  be  admitted  which  is  the  outcome  of 
a  genuine  liking.  People  are  always  good  company 
when  they  are  doing  what  they  really  enjoy.  A  cat  is 
good  company  when  it  is  purring,  or  a  dog  when  it  is 
waoforinor  its  tail. 

The  sketching  clubs  up  and  down  the  country 
might  form  the  nucleus  of  such  a  society,  provided 
all  professional  men  were  rigorously  excluded.  As 
for  the  old  masters,  the  better  plan  would  be  never 
even  to  look  at  one  of  them,  and  to  consign  Raffaelle, 
along  with  Plato,  Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus,  Dante, 
Goethe,  and  two  others,  neither  of  them  Englishmen, 
to  limbo,  as  the  Seven  Humbugs  of  Christendom. 

While  we  are  about  it,  let  us  leave  off  talkingf  about 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART. 


"art  for  art's  sake."  Who  is  art,  that  it  should  have 
a  sake  ?  A  work  of  art  should  be  produced  for  the 
pleasure  it  gives  the  producer,  and  the  pleasure  he 
thinks  it  will  give  to  a  few  of  whom  he  is  fond ;  but 
neither  money  nor  people  whom  he  does  not  know 
personally  should  be  thought  of.  Of  course  such  a 
society  as  I  have  proposed  would  not  remain  incorrupt 
long.  "  Everything  that  grows,  holds  in  perfection 
but  a  little  moment."  The  members  would  try  to 
imitate  professional  men  in  spite  of  their  rules,  or, 
if  they  escaped  this  and  after  a  while  got  to  paint 
well,  they  would  become  dogmatic,  and  a  rebellion 
against  their  authority  would  be  as  necessary  ere  long 
as  it  was  against  that  of  their  predecessors :  but  the 
balance  on  the  whole  would  be  to  the  good. 

Professional  men  should  be  excluded,  if  for  no  other 
reason  yet  for  this,  that  they  know  too  much  for  the 
beginner  to  been  rapport  with  them.  It  is  the  beginner 
who  can  help  the  beginner,  as  it  is  the  child  who  is 
the  most  instructive  companion  for  another  child.  The 
beginner  can  understand  the  beginner,  but  the  cross 
between  him  and  the  proficient  performer  is  too  wide 
for  fertility.  It  savours  of  impatience,  and  is  in  flat 
contradiction  to  the  first  principles  of  biology.  It 
does  a  beginner  positive  harm  to  look  at  the  master- 


204  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

pieces  of  the  great  executfonists,  such  as  Rembrandt 
or  Turner. 

If  one  is  climbing  a  very  high  mountain  which 
will  tax  all  one's  streno^th,  nothingr  fatisfues  so  much 
as  casting  upward  glances  to  the  top ;  nothing  en- 
courao^es  so  much  as  casting^  downward  orlances. 
The  top  seems  never  to  draw  nearer ;  the  parts  that 
we  have  passed  retreat  rapidly.  Let  a  water-colour 
student  go  and  see  the  drawing  by  Turner,  in  the 
basement  of  our  National  Gallery/dated  1787.  This 
is  the  sort  of  thing  for  him,  not  to  copy,  but  to  look 
at  for  a  minute  or  two  now  and  again.  It  will  show 
him  nothing  about  painting,  but  it  may  serve  to  teach 
him  not  to  overtax  his  strength,  and  will  prove  to  him 
that  the  greatest  masters  in  painting,  as  in  everything 
else,  begin  by  doing  work  which  is  no  way  superior  to 
that  of  their  neighbours.  A  collection  of  the  earliest 
known  works  of  the  greatest  men  would  be  much 
more  useful  to  the  student  than  any  number  of  their 
maturer  works,  for  it  would  show  him  that  he  need  not 
worry  himself  because  his  work  does  not  look  clever, 
or  as  silly  people  say,  "  show  power." 

The  secrets  of  success  are  affection  for  the  pursuit 
chosen,  a  flat  refusal  to  be  hurried  or  to  pass  any- 
thing as  understood  which  is  not  understood,  and  an 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART.  205 

obstinacy  of  character  which  shall  make  the  student's 
friends  find  it  less  trouble  to  let  him  have  his  own 
way  than  to  bend  him  into  theirs.  Our  schools  and 
academies  or  universities  are  covertly,  but  essentially 
radical  institutions-,  and  abhorrent  to  the  genius  of 
Conservatism.  Their  sin  is  the  true  radical  sin  of 
teing  in  too  great  a  hurry,  and  of  believing  in  short 
cuts  too  soon.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that  this 
proposition  like  every  other  wants  tempering  with  a 
slight  infusion  of  its  direct  opposite. 

I  said  in  an  early  part  of  this  book  that  the  best 
test  to  know  whether  or  no  one  likes  a  picture  is  to 
ask  one's  self  whether  one  would  like  to  look  at  it  if 
one  was  quite  sure  one  was  alone.  The  best  test  for 
a  painter  as  to  whether  he  likes  painting  his  picture 
is  to  ask  himself  whether  he  should  like  to  paint  it  if 
he  was  quite  sure  that  no  one  except  himself,  and  the 
few  of  whom  he  was  very  fond,  would  ever  see  it. 
If  he  can  answer  this  question  in  the  affirmative,  he  is 
all  right ;  if  he  cannot,  he  is  all  wrong.  I  will  close 
these  remarks  with  an  illustration  which  will  show 
how  nearly  we  can  approach  the  early  Florentines 
even  now — when  nobody  is  looking  at  us.  I  do  not 
know  who  Mr.  Pollard  is.  I  never  heard  of  him 
till  I  came  across  a  cheap  lithograph  of  his  Funeral 


2o6 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


of  Tom  Moody  in  the  parlour  of  a  village  inn.  I 
should  not  think  he  ever  was  an  R.A.,  but  he  has 
approached  as  nearly  as  the  difference  between  the 
geniuses  of  the  two  countries  will  allow,  to  the  spirit 
of  the  painters  who  painted  in  the  Campo  Santo  at 
Pisa.      Look,  again,  at  Garrard,  at  the  close  of  the 


FUNERAL  OF  TOM   MOODY. 


last  century.  We  generally  succeed  with  sporting 
or  quasi-sporting  subjects,  and  our  cheap  coloured 
coaching  and  hunting  subjects  are  almost  always  good, 
and  often  very  good  indeed.  We  like  these  things  : 
therefore  we  observe  them ;   therefore  we  soon  be- 


DECLINE  OF  ITALIAN  ART.  207 

come  able  to  express  them.  Historical  and  costume 
pictures  we  have  no  genuine  love  for ;  we  do  not, 
therefore,  go  beyond  repeating  commonplaces  con- 
cerning- them. 

I  must  reserve  other  remarks  upon  this  subject  for 
another  occasion. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

VJV,    FUCINR,   AND  S.   IGNAZIO. 

I  MUST  now  return  to  my  young  friend  at  Groscavallo. 
I  have  published  his  drawings  without  his  permission, 
having  unfortunately  lost  his  name  and  address,  and 
being  unable  therefore  to  apply  to  him.  I  hope  that, 
should  they  ever  meet  his  eye,  he  will  accept  this 
apology  and  the  assurance  of  my  most  profound  con- 
sideration. 

Delighted  as  I  had  been  with  his  proposed  illustra- 
tions, I  thought  I  had  better  hear  some  of  the  letter- 
press, so  I  begged  him  to  read  me  his  MS.  My  time 
was  short,  and  he  began  at  once.  The  few  introduc- 
tory pages  were  very  nice,  but  there  was  nothing 
particularly  noticeable  about  them ;  when,  however, 
he  came  to  his  description  of  the  place  where  we 
now  were,  he  spoke  of  a  beautiful  young  lady  as 
attractinor  his  attention  on  the  eveningf  of  his  arrival. 
It  seemed  that  she  was  as  much  struck  with  him 
as  he  with  her,  and  I  thought  we  were  going  to 
have  a  romance,  when  he  proceeded  as  follows  :  "  We 


VIU  AND  NEIGHBOURHOOD.  209 

perceived  that  we  were  sympathetic,  and  in  less  than 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  exchanged  the  most  solemn 
vows  that  we  would  never  marry  one  another." 
"What?"  said  I,  hardly  able  to  believe  my  ears, 
"  will  you  kindly  read  those  last  words  over  again  ? " 
He  did  so,  slowly  and  distinctly ;  I  caught  them 
beyond  all  power  of  mistake,  and  they  were  as  I 
have  given  them  above  : — "  We  perceived  that  we 
were  sympathetic,  and  in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  had  exchanged  the  most  solemn  vows  that 
we  would  never  marry  one  another."  Wliile  I  was 
rubbing  my  eyes  and  making  up  my  mind  whether 
I  had  stumbled  upon  a  great  satirist  or  no,  I  heard 
a  voice  from  below — '*  Signor  Butler,  Signor  Butler, 
la  vettura  e  pronta."  I  had  therefore  to  leave  my 
doubt  unsolved,  but  all  the  time  as  we  drove  down 
the  valley  I  had  the  words  above  quoted  ringing  in 
my  head.  If  ever  any  of  my  readers  come  across  the 
book  itself — for  I  should  hope  it  will  be  published — 
I  should  be  very  grateful  to  them  if  they  will  direct 
my  attention  to  it. 

Another  day  I  went  to  Ceres,  and  returned  on  foot 
m'd  S.  Ignazio.  S.  Ignazio  is  a  famous  sanctuary  on 
the  very  top  of  a  mountain,  like  that  of  Sammichele, 
but  it   is   late ;  the   St.    Ignatius  being  St.    Ignatius 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


Loyola,  and  not  the  apostolic  father.     I  got  my  dinner 

at  a  village  inn  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  from 

the  window  caught  si^ht 
of  a  fresco  upon  the  wall 
of  a  chapel  a  few  yards 
off.  There  was  a  com- 
panion to  it  hardly  less 
s.  iGNAzio,  NEAR  LANzo.  interesting,  but   I    had  not 

time   to   sketch  it.     I   do  not  know  what  the   one  I 

give    is  intended  to  represent.     St.  Ignatius  is  upon 

a   rock,    and    is   pleased   with   something,   but   there 

is    nothing   to  show   what  it  is,  except   his  attitude, 

which  seems  to  say,  "  Senza 

far   fatica," — ''  You    see    1 

can  do  it  quite  easily,"  or, 

"  There    is    no    deception." 

Nor    do    we    easily  gather 

what  it  is  that  the  Roman 

centurion   is  saying   to    St. 

lofnatius.     I    cannot    make 

up    my   mind   whether   he 

is  merely  warning  him    to 

beware   of  the   reaction,   or   whether   he   is   a   little 

scandalised. 

From  this  village  I  went  up  the  mountain  to  the 


FRESCO   NEAR  CERES. 


VIU  AND  NEIGHBOURHOOD. 


211 


sanctuary  of  S.  Ignazio  itself,  which  looks  well  from 
the  distance,  and  commands  a  striking  view,  but  con- 
tains nothing  of  interest,  except  a  few  nice  votive 
pictures. 

From  Lanzo  I  went  to  Viu,  a  summer  resort  largely 


VIU   CHURCH. 


frequented  by  the  Turinese,  but  rarely  visited  by 
English  people.  There  is  a  good  inn  at  Viu — the 
one  close  to  where  the  public  conveyance  stops — and 


212  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

the  neighbourhood  is  enchanting.  The  little  village 
on  the  crest  of  the  hill  in  the  distance,  to  the  left  of 
the  church,  as  shown  on  the  preceding  page,  is  called 
the  "  Colma  di  S.  Giovanni,"  and  is  well  worth  a  visit. 
In  spring,  before  the  grass  is  cut,  the  pastures  must 
be  even  better  than  when  I  saw  them  in  August,  and 
they  were  then  still  of  almost  incredible  beauty. 

I  went  to  S.  Giovanni  by  the  directest  way — de- 
scending, that  is,  to  the  level  of  the  Stura,  crossing 
it,  and  then  going  straight  up  the  mountain.  I 
returned  by  a  slight  detour  so  as  to  take  the  village 
of  Fucine,  a  frazione  of  Viu  a  little  higher  up  the 
river.  I  found  many  picturesque  bits ;  among  them 
the  one  which  I  here  give.  It  was  a  grand y^^/^ ;  first 
they  had  had  mass,  then  there  had  been  xho.  fu7izioniy 
which  I  never  quite  understand,  and  thenceforth  till 
sundown  there  was  a  public  ball  on  the  bowling 
ground  of  a  little  inn  on  the  Viu  side  of  the  bridge. 
The  principal  inn  is  on  the  other  side.  It  was  here 
I  went  and  ordered  dinner.  The  landlady  brought 
me  a  minestra,  or  hodge-podge  soup,  full  of  savoury 
vegetables,  and  very  good  ;  a  nice  cutlet  fried  in  bread- 
crumbs, bread  and  butter  ad  libitMin,  and  half  a 
bottle  of  excellent  wine.  She  brought  all  together 
on  a  tray,  and  put  them  down  on  the  table.     "  It'll 


VIU  AND  NEIGHBOURHOOD. 


213 


come  to  a  franc,"  said  she,  "  in  all,  but  please  to  pay 
first."  I  did  so,  of  course,  and  she  was  satisfied. 
A   day  or  two  afterwards  I  went  to  the  same   inn, 


FUCINE,   NEAR  VIU. 


hoping  to  dine  as  well  and  cheaply  as   before ;   but 
I    think   they   must   have   discovered   that    I    was   a 


214  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

'' forestiere  Inglese''  in  the  meantime,  for  they  did  not 
make  me  pay  first,  and  charged  me  normal  prices. 

What  pretty  words  they  have !  While  eating  my 
dinner  I  wanted  a  small  plate  and  asked  for  it.  The 
landlady  changed  the  word  I  had  used,  and  told  a 
girl  to  bring  me  a  "tondino."  A  "tondino"  is  an 
abbreviation  of  "  rotondino,"  a  "  little  round  thing." 
A  plate  is  a  "tondo,"  a  small  plate  a  "tondino."  The 
delicacy  of  expression  which  their  diminutives  and 
intensitives  give  is  untranslateable.  One  day  I  was 
asking  after  a  waiter  whom  I  had  known  in  previous 
years,  but  who  was  ill.  I  said  I  hoped  he  was  not 
badly  off.  "  Oh  dear,  no,"  was  the  answer ;  **  he  has 
a  discreta  posizionina  " — "  a  snug  little  sum  put  by." 
"Is  the  road  to  such  and  such  a  place  difficult?" 
I  once  inquired.  "  Un  tantino,"  was  the  answer. 
"  Ever  such  a  very  little,"  I  suppose,  is  as  near  as  we 
can  get  to  this.  At  one  inn  I  asked  whether  I  could 
have  my  linen  back  from  the  wash  by  a  certain  time, 
and  was  told  it  was  "  impossibilissimo."  I  have  an 
Italian  friend  long  resident  in  England  who  often  in- 
troduces English  words  when  talking  with  me  in  Italian. 
Thus  I  have  heard  him  say  that  such  and  such  a  thing 
is  "  tanto  cheapissimo."  As  for  their  gestures,  they 
are  inimitable.     To  say  nothing  of  the  pretty  little  way 


VIU  AND  NEIGHBOURHOOD.  215 

in  which  they  say  "  no,"  by  moving  the  forefinger 
backwards  and  forwards  once  or  twice,  they  have  a 
hundred  movements  to  save  themselves  the  trouble  of 
speaking,  which  say  what  they  have  to  say  better  than 
any  words  can  do.  It  is  delightful  to  see  an  Italian 
move  his  hand  in  such  way  as  to  show  you  that  you 
have  got  to  go  round  a  corner.  Gesture  is  easier  both 
to  make  and  to  understand  than  speech  is.  Speech  is 
a  late  acquisition,  and  in  critical  moments  is  commonly 
discarded  in  favour  of  gesture,  which  is  older  and 
more  habitual. 

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 


2i6  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

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  carry- 
ing 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 


VIU  AND  NEIGHBOURHOOD.  217 

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  pilgrim- 
ages 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  /es^a — 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  pro- 
bably 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  Mastellone,  and  more  espe- 


21 8  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

cially  between  Ceviasco  (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  church- 
yards, and  thatch  is  the  rule,  not  the  exception.  At 
Rimella  in  the  Val  Mastellone,  not  far  off,  German 
is  still  the  current  language.  As  I  sat  sketching,  a 
woman  came  up  to  me,  and  said,  "  Was  machen  sie  ?  " 
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 
it  was  the  language  of  many  other  villages  at  the 
heads  of  valleys,  even  though  these  valleys  were 
themselves    entirely   surrounded    by   Italian-speaking 


VIU  AND  NEIGHBOURHOOD.  219 

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  XV. 

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. 


SANCTUARY  OF  OROPA.  221 

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 


222  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

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  bring- 
ing 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  sue- 
cession  of  villages  almost  running  into  one  another 
for  a  long  way  after  Biella  was  passed,  but  every- 
where 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 


SANCTUARY  OF  OROPA.  223 

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  chest- 
nuts ;  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  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  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   reli- 


224  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

gious  trinket-mongers  increased ;  the  blind,  halt,  and 
maimed  became  more  importunate,  and  the  foot-pas- 
sengers 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 


SANCTUARY  OF  OROPA. 


225 


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 


FACADE  OF  THE  SANCTUARY  OF  OROPA. 


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 


226  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

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  fa9ade  of  what  is  now  the  second 
or  inner  court.  This  fa9ade  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  colon- 
nade, 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  fagade.  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, 


SANCTUARY  OF  OROPA. 


227 


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  con- 
sidering the  numbers  of  comers  and  goers ;  besides, 


INNER  COURT  OF  SANCTUARY  OF  OROPA. 


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  XVI. 


OROPA  — contin  tied. 

On  the  east  side  of  the  main  block  of  buildinors  there 
is  a  grassy  slope  adorned  with  chapels  that  con- 
tain figures  illustrating  scenes  in  the  history  of  the 
Virorin.  These  fio^ures  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 


CHAPELS   AT   OROPA. 


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  fiofures  would  have 


OROPA.  229 

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  con- 
ventionalism 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 


230  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

is  complete,  but  in  some  of  the  chapels  at  Varece  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  illus- 
trative 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 


OROPA.  231 

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 


232  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

feet  above  the  main  buildinors,  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  miorht  extract  from  it  the  higrher  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 


OROPA.  233 

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,'"  and  which  endure  to  this  day,  such  as  is  its  im- 
munity 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 

*  "  Dalle  meraviglie  finalmente  che  sono  inerenti  al  simulacro'stesso." 
— Cenni  storico  artistic!  intorno  al  santuario  di  Oropa.  (Prof.  Maurizio, 
Marocco.     Turin,  Milan,  1866,  p.  329.) 


234  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

after    the    image    of    Oropa   had    been    known    and 
venerated  !     This  is  indeed  an  anachronism. 

"  Other  difficulties  drawn  either  from  the  ancient 
discipHne  of  the  Church,  or  from  St.  Luke  the 
EvangeHst'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.  §  2) ;  secondly,  that  as  the  medical  pro- 
fession 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."  "'' 

*  Marocco,  p.  331. 


OROPA.  235 

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 — i.  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  com- 
petent 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." 


236  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

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  ac- 
cordingly 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  con- 
tinually smiling  at  the  manner  in  which  almost  any- 
thing 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 


OROPA.  237 

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  ex- 
pelled 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  halfpenny.  For  carrying  wood, 
&c.,  either  a  halfpenny  or  a  penny  will  be  exacted 
according  to  the  time  taken.  Payment  for  these  ser- 
vices 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 


238  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

room.    Candles  and  wood  may  be  bought  at  a  fixed 
price. 

Any  one  wishing  to  give  anything  to  the  support  of 
the  hospice  must  do  so  only  to  the  director,  the  official 
who  appoints  the  apartments,  the  dean  or  the  cappel- 
lani,  or  to  the  inspectress  of  the  daughters  of  Oropa, 
but  they  must  have  a  receipt  for  even  the  smallest 
sum ;  almsboxes,  however,  are  placed  here  and  there, 
into  which  the  smaller  offerings  may  be  dropped  (we 
imagine  this  means  anything  under  a  franc). 

The  poor  will  be  fed  as  well  as  housed  for  three 
days  gratuitously — provided  their  health  does  not 
require  a  longer  stay ;  but  they  must  not  beg  on  the 
premises  of  the  hospice ;  professional  beggars  will  be 
at  once  handed  over  to  the  mendicity  society  in  Biella, 
or  even  perhaps  to  prison.  The  poor  for  whom  a 
hydropathic  course  is  recommended,  can  have  it  under 
the  regulations  made  by  the  committee — that  is  to 
say,  if  there  is  a  vacant  place. 

There  are  trattorie  and  cafes  at  the  hospice,  where 
refreshments  may  be  obtained  both  good  and  cheap. 
Meat  is  to  be  sold  there  at  the  prices  current  in  Biella  ; 
bread  at  two  centimes  the  chilogramma  more,  to  pay 
for  the  cost  of  carriage. 

Such  are  the  bye-laws  of  this  remarkable  institution. 


OROPA.  239 

Few  except  the  very  rich  are  so  under-worked 
that  two  or  three  days  of  change  and  rest  are 
not  at  times  a  boon  to  them,  while  the  mere  know- 
ledge that  there  is  a  place  where  repose  can  be 
had  cheaply  and  pleasantly  is  itself  a  source  of 
strength.  Here,  so  long  as  the  visitor  wishes  to  be 
merely  housed,  no  questions  are  asked ;  no  one  is  re- 
fused admittance,  except  for  some  obviously  sufficient 
reason  ;  it  is  like  getting  a  reading  ticket  for  the 
British  Museum,  there  is  practically  but  one  test — 
that  is  to  say,  desire  on  the  part  of  the  visitor — the 
coming  proves  the  desire,  and  this  suffices.  A  family, 
we  will  say,  has  just  gathered  its  first  harvest;  the 
heat  on  the  plains  is  intense,  and  the  malaria  from 
the  rice  grounds  little  less  than  pestilential ;  what, 
then,  can  be  nicer  than  to  lock  up  the  house  and 
go  for  three  days  to  the  bracing  mountain  air  of 
Oropa  ?  So  at  daybreak  off  they  all  start,  trudging, 
it  may  be,  their  thirty  or  forty  miles,  and  reaching 
Oropa  by  nightfall.  If  there  is  a  weakly  one  among 
them,  some  arrangement  is  sure  to  be  practicable 
whereby  he  or  she  can  be  helped  to  follow  more 
leisurely,  and  can  remain  longer  at  the  hospice. 
Once  arrived,  they  generally,  it  is  true,  go  the  round 
of  the  chapels,  and  make  some  slight  show  of  pilgrim- 


240  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

age,  but  the  main  part  of  their  time  is  spent  in  doing 
absolutely  nothing.  It  is  sufficient  amusement  to  them 
to  sit  on  the  steps,  or  lie  about  under  the  shadow  of 
the  trees,  and  neither  say  anything  nor  do  anything, 
but  simply  breathe,  and  look  at  the  sky  and  at  each 
other.  We  saw  scores  of  such  people  just  resting 
instinctively  in  a  kind  of  blissful  waking  dream. 
Others  saunter  along  the  walks  which  have  been 
cut  in  the  woods  that  surround  the  hospice,  or  if 
they  have  been  pent  up  in  a  town  and  have  a  fancy 
for  climbing,  there  are  mountain  excursions,  for  the 
making  of  which  the  hospice  affords  excellent  head- 
quarters, and  which  are  looked  upon  with  every 
favour  by  the  authorities. 

It  must  be  remembered  also  that  the  accommoda- 
tion provided  at  Oropa  is  much  better  than  what  the 
people  are,  for  the  most  part,  accustomed  to  in  their 
own  homes,  and  the  beds  are  softer,  more  often  beaten 
up,  and  cleaner  than  those  they  have  left  behind  them. 
Besides,  they  have  sheets — and  beautifully  clean  sheets. 
Those  who  know  the  sort  of  place  in  which  an  Italian 
peasant  is  commonly  content  to  sleep,  will  understand 
how  much  he  must  enjoy  a  really  clean  and  comfortable 
bed,  especially  when  he  has  not  got  to  pay  for  it.  Sleep, 
in  the  circumstances  of  comfort  which  most  readers 


OROPA.  241 

will  be  accustomed  to,  is  a  more  expensive  thing  than 
is  commonly  supposed.  If  we  sleep  eight  hours  in 
a  London  hotel  we  shall  have  to  pay  from  4d.  to  6d. 
an  hour,  or  from  id.  to  ijd.  for  every  fifteen  minutes 
we  lie  in  bed ;  nor  is  it  reasonable  to  believe  that 
the  charge  is  excessive,  when  we  consider  the  vast 
amount  of  competition  which  exists.  There  is  many 
a  man  the  expenses  of  whose  daily  meat,  drink,  and 
clothinof  are  less  than  what  an  accountant  would  show 
us  we,  many  of  us,  lay  out  nightly  upon  our  sleep. 
The  cost  of  really  comfortable  sleep-necessaries  can- 
not, of  course,  be  nearly  so  great  at  Oropa  as  in  a 
London  hotel,  but  they  are  enough  to  put  them 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  peasant  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  and  he  relishes  them  all  the  more  when 
he  can  get  them. 

But  why,  it  may  be  asked,  should  the  peasant  have 
these  things  if  he  cannot  afford  to  pay  for  them  ;  and 
why  should  he  not  pay  for  them  if  he  can  afford 
to  do  so?  If  such  places  as  Oropa  were  common, 
would  not  lazy  vagabonds  spend  their  lives  in  going 
the  rounds  of  them,  &c.,  &c.  ?  Doubtless  if  there 
were  many  Oropas,  they  would  do  more  harm  than 
good,  but  there  are  some  things  which  answer  per- 
fectly well  as  rarities  or  on  a  small  scale,  out  of  which 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


all  the  virtue  would  depart  if  they  were  common  or  on  a 
larger  one ;  and  certainly  the  impression  left  upon  our 
minds  by  Oropa  was  that  its  effects  were  excellent. 

