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From Italian Life in Town and Country by Luigi Villari, 1902.
One of the greatest difficulties in the way of studying Italy and the Italians, especially if we have to confine our observations within narrow limits, lies in the great differences of life, habits, character, and, to a certain extent, of language, which subsist between the inhabitants of one part of the Peninsula and those of another. The Piedmontese and the Lombards are not, perhaps, as different from the Neapolitans as they are from the English or the French, but still the difference is far greater than that between an inhabitant of Devonshire and a Yorkshireman, or between an Englishman and a Scotchman.
A popular saying is:
"Tre fratelli,
Tre castelli,
Eccoti I'ltalia."
There are, of course, certain national characteristics common to the whole country and its people, and they tend to develop both in number and importance every year. It is no longer true that Italy is, as Metternich said, nothing but a geographical expression. She is one and united for good or for evil, and all Italians look upon unity as a fait accompli on which it is impossible to go back. They also feel that united they have a good chance of becoming once more a really great nation, that separated they would be less than nothing, and at the mercy of every ambitious and unscrupulous neighbour. Still, the divisions subsist, and it is absolutely necessary to grasp this fact if we are to understand Italian life.
If this difficulty exists to a considerable extent in the sphere of politics and economics, it is multiplied a thousandfold in the sphere of manners and customs, daily life and domestic economy. Hence, in the latter case, it is almost impossible to make a statement universally true of all Italy. What is true of Lombardy is false if applied to Tuscany or to Sicily. We may go even further, and remark that what is true of Florence and the Florentines is false of the Sienese or the Pisans.
In no country in Europe are the local differences so marked as in Italy. The countless foreigners who yearly come to study its art are always struck by the variety of different styles and manners in architecture, painting, and sculpture. There is a Tuscan school of painting, a Venetian school, an Umbrian school; even a Sienese school distinct from the Florentine and the Pisan schools; and the same thing may be said as regards architecture.
This great variety contributes in no small degree to the charm and fascination which the country exercises over every one, and renders a tour through its cities an enjoyment of such absorbing interest. But few foreigners realise that these differences which they see in one or two artistic manifestations extend to the whole life of the people, and that there are Florentine schools of manners, of thought, of character, of cookery, quite distinct from those of Rome, Milan, or Naples. It is therefore necessary, when treating of many features of Italian life, to deal separately with the various parts of the country, and to avoid general statements as much as possible.
The main line of division is that between the North and the South. There is no absolute line of demarcation, as Central Italy separates the two; but, all the same, the North is undoubtedly very different from the South in every way. The North is industrial, prosperous, active, and progressive. The South is almost exclusively agricultural, and miserably poor. In the North political education is beginning to develop, and the keenest interest is evinced in social and political questions, while the South is apathetic and wanting in political instinct. The North has made a great advance in wealth, trade, and education, while the South is almost stationary.
The ignorance of the South is proverbial. The proportion of illiterates among the recruits in Piedmont was 14.98 per cent, in Lombardy 18.42 per cent; in the Province of Naples it was 51.37 per cent, in Sicily 55.04 per cent. In criminal statistics, too, the South enjoys an unenviable pre-eminence. In the years 1896 and 1897, the number of murders committed in Sicily per 100,000 inhabitants was 27.90, in the Province of Naples 24.53; whereas in Venetia it was only 3.18, and in Lombardy 2.92. The same disproportion applies also to other crimes.
These differences, as is only natural, have produced a certain antagonism between Northerners and Southerners. The former, when they are in the South, are fond of speaking of their own provinces as "L’Alta Italia" (Northern Italy is generically called "L'Alta Italia"), in order to emphasise their superiority. They do not take pains to hide their contempt for their less progressive compatriots; they accuse the South of being the seed-plot of all political corruption, and say that the inertness and poverty of its inhabitants render the increased prosperity of Northern Italy of little avail. Heavy taxes are laid on the country, which North and South have to pay alike, but which are only necessary to pay for the idleness and dishonesty of the South. The South is the recruiting ground for ministerial majorities, as there the elections can always be turned in favour of the powers that be.
