CHAPTER XXIV.

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."