CAPELA DOS OSSOS – CAMPO MAIOR, PORTUGAL BY PAUL KOUDOUNARIS
much thought, but it was on my mind as I drove through the Portuguese countryside toward the village of Campo Maior. It was there, on Septem- ber 16, 1732, that the fireworks went off. During a storm, a beam fell on a castle tower after being struck by lightning, igniting 6000 barrels of pow- der and 5000 rounds of ammunition; 836 houses were burned and 1076 people killed in the explo- sion. Many of the de- ceased were mutilated
W
hat would you do if two-thirds of the people in your town were killed in a gun powder explosion? It was a question to which I had never given
beyond recognition. Unable to differentiate the re- mains, most were put into a mass grave. They were gone but not forgotten. In 1766, the bones of 800 of them were disinterred and used to dec- orate a chapel across the courtyard from the main parish church. This type of macabre commemoration is some-
thing of a Portuguese specialty. Under the mellow veneer of sun-dappled beaches beats the coun- try’s dark heart, and such displays are part of a long-standing tradition; per capita, Portugal pos- sesses more bone-decorated chapels (known as Capelas dos Ossos) than any other country in Eu- rope. At one time there were ten functioning chapels in Portugal decorated with human re- mains. Six of them still stand, and they vary greatly in size and style. The largest is the Franciscan bone chapel in Evora, which measures more than 2000 square feet, and the smallest, in Mon- forte, is barely closet-sized; some, like the Capela dos Ossos in Faro, are de- signed with a rigorous neoclassical order, while at others, such as the one in Altcantarilha, the bones are ce- mented into the walls in a chaotic jumble. But of all of them, the chapel at Campo Maior, with its tragic senti- ment and perfection of design, is the
crème de la crème. Modern Campo Maior is so tiny that
it gives the impression of having never fully recouped the population lost in the 1732 explosion – the town seems nearly deserted and, save for a few hours in the early evening, there is al- most no sign of the residents. The town hugs a hill, and the Capela dos Ossos sits next to the old parish church, or Igeja Matriz, roughly halfway down the slope. Lacking a tourist office, the best source of
local information is the city’s only wino, Tomás, who fills the role of a kind of cultural ambassador. “The explosion is probably the best thing that ever happened
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here,” Tomás tells me as we walk downhill to- ward the church. “If the capela had not been built, no one would have any reason to come here at all.” But a small trickle of outsiders does come, leaving the beaten path to visit a chapel that is as impressive as any bone-decorated structure in Europe. The capela is entered through the parish of-
fices and, despite a problem several years back with a Frenchman who arrived wearing a black robe and tried to summon the Devil, all are wel- come, free of charge. There are no set opening or closing times, however, so visitors must hope that the priest is at his desk, otherwise entry is impossible. For his part, the priest doesn’t have much to say to guests. If you’re not Portuguese he already knows that you’ve come to see the bones, and he will typically wave you in with a gesture that is somewhere between bored and contemptuous. Once inside, visitors find them- selves in the midst of what may be the world’s most literate bone structure: the remains are used both to simulate traditional architectural motifs and provide defined patterns of rhythm and articulation. The long walls of the chapel are divided into
two bays by a simulated arch made of long bones, which runs through the middle of the building. One wall possesses two niches on one side, and the other a niche and the entry door. The niches contain full skeletons that are en- crusted with small remnants of burned flesh. Set slightly above eye level, the skeletons dominate the room, and take on a monumental presence. The walls themselves are broken into three reg- isters. The lowest row, up to about four feet, con- tains skulls set in mortar. This gives way to a section of alternating layers of long bones and bone caps; these form the niches. The columns of long bones are broken up by vertical rows of skulls that reinforce the lines of the room and provide a transition to the topmost section of wall, which is composed of bone caps and curved rows of skulls that form an arch over each niche. The ceiling is perhaps the most impressive fea- ture: each half of the room is divided into four tri- angles of long bones, pointed inward and joined
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