Milan social and charitable--How to relieve our Poor--Leonardo's "Last
Supper"--Condition of churches in Italy--Santa Maria delle Grazie--La
Scala Picture-galleries--St. Ambrogio--Ambrosian Library--Public gardens
--Excursion to the Lakes--Monza--Como--Lake scenery--Bellagio--American
rowdyism.
One soon becomes attached to Milan, it is so bright and clean, and the
air so pure and bracing; the country around abounds in beautiful lake
scenery, most enjoyable for trips and excursions. The means of moving
from place to place are convenient and moderate in charges, and the
living good and inexpensive. There is an air of welcome and hospitality
to visitors and strangers among the people not so readily shown in other
cities of Italy,--the highest families opening their doors to all with
very slight introduction. There are, I believe, a great number of
wealthy people here; and, judging from the scarcity of beggars--that
importunate plague, so universal in Italy--I should think the poor are
not neglected by them. This may also be proved by a visit to some of the
many charitable institutions. The Spedale Grande, for instance, is one
of the largest hospitals in Europe: its façade measures nine hundred
feet, and it accommodates upwards of two thousand patients. Like most
of the Italian hospitals, there are separate apartments for those who
can contribute towards their maintenance. The asylums for the insane are
also admirably managed. I have heard that the plan for relieving the
poor is much better systematized here than in England. Well! I fear, and
I say it with shame, that it could not be much worse or more bungling
anywhere. Our wretched system of miscalled _Work_houses or Unions is
utterly unworthy of us; some of these places, in fact, are abominably
demoralizing and degrading. We clothe the poor in a dress of shame, and
then wonder at their want of self-respect! Many of our unions are
utterly unfit for the respectable poor and (we seem to forget that there
is such a class)--I was nearly saying, are places of seething vice; no
wonder, then, even starving people, who have a spark of true pride left
in them, prefer to die rather than go there. Poverty and distress are
inevitable in every great city, and one can no more help being poor than
being born, and there is no shame in this lack of riches; yet it is sad
to see, in these philanthropic days of clerical energy and individual
benevolence and charity, the number of dreadful courts and alleys almost
leading out of the finest squares, a frightful contrast between abject
poverty and superfluous wealth.[H] The only effectual way to relieve
and diminish this misery is by assisting the poor to help themselves;
then indeed this would produce gratitude instead of sullen discontent,
which, I fear, is the general feeling in our workhouses. A well-managed
system of out-door relief, aided by providing employment and
well-organized emigration to our own colonies (the natural destiny of
our surplus population), is the only efficient method; but this must be
done in a thorough, liberal, and judicious spirit, not in the grudging
manner in which some charities are doled out. It is much to England's
credit that energetic efforts are being made to educate the poor; but I
think some help in that direction should also be extended to the middle
classes, and those between the two, to _prevent_ their becoming
indigent. The advantages of education cannot be too highly esteemed, but
each class should be fitted to the sphere it is likely to occupy in
life; the same training does not suit all alike. I fear at the present
time we are inclined to run to the other extreme, and over-educate those
who would be far happier and altogether more useful members of society,
were we content with teaching the three great rudiments--reading,
writing, and arithmetic. These, with good _religious_ instruction and a
trade, would enable them to support themselves in a decent and
comfortable manner, and to become respected and respectable citizens;
nor would it in any way prevent their improving and raising themselves
to a higher condition, should they be the fortunate possessors of genius
or talent of any kind, for these more energetic intellects usually show
such indications at a very early age, and proper provision should be
made, enabling them to pursue those studies which might perhaps be the
means of making them men whom England would be proud to acknowledge. But
these highly endowed minds are few and far between, compared with the
medium, fairly intelligent thousands of men and women who run great
risks of starvation by being lifted out of their proper sphere; the
market for the employment of such is already over-crowded, while good
artisans, workmen, and servants are in great demand. Yet at present we
afford no training to supply this want, and by over-educating the masses
and spoiling them for their proper vocation, we unconsciously increase
the difficulties which go far to fill our cities with those unfortunate
beings, to whom life is one long struggle to keep body and soul
together. The evils of this system having now become apparent, it is to
be hoped a change will soon be made. There is no doubt that both our
Poor Law and Board Schools stand in urgent need of reform. But the
greatest and most necessary reform of all should be in making a
religious education the foundation of all true and useful knowledge;
mere secular education will but probably tend to make a poor lad more
cunning and maybe a more clever rogue; but not necessarily a good,
industrious, and loyal citizen, as religion must do; then poverty even
might be borne with contentment and some sense of happiness. A single
reflection on the present condition of irreligious France should be
warning enough.
