Ex Voto: An Account of the Sacro Monte or New Jerusalem at Varallo-Sesia: With Some Notice of Tabachetti's Remaining Work at the Sanctuary of Crea

In Short

This book serves as both a scholarly guide and a personal travelogue concerning the Sacro Monte, a pilgrimage site in Northern Italy filled with dramatic, painted terra-cotta statues. The narrative explores the history of these "New Jerusalem" chapels, evaluating the contributions of various artists—most notably Gaudenzio Ferrari and the Flemish-born Tabachetti—while critiquing the haphazard nature of later restorations. It remains a vital document for its deep appreciation of regional art and its polemical, passionate defense of sincerity in creative work over mere technical skill.

The Story

The narrative begins with an invitation to consider the unique nature of the Sacro Monte. Located at Varallo-Sesia, this sanctuary serves as a "New Jerusalem," a site where the life of Christ is reenacted not through living actors, but through frozen, realistic terra-cotta figures housed within dozens of small chapels. The author sets out to document these installations, which range from the late fifteenth century to the early seventeenth century, while simultaneously engaging in a spirited debate with contemporary art critics.

The arc of the book follows the physical progression of a visitor ascending the mountain. As the author moves from chapel to chapel—starting with the Annunciation and continuing through the life of Christ—he peels back layers of history. He cross-references archival documents and early guidebooks, such as those by Caccia, to determine the authorship and original intent of each scene. He frequently finds the historical record messy; figures were moved, heads were replaced, and frescoes were painted over or damaged by centuries of mountain dampness.

A central thread is the quest to identify the hand of the master. The author holds a deep reverence for Gaudenzio Ferrari, who set the standard for the site’s early style, and he is even more enthusiastic about the work of Tabachetti. By comparing the expressive, naturalistic energy of these artists against the more derivative, rigid works of later contributors, the author creates a hierarchy of quality. He laments the "mangy" look of figures that have suffered from poor repainting and warns against the well-intentioned but often destructive nature of modern restorations.

The journey extends beyond the borders of the mountain itself. The author travels to the Sanctuary of Crea to investigate the remaining work of Tabachetti, finding in those figures a similar "robuster unconsciousness" that he feels is missing from the more self-conscious, "Jovialist" art of the late Renaissance. He concludes by advocating for the preservation of these works in their current, fragile state, arguing that an authentic, weathered piece of art is far more valuable than a shiny, "vulgarised" renovation. The ending is not a final resolution, but a call to the reader to witness these fading treasures before they are irreparably altered by the hands of those who seek to "mend" what is already perfect in its own time-worn way.

How It Unfolds

The philosophical departure The author establishes his criteria for greatness, arguing that art must be rooted in sincerity of faith rather than intellectual display. He rejects the notion that moral character and artistic excellence are unrelated, using this as a lens to judge the chapels.

The topographical survey Moving through the chapels in order, the author meticulously catalogues the sculptures, their probable dates, and the shifting attributions found in earlier texts. He balances scholarly research with his own visual observations, noting where the figures have been damaged by time or past interventions.

The investigation of masters Dedicated chapters analyze the lives and styles of key sculptors like Gaudenzio Ferrari and Tabachetti. The author sifts through contradictory records to separate the original genius from the later additions of collaborators and successors.

The critique of restoration The final movement emphasizes the tragedy of modern maintenance. The author documents his visits to other sites like Crea to demonstrate how well-meaning efforts to repaint or "improve" figures often destroy their delicate, original spirit.

The People

The book is populated by a mix of historical artists, chroniclers, and the author’s own contemporary peers. Gaudenzio Ferrari, the foundational artist of the mountain, is the primary hero of the early chapels. He is presented as a man whose work is imbued with a divine, conscious effusion. Standing in contrast is Tabachetti, the Flemish sculptor whose "robuster unconsciousness" the author prizes above almost all others for its startling, life-like realism.

The historical commentators—Fassola, Torrotti, and Bordiga—serve as the author’s guides and, occasionally, his foils. He relies on their records of the chapels, yet frequently corrects their attributions with the dry wit of a detective. Giovanni d’Enrico appears as a figure of transition, a prolific architect and sculptor whose work is often conflated with that of his predecessors. Finally, there is the anonymous thief from the legend of the Annunciation chapel, who serves as a cautionary tale of what happens when one fails to show the proper respect for the sacred, vivid art that populates the mountain. The author himself acts as the central consciousness—a skeptical yet devoted observer who wants to protect these chapels from the "society art-dabblers" of his day.

In Its Own Voice

The author highlights the haunting, life-like presence of the statues, which at times threaten to confuse the visitor:

"On the Sacro Monte the tableaux are produced in perpetuity, only the figures are not living, they are terra-cotta statues painted and moulded in so life-like a way that you feel that, were a man of flesh and blood to get mixed up with the crowd behind the grating, you would have hard work to distinguish him from the figures that have never had life."

He argues that the true soul of art lies in the spiritual intent of the creator:

"It is ἀγάπη, or the spirit, and not γνώσις, or the letter, which is the soul of all true art."

What It's Really About

At its heart, this book is an inquiry into the nature of artistic sincerity. The author argues that art is not merely a display of technical proficiency, but a manifestation of the "mind or spirit" made material. He is deeply concerned with how the passage of time and the interventions of restorers can obscure this original spirit. The Sacro Monte acts as a case study for the tension between the "too little" and the "too much" of religion and art. Ultimately, the book is a plea to value the raw, honest, and sometimes grotesque vitality of the past over the polished, sanitized versions favored by contemporary taste.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the intersection of travel writing, art history, and personal, slightly curmudgeonly commentary will find this a delight. It is not a standard guidebook; it is the work of a man who cares more about the "soul" of a statue than the official dates listed in a brochure. You will feel as though you are walking up the mountain alongside a guide who is just as likely to point out a miraculous legend as he is to launch into an eloquent, sharp-tongued protest against a bad restoration.

The book does not shy away from the realities of the site—the damp, the peeling paint, and the confusion of centuries-old records—which gives it a grounded, lived-in quality. Modern readers might find the author’s insistence on certain Victorian-era artistic standards or his dismissive attitude toward specific "professional critics" to be a quirk of his time, but his fundamental love for the "halo" of human effort remains infectious. It is an essential read for anyone interested in the preservation of heritage, or for those who simply want to see the world through the eyes of a writer who refuses to be told what is—and is not—worth admiring.