Loreto is a small village enclosed with walls and fortified against attack by the Turks,[144] and built on a slightly elevated plain. It overlooks a very fair stretch of country, and is not far from the shores of the Adriatic Sea or Gulf of Venice; indeed they say that in fine weather the Sclavonic mountains on the other side may be seen. The town contains few inhabitants except those who serve the needs of the religious devotees, some as innkeepers—and their lodgings are dirty enough—and some as traffickers, that is, vendors of tapers, images, paternosters, Agnus Dei, Saviours, and wares of this sort, many of these dealers having fine and well-furnished shops, in which I, personally, left behind some fifty good crowns. The priests and church officials and the College of Jesuits are all lodged together in a large modern palace, where lives also the governor, a cleric, to whom, as representative of the legate and the Pope, all applications must be addressed.
The holy place is a little house, very old and mean, built of brick,[145] and much greater in length than in width. At the upper end thereof a barrier has been constructed, having on either side a gate of iron, and between these an iron grating, the whole fabric being rude and old and lacking in all richness of furniture. The iron grating aforesaid fills up the space between the two doors, and through it the spectator can see to the end of the recess, and the extreme end, the shrine, occupies about a fifth part of the space thus enclosed. This is the spot of the highest sanctity. There may be seen on the upper part of the wall the image of Our Lady, made, so the story goes, of wood. All the residue of the shrine is so thickly covered with rich ex votos given by divers cities and princes that, right down to the ground, there is not an inch of space which is not covered with some device of gold or silver. With great difficulty and as a high favour done to me, I was able to find a place whereon I could fix a memorial device, in which were set four silver figures, that of Our Lady, my own, my wife’s, and my daughter’s. On the base of mine was engraved on the silver the inscription, “Michael Montanus Gallus Vasco, Eques Regii Ordinis, 1581.” On my wife’s, “Francisca Cassaniana, uxor,” and on my daughter’s, “Leonora Montana, filia unica.” These three are all kneeling in a row before Our Lady, who is set somewhat higher. The chapel has another entrance besides the two of which I have spoken, and any one entering it thereby will find my tablet on the left-hand side, opposite the door in the corner, the same having been very carefully fixed and nailed to the wall. I had caused a chain and ring of silver to be fitted thereto, so as to let it hang from a nail, but the chapel officials preferred to fasten it to the wall itself.[146] In this small enclosure is the fireplace of the cottage, and this they exhibit by drawing aside some ancient tapestries which hang before it. Very few persons are allowed to enter here, indeed there is a notice over the door forbidding admission to any one not furnished with the leave of the governor. These doors are of metal, very richly worked, and an iron grating is fixed in front of them.
Amongst the other rich and rare offerings left there I saw a candle recently sent by a Turk who had made a vow to Our Lady when he was in sore straits, and ready to seize upon any rope which might offer help in gaining safety. The other and the larger portion of the cottage serves as a chapel, but no daylight finds its way thereinto, and the altar is placed beneath the grating and against the partition already alluded to. In it neither ornaments, nor benches, nor chairs, nor paintings, nor wall-hangings are to be found, for it is itself a shrine. No swords or arms of any sort may be taken therein, and no respect is paid to a man because of his high rank. We partook of the Eucharist there, a privilege not granted to all, as another chapel is provided for this function on account of the vast crowds of people who commonly present themselves. So great is the throng every day in this chapel that it is necessary to be there in good time to find standing room. When I communicated a German Jesuit said mass. People are forbidden to pare off bits of the masonry; indeed were they permitted to carry away aught of the same the whole fabric would disappear in three days. They tell of innumerable miracles in relation to the place, for details of which I refer the reader to the books dealing with the same, but many have happened in recent times; also for an account of the mishaps which have befallen those who, out of devotion, have abstracted fragments of the building, even with the Pope’s warrant. Also they show a little bit of brick which had been taken away while the Council of Trent was sitting, and was brought back by miraculous agency. The cottage itself has been cased outside and strengthened by a square fabric of the most sumptuous character made of the finest marble and carved all over.[147] Few rarer or more exquisite works can be seen elsewhere. Around and above this structure is a large and beautiful church with many fine chapels and tombs, amongst which is that of the Cardinal d’Amboise,[148] which the cardinal of Armaignac[149] caused to be erected. The cottage itself serves as the choir of this church, which, however, has a choir of its own, but this is set in a corner. The whole of this great church is covered with pictures, frescoes, and painted legends,[150] and we saw therein divers rich ornamental gifts, but I was surprised not to find more, considering how ancient is the fame of this church. I have a suspicion that they melt down the old silver plate and put it to other purposes; in any case it is estimated that their annual offerings amount to ten thousand crowns of coined money. No other place I have ever visited makes so great a show of religion. All property which is lost there—and I speak of articles of silver or others