The middle classes—Superior education of the men—Low
standard of female intellect and manners—Total separation
from the nobility—Cultivated physician—A peep into
his household—Family economy—_Conversazione_ at the
chemist's—Passion for gambling—The _caffè_.
It is very difficult to convey any correct idea as to the state
of the middle ranks of society in Italy, particularly if we do not
divest ourselves of everything like comparison between them and what
apparently are the corresponding classes in England.
In the first place, it must be borne in mind that no gentry exist among
the Italians. If a man springs from the nobility, he has no resource
in the Pope's States but the Church: any other profession is deemed
incompatible with the dignity of his birth, as there is neither army
nor navy, nor any other public service. If he belongs to the _mezzo
cetto_, as it is termed, he must either be a physician, a merchant, a
lawyer, a shopkeeper, or hold some meagre appointment, as an underling,
in one of the government offices, the posts of distinction and
emolument in these departments being almost invariably conferred upon
ecclesiastics. It is rare to find this middle class, the best educated
beyond a doubt, contributing to swell the ranks of the priesthood,
which are principally recruited from the families of the decayed
nobility, or from the peasantry and lower orders.
In years gone by, the mezzo cetto bowed unquestioningly to the
supremacy of the nobles, who patronized them affably in return, invited
the family lawyer and physician to dinner on the saint's-day of the
head of the house, or for the christening of the junior branches. They
stood pretty much in the light of client and patron, as in the days of
their Roman ancestors; but of late everything has changed, and between
the two orders there is now little good-will or assimilation. It used
formerly to be a constant object of ambition to rise to the privileged
rank; and when any one succeeded in amassing a fortune, part of it was
often laid out in the purchase of some estate that conferred a title
of nobility on its possessor; then gradually, through intermarriages
with old but impoverished houses, the ci-devant _roturier_ fairly
established himself in his new position, and after one or two
generations, the origin of the family was forgotten. Now, on the
contrary, a disposition to ridicule what formerly was so much coveted
seems to prevail, and men have discovered that there are other roads
to distinction than through a patent of nobility; but, mingled with
this spirit of independence, there may still be discerned a jealous
feeling at the superior ease and polish of the nobles—a sort of innate
refinement, which all their ignorance and prejudices cannot efface.
In the middle class, the absence of gentle breeding and of the
amenities of society is mainly attributable to the inferior position
held by the women belonging to it, or rather the low standard at
which they are rated. The very tone in which an Italian of this grade
passingly alludes to _le donne di casa_ is sufficiently indicative of
the universally prevalent feeling of their incapacity and helplessness.
Scarcely any attempt is made at improvement; and the results can easily
be imagined. Nothing can be found more vulgar and illiterate than
the wives and connections of some of the most scientific men in the
country, or more homely and inelegant than their domestic arrangements;
nothing to our English ideas more repelling than the appearance of
a professor's lady slipshod, screaming at her maid-of-all-work, or
gossiping with the wife of a doctor-of-law from an opposite window.
In compliment to our English name and culture, our right to the best
society the place afforded was unhesitatingly acknowledged; and it is
for this reason I can say but little comparatively about the habits
and interior of the mezzo cetto. Perhaps this of itself conveys a
better idea of the complete separation that exists, than anything
else I could bring forward. With two or three exceptions, no untitled
person appeared in the circles in which we moved; and with these
two or three I observed no allusion was ever made to their wives and
families; their very existence seemed to be ignored. Among all our
acquaintances, one of those we took the greatest pleasure in seeing
was a physician, certainly a man of no ordinary attainments: gifted in
intellect and conversational powers, he would have been an acquisition
to any society; but except in his professional capacity, it was very
difficult to induce him to accept any offers of attention. We used
to be glad of some trifling ailment as a pretext for sending for
him—an indulgence which the low price of his visits—three pauls, about
fifteen pence—rendered very excusable; and we then would have long
conversations on politics, poetry, and English customs and inventions.
Like all Italians of a superior stamp, he took the most lively interest
in our country's greatness and advancement, mingled with a constant
fear of his credulity being imposed upon, that rendered him very
amusing.
One day, after talking about railways, and lamenting the obstinacy
of the Government in opposing their introduction into the Pontifical
States, he said, hesitatingly, “I have to-day heard something about
England that surpasses all belief. A person just arrived from London
has been trying to persuade me that he has seen a railway there which
runs over houses. Now, can this be true?”