Granted  the  sound  rule  to  be  that  a  man  should 
pay  for  what  he  has,  or  go  without  it ;  in  practice, 
however,  it  is  found  impossible  to  carry  this  rule  out 
strictly.  Why  does  the  nation  give  A.  B.,  for 
instance,  and  all  comers  a  large,  comfortable,  well- 
ventilated,  warm  room  to  sit  in,  with  chair,  table,  read- 
ing-desk, &c.,  all  more  commodious  than  what  he  may 
have  at  home,  without  making  him  pay  a  sixpence  for 
it  directly  from  year's  end  to  year's  end  ?  The  three 
or  nine  days'  visit  to  Oropa  is  a  trifle  in  comparison 
with  what  we  can  all  of  us  obtain  in  London  if  we 
care  about  it  enough  to  take  a  very  small  amount  of 
trouble.  True,  one  cannot  sleep  in  the  reading-room 
of  the  British  Museum — not  all  night,  at  least — but  by 
day  one  can  make  a  home  of  it  for  years  together  except 
during  cleaning  times,  and  then  it  is  hard  if  one  cannot 
get  into  the  National  Gallery  or  South  Kensington,  and 
be  warm,  quiet,  and  entertained  without  paying  for  it. 

It  will  be  said  that  it  is  for  the  national  interest 
that  people  should  have  access  "to  treasuries  of  art  or 
knowledge,  and  therefore  it  is  worth  the  nation's  while 
to  pay  for   placing   the   means   of  doing  so  at  their 


OROPA.  243 

disposal ;  granted,  but  is  not  a  good  bed  one  of  the 
great  ends  of  knowledge,  whereto  it  must  work,  if  it  is 
to  be  accounted  knowledofe  at  all  ?  and  is  it  not  worth 
a  nation's  while  that  her  children  should  now  and 
again  have  practical  experience  of  a  higher  state  of 
things  than  the  one  they  are  accustomed  to,  and  a  few 
days'  rest  and  change  of  scene  and  air,  even  though 
she  may  from  time  to  time  have  to  pay  something  in 
order  to  enable  them  to  do  so  ?  There  can  be  few 
books  which  do  an  averagely-educated  Englishman 
so  much  good,  as  the  glimpse  of  comfort  which  he  gets 
by  sleeping  in  a  good  bed  in  a  well-appointed  room 
does  to  an  Italian  peasant;  such  a  glimpse  gives  him 
an  idea  of  higher  potentialities  in  connection  with 
himself,  and  nerves  him  to  exertions  which  he  would 
not  otherwise  make.  On  the  whole,  therefore,  we  con- 
cluded that  if  the  British  Museum  reading-room  was 
in  good  economy,  Oropa  was  so  also  ;  at  any  rate,  it 
seemed  to  be  making  a  large  number  of  very  nice 
people  quietly  happy — and  it  is  hard  to  say  more  than 
this  in  favour  of  any  place  or  institution. 

The  idea  of  any  sudden  change  is  as  repulsive  to 
us  as  it  will  be  to  the  greater  number  of  my  readers ; 
but  if  asked  whether  we  thought  our  English  univer- 
sities would  do  most  good  in  their  present  condition 


244  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

as  places  of  so-called  education,  or  if  they  were  turned 
into  Oropas,  and  all  the  educational  part  of  the  story 
totally  suppressed,  we  inclined  to  think  they  would  be 
more  popular  and  more  useful  in  this  latter  capacity. 
We  thought  also  that  Oxford  and  Cambridge  were 
just  the  places,  and  contained  all  the  appliances  and 
endowments  almost  ready  made  for  constituting  two 
splendid  and  truly  imperial  cities  of  recreation — uni- 
versities in  deed  as  well  as  in  name.  Nevertheless, 
we  should  not  venture  to  propose  any  further  actual 
reform  during  the  present  generation  than  to  carry 
the  principle  which  is  already  admitted  as  regards 
the  M.A.  degree  a  trifle  further,  and  to  make  the 
B.  A.  degree  a  mere  matter  of  lapse  of  time  and  fees 
— leaving  the  little  go,  and  whatever  corresponds  to 
it  at  Oxford,  as  the  final  examination.  This  would  be 
enough  for  the  present. 

There  is  another  sanctuary  about  three  hours'  walk 
over  the  mountain  behind  Oropa,  at  Andorno,  and 
dedicated  to  St.  John.  We  were  prevented  by  the 
weather  from  visiting  it,  but  understand  that  its  ob- 
ects  are  much  the  same  as  those  of  the  institution  I 
have  just  described.  I  will  now  proceed  to  the  third 
sanctuary  for  which  the  neighbourhood  of  Biella  is 
renowned. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

GRAGLIA. 

The  sanctuary  of  Graglia  is  reached  in  about  two 
hours  from  Biella.  There  are  daily  diligences.  It  is 
not  so  celebrated  as  that  of  Oropa,  nor  does  it  stand  so 
high  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  but  it  is  a  remarkable 
place  and  well  deserves  a  visit.  The  restaurant  is 
perfect — the  best,  indeed,  that  I  ever  saw  in  North 
Italy,  or,  I  think,  anywhere  else.  I  had  occasion  to  go 
into  the  kitchen,  and  could  not  see  how  anything  could 
beat  it  for  the  most  absolute  cleanliness  and  order. 
Certainly  I  never  dined  better  than  at  the  sanctuary 
of  Graglia  ;  and  one  dines  all  the  more  pleasantly 
for  doing  so  on  a  lovely  terrace  shaded  by  trellised 
creepers,  and  overlooking  Lombardy. 

I  find  from  a  small  handbook  by  Signor  Giuseppe 
Muratori,  that  the  present  institution,  like  that  of 
S.  Michele,  and  almost  all  things  else  that  achieve 
success,  was  founded  upon  the  work  of  a  predecessor, 
and  became  great  not  in  one,  but  in  several  genera- 
tions.    The  site  was  already  venerated  on  account  of 


246  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

a  chapel  in  honour  of  the  Vergine  addolorata  which 
had  existed  here  from  very  early  times.  A  certain 
Nicolao  Velotti,  about  the  year  1616,  formed  the  design 
of  reproducing  Mount  Calvary  on  this  spot,  and  of 
erecting  perhaps  a  hundred  chapels  with  terra-cotta 
figures  in  them.  The  famous  Valsesian  sculptor, 
Tabacchetti,  and  his  pupils,  the  brothers  Giovanni  and 
Antonio  (commonly  called  "Tanzio"),  D'Enrico  of 
Riva  in  the  Val  Sesia,  all  of  whom  had  recently  been 
working  at  the  sanctuary  of  Varallo,  were  invited  to 
Graglia,  and  later  on,  another  eminent  native  of  the 
Val  Sesia,  Pietro  Giuseppe  Martello.  These  artists 
appear  to  have  done  a  good  deal  of  work  here,  of 
which  nothing  now  remains  visible  to  the  public, 
though  it  is  possible  that  in  the  chapel  of  S.  Carlo  and 
the  closed  chapels  on  the  way  to  it,  there  may  be  some 
statues  lying  neglected  which  I  know  nothing  about. 
I  was  told  of  no  such  work,  but  when  I  was  at  Graglia 
I  did  not  know  that  the  above-named  great  men  had 
ever  worked  there,  and  made  no  inquiries.  It  is 
quite  possible  that  all  the  work  they  did  here  has  not 
perished. 

The  means  at  the  disposal  of  the  people  of  Graglia 
were  insufficient  for  the  end  they  had  in  view,  but 
subscriptions    came    in    freely    from    other  quarters. 


GRAGLIA.  24,7 

Among  the  valuable  rights,  liberties,  privileges,  and 
immunities  that  were  conferred  upon  the  institution, 
was  one  which  in  itself  was  a  source  of  unfailing  and 
considerable  revenue,  namely,  the  right  of  setting  a 
robber  free  once  in  every  year ;  also,  the  authorities 
there  were  allowed  to  sell  all  kinds  of  wine  and  eatables 
(rode  mangiative)  without  paying  duty  upon  them.  As 
far  as  I  can  understand,  the  main  work  of  Velotti's  is 
the  chapel  of  S.  Carlo,  on  the  top  of  a  hill  some  few 
hundred  feet  above  the  present  establishment.  I  give 
a  sketch  of  this  chapel  here, 
but  was  not  able  to  include  •  ~^'  :■  r - 
the  smaller  chapels  which  lead  I  (^^y^i^^hm  "'-^'-'i^  •-- 
Up  to  It.  2^3::^^is^JM#;^ 

A     few     years     later,     one  MjMM^^fe^^ 
Nicolao  Garono  built  a  small  ■«-'*-i- 

CHAPEL  OF  S,  CARLO  AT  GRAGLL\. 

oratory    at    Campra,   which  is 

nearer  to  Biella  than  Graglia  is.  He  dedicated  it  to 
S.  Maria  della  Neve — to  St.  Mary  of  the  Snow. 
This  became  more  frequented  than  Graglia  itself, 
and  the  feast  of  the  Virgin  on  the  5th  August  was 
exceedingly  popular.     Signor  Muratori  says  of  it : — 

"This  is  the  popular  feast  of  Graglia,  and  I  can 
remember  how  but  a  few  years  since  it  retained 
on  a  small  scale  all  the  features  of  the  "  sacre  cam- 


248  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

pestrV'  of  the  Middle  Ages.  For  some  time  past, 
however,  the  stricter  customs  which  have  been  intro- 
duced here  no  less  than  in  other  Piedmontese  villages 
have  robbed  this  feast  (as  how  many  more  popular 
feasts  has  it  not  also  robbed  ?)  of  that  original  and  spon- 
taneous character  in  which  a  jovial  heartiness  and  a 
diffusive  interchangre  of  the  affections  came  wellino;- 
forth  from  all  abundantly.  In  spite  of  all,  however, 
and  notwithstanding  its  decline,  the  feast  of  the 
Madonna  is  even  now  one  of  those  rare  orathering's — 
the  only  one,  perhaps,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Biella 
— to  which  the  pious  Christian  and  the  curious  idler 
are  alike  attracted,  and  where  they  will  alike  find 
appropriate  amusement."'^'' 

How  Miltonic,  not  to  say  Handelian,  is  this  attitude 
towards  the  Pagan  tendencies  which,  it  is  clear,  pre- 

*  "  Questa  h  la  festa  populare  di  Graglia,  e  pochi  anni  addietro  ancora 
ricordava  in  miniatura  le  feste  populari  delle  sacre  campestii  del  medio 
evo.  Da  qualche  anno  in  qua,  il  costume  piii  severo  che  s'  introdusse 
in  questi  paesi  non  meno  die  in  tutti  gli  altri  del  Picmonte,  tolse  non 
poco  del  carattere  originale  di  questa  come  di  tante  altre  festivitk  popo- 
lesclie,  nelle  quali  erompeva  spontanea  da  tutti  i  cuori  la  diffusiva 
vicendevolezza  degli  afifetti,  e  la  sincera  giovalitk  dei  sentimenti.  Cio 
non  pertanto,  malgrado  si  fatta  deadenza  la  festa  della  Madonna  di 
Campra  h.  ancor  al  presente  una  di  quelle  rare  adunanze  sentimentali, 
unica  forse  nel  Biellese,  alle  quali  accorre  volentieri  e  ritrova  pascolo 
appropriate  il  cristiano  divoto  non  meno  chi  il  curioso  viagglatore."  (Del 
Santuario  di  Graglia  Notizie  Istoriche  di  Giuseppe  Muratori.  Torino, 
Stamperia  reale,  1848,  p.  18.) 


GRAGLIA.  249 

(iominated  at  the/es^a  of  St.  Mary  of  the  Snow.  In 
old  days  a  feast  was  meant  to  be  a  time  of  actual 
merriment — a  praising  "  with  mirth,  high  cheer,  and 
wine."  ^''  Milton  felt  this  a  little,  and  Handel  much. 
To  them  an  opportunity  for  a  little  paganism  is  like 
the  scratching  of  a  mouse  to  the  princess  who  had 
been  born  a  cat.  Off  they  go  after  it — more  especially 
Handel — under  some  decent  pretext  no  doubt,  but  as 
fast,  nevertheless,  as  their  art  can  carry  them.  As  for 
Handel,  he  had  not  only  a  sympathy  for  paganism,  but 
for  the  shades  and  gradations  of  paganism.  What, 
for  example,  can  be  a  completer  contrast  than  between 
the  polished  and  refined  Roman  paganism  in  Theo- 
dora,t  the  rustic  paganism  of  **  Bid  the  maids  the 
youths  provoke "  in  Hercules,  the  magician's  or 
sorcerer's  paganism  of  the  blue  furnace  in  "  Chemosh 
no  more,"  I  or  the  Dagon  choruses  in  Samson — to  say 
nothing  of  a  score  of  other  examples  that  might  be 
easily  adduced  ?  Yet  who  can  doubt  the  sincerity 
and  even  fervour  of  either  Milton's  or  Handel's  re- 
ligious convictions  ?  The  attitude  assumed  by  these 
men,  and  by  the  better  class  of  Romanists,  seems  to 
have  become  impossible  to  Protestants  since  the  time 
of  Dr.  Arnold. 

*  Samson  Agonistes.    t  "  Venus  laughing  from  the  skies."    |  Jephthah. 


2  50  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

I  once  saw  a  church  dedicated  to  St.  Francis. 
Outside  it,  over  the  main  door,  there  was  a  fresco  of 
the  saint  receiving  the  stigmata ;  his  eyes  were  up- 
turned in  a  fine  ecstasy  to  the  illuminated  spot  in  the 
heavens  whence  the  causes  of  the  Stigmata  were 
coming.  The  church  was  insured,  and  the  man 
who  had  affixed  the  plate  of  the  Insurance  office 
had  put  it  at  the  precise  spot  in  the  sky  to  which 
St.  Francis's  eyes  were  turned,  so  that  the  plate 
appeared  to  be  the  main  cause  of  his  ecstasy.  Who 
cared  ?  No  one ;  until  a  carping  Englishman  came 
to  the  place,  and  thought  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  be 
scandalised,  or  to  pretend  to  be  so  ;  on  this  the  autho- 
rities were  made  very  uncomfortable,  and  changed  the 
position  of  the  plate.  Granted  that  the  Englishman 
was  right ;  granted,  in  fact,  that  we  are  more  logical ; 
this  amounts  to  saying  that  we  are  more  rickety,  and 
must  walk  more  supported  by  cramp-irons.  All  the 
"  earnestness,"  and  "  intenseness,"  and  "  sestheticism," 
and  "culture  "  (for  they  are  in  the  end  one)  of  the  present 
day,  are  just  so  many  attempts  to  conceal  weakness. 

But  to  return.  The  Church  of  St.  Mary  of  the 
Snow  at  Campra  was  incorporated  into  the  Graglia 
institution  in  1628.  There  was  originally  no  con- 
nection between  the  two,  and  it  was  not  long  before 


GRAGLIA.  251 

the  later  church  became  more  popular  than  the  earlier, 
insomuch  that  the  work  at  Graelia  was  allowed  to 
fall  out  of  repair.  On  the  death  of  Velotti  the  scheme 
languished,  and  by  and  by,  instead  of  building  more 
chapels,  it  was  decided  that  it  would  be  enough  to 
keep  in  repair  those  that  were  already  built.  These, 
as  I  have  said,  are  the  chapels  of  S.  Carlo,  and  the 
small  ones  which  are  now  seen  upon  the  way  up  to  it, 
but  they  are  all  in  a  semi-ruinous  state. 

Besides  the  Church  of  St.  Mary  of  the  Snow  at 
Campra,  there  was  another  which  was  an  exact  copy 
of  the  Santa  Casa  di  Loreto,  and  where  there  was  a 
remarkable  echo  which  would  repeat  a  word  of  ten 
syllables  when  the  wind  was  quiet.  This  was  exactly 
on  the  site  of  the  present  sanctuary.  It  seemed  a 
better  place  for  the  continuation  of  Velotti's  work 
than  the  one  he  had  himself  chosen  for  it,  inasmuch 
as  it  was  where  Signor  Muratori  so  well  implies  a 
centre  of  devotion  ought  to  be,  namely,  in  "a  milder 
climate,  and  in  a  spot  which  offers  more  resistance  to 
the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  and  is  better  adapted 
to  attract  and  retain  the  concourse  of  the  faithful." 

The  design  of  the  present  church  was  made  by  an 
architect  of  the  name  of  Arduzzi,  in  the  year  1654, 
and   the  first  stone  was  laid  in   1659.     In    1687  the 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


right  of  liberating  a  bandit  every  year  had  been  found 
to  be  productive  of  so  much  mischief  that  it  was 
discontinued,  and  a  yearly  contribution  of  two  hun- 
dred /i7'e  was  substituted.  The  church  was  not 
completed  until  the  second  half  of  the  last  century, 
when  the  cupola  was  finished  mainly  through  the 
energy  of  a  priest,  Carlo  Giuseppe  Gastaldi  of  Netro. 
This  poor  man  came  to  his  end  in  a  rather  singular 
way.  He  was  dozing  for  a  few  minutes  upon  a 
scaffolding,  and  being  awakened  by  a  sudden  noise, 
he  started  up,  lost  his  balance,  and  fell  over  on  to 
the  pavement  below.  He  died  a  few  days  later,  on 
the  17th  of  October,  either  1787  or  1778,  I  cannot 
determine  which,  through  a  misprint  in  Muratori's 
account. 

The  work  was  now  virtually  finished,  and  the 
buildings  were  much  as  they  are  seen  now,  except 
that  a  third  storey  was  added  to  the  hospice  about  the 
year  1840.  It  is  in  the  hospice  that  the  apartments 
are  in  which  visitors  are  lodged.  I  was  shown  all 
over  them,  and  found  them  not  only  comfortable  but 
luxurious — decidedly  more  so  than  those  of  Oropa  ; 
there  was  the  same  cleanliness  everywhere  which  I 
had  noticed  in  the  restaurant.  As  one  stands  at 
the  windows  or  on  the  balconies  and  looks  down  on 


GRAGLIA. 


253 


to  the  tops  of  the  chestnuts,  and  over  these  to  the 
plains,  one  feels  almost  as  if  one  could  fly  out  of 
the  window  like  a  bird ;  for  the  slope  of  the  hills  is  so 
rapid  that  one  has  a  sense  of  being  already  suspended 
in  mid-air. 


SANCTUARY  OF  GRAGLIA. 


I  thouorht  I  observed  a  desire  to  attract  Encjlish 
visitors  in  the  pictures  which  I  saw  in  the  bedrooms. 
Thus  there  was  "  A  view  of  the  black  lead  mine  in 
Cumberland,"  a  coloured  English  print  of  the  end 
of  the  last  century  or  the  beginning  of  this,  after, 
I  think,   Loutherbourg,   and  in    several   rooms   there 


254  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

were  Enalish  eng^ravinofs  after  Martin.  The  Ens^lish 
will  not,  I  think,  regret  if  they  yield  to  these  attrac- 
tions. They  will  find  the  air  cool,  shady  walks,  good 
food,  and  reasonable  prices.  Their  rooms  will  not  be 
charged  for,  but  they  will  do  well  to  give  the  same  as 
they  would  have  paid  at  a  hotel.  I  saw  in  one  room 
one  of  those  flippant,  frivolous,  Lorenzo  de'  Medici 
matchboxes  on  which  there  was  a  gaudily-coloured 
nymph  in  high-heeled  boots  and  tights,  smoking  a 
cigarette.  Feeling  that  I  was  in  a  sanctuary,  I  was 
a  little  surprised  that  such  a  matchbox  should  have 
been  tolerated.  I  suppose  it  had  been  left  behind 
by  some  guest.  I  should  myself  select  a  matchbox 
with  the  Nativity,  or  the  Flight  into  Egypt  upon  it, 
if  I  were  going  to  stay  a  week  or  so  at  Graglia.  I  do 
not  think  I  can  have  looked  surprised  or  scandalised, 
but  the  worthy  official  who  was  with  me  could  just 
see  that  there  was  something  on  my  mind.  "  Do 
you  want  a  match  ?  "  said  he,  immediately  reaching 
me  the  box.  I  helped  myself,  and  the  matter  dropped. 
There  were  many  fewer  people  at  Graglia  than  at 
Oropa,  and  they  were  richer.  I  did  not  see  any  poor 
about,  but  I  may  have  been  there  during  a  slack 
time.  An  impression  was  left  upon  me,  though  I 
cannot   say  whether   it  was   well   or  ill   founded,    as 


GRAGLIA.  255 

thoiiofh  there  were  a  tacit  understanding-  between  the 
estabHshments  at  Oropa  and  Graglia  that  the  one  was 
to  adapt  itself  to  the  poorer,  and  the  other  to  the 
richer  classes  of  society  ;  and  this  not  from  any  sordid 
motive,  but  from  a  recognition  of  the  fact  that  any 
great  amount  of  intermixture  between  the  poor  and 
the  rich  is  not  found  satisfactory  to  either  one  or  the 
other.  Any  wide  difference  in  fortune  does  practically 
amount  to  a  specific  difference,  which  renders  the 
members  of  either  species  more  or  less  suspicious  of 
those  of  the  other,  and  seldom  fertile  mUr  se.  The 
well-to-do  working-man  can  help  his  poorer  friends 
better  than  we  can.  If  an  educated  man  has  money 
to  spare,  he  will  apply  it  better  in  helping  poor 
educated  people  than  those  wlio  are  more  strictly 
called  the  poor.  As  long  as  the  world  is  progressing, 
wide  class  distinctions  are  inevitable ;  their  discon- 
tinuance will  be  a  sign  that  equilibrium  has  been 
reached.  Then  human  civilisation  will  become  as 
stationary  as  that  of  ants  and  bees.  Some  may 
say  it  will  be  very  sad  when  this  is  so ;  others,  that 
it  will  be  a  good  thing;  in  truth,  it  is  good  either 
way,  for  progress  and  equilibrium  have  each  of  them 
advantages  and  disadvantages  which  make  it  impos- 
sible to  assign  superiority  to  either ;  but  in  both  cases 


256  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

the  good  greatly  overbalances  the  evil ;  for  in  both 
the  great  majority  will  be  fairly  well  contented,  and 
would  hate  to  live  under  any  other  system. 

Equilibrium,  if  it  is  ever  reached,  will  be  attained 
very  slowly,  and  the  importance  of  any  change  in  a 
system  depends  entirely  upon  the  rate  at  which  it 
is  made.  No  amount  of  change  shocks — or,  in  other 
words,  is  important — if  it  is  made  sufficiently  slowly, 
while  hardly  any  change  is  too  small  to  shock  if  it 
is  made  suddenly.  We  may  go  down  a  ladder  of 
ten  thousand  feet  in  height  if  we  do  so  step  by 
step,  while  a  sudden  fall  of  six  or  seven  feet  may 
kill  us.  The  importance,  therefore,  does  not  lie  in 
the  change,  but  in  the  abruptness  of  its  introduction. 
Nothing  is  absolutely  important  or  absolutely  unim- 
portant ;  absolutely  good,  or  absolutely  bad. 

This  is  not  what  we  like  to  contemplate.  The 
instinct  of  those  whose  religion  and  culture  are  on 
the  surface  only  is  to  conceive  that  they  have  found, 
or  can  find,  an  absolute  and  eternal  standard,  about 
which  they  can  be  as  earnest  as  they  choose.  They 
would  have  even  the  pains  of  hell  eternal  if  they 
could.  If  there  had  been  any  means  discoverable 
by  which  they  could  torment  themselves  beyond 
endurance,  we   may  be  sure  they  would  long  since 


GRAGLIA.  257 

have  found  it  out ;  but  fortunately  there  is  a  stronger 
power  which  bars  them  inexorably  from  their  desire, 
and  which  has  ensured  that  intolerable  pain  shall 
last  only  for  a  very  little  while.  For  either  the  circum- 
Scances  or  the  sufferer  will  change  after  no  long  time. 
If  the  circumstances  are  intolerable,  the  sufferer  dies  : 
if  they  are  not  intolerable,  he  becomes  accustomed 
to  them,  and  will  cease  to  feel  them  grievously.  No 
matter  what  the  burden,  there  always  has  been,  and 
always  must  be,  a  way  for  us  also  to  escape. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

SOAZZA   AND    THE    VALLEY   OF  MESOCCO. 

I  REGRET  that  I  have  not  space  for  any  of  the  sketches 
I  took  at  BelHnzona,  than  which  few  towns  are  more 
full  of  admirable  subjects.  The  *'  Hotel  de  la  Ville  " 
is  an  excellent  house,  and  the  town  is  well  adapted 
for  an  artist's  headquarters.  Turner's  two  water- 
colour  drawings  of  BelHnzona  in  the  National  Gallery 
are  doubtless  very  fine  as  works  of  art,  but  they 
are  not  like  BelHnzona,  the  spirit  of  which  place 
(though  not  the  letter)  is  better  represented  by  the 
background  to  Basaiti's  Madonna  and  child,  also  in 
our  gallery,  supposing  the  castle  on  the  hill  to  have 
gone  to  ruin. 

Almost  all  days  in  the  subalpine  valleys  of  North 
Italy  have  a  beauty  with  them  of  some  kind  or 
another,  but  none  are  more  lovely  than  a  quiet  gray 
day  just  at  the  beginning  of  autumn,  when  the  clouds 
are  drawing  lazily  and  in  the  softest  fleeces  over  the 
pine  forests  high  up  on  the  mountain  sides.     On  such 


SOAZZA  AND  VALLEY  OF  MESOCCO.  259 

days  the  mountains  are  very  dark  till  closs  up  to  the 
level  of  the  clouds  ;  here,  if  there  is  dewy  or  rain-be- 
sprinkled pasture,  it  tells  of  a  luminous  silvery  colour 
hy  reason  of  the  light  which  the  clouds  reflect  upon 
it;  the  bottom  edges  of  the  clouds  are  also  light 
through  the  reflection  upward  from  the  grass,  but  I 
do  not  know  which  begins  this  battledore  and  shuttle- 
cock arrangement.  These  things  are  like  quarrels 
between  two  old  and  intimate  friends ;  one  can  never 
say  who  begins  them.  Sometimes  on  a  dull  gray  day 
like  this,  I  have  seen  the  shadow  parts  of  clouds  take 
a  greenish  ashen-coloured  tinge  from  the  grass  below 
them. 

