Rome.
Travellers are too apt to form hasty, and, for the most part,
unfavourable opinions of national characters. Finding the customs and
sentiments of the inhabitants of the foreign countries through which they
pass, very different from their own, they are ready to consider them as
erroneous, and conclude, that those who act and think in a manner so
opposite to themselves, must be either knaves, fools, or both. In such
hasty decisions they are often confirmed by the partial representations
of a few of their own countrymen, or of other foreigners who are
established in some profession in those countries, and who have an
interest in giving bad impressions of the people among whom they reside.
That the Italians have an uncommon share of natural sagacity and
acuteness, is pretty generally allowed; but they are accused of being
deceitful, perfidious, and revengeful; and the frequent assassinations
and murders which happen in the streets of the great towns in Italy, are
brought as proofs of this charge. I have not remained a sufficient length
of time in Italy, supposing I were, in all other respects, qualified to
decide on the character of the inhabitants; but from the opportunities
I have had, my idea of the Italians is, that they are an ingenious
sober people, with quick feelings, and therefore irritable; but when
unprovoked, of a mild and obliging disposition, and less subject to
avarice, envy, or repining at the narrowness of their own circumstances,
and the comparative wealth of others, than most other nations. The
murders which occasionally happen, proceed from a deplorable want of
police, and some very impolitic customs, which have, from various causes,
crept among them, and would produce more frequent examples of the same
kind, if they prevailed to the same degree, in some other countries. I
beg you will keep in your mind, that the assassinations which disgrace
Italy, whatever may have been the case formerly, are now entirely
confined to the accidental squabbles which occur among the rabble. No
such thing has been known for many years past among people of condition,
or the middle rank of citizens; and with regard to the stabbings which
happen among the vulgar, they almost always proceed from an immediate
impulse of wrath, and are seldom the effect of previous malice, or a
premeditated plan of revenge. I do not know whether the stories we have
of mercenary bravos, men who formerly are supposed to have made it their
profession to assassinate, and live by the murders they committed, are
founded in truth; but I am certain, that at present there is no such
trade in this country. That the horrid practice of drawing the knife
and stabbing each other, still subsists among the Italian vulgar, I
am persuaded, is owing to the scandalous impunity with which it is
treated. The asylum which churches and convents offer to criminals,
operates against the peace of society, and tends to the encouragement of
this shocking custom in two different manners: First, it increases the
criminal’s hopes of escaping; secondly, it diminishes, in vulgar minds,
the idea of the atrocity of the crime. When the populace see a murderer
lodged within the sacred walls of a church, protected and fed by men who
are revered on account of their profession, and the supposed sanctity of
their lives; must not this weaken the horror which mankind naturally have
for such a crime, and which it ought to be the aim of every government to
augment?
Those who are willing to admit that this last consideration may have
the effect I have ascribed to it, on the minds of the vulgar, still
contend, that the hopes of impunity can have little influence in keeping
up the practice of stabbing; because, as has been already observed,
these stabbings are always in consequence of accidental quarrels and
sudden bursts of passion, in which men have no consideration about their
future safety. All I have to say in answer is, that if the observations
I have been able to make on the human character are well founded, there
are certain considerations which never entirely lose their influence
on the minds of men, even when they are in the height of passion. I do
not mean that there are not instances of men being thrown into such
paroxysms of fury, as totally deprive them of reflection, and make them
act like madmen, without any regard to consequences; but extraordinary
instances, which depend on peculiarities of constitution, and very
singular circumstances, cannot destroy the force of an observation
which, generally speaking, is found just. We every day see men, who
have the character of being of the most ungovernable tempers, who are
apt to fly into violent fits of passion upon the most trivial occasions,
yet, in the midst of all their rage, and when they seem to be entirely
blinded by fury, are still capable of making distinctions; which plainly
evince, that they are not so very much blinded by anger, as they would
seem to be. When people are subject to violent fits of choler, and to
an unrestrained licence of words and actions, only in the company of
those who, from their unfortunate situation in life, are obliged to bear
such abuse, it is a plain proof that considerations which regard their
own personal safety, have some influence on their minds in the midst of
their fury, and instruct them to be mad _certa ratione modoque_. This is
frequently unknown to those choleric people themselves, while it is fully
evident to every person of observation around them. What violent fits
of passion do some men indulge themselves in against their slaves and
servants, which they always impute to the ungovernable nature of their
own tempers, of which, however, they display the most perfect command
upon much greater provocations given by their superiors, equals, or by
any set of people who are not obliged to bear their ill humour. How often
do we see men who are agreeable, cheerful, polite, and good-tempered
to the world in general, gloomy, peevish, and passionate, to their
wives and children? When you happen to be a witness to any instance of
unprovoked domestic rage, into which they have allowed themselves to be
transported, they will very probably lament their misfortune, in having
more ungovernable tempers than the rest of mankind. But if a man does not
speak and act with the same degree of violence on an equal provocation,
without considering whether it comes from _superior_, _equal_, or
_dependant_, he plainly shews that he can govern his temper, and that his
not doing it on particular occasions, proceeds from the basest and most
despicable of all motives.
