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 Deal That He Would Like.
On
p. 226 is a sketch of the church and tower as seen from the
opposite side to that from which the sketch on p. 224 was taken.
The church seems to have been very much altered, if indeed the body
of it was not entirely rebuilt, in 1618 - a date which is found on a
pillar inside the church. 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 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 Groesner Constantiensis fecit A.D. 1649," and
with an inscription to the effect that it was painted for the
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 showing 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, however 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 French marigold blossoms to colour his
risotto with during the winter. He gave 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 XIX - 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 with what delight I found wild narcissuses 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 facade 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 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 than 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 1200 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' carriage 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 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.
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