On  one  of  these  most  enjoyable  days  we  left  Bellin- 
zona  for  Mesocco  on  the  S.  Bernardino  road.  The 
air  was  warm,  there  was  not  so  much  as  a  breath  of 
wind,  but  it  was  not  sultry :  there  had  been  rain,  and 
the  grass,  though  no  longer  decked  with  the  glory  of 
its  spring  flowers,  was  of  the  most  brilliant  emerald, 
save  where  flecked  with  delicate  purple  by  myriads  of 
autumnal  crocuses.  The  level  ground  at  the  bottom 
of  the  valley  where  the  Moesa  runs  is  cultivated  with 
great  care.  Here  the  people  have  gathered  the 
stones  in  heaps  round  any  great  rock  which  is  too 
difficult  to   move,   and   the   whole  mass  has  in   time 


26o  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

taken  a  mulberry  hue,  varied  with  gray  and  russet 
lichens,  or  blobs  of  velvety  green  moss.  These  heaps 
of  stone  crop  up  from  the  smooth  shaven  grass, 
and  are  overhung  with  barberries,  mountain  ash,  and 
mountain  elder  with  their  brilliant  scarlet  berries — 
sometimes,  again,  with  dwarf  oaks,  or  alder,  or  nut, 
whose  leaves  have  just  so  far  begun  to  be  tinged 
as  to  increase  the  variety  of  the  colouring.  The 
first  sparks  of  autumn's  yearly  conflagration  have 
been  kindled,  but  the  fire  is  not  yet  raging  as  in 
October ;  soon  after  which,  indeed,  it  will  have  burnt 
itself  out,  leaving  the  trees  as  it  were  charred,  with 
here  and  there  a  live  coal  of  a  red  leaf  or  two  still 
smouldering  upon  them. 

As  yet  lingering  mullens  throw  up  their  golden 
spikes  amid  a  profusion  of  blue  chicory.  Overhead  are 
the  umbrageous  chestnuts  loaded  with  their  prickly 
harvest.  Now  and  again  there  is  a  manure  heap  upon 
the  grass  itself,  and  lusty  wanton  gourds  grow  out 
from  it  along  the  ground  like  vegetable  octopi.  If 
there  is  a  stream  it  will  run  with  water  limpid  as  air, 
and  full  of  dimples  as  "While  Kedron's  Brook"  in 
"Joshua"  : — 


SOAZZA  AND  VALLEY  OF  MESOCCO. 


261 


While  Kedron's  brook  to      Jordan's  stream  its       silver       tribute 


1/     ^ 


V 


EZ^Z 


P-.-P- 


.p_?Il-i — •-T-»-«-|i-_— #-_-#- 


i 


tprtii 


f=t=^^^g=si 


pays; 


or  while  the    glo-rious  sun  shall  beam  on  Ca-naan  gol-den 


-0-m •_• <    •-    m 

H p « P «-« _     -^_- 


BIE^^EEE^^PEE 


p — (i 


^^^zl^==33=?-=^^3=:] 


,^^ 


Ffafipia:i=-,._.,-fi: 


rays 


&c. 


"^        ^J        ^J  LJ       ^        '— 

•    •    -•-  -m-   -ft    , 


262  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

How  quiet  and  full  of  rest  does  everything  appear 
to  be.  There  is  no  dust  nor  glare,  and  hardly  a  sound 
save  that  of  the  unfailing  waterfalls,  or  the  falling  cry 
with  which  the  peasants  call  to  one  another  from  afar.'"" 

So  much  depends  upon  the  aspect  in  which  one 
sees  a  place  for  the  first  time.  What  scenery  can 
stand,  for  example,  a  noontide  glare  ?  Take  the  valley 
from  Lanzo  to  Viu.  It  is  of  incredible  beauty  in  the 
mornings  and  afternoons  of  brilliant  days,  and  all  day 
long  upon  a  gray  day  ;  but  in  the  middle  hours  of 
a  bright  summer's  day  it  is  hardly  beautiful  at  all, 
except  locally  in  the  shade  under  chestnuts.  Buildings 
and  towns  are  the  only  things  that  show  well  in  a 
glare.  We  perhaps,  therefore,  thought  the  valley  of 
the  Moesa  to  be  of  such  singular  beauty  on  account 
of  the  day  on  which  we  saw  it,  but  doubt  whether  it 
must  not  be  absolutely  among  the  most  beautiful  of 
the  subalpine  valleys  upon  the  Italian  side. 

The  least  interesting  part  is  that  between  Bellinzona 
and  Roveredo,  but  soon  after  leaving  Roveredo  the 
valley  begins  to  get  narrower  and  to  assume  a  more 

*  I   cannot  give  this  cry  in  musical  notation  more  nearly  than  as 
follows  : — 


W^^^. 


Accelerando. 


SOAZZA  AND  VALLEY  OF  MESOCCO.  263 

mountain  character.  Ere  lonof  the  eve  catches  siofht 
of  a  white  church  tower  and  a  massive  keep,  near 
to  one  another  and  some  two  thousand  feet  above  the 
road.  This  is  Santa  Maria  in  Calanca.  One  can  see 
at  once  that  it  must  be  an  important  place  for  such 
a  district,  but  it  is  strange  why  it  should  be  placed  so 
high.      I  will  say  more  about  it  later  on. 

Presently  we  passed  Cama,  where  there  is  an  inn, 
and  where  the  road  branches  off  into  the  Val  Calanca. 
Alighting  here  for  a  few  minutes  we  saw  a  cafze  lupirto 
— that  is  to  say,  a  dun  mouse-coloured  dog  about  as 
large  as  a  mastiff,  and  with  a  very  large  infusion  of 
wolf  blood  in  him.  It  was  like  findinor  one's  self  alone 
with  a  wolf — but  he  looked  even  more  uncanny  and 
ferocious  than  a  wolf.  I  once  saw  a  man  walking 
down  Fleet  Street  accompanied  by  one  of  these  cani 
liipiiii,  and  noted  the  general  attention  and  alarm 
which  the  dog  caused.  Encouraged  by  the  landlord, 
we  introduced  ourselves  to  the  dcg  at  Cama,  and 
found  him  to  be  a  most  sweet  person,  with  no  sense 
whatever  of  self-  respect,  and  shrinking  from  no 
ignominy  in  his  importunity  for  bits  of  bread.  When 
we  put  the  bread  into  his  mouth  and  felt  his  teeth, 
he  would  not  take  it  till  he  had  looked  in  our  eyes 
and  said  as  plainly  as   though   in  words,  "  Are  you 


264  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

quite  sure  that  my  teeth  are  not  pahiful  to  you  ? 
Do  you  really  think  I  may  now  close  my  teeth  upon 
the  bread  without  causing  you  any  inconvenience  ? " 
We  assured  him  that  we  were  quite  comfortable,  so 
he  swallowed  it  down,  and  presently  began  to  pat  us 
softly  with  his  foot  to  remind  us  that  it  was  our  turn 
now. 

Before  we  left,  a  wandering  organ-grinder  began 
to  play  outside  the  inn.  Our  friend  the  dog  lifted  up 
his  voice  and  howled.  I  am  sure  it  was  with  plea- 
sure. If  he  had  disliked  the  music  he  would  have 
gone  away.  He  was  not  at  all  the  kind  of  person 
who  would  stay  a  concert  out  if  he  did  not  like  it. 
He  howled  because  he  was  stirred  to  the  innermost 
depths  of  his  nature.  On  this  he  became  intense,  and 
as  a  matter  of  course  made  a  fool  of  himself;  but  he 
was  in  no  way  more  ridiculous  than  an  Art  Professor, 
whom  I  once  observed  as  he  was  holding  forth  to  a 
number  of  working  men,  whilst  escorting  them  round 
the  Italian  pictures  in  the  National  Gallery.  When 
the  organ  left  off  he  cast  an  appealing  look  at  Jones, 
and  we  could  almost  hear  the  words,  "  What  z's  it  out 
of  ?  "  coming  from  his  eyes.  We  did  not  happen  to 
know,  so  we  told  him  that  it  was  "  Ah  che  la  morte  " 
from  the  Trovatcre,  and  he  was  quite  contented.    Jones 


SOAZZA  AND  VALLEY  OF  MESOCCO. 


265 


even  thought  he  looked  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Oh  yes, 
of  course,  how  stupid  of  me ;  I  thought  I  knew  it." 
He  very  well  may  have  done  so,  but  I  am  bound  to 
say  that  I  did  not  see  this. 

Near  to  Cama  is  Grono,  where  Badeker  says  there  is 
a  chapel  containing  some  ancient  frescoes.  I  searched 
Grono  in  vain  for  any  such  chapel.  A  few  miles 
higher  up,  the  church  of  Soazza  makes  its  appearance 
perched  upon  the  top  of  its  hill,  and  soon  afterwards 
the  splendid  ruin  of 


SOAZZA  CHURCH. 


Mesocco  on  another 
rock  or  hill  which 
rises  in  the  middle 
of  the  valley. 

The  mortuary 
chapel  of  Soazza 
Church  is  the  subject 
my  friend  Mr.  Gogin  has  selected  for  the  etching 
at  the  beginning  of  this  volume.  There  was  a  man 
mowing  another  part  of  the  churchyard  when  I  was 
there.  He  was  so  old  and  lean  that  his  flesh  seemed 
little  more  than  parchment  stretched  over,  his  bones, 
and  he  might  have  been  almost  taken  for  Death 
mowing  his  own  acre.  When  he  was  gone  some 
children  came  to  play,  but  he  had  left  his  scythe  be- 


266  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

hind  him.  These  children  were  beyond  my  strength 
to  draw,  so  I  turned  the  subject  over  to  Mr.  Gogin's 
stronger  hands.  Children  are  dynamical ;  churches  and 
frescoes  are  statical.  I  can  get  on  with  statical  sub- 
jects, but  can  do  nothing  with  dynamical  ones.  Over 
the  door  and  windows  are  two  frescoes  of  skeletons 
holding  mirrors  in  their  hands,  with  a  death's  head  in 
the  mirror.  This  reflected  head  is  supposed  to  be  that 
of  the  spectator  to  whom  death  is  holding  up  the  image 
of  what  he  will  one  day  become.  I  do  not  remember 
the  inscription  at  Soazza — the  one  in  the  Campo 
Santo  at  Mesocco  is,  "  Sicu/  vos  estis  nos  fuimus,  et 
sicut  nos  sumus  vos  eritis."  * 

On  my  return  to  England  I  mentioned  this  inscrip- 
tion to  a  friend  who,  as  a  young  man,  had  been  an 
excellent  Latin  scholar ;  he  took  a  panic  into  his  head 
that  ''eritis''  was  not  right  for  the  second  person  plural 
of  the  future  tense  of  the  verb  "esse.''  Whatever  it 
was,  it  was  not  ''eritis."  This  panic  was  speedily 
communicated  to  myself,  and  we  both  puzzled  for 
some  time  to  think  what  the  future  of  "esse"  really 
was.  At  last  we  turned  to  a  grammar  and  found  that 
"eritis"  was  right  after  all.  How  skin-deep  that 
classical   training  penetrates   on    which   we  waste  so 

*  "  Such  as  ye  are,  we  once  were,  and  such  as  we  are,  ye  shall  be. " 


SOAZZA  AND  VALLEY  OF  MESOCCO.  267 

many  years,  and  how  completely  we  drop  it  as  soon 
as  we  are  left  to  ourselves. 

On  the  right-hand  side  of  the  door  of  the  mortuary 
chapel  there  hangs  a  wooden  tablet  inscribed  with  a 
poem  to  the  memory  of  Maria  Zara.  It  is  a  pleasing 
poem,  and  begins  : — 

"  Appena  al  trapassar  il  terzo  lustro 
Maria  Zara  la  sua  vita  fini. 
Se  a  Soazza  ebbe  la  sua  colma 
A  Roveredo  la  sua  tomba  ...  J 

she  found,"  or  words  to  that  effect,  but  I  forget  the 
Italian.  This  poem  is  the  nearest  thing  to  an  Italian 
rendering  of  "  Affliction  sore  long  time  I  bore "  that 
I  remember  to  have  met  with,  but  it  is  longer  and 
more  grandiose  generally. 

Soazza  is  full  of  beautiful  subjects,  and  indeed  is  the 
first  place  in  the  valley  of  the  Moesa  which  I  thought 
good  sketching  ground,  in  spite  of  the  general  beauty 
of  the  valley.  There  is  an  inn  there  quite  sufficient 
for  a  bachelor  artist.  The  clergyman  of  the  place  is 
a  monk,  and  he  will  not  let  one  paint  on  a  feast-day. 
I  was  told  that  if  I  wanted  to  paint  on  a  certain  feast- 
day  I  had  better  consult  him  ;  I  did  so,  but  was  flatly 
refused  permission,  and  that  too  as  it  appeared  to  me 
with  more  peremptoriness  than  a  priest  would  have 
shown  towards  me. 


26S  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

It  is  at  Soazza  that  the  ascent  of  the  San  Bernardino 
becomes  perceptible  ;  hitherto  the  road  has  seemed  to 
be  level  all  the  way,  but  henceforth  the  ascent  though 
gradual  is  steady.  Mesocco  Castle  looks  very  fine  as 
soon  as  Soazza  is  passed,  and  gets  finer  and  finer 
until  it  is  actually  reached.  Here  is  the  upper  limit 
of  the  chestnuts,  which  leave  off  upon  the  lower  side 
of  Mesocco  Castle.  A  few  yards  off  the  castle  on 
the  upper  side  is  the  ancient  church  of  S.  Cristoforo, 
with  its  huge  St.  Christopher  on  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  door.  St.  Christopher  is  a  very  favourite 
saint  in  these  parts ;  people  call  him  S.  Cristofano,  and 
even  S.  Carpofano.  Another  favourite  saint  is  one 
who  is  always  showing  his  poor  leg  to  people — so  at 
least  he  is  represented  in  frescoes  on  a  large  number 
of  churches  and  chapels  in  the  Valle  Mesolcina ;  I 
believe  his  name  is  S.  Rocco.  I  think  it  must  be 
in  the  church  of  S.  Cristoforo  at  Mesocco  that  the 
frescoes  are  which  Badeker  writes  of  as  being  near 
Grono.  Of  these  I  will  speak  at  length  in  the  next 
chapter.  About  half  or  three-quarters  of  a  mile  higher 
up  the  road  than  the  castle  is  Mesocco  itself. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MESOCCO,  S.   BERNARDINO,  AND  S.   MARIA   IN  CALANCA. 

At  the  time  of  my  first  visit  there  was  an  inn  kept 
by  one  Desteffanis  and  his  wife,  where  I  stayed  nearly 
a  month,  and  was  made  very  comfortable.  Last  year, 
however,  Jones  and  I  found  it  closed,  but  did  very 
well  at  the  Hotel  Toscani.  At  the  Hotel  Desteffanis 
there  used  to  be  a  parrot  which  lived  about  loose  and 
had  no  cage,  but  did  exactly  what  it  liked.  Its  name 
was  Lorrito.  It  was  a  very  human  bird ;  I  saw  it 
eat  some  "bread  and  milk  from  its  tin  one  day  and 
then  sidle  along  a  pole  to  a  place  where  there  was  a 
towel  hanorinor.  It  took  a  corner  of  the  towel  in  its 
claw,  wiped  its  beak  with  it,  and  then  sidled  back 
again.  It  would  sometimes  come  and  see  me  at 
breakfast ;  it  got  from  a  chair-back  on  to  the  table 
by  dropping  its  head  and  putting  its  round  beak  on  to 
the  table  first,  making  a  third  leg  as  it  were  of  its 
head  ;  it  would  then  waddle  to  the  butter  and  begin 
helping  itself.  It  was  a  great  respecter  of  persons 
and  knew  the  landlord  and   landlady   perfectly  well. 


270 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


It  yawned  just  like  a  dog  or  a  human  being-,  and  this 
not  from  love  of  imitation  but  from  being  sleepy.  I 
do  not  remember  to  have  seen  any  other  bird  yawn. 
It  hated  boys  because  the  boys  plagued  it  sometimes. 
The  boys  generally  go  barefoot  in  summer,   and   if 


CASTLE    OF    MESOCCO. 


ever  a  boy  came  near  the  door  of  the  hotel  this  parrot 
would  go  straight  for  his  toes. 

The  most  striking  feature  of  Mesocco  is  the  castle, 
which,  as  I  have  said,  occupies  a  rock  in  the  middle  of 
the  valley,  and  is  one  of  the  finest  ruins  in  Switzerland. 


MESOCCO.  271 


More  interesting  than  the  castle,  however,  is  the 
church  of  S.  Cristoforo.  Before  I  entered  it  I  was 
struck  with  the  fresco  on  the  facciata  of  the  church, 
which,  though  \\\^  facciata  bears  the  date  1720,  was 
painted  in  a  style  so  much  earHer  than  that  of  1720 
that  I  at  first  imagined  I  had  found  here  another  old 
master  born  out  of  due  time;  for  the  fresco  was  in  such 
a  good  state  of  preservation  that  it  did  not  look  more 
than  150  years  old,  and  it  was  hardly  likely  to  have 
been  preserved  when  the  facciata  was  renovated  in 
1720.  When,  however,  my  friend  Jones  joined  me,  he 
blew  that  little  romance  away  by  discovering  a  series 
of  names  with  dates  scrawled  upon  it  from  "  1481.  viii. 
Febraio  "  to  the  present  century.  The  lowest  part  of 
the  fresco  must  be  six  feet  from  the  ground,  and  it 
must  rise  at  least  ten  or  a  dozen  feet  more,  so  the 
writings  upon  it  are  not  immediately  obvious,  but  they 
will  be  found  on  looking  at  all  closely. 

It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  when  xXit  facciata  was 
repaired  the  original  fresco  was  preserved ;  it  cannot 
be,  as  I  had  supposed,  the  work  of  a  local  painter 
who  had  taken  his  ideas  of  rocks  and  trees  from 
the  frescoes  inside  the  church.  That  I  am  right 
in  supposing  the  curious  blanc-mange-mould-looking 
objects   on  either  side  St.  Christopher's   legs  to  be 


!72 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


intended  for  rocks  will  be  clear  to  any  one  who  has 
seen  the  frescoes  inside  the  church,  where  mountains 
with  trees  and  towns  upon  them  are  treated  on  exactly 
the  same  principle.  I  cannot  think  the  artist  can  have 
been  quite  easy  in  his  mind  about  them. 

On  entering  the  church  the  left-hand  wall  is  found 
to  be  covered  with  the  most 
remarkable  series  of  frescoes  in 
the  Italian  Grisons.  They  are 
disposed  in  three  rows,  one  above 
the  other,  occupying  the  whole 
wall  of  the  church  as  far  as  the 
chancel.  The  top  row  depicts  a 
series  of  incidents  prior  to  the 
crucifixion,  and  is  cut  up  by  the 
pulpit  at  the  chancel  end.  These 
events  are  treated  so  as  to  form  a 
single  picture. 

The  second  row  is  in  several 
compartments.  There  is  a  saint 
in  armour  on  horseback,  life-size,  killing  a  dragon, 
and  a  queen  who  seems  to  have  been  leading  the 
dragon  by  a  piece  of  red  tape  buckled  round  its 
neck — unless,  indeed,  the  dragon  is  supposed  to  have 
been  leading  the  queen.     The  queen  still  holds  the 


S.   CRISTOFOKO. 


MESOCCO.  273 


tape  and  points  heavenward.  Next  to  this  there 
is  a  very  nice  saint  on  horseback,  who  is  giving  a 
cloak  to  a  man  who  is  nearly  naked.  Then  comes 
St.  Michael  trampling  on  the  dragon,  and  holding  a 
pair  of  scales  in  his  hand,  in  which  are  two  little  souls 
of  a  man  and  of  a  woman.  The  dragon  has  a  hook 
in  his  hand,  and  thrusting  this  up  from  under  St. 
Michael,  he  hooks  it  on  to  the  edge  of  the  scale  with 
the  woman  in  it,  and  drags  her  down.  The  man,  it 
seems,  will  escape.  Next  to  this  there  is  a  compart- 
ment in  which  a  monk  is  offeringf  a  round  thing;  to  St. 
Michael,  who  does  not  seem  to  care  much  about  it ; 
there  are  other  saints  and  martyrs  in  this  compart- 
ment, and  St.  Anthony  with  his  pig,  and  Sta.  Lucia 
holding  a  box  with  two  eyes  in  it,  she  being  patroness 
of  the  eyesight  as  well  as  of  mariners.  Lastly,  there 
is  the  adoration,  ruined  by  the  pulpit. 

Below  this  second  compartment  are  twelve  frescoes, 
each  about  three  and  a  half  feet  square,  representing 
the  twelve  months — from  a  purely  secular  point  of 
view.  January  is  a  man  making  and  hanging  up 
sausages ;  February,  a  man  chopping  wood ;  March, 
a  youth  proclaiming  spring  with  two  horns  to  his 
mouth,  and  his  hair  flying  all  abroad  ;  April  is  a  young 
man  on  horseback  carrying  a  flower  in  his  hand  ;  May, 


274 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


a  knight,  not  in  armour,  going  out  hawking  with  his 


FRESCO  AT  MESOCCO— MARCH. 


hawk  on  one  finger,  his  bride  on  a  pilHon  behind  him, 


FRESCO  AT  MESOCCO— APRIL. 


MESOCCO. 


275 


and  a  dog  beside  the  horse;  June  is  a  mower;  July, 


FRESCO   AT   MESOCCO— MAY. 


another  man    reaping    twenty-seven    ears    of    corn ; 


/^,  ^^T^.'Z  =>£-.»< 


FRESCO   AT  MESOCCO— AUGUST, 


276  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

August,  an  invalid  going  to  see  his  doctor ;  October, 
a  man  knocking  down  chestnuts  from  a  tree  and  a 
woman  catching  them  ;  November  is  hidden  and  de- 
stroyed by  the  pulpit ;  December  is  a  butcher  felling 
an  ox  with  a  hatchet. 

We  could  fmd  no  signature  of  the  artist,  nor  any 
date  on  the  frescoes  to  show  when  they  were  painted ; 
but  while  looking  for  a  signature  we  found  a  name 


scratched  with  a  knife  or  stone,  and  rubbed  the 
tracing  which  I  reproduce,  greatly  reduced,  here;  Jones 
thinks  the  last  line  was  not  written  by  Lazarus 
Borollinus,  but  by  another  who  signs  A.  T. 

The  Boelini  were  one  of  the  principal  families  in 
Mesocco.  Gaspare  Boelini,  the  head  of  the  house, 
had  been  treacherously  thrown  over  the  castle  walls 


MESOCCO.  277 


and  killed  by  order  of  Giovanni  Giacomo  Triulci  in 
the  year  1525,  because  as  chancellor  of  the  valley 
he  declined  to  annul  the  purchase  of  the  castle  of 
Mesocco,  which  Triulci  had  already  sold  to  the  people 
of  Mesocco,  and  for  which  he  had  been  in  great  part 
paid.  His  death  is  recorded  on  a  stone  placed  by  the 
roadside  under  the  castle. 

Examining  the  wall  further,  we  found  a  little  to  the 
right  that  the  same  Lazzaro  Bovollino  (I  need  hardly 
say  that  "  Bovollino  "  is  another  way  of  spelling  "  Boe- 
lini")  scratched  his  name  again  some  sixteen  years 
later,  as  follows  : — 

1550        adj  (?) 

26  Decemb.        morijm  (?) 

Lazzaro  Bovollino 

* 

I 

15  L BSD 

The  handwritinor  is  not  so  grood  as  it  was  when 
he  wrote  his  name  before ;  but  we  observed,  with 
sympathy,  that  the  writer  had  dropped  his  Latin. 
Close  by  is  scratched  "  Gullielmo  B°." 

The  mark  between  the  two  letters  L  and  B  was 
the  family  mark  of  the  Boelini,  each  family  having  its 
mark,  a  practice  of  which  further  examples  will  be 
given  presently. 


278  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

We  looked  still  more,  and  on  the  border  of  one  of 
the  frescoes  we  discovered — 

Veneris 
"  1481  die  Jovi3  vii'j  Februarij  hoines  di  Misochi  et  Soazza  fecerunt 
fidelitatem  in  manibus  di  Johani  Jacobi  Triulzio," 

— "  The  men  of  Mesocco  and  Soazza  did  fealty  to  John 
Jacob  Triulci  on  Friday  the  8^  of  February  148 1." 
The  day  originally  written  was  Thursday  the  7th  of 
February,  but  " Jovis"  was  scratched  out  and  "Vene- 
ris "  written  above,  while  another  *'  i "  was  intercalated 
among  the  i's  of  the  viij  of  February.  We  could  not 
determine  whether  some  hitch  arose  so  as  to  cause  a 
change  of  day,  or  whether  "Thursday"  and  "viij" 
were  written  by  a  mistake  for  "Friday"  and  "viiij," 
but  we  imagined  both  inscription  and  correction  to 
have  been  contemporaneous  with  the  event  itself.  It 
will  be  remembered  that  on  the  St.  Christopher  out- 
side the  church  there  is  scratched  "  1481.  8  Febraio" 
and  nothing  more.  The  mistake  of  the  day,  therefore, 
if  it  was  a  mistake,  was  made  twice,  and  was  corrected 
inside  the  church  but  not  upon  the  fresco  outside — 
perhaps  because  a  ladder  would  have  had  to  be  fetched 
to  reach  it.  Possibly  the  day  had  been  originally 
fixed  for  Thursday  the  8th,  and  a  heavy  snow-storm 
prevented  people  from  coming  till  next  day. 