On the other hand, the Meridionali reply, with some show of reason, that if the industries of Piedmont and Lombardy are heavily taxed, the agriculture of the South is taxed still more heavily; that the South has never been given a fair chance; that the Government has always lavished its favours on the North, and promoted industry and trade, by means of protectionist tariffs and otherwise, while it has done nothing for the depressed agriculture of the South; that the South pays much more than its due share of taxation, although it is so much poorer. Much more money has been spent on railways, schools, and public works in the North than in the South, where the need was much greater.
Moreover, the Mezzogiorno is treated almost as though it were a penal settlement, and all the worst employees, those who have misbehaved or shown marked incapacity, are sent there, instead of the best men to educate the people. The South made great sacrifices for the union: its public debt was the lightest in Italy, and now it has to bear its share of the debt of the rest of the country.
At the moment of the union [Signer Nitti observes], the South had all the elements for transforming itself. It had a large extension of State lands, a considerable reserve of specie, and its public credit stood very high. What it was absolutely wanting in was political education; what was required was to educate the middle classes and to form a political conscience. But an opposite course has been followed, partly from necessity, partly from carelessness; above all, through the fault of the Meridionali themselves.
There is some truth in both contentions undoubtedly. If the intelligent and progressive North is hampered by the dead-weight of the ignorant and backward South, it must also be admitted that the Mezzogiorno owes its condition to centuries of misgovernment, and that the North has done very little for its improvement.
Here and there Southerners themselves have achieved a certain amount of progress: Bari has become an industrial centre of some importance, and the trade of the port of Naples is increasing. But it is little in comparison with the vast wilderness of barbarism and ignorance in the rest of the Southern provinces. Moreover, what makes them appear so peculiarly foreign to North Italians is their appalling criminal record. Three phenomena of social pathology are characteristic and regrettable features of life in Southern Italy: brigandage, the Mafia, and the Camorra. In the Neapolitan provinces brigandage has very much diminished. Originally a political movement, instigated by the ex-Bourbon Government and by the Papacy, it was put down with a firm hand by the Piedmontese troops in 1861-62, and although there are now and then isolated cases of it in the wilder parts of Calabria and the Puglie, where ordinary crime is very common, brigandage as an organised movement is a thing of the past.
In Sicily, however, it still flourishes, and every year a very large number of murders and robberies are committed by bands of armed freebooters, who infest the rural districts. The motives of the brigands are not always robbery; revenge and local feuds are often as much answerable for the murders as the desire of gain. Still, want is at the bottom of this form of crime, as poverty is the chief cause of the social and moral degradation of the people of Sicily, and of the hatred between landlord and peasant.
The Mafia is a phenomenon of a different nature. It is a sort of vast mutual-help society, to which an indefinite number of people belong, and whose object is to acquire influence and power by any means. Centuries of misgovernment, and, above all, the infamous Bourbon police systems, have created among the Sicilians an inborn distrust and hatred of authority. All private differ- ences, according to the perverted and monstrous code of honour called omerta (literally "manliness") should be settled privately, and no information should be given to the agents of the Government which may lead to the detection of the criminal. Tolls are levied by the Mafia on landlords, farmers, wine-growers, and orange-growers, and woe to him who refuses to pay the association its dues or to accept its members as watchmen of his property.
The record of murders committed by the Mafia is appalling. Sometimes whole families have been wiped out. In many of the towns the Mafia monopolises the communal councils, regulates all public contracts, brings pressure to bear on the judges and the jury to save a "companion" from paying the penalty of his misdeeds, and exercises a considerable influence on political elections. For many years the Government made use of it to secure the return of ministerial candidates, and hence was only half-hearted in the measures for putting down its tyranny.
The Camorra is another criminal association, whose power is limited to the city of Naples. It is an organisation of thieves and other dishonest persons in all ranks of society, who practically "run" Naples. Its aim is to make money without working, and its methods are bullying and levying tolls on all trades and professions, from municipal tramway contracts, involving millions, to the management of the lowest disorderly houses of the city. Such being the state of social life in the Southern provinces, it is not surprising that the more educated and active Northerners should feel a certain contempt for the unfortunate Meridionali.