In the Refectory of the old Dominican Friary attached to the church of
Santa Maria delle Grazie, we saw Leonardo da Vinci's famous fresco of
the _Last Supper_. It is on the wall of a large, bare, whitewashed room,
this celebrated work being almost the only furniture and decoration.
Although in a very bad state of decay and dilapidation, it is yet
sufficient to draw hither artists from all quarters of the world, who
are always busily copying the great work, aspiring to fill up the flaws
of decay and age in the best way they can imagine the master's hand had
originally painted it. But, in truth, there are few parts that have not
been retouched at different times, and sometimes by far from skilful
brushes; yet the painting bears, and will bear to the end, the divine
and ineffable touch of genius given by the inspired mind which so
carefully, lovingly, and thoughtfully designed it. It is very probable
that the fame of this unique work will ultimately have to depend upon
the fine copy in mosaics at Vienna, executed at Napoleon's command, and
supposed to be the largest and finest mosaic in the world. The
expression in the faces of the apostles is said to be most admirably
preserved.
The painting itself, which took the great Leonardo twelve years to
execute, was unfortunately painted in oils, and the plaster of the wall
not being properly prepared, the paint flakes off from exposure to the
damp. It retains just enough to show the emotions the artist wished to
express, and which the best copies fail to produce. The _motif_ of the
work is most beautifully and pathetically represented. Amidst the loving
peace of that last evening meal, Jesus sorrowfully bows His head,
saying, "One of you shall betray Me." Then all are filled with the
deepest agitation and dismay. Two of the disciples, Peter and James, I
think, reaching behind the dark form of Judas, who clutches the bag,
make signs to John to ask the Master who it is. But the silent, downcast
attitude of the Saviour, the expression of heavenly resignation, seems
but too truly to confirm the mournful words--"One of you shall betray
Me."
I must here repeat my lamentation at the unfinished condition of the
exterior of many of the cathedrals and churches of Italy, which I
consider disgraceful, containing as they do so much that is beautiful in
sculpture, painting, and art-treasures beyond value, which can never be
replaced, and yet are allowed to gradually sink into oblivion and ruin.
Little care is taken to preserve them, or prevent decay: often have I
seen the damp saturating the walls on which were the most admired
frescoes of the greatest masters, slowly but surely becoming spoiled and
effaced. It must be more than the want of funds which prevents the
people from properly finishing the buildings they took so much time to
construct and decorate--some senseless superstition must attach to it in
some way, I should think.
Santa Maria delle Grazie, adjoining the Friary, is an Abbey Church of
the fourteenth century, and, with Gothic nave and picturesque cupola
added by Bramante, is considered one of the best architectural specimens
of its class to be found anywhere.
Passing through the glass-domed arcade by the Cathedral, we find
ourselves in the _Piazza della Scala_, where there is a fine statue of
Leonardo da Vinci by Naqui, in Carrara marble. The figure of the great
painter, which is larger than life, stands alone on a lofty pedestal,
his fine features full of concentrated thought, while below stand four
of his pupils, as though in the act of catching a glow of inspiration
from their master: the expression on all their faces is excellent, and
wonderfully executed. The base of the pedestal is adorned with copies of
the great painter's principal works in _relief_.
Here, too, is the famous Teatro la Scala, next to San Carlo at Naples,
the largest in Italy, and capable of holding 3000 spectators. The
highest ambition of an Italian _artiste_ is attained when he or she has
sung at this theatre, for it is a guarantee of success, and, having
gained the suffrages of an audience on the boards of La Scala, they are
certain of laurels on any other stage in Europe. This is the principal
evening _rendezvous_ of the Milanese, both high and low classes
assembling for several hours, paying, however, less attention to the
opera than to conversation, flirtation, gambling, and eating ices. The
theatre has quite recently been lighted by electricity.
The Arnea, in the _Piazza di Arni_, built by the French, is dedicated to
the populace for their open-air amusements, such as balloon ascents,
rope-dancing, fire-works, races, shows, etc.: it contains seats for some
30,000 spectators. The _Arc de Triomphe_ is considered the best of the
kind in Europe.
The great picture-gallery at Milan, the Pinacoteca, in the _Via di
Brene_, at the _Palazzo delle Scienze e delle Arte_, contains some six
hundred paintings by celebrated artists, among them Raphael's
_Sposalizio_, said to be the gem of the collection; Guercino's _Abraham
and Hagar_; and a copy of Leonardo da Vinci's _Last Supper_, which,
however, is in a very bad condition. The Archilogio and other museums
also contain paintings and other objects of interest; but having already
traversed so many galleries in Rome, Florence, Naples, etc., we were
disinclined to visit many of those at Milan. The Palazzo Reale is
principally worth seeing for its fine ball-room, decorated with silk
tapestries of the sixteenth century.