I  could  not  find  that  any  one  in  Mesocco,  not  even 


MESOCCO.  279 


my  excellent  friend  Signor  a  Marca,  the  curate  himself, 
knew  anything  about  either  the  inscriptions  or  the  cause 
of  their  being  written.  No  one  was  aware  even  of  their 
existence  ;  on  borrowing,  however,  the  history  of  the 
Valle  Mesolcina  by  Signor  Giovanni  Antonio  a  Marca,^' 

1  find  what  I  think  will  throw  light  upon  the  matter. 
The  family  of  De  Sax  had  held  the  valley  of  Mesocco 
for  over  four  hundred  years,  and  sold  it  in  1480  to 
John  Jacob  Triulci,  who  it  seems  tried  to  cheat  him 
out  of  a  large  part  of  the  purchase  money  later  on ; 
probably  this  John  Jacob  Triulci  had  the  frescoes 
painted  to  conciliate  the  clergy  and  inaugurate  his 
entry  into  possession.  Early  in  1481  he  made  the 
inhabitants  of  the  valley  do  fealty  to  him.  I  may  say 
that  as  soon  as  he  had  entered  upon  possession,  he 
began  to  oppress  the  people  by  demanding  tolls  on  all 
produce  that  passed  the  castle.  This  the  people  re- 
sisted. They  were  also  harassed  by  Peter  De  Sax,  who 
made  incursions  into  the  valley  and  seized  property, 
being  unable  to  get  his  money  out  of  John  Jacob  Triulci. 

Other  reasons  that  make  me  think  the  frescoes  were 
painted  in  1480  are  as  follows.  The  spurs  worn  by 
the  young  men  in  the  May  and  June  frescoes  (pp. 

2  74,  275)  are  about  the  date  1 460.     Their  facsimiles  can 

*  Lugano,  1838. 


28o  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

be  seen  in  the  Tower  of  London  with  this  date  assigned 
to  them.  The  frescoes,  therefore,  can  hardly  have 
been  painted  before  this  time  ;  but  they  were  pro- 
bably painted  later,  for  in  the  St,  Christopher  there  is 
a  distinct  hint  at  anatomy ;  enough  to  show  that  the 
study  of  anatomy  introduced  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci 
was  beo-inninor  to  be  talked  about  as  more  or  less  the 
correct  thing.  This  would  hardly  be  the  case  before 
1480,  as  Leonardo  was  not  born  till  1452.  By 
February  1481  the  frescoes  were  already  painted; 
this  is  plain  because  the  inscription — which,  I  think, 
may  be  taken  as  a  record  made  at  the  time  that 
fealty  was  done — is  scratched  over  them.  Peter  De 
Sax,  if  he  was  selling  his  property,  is  not  likely  to 
have  had  the"  frescoes  painted  just  before  he  was 
going  away ;  I  think  it  most  likely,  therefore,  that 
they  were  painted  in  1480,  when  the  valley  of  Mesocco 
passed  from  the  hands  of  the  De  Sax  family  to  those 
of  the  Triulci. 

Underneath  the  inscription  about  the  doing  fealty 
there  is  scratched  in  another  hand,  and  very  likely 
years  after  the  event  it  commemorates — "  1548  fu 
liberata  la  Vallata.''  This  date  is  contradicted  (and, 
I  believe,  corrected)  by  another  inscription  hard  by, 
also  in  another  hand,  which  says — 


MESOCCO. 


281 


"  1549.     La  valle  di  Misocho  compro  la  libertk  da  casa  Triulcia 
per  2400  scuti." 

This  inscription  is  signed  thus  : — 

Carlo   a   Marca    had    written    his    name     /^ /kzi 
alonor  with  three  others  in  1606  on  another     ^_i- 
part  of  the  frescoes.     Here  are  the  signa- 
tures : — 


CARLO    A  M. 
1623. 


SIGNATURES. 


Two  of  these  sisfnatures  belonof  to  members  of 
the  Triulci  family,  as  appears  by  the  trident,  which 
translates  the  name.  The  T  in  each  case  is  doubtless 
for  "  Triulci."  Four  years  earlier  still,  Carlo  a  Marca 
had  written  his  name,  with  that  of  his  wife  or  fiancee, 
on  the  fresco  of  St.  Christopher  on  the  facciata  of  the 
church,  for  we  found  there — 

(  Carlo  k  Marca. 

(  Margherita  dei  Paglioni. 

There  is  one  other  place  where  his  name  appears,  or 
rather  a  part  of  it,  for  the  inscription  is  half  hidden  by 
a  gallery,  erected  probably  in  the  last  century. 

The  a  Marca  family  still  flourish  in  Mesocco.  The 
curate  is  an  a  Marca,  so  is  the  postmaster.  On  the 
walls  of  a  house  near  the  convent  there  is  an  inscrip- 


282  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

tion  to  the  effect  that  it  was  given  by  his  fellow-towns- 
men to  a  member  of  the  a  Marca  family,  and  the 
best  work  on  the  history  of  the  valley  is  the  work  of 
Giovanni  Antonio  a  Marca  from  which  I  have  already 
quoted. 

Returning  to  the  frescoes,  we  found  that  the  men 
of  Soazza  and  Mesocco  did  fealty  again  to  John 
Jacob  Triulci  on  the  feast  of  St.  Bartholomew,  the 
24th  day  of  August  1503;  this  I  believe  to  have 
been  the  son  of  the  original  purchaser,  but  am  not 
certain ;  if  so,  he  is  the  Triulci  who  had  Gaspare 
Boelini  thrown  down  from  the  castle  walls.  The 
people  seem  by  another  inscription  to  have  done 
fealty  again  upon  the  same  day  of  the  following  year. 

On  the  St.  Christopher  we  found  one  date,  1530, 
scratched  on  the  right  ankle,  and  several  of  1607, 
apparently  done  at  one  time.  One  date  was  scratched 
in  the  left-hand  corner — 

1498 

il  Conte  di  (Misocho  ?) 

There  are  also  other  dates — 1627,  1633,  1635,  1626; 
and  right  across  the  fresco  there  is  written  in  red 
chalk,  in  a  bold  sixteenth  or  seventeenth  century 
handwritinor — 

"  II  parlar  di  li  homini  da  bene  deve  valer  piu  che  quello  degli  altri " 


MESOCCO.  283 


— "  The  word  of  a  man  of  substance  ought  to  carry 
more  weight  than  that  of  other  people  ;  "  and  again — 

"  Non  ha  la  fede  ognun  come  tu  chredi ; 
Non  chreder  almen  [quelle  ?]  che  non  vedi  " 

— "  People  are  not  so  worthy  of  being  believed  as  you 
think  they  are  ;  do  not  believe  anything  that  you  do 
not  see  yourself." 

Big  with  our  discoveries,  we  returned  towards  our 
inn,  Jones  leaving  me  sketching  by  the  roadside. 
Presently  an  elderly  English  gentleman  of  some  im- 
portance, judging  from  his  manner,  came  up  to  me  and 
entered  into  conversation.  Englishmen  do  not  often 
visit  Mesccco,  and  I  was  rather  surprised.  "  Have 
you  seen  that  horrid  fresco  of  St.  Christopher  down  at 
that  church  there  ?  "  said  he,  pointing  towards  it.  I 
said  I  had.  "  It's  very  bad,"  said  he  decidedly ;  **  it  was 
painted  in  the  year  1725."  I  had  been  through  all 
that  myself,  and  I  was  a  little  cross  into  the  bargain, 
so  I  said,  "  No  ;  the  fresco  is  very  good.  It  is  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  and  the /accm^a  was  restored  in  1 720, 
not  in  1725.  The  old  fresco  was  preserved."  The 
old  gentleman  looked  a  little  scared.  "  Oh,"  said  he, 
"  I  know  nothing  about  art — but  I  will  see  you  again 
at  the  hotel ; "  and  left  me  at  once.  I  never  saw  him 
again.     Who  he  was,  where  he  came  from,  how  he 


284  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

departed,  I  do  not  know.  He  was  the  only  English- 
man I  saw  during  my  stay  of  some  four  weeks  at 
Mesocco. 

On  the  first  day  of  my  first  visit  to  Mesocco  in  1879, 
I  had  gone  on  to  S.  Bernardino,  and  just  before 
getting  there,  looking  down  over  the  great  stretches  of 
pasture  land  above  S.  Giacomo,  could  see  that  there 
was  a  storm  raging  lower  down  in  the  valley  about 
where  Mesocco  should  be ;  I  never  saw  such  inky 
blackness  in  clouds  before,  and  the  conductor  of  the 
diligence  said  that  he  had  seen  nothing  like  it.  Next 
morning  we  learnt  that  a  water-spout  had  burst  on  the 
mountain  above  Anzone,  a  hamlet  of  Mesocco,  and 
that  the  water  had  done  a  great  deal  of  damage  to 
the  convent  at  Mesocco.  Returning  a  few  days  later, 
I  saw  where  the  torrent  had  flowed  by  the  mud  upon 
the  grass,  but  could  not  have  believed  such  a  stream 
of  water  (running  with  the  velocity  with  which  it 
must  have  run)  to  have  been  possible  under  any 
circumstances  in  that  place  unless  I  had  actually  seen 
its  traces.  It  carried  great  rocks  of  several  cubic 
yards  as  though  they  had  been  small  stones,  and 
among  other  mischief  it  had  knocked  down  the 
garden  wall  of  the  convent  of  S.  Rocco  and  covered 
the  garden  with  debris.     As  I  looked  at  it  I  remem- 


MESOCCO.  285 


bered  what  Sio-nor  Bullo  had  told  me  at  Faido  about 
the  inundations  of  1868,  "It  was  not  the  great 
rivers,"  he  said,  "  which  did  the  damage  :  it  was  the 
mscel/i"  or  small  streams.  So  in  revolutions  it  is  not 
the  heretofore  great  people,  but  small  ones  swollen 
under  unusual  circumstances  who  are  most  con- 
spicuous and  do  most  damage.  Padre  Bernardino, 
of  the  convent  of  S.  Rocco,  asked  me  to  make  him 
a  sketch  of  the  effect  of  the  inundation,  which  I  was 
delighted  to  do.  It  was  not,  however,  exactly  what 
he  w^anted,  and,  moreover,  it  got  spoiled  in  the 
mounting,  so  I  did  another  and  he  returned  me  the 
first  with  an  inscription  upon  it  which  I  reproduce 
below. 

First  came  the  words — 


.flyucoiclo  J 


t  SOC.C  0. 


Then  came  my  sketch  ;  and  then — 


/2*i  r*V 


The  English  of  which  is  as  follows  : — *'  View  of  the 
church,  garden,  and  hospice  of  S.   Rocco,  after  the 


286  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

visitation  inflicted  upon  them  by  the  sad  torrent  of 
Anzone,  on  the  unhallowed  evening-  of  the  4th  of 
August  1879."  I  regret  that  the  "no"  of  Padre 
Bernardino's  name,  through  being  written  in  faint  ink, 
was  not  reproduced  in  my  facsimile.  I  doubt  whether 
Padre  Bernardino  would  have  got  the  second  sketch 
out  of  me,  if  I  had  not  liked  the  inscription  he  had 
written  on  the  first  so  much  that  I  wanted  to  be  pos- 
sessed of  it.  Besides,  he  wrote  me  a  note  addressed 
"air  egregio  pittore  S.  Butler."  To  be  called  an 
egregious  painter  was  too  much  for  me,  so  I  did 
the  sketch.  I  was  once  addressed  as  "  L'esimio 
pittore."  I. think  this  is  one  degree  better  even  than 
"  eo:reorio." 

The  damao^e  which  torrents  can  do  must  be  seen  to 
be  believed.  There  is  not  a  streamlet,  however  inno- 
cent looking,  which  is  not  liable  occasionally  to  be 
turned  into  a  furious  destructive  ao^ent,  carrying  ruin 
over  the  pastures  which  at  ordinary  times  it  irrigates. 
Perhaps  in  old  times  people  deified  and  worshipped 
streams  because  they  were  afraid  of  them.  Every 
year  each  one  of  the  great  Alpine  roads  will  be  inter- 
rupted at  some  point  or  another  by  the  tons  of  stones 
and  gravel  that  are  swept  over  it  perhaps  for  a 
hundred  yards  together.     I  have  seen  the  St.  Gothard 


MESOCCO.  287 


road  more  than  once  soon  after  these  interruptions 
and  could  not  have  believed  such  damage  possible ; 
in  1869  people  would  still  shudder  when  they  spoke 
of  the  inundations  of  1868.  It  is  curious  to  note  how 
they  will  now  say  that  rocks  which  have  evidently 
been  in  their  present  place  for  hundreds  of  years, 
were  brought  there  in  1868;  as  for  the  torrent  that 
damaged  S.  Rocco  when  I  was  in  the  valley  of 
Mesocco,  it  shaved  off  the  strong  parapet  of  the 
bridge  on  either  side  clean  and  sharp,  but  the  arch 
was  left  standing,  the  flood  going  right  over  the  top. 
Many  scars  are  visible  on  the  mountain  tops  which  are 
clearly  the  work  of  similar  water-spouts,  and  altogether 
the  amount  of  solid  matter  which  gets  taken  down 
each  year  into  the  valleys  is  much  greater  than  we 
generally  think.  Let  any  one  watch  the  Ticino  flow- 
ing into  the  Lago  Maggiore  after  a  few  days'  heavy 
rain,  and  consider  how  many  tons  of  mud  per  day  it 
must  carry  into  and  leave  in  the  lake,  and  he  will 
wonder  that  the  gradual  filling-up  process  is  not  more 
noticeable  from  age  to  age  than  it  is. 

Anzone,  whence  the  sad  torrent  derives  its  name,  is 
an  exquisitely  lovely  little  hamlet  close  to  Mesocco. 
Another  no  less  beautiful  village  is  Doera,  on  the  other 
side  the  Moesa,  and  half  a  mile  lower  down  than  Me- 


288  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

socco.  Doera  overlooks  the  castle,  the  original  hexa- 
gonal form  of  which  can  be  made  out  from  this  point. 
It  must  have  been  much  of  the  same  plan  as  the  castle 
at  Eynsford  in  Kent — of  which,  by  the  way,  I  was  once 
assured  that  the  oldest  inhabitant  could  not  say  "what 
it  come  from."  While  I  was  copying  the  fresco  out- 
side the  chapel  at  Doera,  some  charming  people  came 
round  me.  I  said  the  fresco  was  very  beautiful.  "Son 
persuaso,"  said  the  spokesman  solemnly.  Then  he 
said  there  were  some  more  pictures  inside  and  we  had 
better  see  them  ;  so  the  keys  were  brought.  We  said 
that  they  too  were  very  beautiful.  "  Siam  persuasi," 
was  the  reply  in  chorus.  Then  they  said  that  perhaps 
we  should  like  to  buy  them  and  take  them  away  with 
us.  This  was  a  more  serious  matter,  so  we  explained 
that  they  were  very  beautiful,  but  that  these  things 
had  a  charm  upon  the  spot  which  they  would  lose  if 
removed  elsewhere.  The  nice  people  at  once  replied, 
"  Siam  persuasi,"  and  so  they  left  us.  It  was  like  a 
frao^ment  from  one  of  Messrs.  Gilbert  and  Sullivan's 
comic  operas. 

For  the  rest,  Mesocco  is  beautifully  situated  and 
surrounded  by  waterfalls.  There  is  a  man  there  who 
takes  the  cows  and  goats  out  in  the  morning  for  their 
several  owners  in  the  villaofe,  and  brings  them  home 


S.  BERNARDINO.  289 


in  the  evening.  He  announces  his  departure  and  his 
return  by  blowing  a  twisted  shell,  like  those  that 
Tritons  blow  on  fountains  or  in  pictures  ;  it  yields  a 
softer  sound  than  a  horn  ;  when  his  shell  is  heard 
people  go  to  the  cow-house  and  let  the  cows  out ; 
they  need  not  drive  them  to  join  the  others,  they  need 
only  open  the  door ;  and  so  in  the  evening,  they  only 
want  the  sound  of  the  shell  to  tell  them  that  they  must 
open  the  stable-door,  for  the  cows  or  goats  when  turned 
from  the  rest  of  the  mob  make  straight  to  their  own 
abode. 

There  are  two  great  avalanches  which  descend 
every  spring ;  one  of  them  when  I  was  there  last  was 
not  quite  gone  until  September ;  these  avalanches 
push  the  air  before  them  and  compress  it,  so  that  a 
terrific  wind  descends  to  the  bottom  of  the  valley  and 
mounts  up  on  to  the  village  of  Mesocco.  One  year 
this  wind  snapped  a  whole  grove  of  full-grown  walnuts 
across  the  middle  of  their  trunks,  and  carried  stones 
and  bits  of  wood  up  against  the  houses  at  some 
distance  off;  it  tore  off  part  of  the  covering  from  the 
cupola  of  the  church,  and  twisted  the  weathercock  awry 
in  the  fashion  in  which  it  may  still  be  seen,  unless  it 
has  been  mended  since  I  left. 

The  judges  at  Mesocco  get  four  francs  a  day  when 

T 


290  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

they  are  wanted,  but  unless  actually  sitting  they  get 
nothing.  No  wonder  the  people  are  so  nice  to  one 
another  and  quarrel  so  seldom. 

The  walk  from  Mesocco  to  S.  Bernardino  is  de- 
lightful ;  it  should  take  about  three  hours.  For  grassy 
slopes  and  flowers  I  do  not  know  a  better,  more 
especially  from  S.  Giacomo  onward.  In  the  woods 
above  S.  Giacomo  there  are  some  bears,  or  were  last 
year.  Five  were  known — a  father,  mother,  and  three 
young  ones — bat  two  were  killed.  They  do  a  good 
deal  of  damage,  and  the  Canton  offers  a  reward  for 
their  destruction.  The  Grisons  is  the  only  Swiss 
Canton  in  which  there  are  bears  still  remainino-. 
>  San  Bernardino,  5500  feet  above*  the  sea,  pleased 
me  less  than  Mesocco,  but  there  are  some  nice  bits 
in  it.  The  Hotel  Brocco  is  the  best  to  go  to. 
The  village  is  about  two  hours  below  the  top  of  the 
pass ;  the  walk  to  this  is  a  pleasant  one.  The  old 
Roman  road  can  still  be  seen  in  many  places,  and  is 
in  parts  in  an  excellent  state  even  now.  San  Ber- 
nardino is  a  fashionable  watering-place  and  has  a 
chalybeate  spring.  In  the  summer  it  often  has  as 
many  as  two  or  three  thousand  visitors,  chiefly  from 
the  neigrhbourhood  of  the  Lao^o  Magforiore  and  even 
from  Milan.     It  is  not  so  good  a  sketching  ground — 


S.  BERNARDINO. 


291 


at  least  so  I  thought — as  some  others  of  a  similar 
character  that  I  have  seen.  It  is  not  comparable,  for 
example,  to  Fusio,  It  is  little  visited  by  the  English. 
On  our  way  down  to  Bellinzona  again  we  deter- 
mined to  take  S.  Maria  in  Calanca,  and  accordingly 
were  dropped  by  the  diligence  near  Gabbiolo,  whence 
there  is  a  path  across  the  meadows  and  under  the 
chestnuts  which  leads  to  Verdabbio.  There  are  some 
good  bits  near  the  church  of  this  village,  and  some 
quaint  modern  fres- 
coes on  a  public-house 
a  little  off  the  main 
footpath,  but  there  is 
no  accommodation. 
From  this  villaQ^e  the 
path  ascends  rapidly 
for  an  hour  or  more,  approach  to  sta.  maria. 

till  just  as  one  has  made  almost  sure  that  one  must 
have  gone  wrong  and  have  got  too  high,  or  be  on 
the  track  to  an  a//>e  only,  one  finds  one's  self  on  a  wide 
beaten  path  with  walls  on  either  side.  We  are  now  on 
a  level  with  S.  Maria  itself,  and  turning  sharply  to  the 
left  come  in  a  few  minutes  right  upon  the  massive 
keep  and  the  campanile,  which  are  so  striking  when 
seen  from  down  below.     They  are  much  more  striking 


292 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


when  seen  from  close  at  hand.  The  sketch  I  orive 
does  not  convey  the  notion — as  what  sketch  can  con- 
vey it  ? — that  one  is  at  a  great  elevation,  and  it  is  this 
which  gives  its  especial  charm  to  S.  Maria  in  Calanca. 
The  approach  to  the  church  is  beautiful,  and  the 
church  itself  full  of  interest.  The  village  was  evidently 
at  one  time  a  place  of  some  importance,   though   it 

is  not  easy  to  under- 
stand how  it  came 
to  be  built  in  such  a 
situation.  Even  now 
it  is  unaccountably 
large.  There  is  no 
accommodation  for 
sleeping,  but  an 
artist  who  could 
rough  it  would,  I 
think,    find    a    good 

STA.    MARIA,    APPROACH   TO   CHURCH.  ^^^J      ^^^^     J^^      WOuld 

like.  I  subjoin  a  sketch  of  the  church  and  tower  as 
seen  from  the  opposite  side  to  that  from  which  the 
sketch  on  p.  292  was  taken. 

The  church  seems  to  have  been  very  much  altered, 
if  indeed  the  body  of  it  was  not  entirely  rebuilt,  in  16 18 
— a  date  which  is  found  on  a  pillar  inside  the  church. 


S.  BERNARDINO. 


293 


On  going  up  into  the  gallery  at  the  west  end  of  the 
church,  there  is  found  a  nativity  painted  in  fresco  by 
a  local  artist,  one  Agostino  Duso  of  Roveredo,  in  the 
year  1727,  and  better  by  a  good  deal  than  one  would 
anticipate  from  the  epoch  and  habitat  of  the  painter. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  same  gallery  there  is  a  death 


FRONT   VIEW    OF   STA.    MARIA. 


of  the  virgin,  also  by  the  same  painter,  but  not  so 
good.  On  the  left-hand  side  of  the  nave  going 
towards  the  altar  there  is  a  remarkable  picture  of 
the  battle  of  Lepanto,  signed  "  Georgius  Wilhelmus 
Grcesner  Constantiensis  fecit  a.d.  1649,"  and  with  an 
inscription   to  the   effect   that  it  was  painted  for  the 


294  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

confraternity  of  the  most  holy  Rosary,  and  by  them 
set  up  "in  this  church  of  St.  Mary  commonly  called 
of  Calancha."  The  picture  displays  very  little  respect 
for  academic  principles,  but  is  full  of  spirit  and  sensible 
painting. 

Above  this  picture  there  hang  two  others — also  very 
interesting,  from  being  examples  of,  as  it  were,  the  last 
groans  of  true  art  while  being  stifled  by  academicism 
— or  it  may  be  the  attempt  at  a  new  birth,  which  was 
nevertheless  doomed  to  extinction  by  academicians 
while  yet  in  Its  infancy.  Such  pictures  are  to  be 
found  all  over  Italy.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  work  of  Dedomenici,  they  have  absolute  merit — 
more  commonly  they  have  the  relative  merit  of  show- 
ing that  the  painter  was  trying  to  look  and  feel  for 
himself,  and  a  picture  does  much  when  it  conveys 
this  impression.  It  is  a  small  still  voice,  which  how- 
ever small  can  be  heard  through  and  above  the  roar 
of  cant  which  tries  to  drown  it.  We  want  a  book 
about  the  unknown  Italian  painters  in  out-of-the-way 
Italian  valleys  during  the  times  of  the  decadence  of 
art.  There  is  ample  material  for  one  who  has  the 
time  at  his  command. 

We  lunched  at  the  house  of  the  incumbent,  a  monk, 
who    was   very   kind    to    us.     We  found  him  drying 


ST  A.  MARIA.  295 


French  marigold  blossoms  to  colour  his  risotto  with 
durinof  the  winter.  He  orave  us  some  excellent  wine, 
and  took  us  over  the  tower  near  the  church.  Nothing 
can  be  more  lovely  than  the  monk's  garden.  If 
aesthetic  people  are  ever  going  to  get  tired  of  sun- 
flowers and  lilies,  let  me  suggest  to  them  that  they 
will  find  a  weary  utterness  in  chicory  and  seed 
onions  which  they  should  not  overlook ;  I  never 
felt  chicory  and  seed  onions  till  I  was  in  the  monk's 
garden  at  S.  Maria  in  Calanca.  All  about  the 
terrace  or  artificial  level  ground  on  which  the  church 
is  placed,  there  are  admirable  bits  for  painting,  and  if 
there  was  only  accommodation  so  that  one  could  get 
up  as  high  as  the  alpi,  I  can  fancy  few  better  places  to 
stay  at  than  S.  Maria  in  Calanca. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE   MENDRISIOTTO. 

We  stayed  a  day  or  two  at  Bellinzona,  and  then  went 
on  over  the  Monte  Cenere  to  Lugano.  My  first 
acquaintance  with  the  Monte  Cenere  was  made  some 
seven-and-thirty  years  ago  when  I  was  a  small  boy. 
I  remember  Avith  what  deliorht  I  found  wild  narcis- 
suses  growing  in  a  meadow  upon  the  top  of  it,  and 
was  allowed  to  gather  as  many  as  I  liked.  It  was  not 
till  some  thirty  years  afterwards  that  I  again  passed 
over  the  Monte  Cenere  in  summer  time,  but  I  well 
remembered  the  narcissus  place,  and  wondered  whether 
there  would  still  be  any  of  them  growing  there.  Sure 
enough  when  we  got  to  the  top,  there  they  were  as 
thick  as  cowslips  in  an  English  meadow.  At  Lugano, 
having  half-an-hour  to  spare,  we  paid  our  respects  to 
the  glorious  frescoes  by  Bernardino  Luini,  and  to  the 
faQade  of  the  duomo,  and  then  went  on  to  Mendrisio. 