This is, as I have said, the main line of regional differences in Italy, but there are also other minor distinctions of character and habits which engender a certain amount of local jealousy. Thus we see the Piedmontese aristocratic, reserved, hospitable, steady, and industrious, while the Lombard is quick, business-like, rather noisy and fond of chatter, and active. The Venetian is gossipy, lazy, artistic, and not particularly honest. The Tuscan is hard-working, sceptical, courteous, slow, conservative, but not exclusive, full of family affection, and frugal to the point of niggardliness. The Roman is reserved and dignified, but averse to hard work, and his passions frequently lead him to deeds of violence.
In the South there is a considerable difference between the Neapolitans (i. e., the inhabitants of the mainland) and the Sicilians. The former are gay, of great natural intelligence and adaptability, artistic, loquacious, superstitious, utterly wanting in self-respect, vicious, fond of a quarrel, especially if it ends in the law courts, and much given to outward show. They are often cruel and cowardly, but in great emergencies they can rise to a height of self-abnegation and heroism which has been rarely equalled. The Sicilian, on the other hand, is silent, and has more dignity than the Neapolitan; he is more gentlemanly in manners and appearance, but he is vindictive and savage, and intolerant of all restraint.
The Bourbon kings did their best to keep up the jealousy between the Continentali and the Isolani, on the Roman principle of Divide et impera.
In Central Italy the former division of the country into a number of City States has left its marks, which are visible to this day. Each little town for many centuries led its own independent life, had its own policy, its own manners and customs, its own artistic development, its own parties, its own aristocracy, bourgeoisie, and working class, and each was a little world in itself.
This communal particularism is to this day one of the most curious features of Tuscany; it is more marked in the smaller centres, and local jealousies are often found to exist between towns separated by a few miles from each other. In some cases a small town is jealous of a large one, while the latter almost ignores the existence of the former. One of the most characteristic cases in point is the hereditary rivalry between Siena and Florence. In Siena the Florentine is looked upon almost as a foreigner; socially he is not well received, and he is constantly reminded of past wars and struggles between the two republics.
Above all, the battle of Montaperti, in which the Sienese defeated the Florentines in 1260, and for a moment obtained the hegemony of all Tuscany, is a favourite topic of conversation. The Sienese are fond of attributing any disadvantage, real or imaginary, under which they suffer to the hostile and unfriendly attitude of the Florentines. A chronic cause of bickerings is the bad train-service, which renders Siena somewhat difficult of access. Sometimes the Sienese affirm that its inefficiency is due to the machinations of the Florentines, who are bent on ruining the trade and industries of Siena; at other times, when a projected improvement is seriously discussed, they oppose it, and say that they will have none of it, lest the Florentines should come to Siena in large numbers, and obtain possession of everything worth having in the town.
As at Siena there is neither trade nor industry of any sort, both contentions, to an outsider, seem somewhat futile. On the other hand, the Florentines regard the Sienese with the haughty disdain of inhabitants of a capital for their benighted provincial brethren, and, as a rule, take not the slightest interest in them or their affairs. The following story is typical of their attitude on the question: A Florentine barrister, whose business obliged him to dwell in Siena, was constantly being "heckled" about the harm which his compatriots were doing or contemplating against the "red city," and, as usual, the affair of Montaperti was brought up. Finally, after he had been subjected to this sort of thing for some time, he replied: "We Florentines never even remember the existence of Siena and the Sienese, except occasionally at Christmas, when we want to send a few panforti to our relations and friends." I myself have known scores of educated Florentines who had never been to Siena, and knew practically nothing about it, although it is only forty miles from Florence.