“Oh, he must mean the railway to Blackwall!” exclaimed one of my
cousins, who, although she had never been in England, with that
marvellous interest in all connected with it I have described,
joined to the diligent study of the “Illustrated London News,” and
some of our most useful periodicals, was perfectly versed in every
recent improvement. He listened to her animated description with an
earnestness it is not easy to conceive, and at the conclusion said,
with the florid diction peculiar to the south, “Glorious country,
capable of such achievements! Happy country, to have such daughters to
recount them!”
It must have been disheartening to a man of this character to return,
after his day's labours were ended, to a home such as his was described
to us: small, dark, scantily furnished—the little drawing-room,
according to the manners of that class, unoccupied even in the evening,
and exhibiting no traces of books or needlework—his wife utterly
uncompanionable and uncultivated, issuing from the kitchen in a
slatternly déshabille, to greet him with some shrill complaint against
the children, who, pale, whimpering, and unwholesome, looked as if
they were pining for fresh air and exercise. Such is the appearance
of the household for six days of the week. On Sundays, the lady comes
out richly dressed, with a dignified deportment that a duchess might
envy, and slowly paces the promenade, accompanied by her children,
elaborately attired, and the maid-servant, whose exterior has undergone
the same magical transformation.
The manner in which Italians of this rank contrive to gratify their
taste for dress would seem perfectly marvellous, considering their
slender resources, if one had not some insight into the remarkable
frugality of their household expenditure. No English economist could
contrive to keep body and soul together in the way they do: our
northern constitutions would sink from insufficiency of aliment if
compelled to follow their regimen.
Let us take a peep at another family by way of illustration. It
consists of father, mother, two children, and a maid-servant; and the
income on which they depend for their maintenance may be estimated at
from fifty to sixty pounds a year. The husband holds some responsible
Government appointment in the Customs, or Provincial Treasury, or
something of the kind. Before he gets up in the morning, he drinks a
cup of _café noir_, or, if his circumstances permit, he partakes of it
at the caffè, with the addition, perhaps, of a cake of the value of a
half-penny: the same beverage, with milk and a little bread, forms the
breakfast of the family at home. One o'clock is the general hour for
dinner. There is soup, containing either slices of toasted bread, or
rice, or vermicelli; then the _lesso_, the meat from which the broth
has been made, never exceeding two pounds—of twelve ounces—in weight,
half a pound being usually calculated as the allowance for a grown-up
person; this is eaten with bread, which holds the place of potatoes in
England, and is consumed in large quantities. A dish of vegetables,
done up with lard or oil, completes the repast; but I must not omit
that the poorest table is well furnished with excellent native wine,
which, as well as the oil, is generally the production of some little
piece of land in the country that the family possess. This routine of
living is never departed from, except on maigre-days—when fish, either
fresh or salted, Indian corn-meal, with a little tomata and cheese,
dried haricot beans, lentils, and so forth, take the place of the usual
fare—and Sundays and Festas, which are solemnized by an additional
dish—such as a roasted pigeon or a few cutlets. In the evening they
sup; but it is scarcely to be called a meal—consisting merely of a
little salad, fennel-root eaten raw, or fruit, with those never-failing
accompaniments of bread and the sparkling ruby wine, that really seem
their principal support.
The head of the house does not trouble his family much with his
presence; he spends his evenings abroad, either making _conversazione_
at some neighbour's, or at the caffè; or if his means be so restricted
as to deny him the occasional indulgence of a cigar or a glass of
_eau sucrée_, which he might be led into there, he has the resource of
going into the apothecary's shop, where, amidst a stifling atmosphere
of drugs and nauseous compounds, a number of people congregate to
lounge and gossip. The doctors resort here, and a choice circle of
their intimate friends besides, and all the news—foreign, medical, and
domestic—is fully discussed.
There are, of course, many amongst the mezzo cetto whose incomes are
much beyond the instance I have just stated; some are in positive
affluence, but their style of housekeeping does not vary in proportion;
and the account here given may be taken as a very faithful specimen of
the condition of the majority of this class, in which the elements of
several gradations of rank in England are curiously blended.