The  neighbourhood  of  Mendrisio,  or,  as  it  is  called, 
the  "  Mendrisiotto,"  is  a  rich  one.  Mendrisio  itself 
should  be   the    headquarters ;    there    is   an    excellent 


THE  MENDRISIOTTO.  297 

hotel  there,  the  Hotel  Mendrisio,  kept  by  Signora 
Pasta,  which  cannot  be  surpassed  for  comfort  and  all 
that  makes  a  hotel  pleasant  to  stay  at.  I  never  saw  a 
house  where  the  arrangements  were  more  perfect ; 
even  in  the  hottest  weather  I  found  the  rooms  always 
cool  and  airy,  and  the  nights  never  oppressive.  Part 
of  the  secret  of  this  may  be  that  Mendrisio  lies  higher 
thart  it  appears  to  do,  and  the  hotel,  which  is  situated 
on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  takes  all  the  breeze  there  is. 
The  lake  of  Lugano  is  about  950  feet  above  the  sea. 
The  river  falls  rapidly  between  Mendrisio  and  the 
lake,  while  the  hotel  is  high  above  the  river.  I  do 
not  see,  therefore,  how  the  hotel  can  be  less  than  1 200 
feet  above  the  sea-line  ;  but  whatever  height  it  is,  I 
never  felt  the  heat  oppressive,  though  on  more  than 
one  occasion  I  have  stayed  there  for  weeks  together 
in  July  and  August. 

Mendrisio  being  situated  on  the  railway  between 
Lugano  and  Como,  both  these  places  are  within  easy 
reach.  Milan  is  only  a  couple  of  hours  off,  and  Varese 
a  three  or  four  hours'  carriag^e  drive.  It  lies  on  the 
very  last  slopes  of  the  Alps,  so  that  whether  the 
visitor  has  a  fancy  for  mountains  or  for  the  smiling 
beauty  of  the  colline,  he  may  be  equally  gratified. 
There  are  excellent  roads  in  every  direction,  and  none 


298  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

of  them  can  be  taken  without  its  leading  to  some  new 
feature  of  interest ;  I  do  not  think  any  English  family- 
will  regret  spending  a  fortnight  at  this  charming  place. 

Most  visitors  to  Mendrisio,  however,  make  it  a 
place  of  passage  only,  en  route  for  the  celebrated 
hotel  on  the  Monte  Generoso,  kept  by  Dr.  Pasta, 
Signora  Pasta's  brother-in-law.  The  Monte  Generoso 
is  very  fine ;  I  know  few  places  of  which  I  am 
fonder;  whether  one  looks  down  at  evening  upon 
the  lake  of  Lugano  thousands  of  feet  below,  and 
then  lets  the  eye  wander  upward  again  and  rest  upon 
the  ghastly  pallor  of  Monte  Rosa,  or  whether  one 
takes  the  path  to  the  Colma  and  saunters  over  green 
slopes  carpeted  with  wild-flowers,  and  studded  with 
the  gentlest  cattle,  all  is  equally  delightful.  What  a 
sense  of  vastness  and  freedom  is  there  on  the  broad 
heaving  slopes  of  these  subalpine  spurs.  They  are 
just  high  enough  without  being  too  high.  The  South 
Downs  are  very  good,  and  by  making  believe  very 
much  I  have  sometimes  been  half  able  to  fancy  when 
upon  them  that  I  might  be  on  the  Monte  Generoso, 
but  they  are  only  good  as  a  quartet  is  good  if  one 
cannot  get  a  symphony. 

I  think  there  are  more  wild-flowers  upon  the  Monte 
Generoso  than  upon  any  other  that  I  know,  and  among 


THE  MENDRISIOTTO.  299 

them  numbers  of  beautiful  wild  narcissuses,  as  on 
the  Monte  Cenere.  At  the  top  of  the  Monte  Gene- 
roso,  among  the  rocks  that  jut  out  from  the  herbage, 
there  grows — unless  it  has  been  all  uprooted — the 
large  yellow  auricula,  and  this  I  own  to  being  my 
favourite  mountain  wild-flower.  It  is  the  only  flower 
which,  I  think,  fairly  beats  cowslips.  Here  too  I 
heard,  or  thought  I  heard,  the  song  of  that  most 
beautiful  of  all  bird  songsters,  the  passero  solitario^  or 
solitary  sparrow — if  it  is  a  sparrow,  which  I  should 
doubt. 

Nobody  knows  what  a  bird  can  do  in  the  way  of 
song  until  he  has  heard  a  passero  solitai^to.  I  think 
they  still  have  one  at  the  Hotel  Mendrisio,  but  am 
not  sure.  I  heard  one  there  once,  and  can  only  say 
that  I  shall  ever  remember  it  as  the  most  beautiful 
warblingf  that  I  ever  heard  come  out  of  the  throat  of 
bird.  All  other  bird  singing  is  loud,  vulgar,  and 
unsympathetic  in  comparison.  The  bird  itself  is 
about  as  big  as  a  starling,  and  is  of  a  dull  blue  colour. 
It  is  easily  tamed,  and  becomes  very  much  attached 
to  its  master  and  mistress,  but  it  is  apt  to  die  in 
confinement  before  very  long.  It  fights  all  others  of 
its  own  species  ;  it  is  now  a  rare  bird,  and  is  doomed,  I 
fear,  ere  long  to  extinction,  to  the  regret  of  all  who 


300  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

have  had  the  pleasure  of  its  acquaintance.  The 
ItaHans  are  very  fond  of  them,  and  Professor  Vela 
told  me  they  will  even  act  like  a  house  dog  and  set 
up  a  cry  if  any  strangers  come.  The  one  I  saw  flew 
instantly  at  my  finger  when  I  put  it  near  its  cage,  but 
I  was  not  sure  whether  it  did  so  in  anger  or  play.  I 
thought  it  liked  being  listened  to,  and  as  long  as  it 
chose  to  sing  I  was  delighted  to  stay,  whereas  as  a 
general  rule  I  want  singing  birds  to  leave  off. 

People  say  the  nightingale's  song  is  so  beautiful ;  I 
am  ashamed  to  own  it,  but  I  do  not  like  it.  It  does 
not  use  the  diatonic  scale.  A  bird  should  either  make 
no  attempt  to  sing  in  tune,  or  it  should  succeed  in 
doing  so.  Larks  are  Wordsworth,  and  as  for  canaries,  I 
would  almost  sooner  hear  a  pig  having  its  nose  ringed, 
or  the  grinding  of  an  axe.  Cuckoos  are  all  right ; 
they  sing  in  tune.  Rooks  are  lovely  ;  they  do  not 
pretend  to  tune.  Seagulls,  again,  and  the  plaintive 
creatures  that  pity  themselves  on  moorlands,  as  the 
plover  and  the  curlew,  or  the  birds  that  lift  up  their 
voices  and  cry  at  eventide  when  there  is  an  eager  air 
blowing  upon  the  mountains  and  the  last  yellow  in  the 
sky  is  fading — I  have  no  words  with  which  to  praise 
the  music  of  these  people.  Or  listen  to  the  chuckling 
of  a  string  of  soft  young  ducks,  as  they  glide  single- 


THE  MENDRISIOTTO. 


file  beside  a  ditch  under  a  hedgerow,  so  close  together 
that  they  look  like  some  long  brown  serpent,  and  say 
what  sound  can  be  more  seductive. 

Many  years  ago  I  remember  thinking  that  the  birds 
in  New  Zealand  approached  the  diatonic  scale  more 
nearly  than  European  birds  do.  There  was  one  bird, 
I  think  it  was  the  New  Zealand  thrush,  but  am  not 
sure,  which  used  to  sing  thus  : — 


I  was  always  wanting  it  to  go  on  : — 


But  it  never  got  beyond  the  first  four  bars.  Then 
there  was  another  which  I  noticed  the  first  day  I 
landed,  more  than  twenty  years  since,  and  whose 
song  descended  by  very  nearly  perfect  semitones  as 
follows  : — 


^f^^^^mm 


but   the  semitones  are  here  and  there  in  this  bird's 
song  a  trifle  out  of  tune,  whereas  in  that  of  the  other 


302  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

there  was  no  departure  from  the  diatonic  scale.  Be 
this,  however,  as  it  may,  none  of  these  please  me  so 
much  as  the  passero  solitario. 

The  only  mammals  that  I  can  call  to  mind  at  this 
moment  as  showing  any  even  apparent  approach  to 
an  appreciation  of  the  diatonic  scale  are  the  elephant 
and  the  rhinoceros.  The  braying  (or  whatever  is  the 
technical  term  for  it)  of  an  elephant  comprises  a 
pretty  accurate  third,  and  is  of  a  rich  mellow  tone 
with  a  good  deal  of  brass  in  it.  The  rhinoceros 
grunts  a  good  fourth,  beginning,  we  will  say,  on  C, 
and  dropping  correctly  on  to  the  G  below. 

The  Monte  Generoso,  then,  is  a  good  place  to  stay 
a  few  days  at,  but  one  soon  comes  to  an  end  of  it. 
The  top  of  a  mountain  is  like  an  island  in  the  air,  one 
is  cooped  up  upon  it  unless  one  descends  ;  in  the 
case  of  the  Monte  Generoso  there  is  the  view  of  the 
lake  of  Lugano,  the  walk  to  the  Colma,  the  walk  along 
the  crest  of  the  hill  by  the  farm,  and  the  view  over 
Lombardy,  and  that  is  all.  If  one  goes  far  down  one 
is  haunted  by  the  recollection  that  when  one  is  tired  in 
the  evening  one  will  have  all  one's  climbing  to  do,  and, 
beautiful  as  the  upper  parts  of  the  Monte  Generoso 
are,  there  is  little  for  a  painter  there  except  to  study 
cattle,  goats,  and  clouds.      I  recommend  a  traveller. 


THE  MENDRISIOTTO.  303 

therefore,  by  all  means  to  spend  a  day  or  two  at  the 
hotel  on  the  Monte  Generoso,  but  to  make  his  longer 
sojourn  down  below  at  Mendrisio,  the  walks  and 
excursions  from  which  are  endless,  and  all  of  them 
beautiful. 

Amono;  the  best  of  these  is  the  ascent  of  the  Monte 
Bisbino,  which  can  be  easily  made  in  a  day  from  Men- 
drisio ;  I  found  no  difficulty  in  doing  it  on  foot  all  the 
way  there  and  back  a  few  years  ago,  but  I  now  prefer  to 
take  a  trap  as  far  as  Sagno,  and  do  the  rest  of  the  jour- 
ney on  foot,  returning  to  the  trap  in  the  evening.  Every 
one  who  knows  North  Italy  knows  the  Monte  Bisbino. 
It  is  a  high  pyramidal  mountain  with  what  seems  a 
little  white  chapel  on  the  top  that  glistens  like  a  star 
when  the  sun  is  full  upon  it.  From  Como  it  is  seen 
most  plainly,  but  it  is  distinguishable  over  a  very  large 
part  of  Lombardy  when  the  sun  is  right ;  it  is  fre- 
quently ascended  from  Como  and  Cernobbio,  but  I 
believe  the  easiest  way  of  getting  up  it  is  to  start  from 
Mendrisio  with  a  trap  as  far  as  Sagno. 

A  mile  and  a  half  or  so  after  leaving  Mendrisio 
there  is  a  village  called  Castello  on  the  left.  Here,  a 
little  off  the  road  on  the  right  hand,  there  is  the  small 
church  of  S.  Cristoforo,  of  great  antiquity,  containing 
the   remains  of  some  early  frescoes,    I  should  think 


304  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

of  the  thirteenth  or  early  part  of  the  fourteenth 
century. 

As  usual,  people  have  scratched  their  names  on  the 
frescoes.  We  found  one  name  "  Battista,"  with  the 
date  '*  1485"  against  it.  It  is  a  mistake  to  hold  that 
the    Encrlish  scribble  their  names  about  more   than 

o 

other  people.  The  Italians  like  doing  this  just  as 
well  as  we  do.  Let  the  reader  go  to  Varallo,  for 
example,  and  note  the  names  scratched  up  from  the 
beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century  to  the  present  day, 
on  the  walls  of  the  chapel  containing  the  crucifixion. 
Indeed,  the  Italians  seem  to  have  begun  the  habit  long 
before  we  did,  for  we  very  rarely  find  names  scratched 
on  English  buildings  so  long  ago  as  the  fifteenth 
century,  whereas  in  Italy  they  are  common.  The 
earliest  I  can  call  to  mind  in  England  at  this  moment 
(of  course,  excepting  the  names  written  in  the  Beau- 
champ  tower)  is  on  the  church  porch  at  Harlington, 
where  there  is  a  name  cut  and  dated  in  one  of 
the  early  years  of  the  seventeenth  century.  I  never 
even  in  Italy  saw  a  name  scratched  on  a  wall  with  an 
earlier  date  than  1480. 

Why  is  it,  I  wonder,  that  these  little  bits  of  soul- 
fossil,  as  it  were,  touch  us  so  much  when  we  come 
across   them  ?     A  fossil  does  not  touch  us — while  a 


THE  MENDRISIOTTO.  305 

fly  in  amber  does.  Why  should  a  fly  in  amber  interest 
us  and  give  us  a  slightly  solemn  feeling  for  a  moment, 
when  the  fossil  of  a  meofatherium  bores  us  ?  I  orive  it 
up  ;  but  few  of  us  can  see  the  lightest  trifle  scratched 
off  casually  and  idly  long  ago,  without  liking  it  better 
than  almost  any  great  thing  of  the  same,  or  ever  so 
much  earlier  date,  done  with  purpose  and  intention 
that  it  should  remain.  So  when  we  left  S.  Cristo- 
foro  it  was  not  the  old  church,  nor  the  frescoes,  but 
the  name  of  the  idle  fellow  who  had  scratched  his 
name  "  Battista  .  .  .  1485,"  that  we  carried  away  with 
us.  A  little  bit  of  old  world  life  and  entire  want  of 
earnestness,  preserved  as  though  it  were  a  smile  in 
amber. 

In  the  Val  Sesia,  several  years  ago,  I  bought  some 
tobacco  that  was  wrapped  up  for  me  in  a  yellow  old 
MS.  which  I  in  due  course  examined.  It  was  dated 
1797,  and  was  a  leaf  from  the  book  in  which  a  tanner 
used  to  enter  the  skins  which  his  customers  brouo-ht 

o 

him  to  be  tanned. 

"  October  24,"  he  writes,  "  I  receive  from  Signora 
Silvestre,  called  the  widow,  the  skin  of  a  goat  branded 
in  the  neck. — (I  am  not  to  give  it  up  unless  they  give 
me  proof  that  she  is  the  rightful  owner.)  Mem.  I 
delivered  it  to  Mr.  Peter  Job.     {Sig7tor  Pietro  Giobbe) 


3o6  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

"  October  27. — I  receive  two  small  skins  of  a  goat, 
very  thin  and  branded  in  the  neck,  from  Giuseppe 
Gianote  of  Campertogno. 

"October  29. —  I  receive  three  skins  of  a  chamois 
from  Signor  Antonio  Cinere  of  Alagna,  branded  in 
the  neck."  Then  there  is  a  subsequent  entry  written 
small.  "  I  receive  also  a  little  gray  marmot's  skin 
weighing  thirty  ounces." 

I  am  sorry  I  did  not  get  a  sheet  with  the  tanner's 
name.  I  am  sure  he  was  an  excellent  person,  and 
might  have  been  trusted  with  any  number  of  skins, 
branded  or  unbranded.  It  is  nearly  a  hundred  years 
ago  since  that  little  gray  marmot's  skin  was  tanned  in 
the  Val  Sesia  ;  but  the  wretch  will  not  lie  quiet  in  his 
grave ;  he  walks,  and  has  haunted  me  once  a  month 
or  so  any  time  this  ten  years  past.  I  will  see  if  I 
cannot  lay  him  by  prevailing  on  him  to  haunt  some 
one  or  other  of  my  readers. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

SANCTUARY  ON  MONTE   BISBINO. 

But  to  return  to  S.  Cristoforo.  In  the  Middle  Ages 
there  was  a  certain  duke  who  held  this  part  of  the 
country  and  was  notorious  for  his  exactions.  One 
Christmas  eve  when  he  and  his  whole  household 
had  assembled  to  their  devotions,  the  people  rose  up 
asfainst  them  and  murdered  them  inside  the  church. 
After  this  tragedy  the  church  was  desecrated,  though 
monuments  have  been  put  up  on  the  outside  walls 
even  in  recent  years.  There  is  a  fine  bit  of  early 
religious  sculpture  over  the  door,  and  the  traces  of  a 
fresco  of  Christ  walking  upon  the  water,  also  very 
early. 

Returning  to  the  road  by  a  path  of  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards,  we  descended  to  cross  the  river,  and 
then  ascended  again  to  Morbio  Superiore.  The  view 
from  the  piazza  in  front  of  the  church  is  very  fine, 
extending  over  the  whole  Mendrisiotto,  and  reaching 
as  far  as  Varese  and  the  Laofo  Macroriore.  Below 
is   Morbio   Inferiore,  a  place  of  singular  beauty.     A 


3o8  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

couple  of  Italian  friends  were  with  us,  one  of  them 
Signor  Spartaco  Vela,  son  of  Professor  Vela.  He 
called  us  into  the  church  and  showed  us  a  beautiful 
altar-piece — a  Madonna  with  saints  on  either  side, 
apparently  moved  from  some  earlier  church,  and,  as 
we  all  agreed,  a  very  fine  work,  though  we  could  form 
no  idea  who  the  artist  was. 

From  Morbio  Superiore  the  ascent  is  steep,  and  it 
will  take  half-an-hour  or  more  to  reach  the  level  bit 
of  road  close  to  Sagno.  This,  again,  commands  the 
most  exquisite  views,  especially  over  Como,  through 
the  trunks  of  the  trees.  Then  comes  Sagno  itself,  the 
last  village  of  the  Canton  Ticino  and  close  to  the 
Italian  frontier.  There  is  no  inn  with  sleeping  ac- 
commodation here,  but  if  there  was,  Sagno  would  be 
a  very  good  place  to  stay  at.  They  say  that  some  of 
its  inhabitants  sometimes  smuggle  a  pound  or  two  of 
tobacco  across  the  Italian  frontier,  hiding  it  in  the 
fern  close  to  the  boundary,  and  whisking  it  over  the 
line  on  a  dark  night,  but  I  know  not  what  truth  there 
is  in  the  allegation  ;  the  people  struck  me  as  being 
above  the  average  in  respect  of  good  looks  and  good 
breeding — and  the  average  in  those  parts  is  a  very 
hiorh  one. 

Immediately  behind  Sagno  the  old  paved  pilgrim's 


MONTE  BISBINO. 


309 


road  begins  to  ascend  rapidly.  We  followed  it,  and  in 
half-an-hour  reached  the  stone  markino^  the  Italian 
boundary  ;  then  comes  some  level  walking,  and  then 
on  turning  a  corner  the  monastery  at  the  top  of  the 
Monte  Bisbino  is  caught  sight  of.  It  still  looks  small, 
but  one  can  now  see  what  an  important  building  it 
really  is,  and  how  different  from  the  mere  chapel 
which  it  appears  to  be  when  seen  from  a  distance. 
The  sketch  which  I  give  is  taken  from  about  a  mile 
further  on  than 
the  place  where 
the  summit  is  first 
seen. 

Here  some 
men  joined  us 
who  lived  in  a 
hut  a  few  hun- 
dred feet  from  the  top  of  the  mountain  and  looked 
after  the  cattle  there  during  the  summer.  It  is  at 
their  a/pe  that  the  last  water  can  be  obtained,  so  we 
resolved  to  stay  there  and  eat  the  provisions  we  had 
brought  with  us.  For  the  benefit  of  travellers,  I 
should  say  they  will  find  the  water  by  opening  the 
door  of  a  kind  of  outhouse  ;  this  covers  the  water  and 
prevents  the  cows  from  dirtying  it.     There  will  be  a 


TOP  OF  MONTE   BISBINO. 


3IO  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

wooden  bowl  floating  on  the  top.  The  water  outside 
is  not  drinkable,  but  that  in  the  outhouse  is  excellent. 

The  men  were  very  good  to  us ;  they  knew  me, 
having  seen  me  pass  and  watched  me  sketching  in 
other  years.  It  had  unfortunately  now  begun  to  rain, 
so  we  were  glad  of  shelter :  they  threw  faggots  on 
the  fire  and  soon  kindled  a  blaze ;  when  these  died 
down  and  it  was  seen  that  the^  sparks  clung  to  the 
kettle  and  smouldered  on  it,  they  said  that  it  would 
rain  much,  and  they  were  right.  It  poured  during 
the  hour  we  spent  in  dining,  after  which  it  only  got 
a  little  better ;  we  thanked  them,  and  went  up  five 
or  six  hundred  feet  till  the  monastery  at  length 
loomed  out  suddenly  upon  us  from  the  mist,  when 
we  were  close  to  it  but  not  before. 

There  is  a  restaurant  at  the  top  which  is  open  for 
a  few  days  before  and  after  a  festa,  but  generally 
closed  ;  it  was  open  now,  so  we  went  in  to  dry  our- 
selves. We  found  rather  a  roughish  lot  assembled, 
and  imagined  the  smuggling  element  to  preponderate 
over  the  religious,  but  nothing  could  be  better  than 
the  way  in  which  they  treated  us.  There  was  one 
gentleman,  however,  who  was  no  smuggler,  but  who 
had  lived  many  years  in  London  and  had  now  settled 
down  at  Rovenna,  just  below  on  the  lake  of  Como. 


MONTE  BISBINO. 


311 


He  had  taken  a  room  here  and  furnished  it  for  the  sake 
of  the  shooting.  He  spoke  perfect  Engh'sh,  and  would 
have  none  but  Engrlish  things  about  him.  He  had 
Cockle's  antibillous  pills,  and  the  last  numbers  of  the 
"Illustrated  London  News"  and  "Morning Chronicle;" 
his  bath  and  bath-towels  were  English,  and  there  was 
a  box  of  Huntley  &  Palmer's  biscuits  on  his  dressing- 
table.  He  was  delighted  to  see  some  Englishmen,  and 
showed  us  everything  that  was  to  be  seen — among  the 
rest  the  birds  he  kept  in  cages  to  lure  those  that  he 
intended  to  shoot.  He  also  took  us  behind  the  church, 
and  there  we  found  a  very  beautiful  marble  statue 
of  the  Madonna  and  child,  an  admirable  work,  with 
painted  eyes  and  the  dress  gilded  and  figured.  What 
an  extraordinary  number  of  fine  or,  at  the  least,  inte- 
resting things  one  finds  in  Italy  which  no  one  knows 
anything  about.  In  one  day,  poking  about  at  random, 
we  had  seen  some  early  frescoes  at  S.  Cristoforo,  an 
excellent  work  at  Morbio,  and  here  was  another  fine 
thing  sprung  upon  us.  It  is  not  safe  ever  to  pass  a 
church  in  Italy  without  exploring  it  carefully.  The 
church  may  be  new  and  for  the  most  part  full  of 
nothing  but  what  is  odious,  but  there  is  no  knowing 
what  fragment  of  earlier  w6rk  one  may  not  find 
preserved. 


312 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


Signor  Barelli,  for  this  was  our  friend's  name,  now 
gave  us  some  prints  of  the  sanctuary,  one  of  which  I 
reproduce  here.  Behind  the  church  there  is  a  level 
piece  of  ground  with  a  table  and  stone  seats  round  it. 


The  view  from  here  in  fine  weather  is  very  striking. 
As  it  was,  however,  it  was  perhaps  hardly  less  fine 
than  in  clear  weather,  for  the  clouds  had  now  raised 
themselves    a    little,    though    very   little,    above    the 


MONTE  BISBINO. 


313 


sanctuary,  but  here  and  there  lay  all  ragged  down 
below  us,  and  cast  beautiful  reflected  lights  upon  the 
lake  and  town  of  Como.  Above,  the  heavens  were 
still  black  and  lowering.  Over  against  us  was  the 
Monte  Generoso,  very  sombre, 
and  scarred  with  snow-white 
torrents ;  below,  the  dull,  sullen 
slopes  of  the  Monte  Bisbino, 
and  the  lake  of  Como ;  further 
on,  the  Mendrisiotto,  and  the  table  on  monte  b.sbino. 
blue-black  plains  of  Lombardy.  I  have  been  at  the 
top  of  the  Monte  Bisbino  several  times,  but  never  was 
more  impressed  with  it.  At  all  times,  however,  it  is  a 
marvellous  place. 

Coming  down  we  kept  the  ridge  of  the  hill  instead 
of  taking  the  path  by  which  we 
ascended.  Beautiful  views  of 
the  monastery  are  thus  ob- 
tained. The  flowers  in  spring 
must  be  very  varied ;  and  we 
still  found  two  or  three  laree 
kinds  of  gentians  and  any  number  of  cyclamens. 
Presently  Vela  dug  up  a  fern  root  of  the  common 
Polypodium  vulgare ;  he  scraped  it  with  his  knife  and 
gave  us  some  to  eat.     It  is  not  at  all  bad,  and  tastes 


CHAPEL  OF  S.    NICOLAO. 


314  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

very  much  like  liquorice.  Then  we  came  upon  the 
little  chapel  of  S.  Nicolao.  I  do  not  know  whether 
there  is  anything  good  inside  or  no.  Then  we  reached 
Sagno  and  returned  to  Mendrisio ;  as  we  re-crossed 
the  stream  between  Morbio  Superiore  and  Castello 
we  found  it  had  become  a  raging  torrent,  capable  of 
any  villainy. 


^     CHAPTER  XXII. 

A    DAY  AT   THE   CANTINE. 

