CHAPTER XXIV.[ToC]
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 Workhouses 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.