I remember, when I was on the continent with the English army, having
seen an officer beat a soldier very unmercifully with his cane: I was
then standing with some officers, all of whom seemed to be filled with
indignation at this mean exercise of power. When the person who had
performed the intrepid exploit came to join the circle, he plainly
perceived marks of disapprobation in every countenance; for which reason
he thought it necessary to apologize for what he had done. “Nothing,”
says he, “provokes me so much as a fellow’s looking saucily when I speak
to him. I have told that man so fifty times; and yet, on my reprimanding
him just now, for having one of the buttons of his waistcoat broken, he
_looked saucily_ full in my face; which threw me into such a passion,
that I could not help threshing him.—However, I am sorry for it, because
he has the character of being an honest man, and has always done his
duty, as a soldier, very well. How much,” continued he, “are those people
to be envied, who have a full command of their tempers!”
“No man can command it more perfectly than yourself,” said a gentleman
who was then in the foot-guards, and has since been a general officer.
“I often endeavour to do it,” replied the choleric man, “but always find
it out of my power. I have not philosophy enough to check the violence of
my temper when once I am provoked.”
“You certainly do yourself injustice, Sir,” said the officer; “no person
seems to have their passions under better discipline. With your brother
officers, I never saw you, in a single instance, break through the rules
of decorum, or allow your anger to overcome your politeness to them.”
“They never provoked me,” said the passionate man.
“Provoked you!” rejoined the other; “yes, Sir, often, and in a much
greater degree than the poor soldier. Do not I, at this moment, give you
ten thousand times more provocation than he, or any of the unfortunate
men under your command, whom you are so apt to beat and abuse, ever
did?—and yet you seem perfectly master of your temper.”
There was no way left by which the choleric man could prove the contrary,
except by knocking the other down; but that was a method of convincing
his antagonist which he did not think proper to use. A more intrepid
man, in the same predicament, would very probably have had recourse to
that expedient; but in general mankind are able, even in the violence
of passion, to estimate, in some measure, the risk they run; and the
populace of every country are more readily kindled to that _inferior_
degree of rage, which makes them lose their horror for the crime of
murder, and disregard the life of a fellow-creature, than to that
_higher_ pitch, which deprives them of all consideration for their own
personal safety.
In England, Germany, or France, a man knows, that if he commits a murder,
every person around him will, from that instant, become his enemy, and
use every means to seize him, and bring him to justice. He knows that
he will be immediately carried to prison, and put to an ignominious
death, amidst the execrations of his countrymen. Impressed with these
sentiments, and with the natural horror for murder which such sentiments
augment, the populace of those countries hardly ever have recourse to
stabbing in their accidental quarrels, however they may be inflamed with
anger and rage. The lowest blackguard in the streets of London will not
draw a knife against an antagonist far superior to himself in strength.
He will fight him fairly with his fists as long as he can, and bear the
severest drubbing, rather than use a means of defence which is held in
detestation by his countrymen, and which would bring himself to the
gallows.
The murders committed in Germany, France, or England, are therefore
comparatively few in number, and happen generally in consequence of a
pre-concerted plan, in which the murderers have taken measures for their
escape or concealment, without which they know that inevitable death
awaits them. In Italy the case is different; an Italian is not under the
influence of so strong an impression, that certain execution must be the
consequence of his committing a murder; he is at less pains to restrain
the wrath which he feels kindling within his breast; he allows his rage
full scope; and, if hard pressed by the superior strength of an enemy,
he does not scruple to extricate himself by a thrust of his knife; he
knows, that if some of the Sbirri are not present, no other person will
seize him; for _that_ office is held in such detestation by the Italian
populace, that none of them will perform any part of its functions. The
murderer is therefore pretty certain of gaining some church or convent,
where he will be protected, till he can compound the matter with the
relations of the deceased, or escape to some of the other Italian States;
which is no very difficult matter, as the dominions of none are very
extensive.
Besides, when any of these assassins has not had the good fortune to
get within the portico of a church before he is seized by the Sbirri,
and when he is actually carried to prison, it is not a very difficult
matter for his friends or relations to prevail, by their entreaties
and tears, on some of the Cardinals or Princes, to interfere in his
favour, and endeavour to obtain his pardon. If this is the case, and I
am assured from authority which fully convinces me, that it is, we need
be no longer surprised that murder is more common among the Italian
populace than among the common people of any other country. As soon as
asylums for such criminals are abolished, and justice is allowed to take
its natural course, that foul stain will be entirely effaced from the
national character of the modern Italians. This is already verified in
the Grand Duke of Tuscany’s dominions. The same edict which declared that
churches and convents should no longer be places of refuge for murderers,
has totally put a stop to the use of the stiletto; and the Florentine
populace now fight with the same blunt weapons that are used by the
common people of other nations.
I am afraid you will think I have been a little prolix on this occasion;
but I had two objects in view, and was solicitous about both. The first
was to shew, that the treacherous and perfidious disposition imputed to
the Italians, is, like most other national reflections, ill founded; and
that the facts brought in proof of the accusation, proceed from other
causes: the second was, to demonstrate to certain choleric gentlemen, who
pretend to have ungovernable tempers, as an excuse for rendering every
creature dependent on them miserable, that in their furious fits they not
only behave ridiculously, but basely. In civil life, in England, they
have the power of only making themselves contemptible; but in the army
or navy, or in our islands, they often render themselves the objects of
horror.