Other local rivalries are numerous in Tuscany and all parts of Central Italy, Pisa, Arezzo, Volterra, Montepulciano, San Gimigniano are all remarkable for their spirito di campanile, as this feeling is called. The inhabitants of each town know little of what goes on outside their own walls, and care less. If you speak to a Tuscan of the lower orders, or sometimes even of the middle class, about some town of Tuscany other than his own, he will at once characterise its inhabitants by an epithet, — generally, but not always, uncomplimentary, — each place having certain typical features. Its buildings, too, he will criticise as inferior to those of his own town, but he will not always take the old ones as a standard of merit; his comparisons may be based on the superiority of the theatre, the chief cafe, the new piazza in his own town, although, of course, the Duomo and the Palazzo Pubblico are not to be despised.
All Tuscans, however, except, of course, the Maremmani themselves, are agreed in despising the Maremma (the marshy pasture-lands between Pisa and Civitavecchia) and its inhabitants, whom they regard as miserable savages and inferior beings altogether. There are in a few Tuscan towns still narrower distinctions between the dwellers of one quarter and those of another. The most notable case in point is the rivalry between the contrade, or town wards of Siena. In Cortona and other places there are factions, and the members of one have no connection with those of the other.
These municipal jealousies at one time existed also in Lombardy, which, like Tuscany, was divided into many city republics; but modern life, better communications, and, above all, trade and industry, are gradually doing away with them. This same movement is suppressing the individual characteristics of the different towns, and will end by giving a more homogeneous tone to life in Northern Italy generally.
The causes of these local differences are, as I have said, chiefly historical. Italy, ever since Roman times, has been divided up into separate states, with many different forms of government. Some were republican, others monarchical; some were theocratic, others free from clerical influence; some states were for a long time under foreign rule, others were not; some were well governed, and enjoyed peace and prosperity, others were badly governed, and a constant prey to revolutions and wars. All these various dominations have naturally left traces on the peoples who were subjected to them. Thus the superior business ability and public spirit of the Lombard are due in part to Austrian rule, which, while it was oppressive and unjust in political matters, gave a healthy discipline to the people and an example of honest civil administration. On the other hand, many of the most regrettable features of Neapolitan and Sicilian life are the inheritance of the corruption and cruelty of the Spanish and Bourbon rulers.
Another factor which serves to maintain these differences is the language question. Every one in Italy speaks dialect. Each region has its own vernacular, and so marked is the difference between, say, Piedmontese and Neapolitan, that even a foreigner will notice it. Not only are the inflection and accent different, but a great many of the words, especially those of daily use, the construction, and to a less extent even the grammar, vary considerably. The different dialects are spoken not only by the common people, but by the bourgeoisie and the aristocracy. Even the late King and his father were wont to use the Piedmontese vernacular when speaking to people of that province. Literary Italian is only spoken as a common language by the inhabitants of the hill country between Pistoja and Bologna.
At Florence, at Eucca, and at Siena, particularly at the latter place, the language is fairly pure, but even the inhabitants of those towns use local inflections and locutions which betray their citizenship. Among the upper classes in Tuscany pure Italian is generally spoken. In the rest of Italy it is used as a written tongue, and is spoken in the company of foreigners or of Italians from different provinces. There are dialect newspapers — as a rule comic sheets — and dialect plays. A North Italian and a South Italian will understand each other, because each will try to use as many purely Italian words as he can, but a Northerner will not understand two Sicilians who are talking by themselves, especially if they are anxious that he should not do so.
...Still, in spite of regional and local particularism, there are many important factors which make for unity. In the first place, all Italians are firmly convinced of the absolute necessity of it. There may be differences of character and life, and the rich Piedmontese or Lombard manufacturer may affect to despise his poor relations of the South, but the idea of separation never enters into his head. There are some who regret that such absolute uniformity was adopted in the administration of a country of such various traditions and degrees of civilisation, but the mere suggestion of disruption is indignantly rejected. A few years ago a group of Milanese Radicals and Socialists tried to agitate for the creation of a separate state, with Milan as its capital, but they found no support whatever in the country, and they themselves have quietly dropped the idea.
When Italy first became united, the importance of preserving the union was felt to be the nation's first need, and to the whole country a single form of central and local government and a single body of laws were applied; as a rule, the Piedmontese legislative and administrative systems, which were copied from French models, were extended to the rest of Italy. The fear of rendering the union less secure effectively prevented Italian statesmen from adopting different laws and a different degree of political and civil liberty for the various provinces.