We visited the church of St. Ambrogio, in the Piazza of the same name.
It was founded by St. Ambrose in the year 387. It was here that he
baptized St. Augustine, and burst out with the grand _Te Deum Laudamus_,
ascribed to him. In one of the naves is a gigantic pillar, with a bronze
serpent. It is said to be the one put up by Moses in the wilderness,
despite the evidence in Scripture of its complete destruction! Among
other remarkable things there is an ancient pulpit; a splendid shrine of
silver adorned with inscriptions and reliefs in honour of St
Augustine's life; the Ambrosian Liturgy in vellum; a curious chapel
behind the choir; and many interesting tombs, paintings, and frescoes.
The Ambrosian Library is in the Contrada della Bibliotheca, near the
church of St. Sepolcro. It was founded by Cardinal Borromeo, and
contains some 60,000 volumes and 15,000 manuscripts. Among the latter
are many treasures: a Latin translation of Josephus, by Rufinius, on
papyrus, supposed to be eleven centuries old; a copy of the Gospels in
Irish, some seven centuries old; Petrarch's copy of Virgil; and
autographic letters of Ariosto, Tasso, Galileo, Cavour, Garibaldi, and
many others. The place is rich in objects of antiquity and paintings. It
contains many of Raphael's cartoons, portraits by Leonardo da Vinci,
Correggio's _Christ_, and the _Mater Dolorosa_, Raphael's _Christ
washing the disciples' feet_, and others.
The Public Gardens afford a refreshing change from the city. They are
not very extensive, and seem mostly monopolized by gaily attired
nursemaids, with great spreading silver head-dresses, which give them
somewhat of a conceited air. They strut about as if they were nursing
the little kings and queens of the future. Around these Gardens is the
fashionable drive, which is thronged on Sundays, when the people
assemble to criticise the _élite_ in their carriages.
The ladies of Milan are handsome, carry themselves gracefully, and dress
remarkably well--no small praise in these days of pinching, deforming,
and demoralizing French fashions; but it is strange how many men--young
men especially--one sees at Milan, bent, stunted, and weak-kneed.
Milan is surrounded by a delightful country, and is most conveniently
situated for excursions to the beautiful Italian lakes.
One morning we took train for Como. It was a most interesting journey,
through fertile plains, luxuriantly clad with mulberry plantations for
the propagation of silkworms; for silk is one of the principal
commodities of Milan, and the plain silks of Lombardy are still
considered the best in Europe. Nature is very kind to these rich and
beautiful plains; it is still--
"Fruitful Lombardy,
The pleasant garden of great Italy."
I should think there are few places where vineyards exist so abundantly,
yet wine-making seems an industry little understood in modern Italy; or
has the flavour of her grapes undergone a change? Who can forget the
famous Falernian, quaffed by the emperors of Rome? At the present day,
Italian wines, cheap and abundant as they may be, are certainly poor in
quality. One would think wine-making was a lost art--at least, as
understood by the ancients.
But to return to the landscape scenery through which we were passing.
The plains and valleys are cooled and invigorated by numerous streams
and canals. Monza is the first station stopped at, a small town with
some 15,000 inhabitants. Its Cathedral is built on the site of a church
founded by the Lombard Queen Theodolinda, dedicated to St John the
Baptist. Monza has a Town-hall, and a royal summer Palace, both
possessing ancient interest. From here there is a line going to Lecco, a
point somewhat higher than Como, almost at the extremity of the eastern
fork of the lake Como, being situated at the extremity of the larger
western fork. The wedge-like point which separates these two branches,
called Bellagio, is charmingly situated, commanding the most lovely and
extensive scenery; it is, therefore, one of the most frequented spots in
the lake district.
After Monza, we pass through more than one tunnel, and several villages
and small towns of Roman foundation. Not one of these places seems to
have been overlooked by the ancients. They worked hard for the glory of
their great empire, and sought these quiet and beautiful spots so
favoured by Nature to recruit their strength and energy. But, as at
Tivoli near Rome, we see all along the shores, and on the way to these
Italian lakes, the proofs of their persevering activity and genius,
employed in the adornment of their summer retreats, leaving, after
centuries of time, sufficient to excite our wonder and admiration; and
to satisfy us that these great men of old knew both how to work and how
to enjoy themselves.
Como is quite an ideal little town, rich in reminiscences, and full of
life and beauty. The Cathedral is, next to that at Milan, the finest in
Northern Italy. It is severely Gothic; indeed, there is a certain
severity in most of the architecture of the town. There are some fine
paintings, chiefly by Guido and B. Quini. On either side of the porch
are the figures of the two Plinys, who used often to make the Villa
Pliniana their residence, writing many of their celebrated works there.