Next  day  we  went  to  breakfast  with  Professor  Vela, 
the  father  of  my  friend  Spartaco,  at  Ligornetto. 
After  we  had  admired  the  many  fine  works  which 
Professor  Vela's  studio  contains,  it  was  agreed  that 
we  should  take  a  walk  by  S.  Agata,  and  spend  the 
afternoon  at  the  Cantine,  or  cellars  where  the  wine 
is  kept.  Spartaco  had  two  painter  friends  staying 
with  him  whom  I  already  knew,  and  a  young  lady, 
his  cousin ;  so  we  all  went  together  across  the 
meadows.  I  think  we  started  about  one  o'clock, 
and  it  was  some  three  or  four  by  the  time  we  got 
to  the  Cantine,  for  we  kept  stopping  continually  to 
drink  wine.  The  two  painter  visitors  had  a  fine 
comic  vein,  and  enlivened  us  continually  with  bits  of 
stage  business  which  were  sometimes  uncommonly 
droll.  We  were  laughing  incessantly,  but  carried 
very  little  away  with  us  except  that  the  drier  one  of 
the  two,  who  was  also  unfortunately  deaf,  threw  him- 
self into  a  rhapsodical  attitude  with  his  middle  finger 


3i6  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

against  his  cheek,  and  his  eyes  upturned  to  heaven,  but 
to  make  sure  that  his  finger  should  stick  to  his  cheek 
he  just  wetted  the  end  of  it  against  his  tongue  first. 
He  did  this  with  unruffled  gravity,  and  as  if  it  were 
the  only  thing  to  do  under  the  circumstances. 

The  young  lady  who  was  with  us  all  the  time 
enjoyed  everything  just  as  much  as  we  did;  once, 
indeed,  she  thought  they  were  going  a  litde  too 
far — not  as  among  themselves — but  considering  tliat 
there  were  a  couple  of  earnest-minded  Englishmen 
with  them :  the  pair  had  begun  a  short  performance 
which  certainly  did  look  as  if  it  might  develop  into 
something  a  litde  hazardous.  "  Minga  far  tutto,"  she 
exclaimed  rather  prompdy — "  Don't  do  all."  So  what 
the  rest  would  have  been  we  shall  never  know. 

Then  we  came  to  some  precipices,  whereon  it  at 
once  occurred  to  the  two  comedians  that  they  would 
commit  suicide.  The  pathetic  way  in  which  they 
shared  the  contents  of  their  pockets  among  us,  and 
came  back  more  than  once  to  give  little  additional 
parting  messages  which  occurred  to  them  just  as  they 
were  about  to  take  the  fatal  plunge,  was  irresistibly 
comic,  and  was  the  more  remarkable  for  the  spon- 
taneousness  of  the  whole  thing  and  the  admirable 
way    in    which    the    pair   played   into    one    anothers 


A  DAY  AT  THE  CANTINE.  317 

hands.  The  deaf  one  even  played  his  deafness, 
making  it  worse  than  it  was  so  as  to  heighten  the 
comedy.  By  and  by  we  came  to  a  stile  which  they 
pretended  to  have  a  delicacy  in  crossing,  but  the 
lady  helped  them  over.  We  concluded  that  if  these 
young  men  were  average  specimens  of  the  Italian 
student — and  I  should  say  they  were — the  Italian 
character  has  an  enormous  fund  of  pure  love  of  fun — 
not  of  mischievous  fun,  but  of  the  very  best  kind  of 
playful  humour,  such  as  I  have  never  seen  elsewhere 
except  among  Englishmen. 

Several  times  we  stopped  and  had  a  bottle  of 
wine  at  one  place  or  another,  till  at  last  we  came  to  a 
beautiful  shady  place  looking  down  towards  the  lake 
of  Lugano  where  we  were  to  rest  for  half-an-hour  or 
so.  There  was  a  cantina  here,  so  of  course  we  had 
more  wine.  In  that  air,  and  with  the  walk  and 
incessant  state  of  laughter  in  which  we  were  beinor 
kept,  we  might  drink  ad  libitiim,  and  the  lady  did 
not  refuse  a  second  small  bicchiei-e.  On  this  our  deaf 
friend  assumed  an  anxious,  fatherly  air.  He  said 
nothing,  but  put  his  eyeglass  in  his  eye,  and  looked 
first  at  the  lady's  glass  and  then  at  the  lady  with  an  ex- 
pression at  once  kind,  pitying,  and  pained  ;  he  looked 
backwards  and  forwards  from  the  glass  to  the  lady 


3i8  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

more  than  once,  and  then  made  as  though  he  were 
going  to  quit  a  scene  in  which  it  was  plain  he  could 
be  of  no  further  use,  throwing  up  his  hands  and  eyes 
like  the  old  steward  in  Hogarth's  mariage  a  la  mode. 
They  never  seemed  to  tire,  and  every  fresh  incident 
at  once  suggested  its  appropriate  treatment.  Jones 
asked  them  whether  they  thought  they  could  mimic 
me.  **  Oh  dear,  yes,"  was  the  answer ;  "  we  have 
mimicked  him  hundreds  of  times,"  and  they  at  once 
began. 

At  last  we  reached  Professor  Vela's  own  cantina, 
and  here  we  were  to  have  our  final  bottle.  There 
were  several  other  cantine  hard  by,  and  other  parties 
that  had  come  like  ourselves  to  take  a  walk  and  get 
some  wine.  The  people  bring  their  evening  meal 
with  them  up  to  the  cantina  and  then  sit  on  the  wall 
outside,  or  go  to  a  rough  table  and  eat  it.  Instead,  in 
fact,  of  bringing  their  wine  to  their  dinner,  they  take 
their  dinner  to  their  wine.  There  was  one  very  fat 
old  gentleman  who  had  got  the  corner  of  the  wall  to 
sit  on,  and  was  smoking  a  cigar  with  his  coat  off.  He 
comes,  I  am  told,  every  day  at  about  three  during  the 
summer  months,  and  sits  on  the  wall  till  seven,  when 
he  goes  home  to  bed,  rising  at  about  four  o'clock 
next  morning.     He  seemed  exceedingly  good-tempered 


A  DAY  AT  THE  CANTINE.  319 

and  happy.  Another  family  who  owned  a  cantina 
adjoining  Professor  Vela's,  had  brought  their  evening 
meal  with  them,  and  insisted  on  giving  us  a  quantity 
of  excellent  river  cray-fish  which  looked  like  little 
lobsters.  I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  thought  this  family 
looked  at  us  once  or  twice  as  though  they  thought  we 
were  seeing  a  little  more  of  the  Italians  absolutely 
chez  etix,  than  strangers  ought  to  be  allowed  to  see. 
We  can  only  say  we  liked  all  we  saw  so  much  that  we 
would  fain  see  it  again,  and  were  left  with  the  impres- 
sion that  we  were  among  the  nicest  and  most  loveable 
people  in  the  world. 

I  have  said  that  the  caiitine  are  the  cellars  where 
the  people  keep  their  wine.  They  are  caves  hollowed 
out  into  the  side  of  the  mountain,  and  it  is  only  certain 
localities  that  are  suitable  for  the  purpose.  The 
cantijie,  therefore,  of  any  village  will  be  all  together. 
The  cantine  of  Mendrisio,  for  example,  can  be  seen 
from  the  railroad,  all  in  a  row,  a  little  before  one  gets 
into  the  town  ;  they  form  a  place  of  reunion  where  the 
village  or  town  unites  to  unbend  itself  onfesfe  or  after 
business  hours.  I  do  not  know  exactly  how  they 
manage  it,  but  from  the  innermost  chamber  of  each 
cantina  they  run  a  small  gallery  as  far  as  they  can  into 
the  mountain,  and  from  this  gallery,  which  may  be  a 


320  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

foot  square,  there  issues  a  strong  current  of  what,  in 
summer,  is  icy  cold  air,  while  in  winter  it  feels  quite 
warm.  I  could  understand  the  equableness  of  the 
temperature  of  the  mountain  at  some  yards  from  the 
surface  of  the  ground,  causing  the  cantina  to  feel  cool 
in  summer  and  warm  in  winter,  but  I  was  not  prepared 
for  the  strength  and  iciness  of  the  cold  current  that 
came  from  the  gallery.  I  had  not  been  in  the  inner- 
most cantina  two  minutes  before  I  felt  thoroughly 
chilled  and  in  want  of  a  greatcoat. 

Havinof  been  shown  the  cantine,  we  took  some  of 
the  little  cups  which  are  kept  inside  and  began  to 
drink.  These  little  cups  are  common  crockery,  but  at 
the  bottom  there  is  written,  Viva  Bacco,  Viva  I'ltalia, 
Viva  la  Gioia.  Viva  Venere,  or  other  such  matter ;  they 
are  to  be  had  in  every  crockery  shop  throughout  the 
Mendrisiotto,  and  are  very  pretty.  We  drank  out 
of  them,  and  ate  the  cray-fish  which  had  been  given 
us.  Then  seeing  that  it  was  getting  late,  we  returned 
together  to  Besazio,  and  there  parted,  they  descending 
to  Ligornetto  and  we  to  Mendrisio,  after  a  day  which 
I  should  be  glad  to  think  would  be  as  long  and 
pleasantly  remembered  by  our  Italian  friends  as  it 
will  assuredly  be  by  ourselves. 

The   excursions    in    the    neighbourhood   of  Men- 


A  DAY  AT  THE  CANTINE. 


321 


drisio  are  endless.  The  walk,  for  example,  to  S. 
Agata  and  thence  to  Meride  is  exquisite.  S.  Agata 
itself  is  perfect,  and  commands  a  splendid  view.  Then 
there  is  tb.e  little  chapel  of  S.  Nicolao  on  a  ledge  of 
the  red  precipice.  The  walk  to  this  by  the  village  of 
Sommazzo   is  as  good  as  anything  can   be,  and   the 


£i^^'^-V^^ai=^^' 


SOMMAZZO. 


quiet  terrace  leading  to  the  church  door  will  not  be 
forgotten  by  those  who  have  seen  it.  Sommazzo  itself 
from  the  other  side  of  the  valley  comes  as  above. 
There  is  Cragno,  again,  on  the  Monte  Generoso, 
or  Riva  with  its  series  of  pictures  in  tempera  by  the 
brothers  Giulio  Cesare,  and  Camillo  Procaccini,  men 


322  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

who,  had  they  lived  before  the  days  of  academies, 
might  have  done  as  well  as  any,  except  the  few 
whom  no  academy  can  mould,  but  who,  as  it  was, 
were  carried  away  by  fluency  and  facility.  It  is  use- 
less, however,  to  specify.  There  is  not  one  of  the 
many  villages  which  can  be  seen  from  any  rising 
ground  in  the  neighbourhood,  but  what  contains 
something  that  is  picturesque  and  interesting,  while 
the  coic^  d'ceil,  as  a  whole,  is  always  equally  striking, 
whether  one  is  on  the  plain  and  looks  towards  the 
mountains,  or  looks  from  the  mountains  to  the  plains. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

SACRO  MONTE,    VARESE. 

From  Mendrisio  we  took  a  trap  across  the  country 
to  Varese,  passing  through  Stabbio,  where  there  are 
some  baths  that  are  much  frequented  by  ItaHans  in 
the  summer.  The  road  is  a  pleasant  one,  but  does 
not  go  through  any  specially  remarkable  places. 
Travellers  taking  this  road  had  better  leave  every 
cigarette  behind  them -on  which  they  do  not  want  to 
pay  duty,  as  the  custom-house  official  at  the  frontier 
takes  a  strict  view  of  what  is  due  to  his  employers. 
I. had,  perhaps,  a  couple  of  ounces  of  tobacco  in  my 
pouch,  but  was  made  to  pay  duty  on  it,  and  the 
searchinsf  of  our  small  amount  of  luQforaa-e  was  little 
less  than  inquisitorial. 

From  Varese  we  went  without  stopping  to  the 
Sacro  Monte,  four  or  five  miles  beyond,  and  several 
hundred  feet  higher  than,  the  town  itself  Close  to  the 
first  chapel,  and  just  below  the  arch  through  which  the 
more  sacred  part  of  the  mountain  is  entered  upon, 


324  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

there  is  an  excellent  hotel  called  the  Hotel  Riposo, 
kept  by  Signor  Plotti ;  it  is  very  comfortable,  and 
not  at  all  too  hot  even  in  the  dog-days ;  it  com- 
mands magnificent  views,  and  makes  very  good  head- 
quarters. 

Here  we  rested  and  watched  the  pilgrims  going  up 
and  down.  They  seemed  very  good-humoured  and 
merry.  Then  we  looked  through  the  grating  of  the 
first  chapel  inside  the  arch,  and  found  it  to  contain  a 
representation  of  the  Annunciation.  The  Virgin  had 
a  real  washing-stand,  with  a  basin  and  jug,  and  a  piece 
of  real  soap.  Her  slippers  were  disposed  neatly 
under  the  bed,  so  also  were  her  shoes,  and,  if  I 
remember  rightly,  there  was  everything  else  that 
Messrs.  Heal  &  Co.  would  send  for  the  furnishing 
of  a  lady's  bedroom. 

I  have  already  said  perhaps  too  much  about  the 
realism  of  these  groups  of  painted  statuary,  but  will 
venture  a  word  or  two  more  which  may  help  the 
reader  to  understand  the  matter  better  as  it  appears 
to  Catholics  themselves.  The  object  is  to  bring  the 
scene  .as  vividly  as  possible  before  people  who  have 
not  had  the  opportunity  of  being  able  to  realise  it  to 
themselves,  through  travel,  or  general  cultivation  of 
the  imaginative  faculties.     How  can  an  Italian  peasant 


SACRO  MONTE,  VARESE.  325 

realise  to  himself  the  notion  of  the  Annunciation  so 
well  as  by  seeing  such  a  chapel  as  that  at  Varese  ? 
Common  sense  says,  either  tell  the  peasant  nothing 
about  the  Annunciation,  or  put  every  facility  in  his 
way  by  the  help  of  which  he  will  be  able  to  conceive 
the  idea  with  some  definiteness. 

We  stuff  the  dead  bodies  of  birds  and  animals  which 
we  think  it  worth  while  to  put  into  our  museums. 
We  put  them  in  the  most  life-like  attitudes  we  can, 
with  bits  of  grass  and  bush,  and  painted  landscape 
behind  them  :  by  doing  this  we  give  people  who  have 
never  seen  the  actual  animals,  a  more  vivid  idea  con- 
cerning them  than  we  know  how  to  give  by  any  other 
means.  We  have  not  room  in  the  British  Museum  to 
give  a  loose  rein  to  realism  in  the  matter  of  accessories, 
but  each  bird  or  animal  in  the  collection  is  so  stuffed 
as  to  make  it  look  as  much  alive  as  the  stuffer  can 
make  it — even  to  the  insertion  of  glass  eyes.  We 
think  it  well  that  our  people  should  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  realising  these  birds  and  beasts  to  themselves, 
but  we  are  shocked  at  the  notion  of  gfivincr  them  a 
similar  aid  to  the  realisation  of  events  which,  as  we  say, 
concern  them  more  nearly  than  any  others  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world.  A  stuffed  rabbit  or  blackbird  is  a 
good  thing.     A  stuffed  Charge  of  Balaclava  again  is 


326  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

quite  legitimate;  but  a  stuffed  Nativity  is,  according  to 
Protestant  notions,  offensive. 

Over  and  above  the  desire  to  help  the  masses  to 
realise  the  events  in  Christ's  life  more  vividly,  some- 
thing is  doubtless  due  to  the  wish  to  attract  people  by 
giving  them  what  they  like.  This  is  both  natural  and 
legitimate.  Our  own  rectors  find  the  prettiest  psalm 
and  hymn  tunes  they  can  for  the  use  of  their  congrega- 
tions, and  take  much  pains  generally  to  beautify  their 
churches.  Why  should  not  the  Church  of  Rome  make 
herself  attractive  also  ?  If  she  knows  better  how  to  do 
this  than  Protestant  churches  do,  small  blame  to  her  for 
that.  For  the  people  delight  in  these  graven  images. 
Listen  to  the  hushed  "  oh  bel !  "  which  falls  from  them 
as  they  peep  through  grating  after  grating ;  and  the 
more  tawdry  a  chapel  is,  the  better,  as  a  general  rule, 
they  are  contented.  They  like  them  as  our  own  people 
like  Madame  Tussaud's.  Granted  that  they  come  to 
worship  the  images ;  they  do ;  they  hardly  attempt  to 
conceal  it.  The  writer  of  the  authorised  handbook  to 
the  Sacro  Monte  at  Locarno,  for  example,  speaks  of 
the  solemn  coronation  of  the  imao^e  that  is  there 
revered  " — "  la  solenne  coronazione  del  simulacro  ivi 
venerato  "  (p.  7).  But  how,  pray,  can  we  avoid  wor- 
shipping images  ?  or  loving  images  ?    The  actual  living 


I 


I 


SACRO  MONTE,  VARESE.  327 

form  of  Christ  on  earth  was  still  not  Christ,  it  was  but 
the  image  under  which  His  disciples  saw  Him  ;  nor  can 
we  see  more  of  any  of  those  we  love  than  a  certain 
more  versatile  and  warmer  presentment  of  them  than 
an  artist  can  counterfeit.  The  ultimate  "them"  we 
see  not. 

How  far  these  chapels  have  done  all  that  their 
founders  expected  of  them  is  another  matter.  They 
have  undoubtedly  strengthened  the  hands  of  the  Church 
in  their  immediate  neighbourhood,  and  they  have  given 
an  incalculable  amount  of  pleasure,  but  I  think  that  in 
the  Middle  Ages  people  expected  of  art  more  than  art 
can  do.  They  hoped  a  fine  work  of  art  would  exer- 
cise a  deep  and  permanent  effect  upon  the  lives  of 
those  who  lived  near  it.  Doubtless  it  does  have  some 
effect — enough  to  make  it  worth  while  to  encourage 
such  works,  but  nevertheless  the  effect  is,  I  imagine, 
very  transient.  The  only  thing  that  can  produce  a 
deep  and  permanently  good  influence  upon  a  man's 
character  is  to  have  been  beo;otten  of  g^ood  ances- 
tors  for  many  generations — or  at  any  rate  to  have  re- 
verted to  a  good  ancestor — and  to  live  among  nice 
people. 

The  chapels  themselves  at  Varese,  apart  from  their 
contents,  are  very  beautiful.     They  come  as  fresh  one 


I 


328  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

after  the  other  as  a  set  of  variations  by  Handel. 
Each  one  of  them  is  a  Httle  architectural  gem,  while 
the  figures  they  contain  are  sometimes  very  good, 
though  on  the  whole  not  equal  to  those  at  Varallo. 
The  subjects  are  the  mysteries  of  joy,  namely,  the 
Annunciation  (immediately  after  the  first  great  arch 
is  passed),  the  Salutation  of  Mary  by  Elizabeth,  the 
Nativity,  the  Presentation,  and  the  Disputing  with  the 
Doctors.  Then  there  is  a  second  arch,  after  which 
come  the  mysteries  of  grief — the  Agony  in  the 
Garden,  the  Flagellation,  the  Crowning  with  Thorns, 
the  Ascent  to  Calvary,  and  the  Crucifixion.  Passing 
through  a  third  arch,  we  come  to  the  mysteries  of 
glory — the  Resurrection,  the  Ascension,  the  Descent  S 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin 
Mary.  The  Dispute  in  the  Temple  is  the  chapel 
which  left  the  deepest  impression  upon  us.  Here 
the  various  attitudes  and  expressions  of  the  doctors 
are  admirably  rendered.  There  is  one  man,  I  think 
he  must  have  been  a  broad  churchman  and  have 
taken  in  the  Spectator ;  his  arms  are  folded,  and  he  is 
smiling  a  little,  with  his  head  on  one  side.  He  is  not 
prepared,  he  seems  to  say,  to  deny  that  there  is  a 
certain  element  of  truth  in  what  this  young  person  has 
been  saying,  but  it  is  very  shallow,  and  in  all  essential 


SACRO  MONTE,  VARESE. 


329 


points  has  been  refuted  over  and  over  again ;  he  has 
seen  these  things  come  and  go  so  often,  &c.  But 
all  the  doctors  are  good.  The  Christ  is  weak,  and  so 
are  the  Joseph  and  Mary  in  the  background ;  in  fact, 
throughout  the  whole  series  of  chapels  the  wicked  or 
worldly  and    indifferent    people  are  well  done,  while 


SACRO  MONTE  OF  VARESE. 


the  saints  are  a  feeble  folk  :  the  sculptor  evidently 
neither  understood  them  nor  liked  them,  and  could 
never  get  beyond  silliness ;  but  the  artist  who  has 
lately  done  them  up  has  made  them  still  weaker  and 
sillier  by  giving  them  all  pink  noses. 

Shortly  after    the   sixth    chapel    has   been    passed 


330 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


the  road  turns  a  corner,  and  the  town  on  the  hill  (see 
preceding  page)  comes  into  full  view.  This  is  a  singu- 
larly beautiful  spot.  The  chapels  are  worth  coming  a 
long  way  to  see,  but  this  view  of  the  town  is  better 
still :  we  generally  like  any  building  that  is  on  the  top 


SACRO  MONTE  OF  VARESE,    NEARER  VIEW. 

of  a  hill ;  it  is  an  instinct  in  our  nature  to  do  so ;  it  is 
a  remnant  of  the  same  instinct  which  makes  sheep 
like  to  camp  at  the  top  of  a  hill ;  it  gives  a  remote 
sense  of  security  and  vantage-ground  against  an  enemy. 
The  Italians  seem  hardly  able  to  look  at  a  high 
place  without  longing  to  put  something  on  the  top  of 


SACRO  MONTE,  VARESE. 


ZZ"^ 


it,  and  they  have  seldom  done  so  with  better  effect 
than  in  the  case  of  the  Sacro  Monte  at  Varese.  From 
the  moment  of  its  bursting  upon  one  on  turning  the 
corner  near  the  seventh,  or  flagellation  chapel,  one 
cannot  keep  one's  eyes  off  it,  and  fancies,  as  with  S. 
Michele,  that  it  comes  better  and  better  with  every  step 
one  takes ;  near  the  top  it  composes,  as  on  page  330, 


TERRACE   AT   THE   SACRO   MONTE,    VARESE. 


but  without  colour  nothing  can  give  an  adequate  notion 
of  its  extreme  beauty.  Once  at  the  top  the  interest 
centres  in  the  higgledy-pigglediness  of  the  houses,  the 
gay  colours  of  the  booths  where  strings  of  beads  and 
other  religious   knick-knacks    are    sold,    the   glorious 


332  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

panorama,  and  in  the  inn  where  one  can  dine  very 
well,  and  I  should  imagine  find  good  sleeping  accom- 
modation. The  view  from  the  balcony  outside  the 
dining-room  is  wonderful,  and  on  p.  331  is  a  sketch 
from  the  terrace  just  in  front  of  the  church. 

There  is  here  no  single  building  comparable  to  the 
sanctuary  of  Sammichele,  nor  is  there  any  trace  of 
that  beautiful  Lombard  work  which  there  makes  so 
much  impression  upon  one  in  the  church  on  the  Monte 
Pirchiriano  ;  the  architecture  is  late,  and  barocco,  not  to 
say  rococo,  reigns  everywhere  ;  nevertheless  the  effect 
of  the  church  is  good.  The  visitor  should  get  the 
sacristan  to  show  him  a  very  fine  pagliotto  or  altar 
cloth  of  raised  embroidery,  worked  in  the  thirteenth 
century.  He  will  also  do  well  to  walk  some  little 
distance  behind  the  town  on  the  way  to  S.  Maria  del 
fiori  (St.  Mary  of  the  flowers)  and  look  down  upon  the 
town  and  Lombardy.  I  do  not  think  he  need  go 
much  higher  than  this,  unless  he  has  a  fancy  for 
climbino;-. 

We  happened  by  good  luck  to  be  at  the  Sacro 
Monte  during  one  of  the  great  feste  of  the  year,  and 
saw  I  am  afraid  to  say  how  many  thousands  of  pilgrims 
go  up  and  down.  They  were  admirably  behaved, 
and  not  one  of  them  tipsy.     There  was  an  old  English 


SACRO  MONTE,  VARESE.  333 

gentleman  at  the  Hotel  Riposo  who  told  us  that 
there,  had  been  another  such  /es^a  not  many  weeks 
previously,  and  that  he  had    seen  one  drunken  man 


SACRO  MONTE   FROM   ABOVE. 


there — an  Englishman — who  kept  abusing  all  he  saw 
and  crying  out,  "  Manchester's  the  place  for  me." 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

ANGERA   AND  ARONA. 

From  the  Hotel  Riposo  we  drove  to  Angera,  on  the 
Lago  Maggiore.  There  are  many  interesting  things 
to  see  on  the  way.  Close  to  Velate,  for  example, 
there  is  the  magnificent  bit  of  ruin  which  is  so  striking 
a  feature  as  seen  from  the  Sacro  Monte.  A  little 
further  on,  at  Luinate,  there  is  a  fine  old  Lombard 
campanile  and  some  conventual  buildings  which  are 
worth  sparing  five  minutes  or  so  to  see.  The  views 
hereabouts  over  the  lake  of  Varese  and  towards 
Monte  Rosa  are  exceedingly  fine.  The  driver  should 
be  told  to  gfo  a  mile  or  so  out  of  his  direct  route  in 
order  to  pass  Oltrona,  near  Voltrone.  Here  there 
was  a  monastery  which  must  once  have  been  an  im- 
portant one.  Little  of  old  work  remains,  except  a  very 
beautiful  cloister  of  the  thirteenth  or  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, which  should  not  be  missed.  It  measures  about 
twenty-one  paces  each  way  :  the  north  side  has  round 
arches  made  of  brick,  the  arches  are   supported  by 


ANGERA  AND  ARONA.  335 

small  columns  about  six  inches  through,  each  of  which 
has  a  different  capital ;  the  middle  is  now  garden 
ground.  A  few  miles  nearer  Angera  there  is  Brebbia, 
the  church  of  whi^h  is  an  excellent  specimen  of 
early  Lombard  work.  We  thought  we  saw  the  tradi- 
tions of  Cyclopean  masonry  in  the  occasional  irregu- 
larity of  the  string-courses.  The  stones  near  the 
bottom  of  the  wall  are  very  massive,  and  the  west 
wall  is  not,  if  I  remember  rightly,  bonded  into  the 
north  and  south  walls,  but  these  walls  are  only  built 
up  against  it  as  at  Giornico.  The  door  on  the  south 
side  is  simple,  but  remarkably  beautiful.  It  looks 
almost  as  if  it  might  belong  to  some  early  Norman 
church  in  England,  and  the  stones  have  acquired  a 
most  exquisite  warm  colour  with  age.  At  Ispra  there 
is  a  campanile  which  Mr.  Ruskin  would  probably  dis- 
approve of,  but  which  we  thought  lovely.  A  few  kilo- 
metres further  on  a  corner  is  turned,  and  the  splendid 
castle  of  Angera  is  caught  sight  of. 