not only worth picking up, but worth appropriating by people thus inclined—is deposited by the finders in a certain public receptacle provided for the purpose. Any one who may be so minded may abstract whatsoever he may desire from this receptacle without any cognisance being taken thereof. When I was there I saw many articles thus displayed, paternosters, handkerchiefs, and purses, such as none would own, all at the disposal of the first claimant. With regard to such things as you may buy and leave behind you for the sake of the church, none of the artificers thereof will accept any payment for his labour, for these craftsmen reckon that, by charging only for the silver or the wood, they themselves share the benefit of the act; anything like almsgiving or treating they steadily refuse. Likewise the church officials, who are most attentive to those who wish to confess or to partake of the communion, and in every other respect, will accept nothing for their services. The custom is to give to some one or other of them a sum of money to be distributed amongst the poor in your name after your departure. Whilst I was in the sacrarium there came a man who offered to the first priest he met a silver cup because of a vow he had made; and because he had vowed an offering of the value of twelve crowns, and had laid out less than this on the cup, he paid the balance on the spot to the aforesaid priest, who had put in a plea for the payment of this sum of money as the strict due of the church, and necessary for the perfect and conscientious fulfilment of the vow. When this was done the priest led the man into the sacrarium so that he might himself offer the cup to Our Lady and say a short prayer, the money being dropped into the common alms-box. Instances like this occur daily. Gifts are received in a very off-hand fashion, indeed the acceptance of them is reckoned a favour conferred.
I tarried the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning, and went away after mass. To declare my experience which I gathered in this place, where I was vastly entertained and interested, I may say that my visit coincided with that of M. Michel Marteau, Seigneur de la Chapelle, a rich young Parisian[151] travelling with a large following. I received from him and from certain of his suite a careful and detailed account of the cure of a diseased leg, which he affirmed had been brought about during a former visit of his to this place, and the account given to me of this miracle was as exact as could be. All the surgeons of Paris and Italy had been baffled, the patient had spent more than three thousand crowns, and his knee had been swollen, powerless, and very painful for the last three years. It grew worse, and more inflamed and red, so that he was thrown into a fever. For several days he had ceased to use any medicament or remedy; when, having fallen asleep, he dreamt all of a sudden that he was healed, and that a flash of light seemed to shine around him. He awoke, cried out that he was cured, called for his servants, arose from his bed, and began to walk for the first time since he had been seized with this infirmity. The swelling of the knee disappeared, the shrivelled and half-dead skin got well from that time without any further remedy. Being now completely cured, he had come back to Loreto, his cure having been worked about a month earlier, while he was here. He had been in Rome while we were staying there. These were all the authentic facts I could collect from the discourse I had with him and with his people.
The story of the miracle of the transference of this house, which is held to be the actual birthplace of Jesus Christ at Nazareth, and of its conveyance first into Sclavonia, next to a spot close hereto, and finally to this very place, is set forth on large marble tablets fixed along the pillars of the church, and written in Italian, Sclavonic, French, German, and Spanish. In the choir I saw hanging a standard of our sovereign, the only king’s device in the place. They told me that great crowds of Sclavonians are wont to come here to worship, and moreover, that as soon as they catch sight of the place from their barks at sea they set up a cry, which they let continue in the town itself, with many protestations and promises added, and beg Our Lady to return to their land, pouring out their regrets that they should have given her reason for deserting them; which thing seemed to me very marvellous.
I was told that the journey from Loreto to Naples, one I was fain to take, might be made along the sea-coast in eight easy days’ travel. I should have to go by Pescara to Chieti, whence a carrier set out for Naples every Sunday. I offered money to several of the priests, but nearly all refused to accept it, and those who took it made all sorts of demur and difficulty. In Loreto they keep their grain in vaults under the streets. On the 25th of April I presented my ex voto. Our journey of four days and a half from Rome to Loreto cost six crowns of fifty soldi each, for the horses, for the men who let them to us and fed them, and for ourselves. This is a bad sort of bargain to make, seeing that they always hurry you along for the sake of saving their own outlay, and treat you in very niggardly fashion.
On the 26th I went to see the Port, three miles distant, which I found to be a very fine one, and a fort overlooking it which belongs to the town of Recanati. Don Luca Giovanni, the Beneficiale, and Giovanni Gregorio da Cailli, Custode della Sagrestia, gave me their names when I was leaving, so that, in case I should need their services for myself or for others, I might write to them; moreover, I received many other courteous attentions from the aforenamed. The former is in chief authority over the small shrine, and refused all the gifts I offered him. I shall always feel under obligation to them for their courtesies of word and deed.
END OF VOL. II.
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