In the gardens of the villa is a fountain of which Pliny the younger
made frequent mention in his letters.
The Villa d'Este, some three miles from the town--built by Cardinal
Pompeo Galleo, who was born near Como and which afterwards became the
retreat of poor Queen Caroline of Georgian memory--is now annexed to the
well-known inn, the Regina d'Inghilterra. There are numerous other
beautiful villas, interesting both on account of their own merit and the
famous names associated with them.
The steamer leaves Como three times daily for excursions to various
parts of the lake. Carriages are also available to all points of
interest, and the rail goes straight to Bellagio. We preferred going by
water, and were soon steaming up the lake, crossing occasionally from
shore to shore to take in passengers. At first the morning was a little
dull and cold, giving a somewhat sombre tone to the scenery; but after a
time the sun shone out brightly, chasing away the shadows and lighting
up the wondrous beauties of the Alpine landscape, bringing forth glints
of coloured light from the dazzling waters, which reflected the blue sky
overhead--a charming and fairy-like change, as if the wand of some good
genius had been waved around, effecting a complete transformation.
The lake is some thirty miles in length, and its greatest width is about
two and a half miles. The depth in some parts is profound--some 1900
feet, and all around are the great lofty mountains. The fact of the two
shores being seen so distinctly add, I think, not a little to the
impressive grandeur of the scene. The mountain slopes are beautifully
wooded. Sometimes a great chasm intervenes; and, nestling picturesquely
here and there in bowers of green, or poised gracefully, commanding the
finest points and curves of the lake, or again scattered around the
shores, are the summer residences of the Milanese aristocracy. Winding
in and out, crossing from shore to shore, there is an ever-varying
panorama, delightful and unexpected surprises continually opening out to
the enraptured gaze. At each little station we come to a boat puts off
from the shore, bringing a few fresh passengers, and the mails and
parcel traffic of the lake; returning with the same, and such passengers
who desire to land.
At last we reach Bellagio, where the lake divides. Here one would fain
linger, it is so grand, so beautiful, so still,--the snow-capped
mountains rising in sublime majesty from the deep blue lake to the paler
blue of the sky, their sternness broken by the forests on their slopes,
and the brilliant colouring of the trees,--the tender green of the fresh
spring foliage contrasting finely with the grey tints of the sombre
olive--the whole, with its moving lights and shadows, mirrored
faithfully in the bosom of the lake below.
"Sublime, but neither bleak nor bare,
Nor misty are the mountains there--
Softly sublime, profusely fair,
Up to their summits clothed in green,--
And fruitful as the vales between,
They lightly rise,
And scale the skies,
And groves and gardens still abound;
For where no shoot
Could else take root
The peaks are shelved and terraced round."
The only thing that disturbed the dream-like enjoyment of the moment was
the presence on board the steamer of three rowdy Americans, who
preferred to be "funny," and caricature the sublime splendour around
them, rather than enjoy it with grateful admiration. Their foolish
conceit prevented them keeping this so-called fun to themselves.
Happily, it is not often one travels in such disagreeable company,
though one too frequently meets with those whose sole object in coming
to these beautiful spots is the _ambitious_ one of being able to say on
their return home that they have "done" Italy. I am obliged to admit,
however, that these are mostly my own countrymen.
After luncheon at the Grand Hotel at Bellagio, which we enjoyed in the
verandah, with a magnificent view of the lake spread before us, we took
a stroll on the shore, and looked at the little shops, where we saw in
process of manipulation the Italian pillow-lace, of which, as a matter
of course, my wife longed to make purchases.
The hotels are charmingly situated about the shores of the lake,
commanding the most beautiful views of the grand scenery around; they
seem to be comfortable, and are reasonable in their charges. Certainly a
more pleasant place for a short stay could not be found; the
hill-climbing excursions would be delightful. Towards evening we
returned on board the little vessel, and steamed quietly down the lake,
calling at the different stations on our way, and thoroughly enjoying
the beauty of the evening shadows, the sombre mountains sinking into
peaceful repose, and the water no longer mirror-like, but calm and dark.
"All heaven and earth are still--though not in sleep,
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most,
And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep;--
All heaven and earth are still. From the high host
Of stars, to the lull'd lake and mountain coast,
All is concentr'd in a life intense,
Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,
But hath a part of being, and a sense
Of that which is of all Creator and defence."
The train from Switzerland was awaiting us on our arrival at Como, and
we were soon speeding away to Milan, having greatly enjoyed our trip to
this lovely Italian lake.
[H] Thanks to the author of "The Bitter Cry from Outcast London," there
is now a noble stream of generous sympathy flowing from West to
East--from those in affluence to their fellow-creatures in distress; and
the words of the Psalmist are at last being realized, "The poor shall
not alway be forgotten."