Before  going  up  to  the  castle  we  stayed  at  the  inn 
on  the  left  immediately  on  entering  the  town,  to  dine. 
They  gave  us  a  very  good  dinner,  and  the  garden 
was  a  delightful  place  to  dine  in.  There  is  a  kind  of 
red  champagne  made  hereabouts  which  is  very  good  ; 
the  figs  were  ripe,  and  we  could  gather  them  for  our- 


336 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


selves  and  eat  ad  hbittun.  There  were  two  tame 
sparrows  hopping  continually  about  us  ;  they  pretended 
to  make  a  little  fuss  about  allowing  themselves  to  be 
caught,  but  they  evidently  did  not  mind  it.  I  dropped 
a  bit  of  bread  and  was  stooping  to  pick  it  up  ;  one  of 
them  on  seeing  me  move  made  for  it  and  carried  it  off 


CASTLE  OF  ANGERA. 


at  once ;  the  action  was  exactly  that  of  one  who  was 
saying,  "  I  don't  particularly  want  it  myself,  but  I'm 
not  going  to  let  you  have  it,"  Presently  some  caccia- 
tori  came  with  a  poodle-dog.  They  explained  to  us 
that  though  the  poodle  was  "  a  truly  hunting  dog,"  he 
would  not  touch  the  sparrows,  which  to  do  him  justice 


ANGER  A  AND  A  RON  A. 


337 


he  did  not.  There  was  a  tame  jay  also,  Hke  the 
sparrows  going  about  loose,  but,  like  them,  aware 
when  he  was  well  off. 

After  dinner  we  went  up  to  the  castle,  which  I  have 
now  visited  off  and  on  for  many  years,  and  like  always 
better  and  better  each  time  I  go  there.     I  know  no 


CASTLE  OF   ANGERA,  FROM  S.  QUIRICO. 


place  comparable  to  it  in  its  own  way.  I  know  no 
place  so  pathetic,  and  yet  so  impressive,  in  its  decay. 
It  is  not  a  ruin  —all  ruins  are  frauds — it  is  only 
decayed.  It  is  a  kind  of  Stokesay  or  Ightham  Moat, 
better  preserved  than  the  first,  and  less  furnished 
than  the  second,  but  on  a  grander  scale  than  either, 

Y 


538 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


and  set  in  incomparably  finer  surroundings.  The  path 
towards  it  passes  the  church,  which  has  been  spoiled. 
Outside  this  there  are  parts  of  old  Roman  columns 
from  some  temple,  stuck  in  the  ground  ;  inside  are 
two  statues  called  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  but  evi- 
dently  effigies    of  some    magistrates    in    the    Roman 


TERRACE  AT  CASTLE  OF  ANGERA,  NO.  I. 


times.  If  the  traveller  likes  to  continue  the  road  past 
the  church  for  three  quarters  of  a  mile  or  so,  he  will 
get  a  fine  view  of  the  castle,  and  if  he  goes  up  to  the 
little  chapel  of  S.  Quirico  on  the  top  of  the  hill  on 
his  right  hand,  he  will  look  down  upon  it  and  upon 
Arona.  We  will  suppose,  however,  that  he  goes  straight 


AN  G  ERA  AND  A  RON  A. 


339 


for  the  castle  itself;  every  moment  as  he  approaches 
it,  it  will  seem  finer  and  finer  ;  presently  he  will  turn 
into  a  vineyard  on  his  left,  and  at  once  begin  to 
climb. 

Passing  under  the  old  gateway — with  its  portcullis 
still  ready  to  be  dropped,  if  need  be,  and  with  the  iron 


TERRACE  AT  CASTLE  OF  ANGERA,  NO.  II. 


plates  that  sheathe  it  pierced  with  bullets — as  at  S. 
Michele,  the  visitor  enters  at  once  upon  a  terrace  from 
which  the  two  foreeoincr  illustrations  were  taken. 
I  know  nothinor  Hj^e  this  terrace.  On  a  summer's 
afternoon  and  evening  it  is  fully  shaded,  the  sun  being 
behind  the  castle.     The  lake  and  town  below  are  still 


340 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


in  sunlight.  This,  I  think,  is  about  the  best  time  to 
see  the  castle — say  from  six  to  eight  on  a  July  even- 
ing, or  at  any  hour  on  a  gray  day. 

Count  Borromeo,  to  whom  the  castle  belongs, 
allows  it  to  be  shown,  and  visitors  are  numerous. 
There   is  very  little  furniture  inside  the  rooms,  and 


ROOM    IN   WHICH   S.  CARLO  BORROMEO  WAS   BORN. 


the  little  there  is  is  decaying  ;  the  walls  are  covered 
with  pictures,  mostly  copies,  and  none  of  them  of  any 
great  merit,  but  the  rooms  themselves  are  lovely. 
Here  is  a  sketch  of  the  one  in  which  San  Carlo 
Borromeo  was  born,  but  the  one  on  the  floor  be- 
neath is  better  still.     The  whole  of  this  part  was  built 


ANGERA  AND  A  RON  A.  341 

about  the  year  1350,  and  inside,  where  the  weather 
has  not  reached,  the  stones  are  as  sharp  as  if  they  had 
been  cut  yesterday.  It  was  in  the  great  Sa/a  of  this 
castle  that  the  rising  against  the  Austrians  in  1848  was 
planned  ;  then  there  is  the  Sala  di  Giustizia,  a  fine 
room,  with  the  remains  of  frescoes ;  the  roof  and  the 
tower  should  also  certainly  be  visited.  All  is  solid 
and  real,  yet  it  is  like  an  Italian  opera  in  actual  life. 
Lastly,  there  is  the  kitchen,  where  the  wheel  still 
remains  in  which  a  turnspit  dog  used  to  be  put  to 
turn  it  and  roast  the  meat ;  but  this  room  is  not 
shown  to  strangers. 

The  inner  court  of  the  castle  is  as  beautiful  as  the 
outer  one.  Through  the  open  door  one  catches 
glimpses  of  the  terrace,  and  of  the  lake  beyond  it. 
I  know  Ightham,  Hever,  and  Stokesay,  both  inside 
and  out,  and  I  know  the  outside  of  Leeds ;  these  are 
all  of  them  exquisitely  beautiful,  but  neither  they  nor 
any  other  such  place  that  I  have  ever  seen  please  me 
as  much  as  the  castle  of  Angera. 

We  stayed  talking  to  my  old  friend  Signor 
Signorelli,  the  custode  of  the  castle,  and  his  family, 
and  sketching  upon  the  terrace  until  Tonio  came  to 
tell  us  that  his  boat  was  at  the  quay  waiting  for  us. 
Tonio  is  now  about  fourteen  years  old,  but  was  only 


342  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

four  when  I  first  had  the  pleasure  of  making  his  ac- 
quaintance. He  is  son  to  Giovanni,  or  as  he  is  more 
commonly  called,  Giovannino,  a  boatman  of  Arona. 
The  boy  is  deservedly  a  great  favourite,  and  is  now 
a  "padrone"  with  a  boat  of  his  own,  from  which  he 
can  get  a  good  living. 

He  pulled  us  across  the  warm  and  sleepy  lake, 
so  far  the  most  beautiful  of  all  even  the  Italian  lakes  ; 
as  we  neared  Arona,  and  the  wall  that  runs  along  the 
lake  became  more  plain,  I  could  not  help  thinking 
of  what  Giovanni  had  told  me  about  it  some  years 
before,  when  Tonio  was  lying  curled  up,  a  little  mite 
of  an  object,  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  He  was 
extolling  a  certain  family  of  peasants  who  live  near 
the  castle  of  Angera,  as  being  models  of  everything 
a  family  ought  to  be.  "There,"  he  said,  "the  children 
do  'not  speak  at  meal-times ;  the  pollenta  is  put  upon 
the  table,  and  each  takes  exactly  what  is  given  him  ; 
even  though  one  of  the  children  thinks  another  has 
got  a  larger  helping  than  he  has,  he  will  eat  his  piece 
in  silence.  My  children  are  not  like  that ;  if  Marietta 
thinks  Irene  has  a  bigger  piece  than  she  has,  she  will 
leave  the  room  and  go  to  the  wall." 

"What,"  I  asked,  "does  she  go  to  the  wall 
for?" 


AN  G  ERA  AND  A  RON  A.  343 

"  Oh !  to  cry ;  all  the  children  go  to  the  wall  to 
cry."' 

I  thought  of  Hezekiah.  The  wall  is  the  crying  place, 
playing,  lounging  place,  and  a  great  deal  more,  of  all 
the  houses  in  its  vicinity.  It  is  the  common  drawing- 
room  during  the  summer  months ;  if  the  weather  is 
too  sultry,  a  boatman  will  leave  his  bed  and  finish 
the  night  on  his  back  upon  its  broad  coping ;  we  who 
live  in  a  colder  climate  can  hardly  understand  how 
great  a  blank  in  the  existence  of  these  people  the 
destruction  of  the  wall  would  be. 

We  soon  reached  Arona,  and  in  a  few  minutes  were 
in  that  kind  and  hospitable  house  the  Hotel  d' Italia, 
than  which  no  better  hotel  is  to  be  found  in  Italy. 

Arona  is  cooler  than  Angera.  The  proverb  says, 
"He  who  would  know  the  pains  of  the  infernal 
regions,  should  go  to  Angera  in  the  summer  and  to 
Arona  in  the  winter."  The  neighbourhood  is  exquisite. 
Unless  during  the  extreme  heat  of  summer,  it  is  the 
best  place  to  stay  at  on  the  Lago  Maggiore.  The 
Monte  Motterone  is  within  the  compass  of  a  single 
day's  excursion ;  there  is  Orta,  also,  and  Varallo 
easily  accessible,  and  any  number  of  drives  and  nearer 
excursions  whether  by  boat  or  carriage. 

One    day  we    made  Tonio    take   us  to  Castelletto 


344 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


near  Sesto  Calende,  to  hear  the  bells.  They  ring  the 
bells  very  beautifully  at  Vogogna,  but,  unless  my 
recollection  of  a  good  many  years  ago  fails  me,  at 
Castelletto  they  ring  them  better  still. 

At  Vogogna,  while  we  were  getting  our  breakfast, 
we  heard  the  bells  strike  up  as  follows,  from  a  cam- 
panile on  the  side  of  the  hill  : — 


rlTiv — h- irS — g^i   I 1 /— |-+~i — t—^ 1 — I — ^-\ — +  I — y^ K-t- 


They  did  this  because  a  baby  had  just  died,  but 
we  were  told  it  was  nothing  to  what  they  would  have 
done  if  it  had  been  a  grown-up  person. 

At  Castelletto  we  were  disappointed  ;  the  bells 
did  not  ring  that  morning ;  we  hinted  at  the  possi- 
bility of  paying  a  small  fee  to  the  ringer  and  getting 
him  to  ring  them,  but  were  told  that  "  la  gente " 
would  not  at  all  approve  of  this,  and  so  I  was  unable 
to  take  down  the  chimes  at  Castelletto  as  I  had  in- 
tended to  do.  I  may  say  that  I  had  a  visit  from 
some  Italian  friends  a  few  years  ago,  and  found  them 


ANGER  A  AND  A  RON  A.  345 

hardly  less  delighted  with  our  English  mode  of  ringing 
than  I  had  been  with  theirs.  It  would  be  very  nice 
if  we  could  rine  our  bells  sometimes  in  the  Eno-lish 
and  sometimes  in  the  Italian  way.  When  I  say  the 
Italian  way — I  should  say  that  the  custom  of  ringing, 
as  above  described,  is  not  a  common  one — I  have  only 
heard  it  at  Vocjosfna  and  Castelletto,  thousfh  doubtless 
it  prevails  elsewhere. 

We  were  told  that  the  people  take  a  good  deal  of 
pride  in  their  bells,  and  that  one  village  will  be  jealous 
of  another,  and  consider  itself  more  or  less  insulted  if 
the  bells  of  that  other  can  be  heard  more  plainly  than 
its  own  can  be  heard  back  again.  There  are  two 
villages  in  the  Brianza  called  Balzano  and  Cremella ; 
the  dispute  between  these  grew  so  hot  that  each  of 
them  changed  their  bells  three  times,  so  as  to  try  and 
be  heard  the  loudest.  I  believe  an  honourable  com- 
promise was  in  the  end  arrived  at. 

In  other  respects  Castelletto  is  a  quiet,  sleepy  little 
place.  The  Ticino  flows  through  it  just  after  leaving 
the  lake.  It  is  very  wide  here,  and  when  flooded 
must  carry  down  an  enormous  quantity  of  water. 
Barges  go  down  it  at  all  times,  but  the  river  is 
difficult  of  navigation  and  requires  skilful  pilots. 
These   pilots   are  well   paid,  and   Tonio    seemed   to 


346  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

bave  a  great  respect  for  them.     The  views  of  Monte 
Rosa  are  superb. 

One  of  the  great  advantages  of  Arona,  as  of 
Mendrisio,  is  that  it  commands  such  a  number  of 
other  places.  There  is  rail  to  Milan,  and  again  to 
Novara,  and  each  station  on  the  way  is  a  sub-centre ; 
there  are  also  the  steamers  on  the  lake,  and  there  is 
not  a  village  at  which  they  stop  which  will  not  repay 
examination,  and  which  is  not  in  its  turn  a  sub-centre. 
In  England  I  have  found  by  experience  that  there 
is  nothing  for  it  but  to  examine  every  village  and 
town  within  easy  railway  distance;  no  books  are  of 
much  use  :  one  never  knows  that  somethinor  crood  is 
not  going  to  be  sprung  upon  one,  and  few  indeed  are 
the  places  where  there  is  no  old  public-house,  or  over- 
hanging cottage,  or  farmhouse  and  barn,  or  bit  of 
De  Hooghe-like  entry  which,  if  one  had  two  or  three 
lives,  one  would  not  willingly  leave  unpainted.  It  is 
just  the  same  in  North  Italy  ;  there  is  not  a  village 
which  can  be  passed  over  with  a  light  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

LOCARXO. 

We  were  attracted  to  Locarno  by  the  approaching 
f^tes  in  honour  of  the  fourth  centenary  of  the  appa- 
rition of  the  Virgin  Mar)' to  Fra  Bartolomeo  da  Ivrea, 
who  founded  the  sanctuary  in  consequence. 

The  programme  announced  that  the  festivities 
would  begin  on  Saturday,  at  3,30  p.m.,  with  the 
carrying  of  the  sacred  image  (sacro  siinulacro)  of  the 
Virgin  from  the  Madonna  del  Sasso  to  the  colle- 
giate church  of  S.  Antonio.  There  would  tlien  be  a 
benediction  and  celebration  of  the  holy  communion. 
At  eight  o'clock  there  were  to  be  illuminations,  fire- 
works, balloons,  &c  ,  at  the  sanctuary  and  the  adjacent 
premises. 

On  Sunday  at  half-past  nine  there  was  to  be  mass 
at  the  church  of  S.  Antonio,  with  a  homily  by 
Monsi^nor  Paolo  Anofelo  Ballerini,  Patriarch  of 
Alexandria  in  partibus,  and  blessing  of  the  crown 
sent    by    Pope    Leo    XI I L    for    the    occasion.       S. 


34«  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

Antonio  is  the  church  the  roof  of  which  fell  in  durinsf 
service  one  Sunday  in  1865,  through  the  weight  of 
the  snow,  killing  sixty  people.  At  half-past  three 
a  grand  procession  would  convey  the  Holy  Image  to 
a  pretty  temple  which  had  been  erected  in  the  market- 
place. The  image  was  then  to  be  crowned  by  the 
Patriarch,  carried  round  the  town  in  procession,  and 
returned  to  the  church  of  S.  Antonio.  At  eight 
o'clock  there  were  to  be  fireworks  near  the  port ;  a 
grand  illumination  of  a  triumphal  arch,  an  illumination 
of  the  sanctuary  and  chapels  with  Bengal  lights,  and 
an  artificial  apparition  of  the  Madonna  ("  Apparizione 
artificiale  della  Beata  Vergine  col  Bambino ")  above 
the  church  upon  the  Sacro  Monte.  Next  day  the 
Holy  Image  was  to  be  carried  back  from  the  church 
of  S.  Antonio  to  its  normal  resting-place  at  the 
sanctuary.  We  wanted  to  see  all  this,  but  it  was 
the  artificial  apparition  of  the  Madonna  that  most 
attracted  us. 

Locarno  is,  as  every  one  knows,  a  beautiful  town. 
Both  the  Hotel  Locarno  and  the  Hotel  della  Corona 
are  good,  but  the  latter  is,  I  believe,  the  cheaper. 
At  the  castello  there  is  a  fresco  of  the  Madonna, 
ascribed,  I  should  think  rightly,  to  Bernardino  Luini, 
and  at  the  cemetery  outside  the  town  there  are  some  old 


LOCARNO. 


349 


frescoes  of  the  second  half  of  the  fifteenth  century,  in  a 
ruinous  state,  but  interesting.  If  I  remember  rightly 
there  are  several  dates  on  them,  averaging  1475-80. 
They  might  easily  have  been  done  by  the  same  man 
who  did  the  frescoes  at  Mesocco,  but  I  prefer  these 
last.  The  great  feat- 
ure, however,  of  Locar- 
no is  the  Sacro  Monte 
which  rises  above  it. 
From  the  wooden 
bridge  which  crosses 
the  stream  just  be- 
fore entering  upon  the 
sacred  precincts,  the 
church  and  chapels  and 
road  arrange  them- 
selves thus. 

On  the  way  up,  keep- 
ing to  the  steeper  and 
abrupter  route,  one  catches  sight  of  the  monk's  garden 
—a  little  paradise  with  vines,  beehives,  onions,  lettuces, 
cabbaees,  marigfolds  to  colour  the  risotto  with,  and  a 
little  plot  of  great  luxuriant  tobacco  plants.  Amongst 
the  foliage  may  be  now  and  again  seen  the  burly 
ficrure  of  a  monk  with  a  straw  hat  on.     The  best  view 


Mfe. 


SACRO  MONTE,  LOCARNO,  NO.  I. 


350 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


of  the  sanctuary  from  above  is  the  one  which  I  give 
here. 

The  church  itself  is  not  remarkable,  but  it  contains 
the  best  collection  of  votive  pictures  that  I  know  in 
any  church,  unless  the  one  at  Oropa  be  excepted ; 
there    is  also  a   modern    Italian    "  Return    from    the 


SACRO  MONTE,  LOCARNO,  NO.  II. 

Cross"  by  Ciseri,  which  is  very  much  admired,  but 
with  which  I  have  myself  no  sympathy  whatever.  It 
is  an  Academy  picture. 

The  cloister  looking  over  the  lake  is  very  beau- 
tiful. In  the  little  court  down  below  —  which  also 
is  of  great  beauty  —  there  is  a  chapel  containing 
a    representation    of   the    Last    Supper    in    life-sized 


LOCARNO. 


351 


coloured  statues  as  at  Varallo,  which  has  a  orood 
deal  of  feeling,  and  a  fresco  (?)  behind  it  which  ought 
to  be  examined,  but  the  chapel  is  so  dark  that  this 
is  easier   said    than    done.     There    is   also   a    fresco 


CLOISTER   AT  SACRO  MONTE,  LOCARNO. 


down  below  in  the  chapel  where  the  founder  of  the 
sanctuary  is  buried  which  should  not  be  passed  over. 
It  is  dated  1522,  and  is  Luinesque  in  character. 
When  I  was  last  there,  however,  it  was  hardly  pos- 
sible to  see  anything,  for  everything  was  being  turned 


352  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

topsy-turvy  by  the  arrangements  which  were  being 
made  for  the  approaching  fetes.  These  were  very 
gay  and  pretty ;  they  must  have  cost  a  great  deal 
of  money,  and  I  was  told  that  the  municipality  in  its 
collective  capacity  was  thought  mean,  because  it  had 
refused  to  contribute  more  than  loo  francs,  or  £^ 
sterling.  It  does  seem  rather  a  small  sum  certainly. 
*  On  the  afternoon  of  Friday  the  13th  of  August  the 
Patriarch  Monsignor  Ballerini  was  to  arrive  by  the 
three  o'clock  boat,  and  there  was  a  crowd  to  welcome 
him.  The  music  of  Locarno  was  on  the  quay  playing 
a  selection,  not  from  "  Madame  Angot "  itself,  but  from 
something  very  like  it — light,  gay,  sparkling  opera 
bouffe — to  welcome  him.  I  felt  as  I  had  done  when 
I  found  the  matchbox  in  the  sanctuary  bedroom  at 
Graglia  :  not  that  I  minded  it  myself,  but  as  being  a 
little  unhappy  lest  the  Bishop  might  not  quite  like  it. 

I  do  not  see  how  we  could  welcome  a  bishop — we 
will  say  to  a  confirmation — with  a  band  of  music  at  all. 
Fancy  a  brass  band  of  some  twenty  or  thirty  ranged 
round  the  landing  stage  at  Gravesend  to  welcome  the 
Bishop  of  London,  and  fancy  their  playing  we  will  say 
"  The  two  Obadiahs,"  or  that  horrid  song  about  the 
swing  going  a  little  bit  higher !  The  Bishop  would 
be  very  much  offended.      He  would  not  go  a  musical 


LOCARNO.  353 


inch  beyond  the  march  in  "  Le  Prophete,"  nor,  will- 
ingly, beyond  the  march  in  "  Athalie."  Monsignor 
Ballerini,  however,  never  turned  a  hair ;  he  bowed 
repeatedly  to  all  round  him,  and  drove  off  in  a  carriage 
and  pair,  apparently  much  pleased  with  his  reception. 
We  Protestants  do  not  understand,  nor  take  any  very 
great  pains  to  understand,  the  Church  of  Rome.  If  we 
did,  we  should  find  it  to  be  in  many  respects  as  much 
in  advance  of  us  as  it  is  behind  us  in  others. 

One  thing  made  an  impression  upon  me  which 
haunted  me  all  the  time.  On  every  important  space 
there  were  advertisements  of  the  programme,  the 
substance  of  which  I  have  already  given.  But 
hardly,  if  at  all  less  noticeable,  were  two  others 
which  rose  up  irrepressible  upon  every  prominent 
space,  searching  all  places  with  a  subtle  penetra- 
tive power  against  which  precautions  were  power- 
less. These  advertisements  were  not  in  Italian  but 
in  English,  nevertheless  they  were  neither  of  them 
English — but  both,  I  believe,  American.  The  one 
was  that  of  the  Richmond  gem  cigarette,  with  the 
large  illustration  representing  a  man  in  a  hat  smok- 
ing, so  familiar  to  us  here  in  London.  The  other 
was  that  of  Wheeler  &  Wilson's  sewing  machines. 

As  the  Patriarch  drove  off  in  the  carriage  the  man 


354  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

in  the  hat  smoking  the  Richmond  gem  cigarette  leered 
at  him,  and  the  woman  working  Wheeler  &  Wilson's 
sewinor  machine  sewed  at  him.  Durinof  the  illumina- 
tions  the  unwonted  light  threw  its  glare  upon  the 
effiofies  of  saints  and  angrels,  but  it  illumined  also  the 
man  in  the  black  felt  hat  and  the  woman  with  the 
sewing  machine;  even  during  the  artificial  appari- 
tion of  the  Virgin  Mary  herself  upon  the  hill  behind 
the  town,  the  more  they  let  off  fireworks  the  more 
clearly  the  man  in  the  hat  came  out  upon  the  walls 
round  the  market-place,  and  the  bland  imperturbable 
woman  working  at  her  sewing  machine.  I  thought  to 
myself  that  when  the  man  with  the  hat  appeared  in 
the  piazza  the  Madonna  would  ere  long  cease  to 
appear  on  the  hill. 

Later  on,  passing  through  the  town  alone,  when 
the  people  had  gone  to  rest,  I  saw  many  of  them 
lying  on  the  pavement  under  the  arches  fast  asleep. 
A  brilliant  moon  illuminated  the  market-place  ;  there 
was  a  pleasant  sound  of  falling  water  from  the  foun- 
tain ;  the  lake  was  bathed  in  splendour,  save  where 
it  took  the  reflection  of  the  mountains — so  peaceful 
and  quiet  was  the  night  that  there  was  hardly  a 
rustle  in  the  leaves  of  the  aspens.  But  whether  in 
moonlight  or  in  shadow,  the  busy  persistent  vibrations 


LOCARNO.  355 


that  rise  in  Anoflo-Saxon  brains  were  radiatinor  from 
every  wall,  and  the  man  in  the  black  felt  hat  and 
the  bland  lady  with  the  sewing  machine  were  there — 
lying  in  wait,  as  a  cat  over  a  mouse's  hole,  to  insinuate 
themselves  into  the  hearts  of  the  people  so  soon  as 
they  should  wake. 

Great  numbers  came  to  the  festivities.  There 
were  special  trains  from  Biasca  and  all  intermediate 
stations,  and  special  boats.  And  the  ugly  flat-nosed 
people  came  from  the  Val  Verzasca,  and  the  beautiful 
people  came  from  the  Val  Onsernone  and  the  Val 
Maggia,  and  I  saw  Anna,  the  curate's  housekeeper, 
from  Mesocco,  and  the  old  fresco  painter  who  told 
me  he  should  like  to  pay  me  a  visit,  and  suggested 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning  as  the  most  appropriate 
and  convenient  time.  The  great  procession  con- 
tained seven  or  eight  hundred  people.  From  the 
balcony  of  the  Hotel  della  Corona  I  counted  as  well 
as  I  could  and  obtained  the  followinof  result  : — 


Women     ...... 