That fear renders it impossible to establish any distinction even now, however advisable on other grounds it might appear. Thus education (both in the schools and in the universities), the administration of justice, the system of taxation, are all based on one stereotyped system, and little chance is given to the individual genius of each district to develop on its own lines. This is perhaps a misfortune, but it has certainly contributed to attenuate local differences.
Another proof of the general desire for unity among Italians lies in the fact that no political party has ever been formed on the basis of regional particularism. Save for the above-mentioned attempt, there has never been a Piedmontese party, a Neapolitan party, a Sicilian party, and the mutual jealousy between one province and another does not even approach the bitterness which subsists between the English and the Irish Nationalists.
This desire to maintain the union as firmly as possible manifests itself in many ways. Whenever a ministerial crisis occurs, the politician entrusted with the formation of the Cabinet must be careful not to arouse local feeling by choosing his colleagues, or a large proportion of them, from any particular region. He must distribute ministerial honours impartially among Lombards, Tuscans, Romans, Piedmontese, and Sicilians, without regard to the ability or suitability of the particular individuals. The same system is followed when a number of new senators are created or when orders of knighthood are conferred.
Another manifestation of this desire for uniformity is to be found in the names of the streets and squares. In every Italian town or large village there is a Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, a Corso Garibaldi, a Via Cavour, a Viale Re Umberto. These names have often displaced others of historic and local interest of the highest value. Thus the famous Piazza del Campo at Siena, which had always been known as such since the days of Dante, is now re-christened Piazza Vittorio Emanuele. Had a letter been posted in any Italian town addressed to the Piazza del Campo without "Siena," it would have reached its destination sooner or later. A letter addressed to the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele might have wandered through all the 8261 communes before it reached the addressee.
Many other factors have contributed to the strengthening of the union. For instance, the conscription, whatever may be the evils of that institution from other points of view, has certainly taught the Italians of each province a great deal about the rest of their country, for it is the policy of the military authorities to mix men from all parts of Italy in the same regiments. The natives of the poorer and less progressive districts are gradually learning that by hard work it is possible to become better off, and those of the more prosperous parts see how much remains to be done for their less fortunate compatriots.
Military service is also useful as an educating force, as the conscripts are taught to speak Italian instead of dialect, and to read and write. Railways, the telegraph, trade, and industry have done even more, and it is possible that in a comparatively short time local jealousies will have been to a great extent forgotten. The local differences of character will remain, and in many ways that will be no disadvantage, as such idiosyncrasies develop different forms of activity and ability, and now that all fear of disruption is past, perhaps the Government will be able to apply to each province the institutions and laws best suited to it.
In Sicily, for instance, all the more honest inhabitants would be far more satisfied with a stronger rule and less of that “liberty” which means the despotism of the Mafiosi and other criminals. The same remark applies with equal force to Sardinia and to most of the Southern mainland. It has often been necessary in those parts of the country to institute military government, and then only were the Mafia and brigandage rendered almost impotent, to the unmitigated satisfaction of all the respectable inhabitants. But whenever it was instituted in other districts it aroused much discontent. In the same way the institution of trial by jury, which in Piedmont, Liguria, and Lombardy is moderately satisfactory, in the South is an unmitigated evil.
There are two ways of regarding this development of local life, which makes of each district, of each town, a world in itself. From the point of view of regional particularism and provincial jealousy it is an evil; but the violence of the feeling is gradually abating. From the point of view of social, intellectual, artistic life it is an advantage. There is no large capital absorbing all the activity and life of the country, and creating a wide gulf between the inhabitants of the metropolis and the provincials, as is the case in France. Moreover, with the natural proclivity of all Latin peoples towards revolution, a large and all-absorbing capital renders violent changes of government easy and frequent, and makes for continual unrest and insecurity. From this danger Italy is free.
Villari, Luigi. Italian Life in Town and Country. Putnam, 1902.
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