Men  with  white  shirts  and  red  capes 
Men  with  white  shirts  and  no  capes 
The  music  from  Intra 
Men  with  white  shirts  and  blue  capes 
Men  with  white  shirts  and  no  capes 
Men  with  white  shirts  and  green  capes 
Men  with  white  shirts  and  no  capes 


1 20 
85 
(?) 
30 
25 
25 
12 

36 


356  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

The  music  of  Locarno 30 

Girls  in  blue,  pink,  white  and  yellow,  red,  white      .  50 

Choristers 3 

Monks 6 

Priests       .         .         .        .       • 66 

Canons 12 

His  Excellency  Paolo  Angelo  Ballerini,  Patriarch 
of  Alexandria  in  Egypt,  escorted  by  the  fire- 
men, and  his  private  cortege  of  about  20  .        .  25 

Government  ushers  .......  (?) 

The  Grand  Council,  escorted  by  22  soldiers  and  6 

policemen 28 

The  clergy  without  orders 30 

583 

In  the  evening,  there,  sure  enough,  the  apparition  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin  was.  The  church  of  the  Madonna 
was  unilluminated  and  all  in  darkness,  when  on  a 
sudden  it  sprang  out  into  a  blaze,  and  a  great  trans- 
parency of  the  Virgin  and  child  was  lit  up  from 
behind.     Then  the  people  said,  "  Oh  bel ! " 

I  was  myself  a  little  disappointed.  It  was  not  a 
good  apparition,  and  I  think  the  effect  would  have 
been  better  if   it   had   been    carried    up  by  a  small 

« 

balloon  into  the  sky.  It  might  easily  have  been 
arranged  so  that  the  light  behind  the  transparency 
should  die  out  before  the  apparition  must  fall  again, 
and  also  that  the  light  inside  the  transparency  should 
not  be  reflected  upon  the  balloon  that  lifted  it ;  the 


LOCARNO.  357 


whole,  therefore,  would  appear  to  rise  from  its  own 
inherent  buoyancy.  I  am  confident  it  would  have 
been  arranged  in  this  way  if  the  thing  had  been  in  the 
hands  of  the  Crystal  Palace  people. 

There  is  a  fine  old  basilicate  church  dedicated 
to  S.  Vittore  at  the  north  end  of  Locarno.  It  is  the 
mother  church  of  these  parts  and  dates  from  the  eighth 
or  ninth  century.  The  frescoes  inside  the  apse  were 
once  fine,  but  have  been  repainted  and  spoiled.  The 
tower  is  much  later,  but  is  impressive.  It  was  begun 
in  1524  and  left  incomplete  in  1527,  probably  owing 
to  the  high  price  of  provisions  which  is  commemorated 
in  the  following  words  written  on  a  stone  at  the  top  of 

the  tower  inside : — 

1527. 

Furm.  [fromento — corn]  cost  lib.  6. 
Segale  [barley]  lib.  5. 

Milio    [millet]  lib.  4. 

I  suppose  these  were  something  like  famine  prices  ;  at 
any  rate,  a  workman  wrote  this  upon  the  tower  and  the 
tower  stopped. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


FU  S  I  O. 


We  left  Locarno  by  the  conveyance  which  leaves 
every  day  at  four  o'clock  for  Bignasco,  a  ride  of  about 
four  hours.  The  Ponte  Brolla,  a  couple  of  miles  out 
of  Locarno,  is  remarkable,  and  the  road  is  through- 
out (as  a  matter  of  course)  good.  I  sat  next  an  old 
priest,  an  excellent  kindly  man,  who  talked  freely 
with  me,  and  scolded  me  roundly  for  being  a  Pro- 
testant more  than  once. 

He  seemed  much  surprised  when  I  discarded 
reason  as  the  foundation  of  our  belief.  He  had 
made  up  his  mind  that  all  Protestants  based  their 
convictions  upon  reason,  and  was  not  prepared  to 
hear  me  go  heartily  with  him  in  declaring  the  founda- 
tion of  any  durable  system  to  lie  in  faith.  When, 
however,  it  came  to  requiring  me  to  have  faith  in 
what  seemed  good  to  him  and  his  friends,  rather  than 
to  me  and  mine,  we  did  not  agree  so  well.  He  then 
began    to    shake   death   at   me ;  I    met   him   with  a 


FUSIO.  359 

reflection  that  I  have  never  seen  in  print,  though  it 
is  so  obvious  that  it  must  have  occurred  to  each  one 
of  my  readers.  I  said  that  every  man  is  an  immortal 
to  himself:  he  only  dies  as  far  as  others  are  con- 
cerned ;  to  himself  he  cannot,  by  any  conceivable 
possibility,  do  so.  For  how  can  he  know  that  he 
is  dead  until  he  is  dead  ?  And  when  he  is  dead, 
how  can  he  know  that  he  is  dead  ?  If  he  does,  it  is 
an  abuse  of  terms  to  say  that  he  is  dead.  A  man 
can  know  no  more  about  the  end  of  his  life  than 
he  did  about  the  begrinninof.  The  most  horrible  and 
loathed  death  still  resolves  itself  into  being  badly 
frightened,  and  not  a  little  hurt  towards  the  end  of 
one's  life,  but  it  can  never  come  to  being  unbearably 
hurt  for  long  together.  Besides,  we  are  at  all  times, 
even  during  life,  dead  and  dying  to  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  our  past  selves.  What  we  call  dying  is  only 
dying  to  the  balance,  or  residuum.  This  made  the 
priest  angry.  He  folded  his  arms  and  said,  "  Basta, 
basta,"  nor  did  he  speak  to  me  again.  It  is  because 
I  noticed  the  effect  it  produced  upon  my  fellow- 
passenger  that  I  introduce  it  here. 

Biofnasco  is  at  the  confluence  of  the  two  main 
branches  of  the  Maggia.  The  greater  part  of  the 
river   comes   down   from    the   glacier   of   Basordine, 


36o  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

which  cannot  be  seen  from  Bignasco ;  I  know 
nothing  of  this  valley  beyond  having  seen  the 
glacier  from  the  top  of  the  pass  between  Fusio  and 
Dalpe.  The  smaller  half  of  the  river  comes  down 
from  Fusio,  the  valley  of  Sambuco,  and  the  lake 
of  Naret.  The  accommodation  at  Bignasco  is  quite 
enough  for  a  bachelor;  the  people  are  good,  but  the 
inn  is  homely.  From  Bignasco  the  road  ascends 
rapidly  to  Peccia,  a  village  which  has  suffered  terribly 
from  inundations,  and  from  Peccia  it  ascends  more 
rapidly  still — Fusio  being  reached  in  about  three  hours 
from  Bignasco.  There  is  an  excellent  inn  at  Fusio 
kept  by  Signor  Dazio,  to  whose  energy  the  admirable 
mountain  road  from  Peccia  is  mainly  due.  On  the 
right  just  before  he  crosses  the  bridge,  the  traveller 
will  note  the  fresco  of  the  Crucifixion,  which  I  have 
mentioned  at  page   1 79. 

Fusio  is  over  4200  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 
I  do  not  know  wherein  its  peculiar  charm  lies,  but 
it  is  the  best  of  all  the  villages  of  a  kindred  character 
that  I  know.  On  the  opposite  page  is  a  sketch  of 
it  as  it  appears  from  the  cemetery. 

There  is  another  good  view  from  behind  the  village  ; 
at  sunset  this  second  view  becomes  remarkably  fine. 
The  houses  are  in  deep  cool  shadow,  but  the  moun- 


FUSIO.  361 

tains  behind  take  the  evening  sun,  and  are  sometimes 
of  an  incredible  splendour.  It  is  fine  to  watch  the 
shadows  creeping  up  them,  and  the  colour  that  re- 
mains growing  richer  and  richer  until  the  whole  is 


FUSIO  FROM  THE  CF-METERY. 


extinguished  ;  this  view,   however,    I    am    unable  to 
give. 

I  hold  Signor  Dazio  of  Fusio  so  much  as  one  of  my 
most  particular  and  valued  friends,  and  I  have  such 
a  special  affection   for  Fusio  itself,  that  the  reader 


362  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

must  bear  in  mind  that  he  is  reading  an  account  given 
by  a  partial  witness.  Nevertheless,  all  private  pre- 
ferences apart,  I  think  he  will  find  Fusio  a  hard  place 
to  beat.  At  the  end  of  June  and  in  July  the  flowers 
are  at  their  best,  and  they  are  more  varied  and 
beautiful  than  anywhere  else  I  know.  At  the  very  end 
of  July  and  the  beginning  of  August  the  people  cut 
their  hay,  and  then  for  a  while  the  glory  of  the  place 
is  gone,  but  by  the  end  of  August  or  the  beginning  of 
September  the  grass  has  grown  long  enough  to  re- 
cover the  slopes  with  a  velvety  verdure,  and  though 
the  flowers  are  shorn,  yet  so  they  are  from  other 
places  also. 

There  are  many  walks  in  the  neighbourhood  for 
those  who  do  not  mind  mountain  paths.  The  most 
beautiful  of  them  all  is  to  the  valley  of  Sambuco,  the 
upper  end  of  which  is  not  more  than  half-an-hour 
from  Signor  Dazio's  hotel.  For  some  time  one 
keeps  to  the  path  through  the  wooded  gorge,  and  with 
the  river  foaming  far  below;  in  early  morning  while 
this  path  is  in  shade,  or,  again,  after  sunset,  it  is  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  of  its  kind  that  I  know.  After 
a  while  a  gate  is  reached,  and  an  open  upland  valley 
is  entered  upon — evidently  an  old  lake  filled  up,  and 
neither  very  broad  nor  very  long,  but  grassed  all  over^ 


FUSIO. 


363 


and  with  the  river  windingf  throuo-h  it  like  an  Eng^Hsh 
brook.     This  is  the  valley  of  Sambuco.     There  are 


STREET    VIEW    IN"    FUSIO. 


two  collections  of  stalle  for  the  cattle,  or  inonti — one  at 
the  nearer  end  and  the  other  at  the  farther. 

The  floor  of  the  valley  can  hardly  be  less  than  5000 


364  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

feet  above  the  sea.  I  shall  never  forget  the  pleasure 
with  which  I  first  came  upon  it.  I  had  long  wanted 
an  ideal  upland  valley ;  as  a  general  rule  high  valleys 
are  too  narrow,  and  have  little  or  no  level  ground. 
If  they  have  any  at  all  there  often  is  too  much 
as  with  the  one  where  Andermatt  and  Hospenthal 
are — which  would  in  some  respects  do  very  well — 
and  too  much  cultivated,  and  do  not  show  their 
height.  An  upland  valley  should  first  of  all  be  in  an 
Italian-speaking  country  ;  then  it  should  have  a  smooth, 
grassy,  perfectly  level  floor  of  say  neither  much  more 
nor  less  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  in  breadth 
and  half-a-mile  in  length.  A  small  river  should  go 
babbling  through  it  with  occasional  smooth  parts,  so  as 
to  take  the  reflections  of  the  surroundinsf  mountains. 
It  should  have  three  or  four  fine  larches  or  pines 
scattered  about  it  here  and  there,  but  not  more.  It 
should  be  completely  land-locked,  and  there  should 
be  nothing  in  the  way  of  human  handiwork  save  a 
few  chalets,  or  a  small  chapel  and  a  bridge,  but  no 
tilled  land  whatever.  Here  even  in  summer  the 
evening  air  will  be  crisp,  and  the  dew  will  form  as 
soon  as  the  sun  goes  off;  but  the  mountains  at  one 
end  of  it  will  keep  the  last  rays  of  the  sun.     It  is  then 


FUSIO. 


365 


the  valley  is  at  its  best,  especially   if  the  goats  and 
cattle  are  coming  together  to  be  milked. 

The  valley  of  Sambuco  has  all  this  and  a  great 
deal  more,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  there  are 
excellent  trout  in  it.  I  have  shown  it  to  friends  at 
different  times,  and  they  have  all  agreed  with  me 
that  for  a  valley  neither  too  high  nor  too  low,  nor  too 
big  nor  too  little,  the  valley  of  Sambuco  is  one  of  the 
best  that  any  of  us  know  of — I  mean  to  look  at  and 
enjoy,  for  I  suppose  as  regards  painting  it  is  hopeless. 
I  think  it  can  be  as  well  rendered  by  the  following 
piece  of  music  as  by  anything  else  ''' : — 


a^i.  lib. 


-F— F— F- 


1 


.-.— t^ 


It:: 


1 


Lis  I   I 


ral    . 
senza  org. 


d?=t»-t:i 


•  Handel's  third  set  of  organ  concertos,  No.  3. 


366 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


\ 
I 


IzVz 


* • • — i=a:zz^:zi:J=zz=zziaz^i=i3.l 


a  tempo 
org.  solo. 


i=F 


i^d?--J-4-<a-~q5i»iq--ddrcitizi:z±g^r^^ 


^,^^^^^^^^^^ 


I 


^^g g-f-g ^-rj ■:fip=i==»z^-— p:^ -K^ 

i-P •-! — i — --•-! — — •-! — ■ — 1 \~\)m-\ — ' — I »-! — ' — I a  I — '-- 

\  ^    ■    1^ — ;    '    '    I — -\    ;    ;    |  _f^r~Pl    |-      r~i~~!    J-       *"! — h 


afef= 


1^ 


1 


&c. 


BiHEE? 


.^^^H^^^is 


One  day  Signor  Dazio  brought  us  in  a  chamois 
foot.  He  explained  to  us  that  chamois  were  now 
in  season,  but  that  even  when  they  were  not,  they 


FUSIO.  367 

were  sometimes  to  be  had,   inasmuch  as  they  occa- 
sionally fell  from  the  rocks  and  got  killed.     As  we 
looked    at     it    we    could     not    help    reflecting    that, 
wonderful   as    the    provisions    of  animal    and   vege- 
table organisms  often  are,  the  marvels  of  adaptation 
are   sometimes  almost  exceeded   by  the  feats  which 
an    animal   will    perform   with    a    very   simple   and 
even    clumsy  instrument  if  it  knows   how  to  use  it. 
A  chamois  foot  is  a  smooth  and  slippery  thing,  such 
as  no  respectable  bootmaker  would  dream  of  offering 
to  a  mountaineer:  there  is   not  a  nail  in  it,  nor  even 
an    apology   for    a    nail ;    the    surefootedness    of   its 
owner    is    an    assumption    only — a  piece    of  faith  or 
impudence  which  fulfils  itself.     If  some  other  animal 
were  to  induce  the  chamois  to  believe  that  it  should 
at  the  least  have  feet  with  suckers  to  them,  like  a  fly, 
before  venturing  in  such  breakneck  places,   or  if  by 
any  means  it  could  get  to  know  how  bad  a  foot  it 
really  has,  there   would    soon    be   no  more  chamois. 
The  chamois  continues  to  exist  through  its  absolute 
refusal  to  hear  reason  upon  the  matter.     But  the  whole 
question  is  one  of  extreme  intricacy  ;  all  we  know  is 
that  some  animals  and  plants,  like  some  men,  devote 
great  pains  to  the  perfection  of  the  mechanism  with 
which  they  wish  to  work,  while  others  rather  scorn 


368  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

appliances,  and  concentrate  their  attention  upon  the 
skilful  use  of  whatever  they  happen  to  have.  I 
think,  however,  that  in  the  clumsiness  of  the  chamois 
foot  must  lie  the  explanation  of  the  fact  that  some- 
times when  chamois  are  out  of  season,  they  do  never- 
theless actually  tumble  off  the  rocks  and  get  killed  ; 
being  killed,  of  course  it  is  only  natural  that  they 
should  sometimes  be  found,  and  if  found,  be  eaten ; 
but  they  are  not  good  for  much. 

After  a  day  or  two's  stay  in  this  delightful  place, 
we  left  at  six  o'clock  one  brilliant  morning  in  Sep- 
tember for  Dalpe  and  Faido,  accompanied  by  the 
excellent  Signor  Guglielmoni  as  guide.  There  are 
two  main  passes  from  Fusio  into  the  Val  Leventina — 
the  one  by  the  Sassella  Grande  to  Nante  and  Airolo, 
and  the  other  by  the  Alpe  di  Campolungo  to  Dalpe. 
Neither  should  be  attempted  by  strangers  without  a 
guide,  though  neither  of  them  present  the  smallest 
difficulty.  There  is  a  third  and  longer  pass  by  the 
La^o  di  Naret  to  Bedretto,  but  I  have  never  been 
over  this.  The  other  two  are  both  good ;  on  the 
whole,  however,  I  think  I  prefer  the  second.  Signor 
GuMielmoni  led  us  over  the  freshest  grassy  slopes 
conceivable  —  slopes  that  four  or  five  weeks  earlier 
had  been  gay  with  tiger  and  Turk's-cap  lilies,  and  the 


FUSIO.  369 

flaunting  arnica,  and  every  flower  that  likes  mountain 
company.  After  a  three  hours'  walk  we  reached  the 
top  of  the  pass,  from  whence  on  the  one  hand  one 
can  see  the  Basordine  glacier,  and  on  the  other  the 
great  Rheinwald  glaciers  above  Olivone.  Other 
small  glaciers  show  in  valleys  near  Biasca  which 
I  know  nothing  about,  and  which  I  imagine  to  be 
almost  a  ^erra  incognita^  except  to  the  inhabitants 
of  such  villages  as  Malvaglia  in  the  Val  Blenio. 

When  near  the  top  of  the  pass  we  heard  the 
whistle  of  a  marmot.  GuQ^lielmoni  told  us  he  had 
a  tame  one  once  which  was  very  fond  of  him.  It 
slept  all  the  winter,  but  turned  round  once  a  fortnight 
to  avoid  lying  too  long  upon  one  side.  When  it  woke 
up  from  its  winter  sleep  it  no  longer  recognised 
him,  but  bit  him  savagely  right  through  the  finger ; 
by  and  by  its  recollection  returned  to  it,  and  it 
apologised. 

From  the  summit,  which  is  about  7600  feet  above 
the  sea,  the  path  descends  over  the  roughest  ground 
that  is  to  be  found  on  the  whole  route.  Here  there 
are  good  specimens  of  asbestos  to  be  picked  up  abun- 
dantly, and  the  rocks  are  full  of  garnets ;  after  about 
six  or  seven  hundred  feet  the  Alpe  di  Campolungo  is 

reached,  and  this  again  is  an  especially  favourite  place 

2  A 


370  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

with  me.  It  is  an  old  lake  filled  up,  surrounded  by 
peaks  and  precipices  where  some  snow  rests  all  the 
year  round,  and  traversed  by  a  stream.  Here,  just 
as  we  had  done  lunching,  we  were  joined  by  a  family 
of  knife-grinders,  who  were  also  crossing  from  the  Val 
Maggia  to  the  Val  Leventina.  We  had  eaten  all  we 
had  with  us  except  our  bread ;  this  Guglielmoni  gave 
to  one  of  the  boys,  who  seemed  as  much  pleased  with 
it  as  if  it  had  been  cake.  Then  after  taking  a  look  at 
the  Laofo  di  Tremorgrio,  a  beautiful  lake  some  hundreds 
of  feet  below,  we  went  on  to  the  Alpe  di  Cadonigo, 
where  our  guide  left  us. 

At  this  point  pines  begin,  and  soon  the  path  enters 
them ;  after  a  while  we  catch  sight  of  Prato,  and 
eventually  come  down  upon  Dalpe.  In  another  hour 
and  a  quarter  Faido  is  reached.  The  descent  to 
Faido  from  the  summit  of  the  pass  is  much  greater 
than  the  ascent  from  Fusio  ;  for  Faido  is  not  more  than 
2300  feet  above  the  sea,  whereas,  as  I  have  said,  Fusio 
is  over  4200  feet.  The  descent  from  the  top  of  the 
pass  to  Faido  is  about  5300  feet,  while  to  Fusio  it 
is  only  3400.  The  reader,  therefore,  will  see  that  he 
had  better  go  from  Fusio  to  Faido,  and  not  m'ce  versa, 
unless  he  is  a  good  walker. 


FUSIO.  371 

From  Faido  we  returned  home.  We  looked  at 
nothing  between  the  top  of  the  St.  Gothard  Pass  and 
Boulogne,  nor  did  we  again  begin  to  take  any  interest 
in  life  till  we  saw  the  science-ridden,  art-ridden,  culture- 
ridden,  afternoon-tea-ridden  cliffs  of  Old  England  rise 
upon  the  horizon. 


APPENDIX. 

WEDNESBURY  COCKING  (seep.  49).; 

I  KNOW  nothing  of  the  date  of  this  remarkable  ballad,  or  the 
source  from  which  it  comes.  I  have  heard  one  who  should 
know  say,  that  when  he  was  a  boy  at  Shrewsbury  school  it 
was  done  into  Greek  hexameters — the  lines  (with  a  various 
reading  in  them) — 

"  The  colliers  and  nailers  left  work, 
And  all  to  old  Scroggins  went  jogging  ; " 

being  translated — 

iK^uyiviou  fiiydKov  t,i^TO\JvTig  sijxri/isvov  du. 

I  have  been  at  some  pains  to  find  out  more  about  this 
translation,  but  have  failed  to  do  so.  The  ballad  itself  is  as 
follows : — 

At  Wednesbury  there  was  a  cocking, 

A  match  between  Newton  and  Scroggins ; 
The  colliers  and  nailers  left  work, 
And  all  to  old  Spittle's  went  jogging. 


APPENDIX.  373 


To  see  this  noble  sport, 

Many  noblemen  resorted ; 
And  though  they'd  but  little  money, 

Yet  that  little  they  freely  sported. 

There  was  Jeffery  and  Colborn  from  Hampton, 

And  Dusty  from  Bilston  was  there; 
Flummery  he  came  from  Darlaston, 

And  he  was  as  rude  as  a  bear. 
There  was  old  Will  from  Walsall, 

And  Smacker  from  Westbromwich  come ; 
Blind  Robin  he  came  from  Rowley, 

And  staggering  he  went  home. 

Ralph  Moody  came  hobbling  along, 

As  though  he  some  cripple  was  mocking. 
To  join  in  the  blackguard  throng. 

That  met  at  Wednesbury  cocking. 
He  borrowed  a  trifle  of  Doll, 

To  back  old  Taverner's  grey ; 
He  laid  fourpence  halfpenny  to  fourpence, 

He  lost  and  went  broken  away. 

But  soon  he  returned  to  the  pit. 

For  he'd  borrowed  a  trifle  more  money. 
And  ventured  another  large  bet 

Along  with  blobbermouth  Coney. 
When  Coney  demanded  his  money, 

As  is  usual  on  all  such  occasions. 
He  cried, thee,  if  thee  don't  hold  thy  rattle, 

I'll  pay  thee  as  Paul  paid  the  Ephasians. 


374  ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 

The  morning's  sport  being  over, 

Old  Spittle  a  dinner  proclaimed, 
Each  man  he  should  dine  for  a  groat. 

If  he  grumbled  he  ought  to  be . 

For  there  was  plenty  of  beef, 

But  Spittle  he  swore  by  his  troth, 
That  never  a  man  should  dine 

Till  he  ate  his  noggin  of  broth. 

The  beef  it  was  old  and  tough. 

Off  a  bull  that  was  baited  to  death ; 
Barney  Hyde  got  a  lump  in  his  throat, 

That  had  liked  to  have  stopped  his  breath. 
The  company  all  fell  into  confusion, 

At  seeing  poor  Barney  Hyde  choke ; 
So  they  took  him  into  the  kitchen, 

And  held  him  over  the  smoke. 

They  held  him  so  close  to  the  fire. 

He  frizzled  just  like  a  beef-steak, 
They  then  threw  him  down  on  the  floor, 

Which  had  liked  to  have  broken  his  neck. 
One  gave  him  a  kick  on  the  stomach, 

Another  a  kick  on  the  brow, 
His  wife  said,  Throw  him  into  the  stable. 

And  he'll  be  better  just  now. 

Then  they  all  returned  to  the  pit, 

And  the  fighting  went  forward  again  ; 

Six  battles  were  fought  on  each  side, 
And  the  next  was  to  decide  the  mdn. 


APPENDIX.  375 


For  they  were  two  famous  cocks 

As  ever  this  country  bred — 
Scroggins's  a  dark-winged  black, 

And  Newton's  a  shift-winged  red. 

The  conflict  was  hard  on  both  sides, 

Till  Brassy's  black-winged  was  choked  ; 
The  colliers  were  tarnationly  vexed, 

And  the  nailers  were  sorely  provoked. 
Peter  Stevens  he  swore  a  great  oath, 

That  Scroggins  had  played  his  cock  foul ; 
Scroggins  gave  him  a  kick  on  the  head. 

And  cried.  Yea, thy  soul. 

The  company  then  fell  in  discord, 

A  bold,  bold,  fight  did  ensue ; 
, ,  and  bite  was  the  word. 

Till  the  Walsall  men  all  were  subdued. 
Ralph  Moody  bit  ofl"  a  man's  nose. 

And  wished  that  he  could  have  him  slain, 
So  they  trampled  both  cocks  to  death. 

And  they  made  a  draw  of  the  main. 

The  cock  pit  was  near  to  the  church. 

An  ornament  unto  the  town ; 
On  one  side  an  old  coal  pit. 

The  other  well  gorsed  around, 
Peter  Hadley  peeped  through  the  gorse. 

In  order  to  see  them  fight ; 
Spittle  jobbed  out  his  eye  with  a  fork, 

A«d  said, thee,  it  served  thee  right. 


376 


ALPS  AND  SANCTUARIES. 


Some  people  may  think  this  is  strange, 

Who  Wednesbury  never  knew ; 
But  those  who  have  ever  been  there, 

Will  not  have  the  least  doubt  but  it's  true ; 
For  they  are  as  savage  by  nature, 

And  guilty  of  deeds  the  most  shocking  ; 
Jack  Baker  whacked  his  own  father. 

And  thus  ended  Wednesbury  cocking. 


THE  END. 


PRINTED   BY   BAI.LANTYNE    HANSON    AND    CO. 
EDINBURGH   AND   LONDON. 


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