The domestic manners here attempted to be traced are, it will be at
once perceived, widely different from what are comprehended by us in
the term “middle classes;” strangely opposed to all we are accustomed
to include under that designation. Those evening _conversazioni_ at
the apothecary's, for instance; not mere students lounging about on
the look-out for practice, but white-headed men, ranking high in their
profession, lawyers, merchants, shopkeepers, all cronies and gossips of
half a century's standing—what analogy is there in our own country to
anything of this sort?
A physician of repute, in one of our large towns, would stare at
finding himself in the centre of a group assembled in the dingy
_Farmacia_; still greater would be his surprise could he understand the
nature of the conversation so eagerly carried on. Contrary to English
medical etiquette in matters which belong to their profession, these
Esculapians are especially diffuse, each relating, for the benefit
of the circle, the minutest particulars of any interesting case he
has in hand, without the slightest reserve in mentioning the patient,
who becomes public property, to be dissected and lectured upon at
pleasure. Besides which laudable relaxation, a pastime of another kind
is often carried on in some little den at the back of the shop, where a
card-table is spread, and large sums, in reference to the means of the
players, are nightly staked.
The passion for gambling is very general, extending to all ranks, and,
not confined to cards, exhibits itself in a fondness for everything
connected with hazard—such as raffles and lotteries, about which last I
shall speak more in detail in another chapter.
Scarcely a day used to pass in which people did not come to the
door to ask us to take tickets in some _riffa_; it was either a poor
woman who wanted to dispose of her pearl ear-rings; or a girl _che si
voleva far sposa_, and by way of earning a few pauls to buy a wedding
dress, offered a pincushion for a prize. Fishermen made raffles of
their finest turbots; ladies (though rather _sub rosâ_) of their
old-fashioned shawls; distressed dandies of elaborate pipes; in fact,
never was there a population in which the fickle goddess numbered more
persevering votaries.
In the caffès, play was always going on, I believe, in a greater or
less degree. These establishments, so indispensable to an Italian's
existence, must not be identified with the fairy-like structures of
mirrors, chandeliers, and arcades, that Paris and some of the principal
cities of Italy exhibit. In all the inferior towns which I have
visited, one description of a caffè may serve to convey a very correct
idea of the totality. A middle-sized room, opening on the street—in
summer with an awning, benches, and little round tables outside the
door; within, similar benches and round tables, a very dirty brick
floor, and a dark region at the back, from whence ices, lemonades,
_eau sucrée_, coffee, chocolate, fruit syrups, and occasionally
punch—denominated _un ponch_, and cautiously partaken of—are served
out. Youths with cadaverous faces and mustachios, in white jackets
striped with blue, answering to the appellation of _bottega_, fly about
like ministering genii, and from four or five o'clock in the morning
till past twelve at night, know repose only as a name.
The caffè likewise comprehends the office of confectioner and
pastrycook, and no cakes or sweetmeats can be procured but what it
furnishes; sorry compositions, it must be owned, their predominant
flavour being that of tobacco, with which, from being kept on a
counter in the general room, amid a thick cloud of smoke from a dozen
or so of detestable cigars, they are naturally impregnated. They are
inexpensive delicacies, however; for the value of a half-penny such
gigantic puffs of pastry and preserve, such blocks of sponge-cake
garnished with deleterious ornaments, such massive compounds of almond
and white of egg are obtainable, as would make a schoolboy's eyes
glisten with delight. Sold at half-price the next day—a farthing, be
it remembered—they are purchased by poor people for their children's
slight matutinal refection. We could never persuade one of my uncle's
servants, the father of a family, that a piece of bread would have
been a far more wholesome breakfast for children of five or six years
old, than a little weak coffee, and one of these stale cakes. He would
shake his head, and say it was more _civile_, _i. e._ refined, for the
_povere creature_ than bread; as for brown bread—_soldiers' bread_, as
they contemptuously term it—being reduced to that, is considered the
extremity of degradation.
The sweetmeats the caffè fabricates are still more primitive than its
cakes, principally consisting of unbleached almonds, coarsely incased
in flour and sugar, chocolate in various forms, and candied citron.
Immense quantities of these are prepared at Christmas, partly disposed
of to outdoor customers, and the remainder, piled up on large trays,
are raffled for among the frequenters of the place, with a zest which
shows that, however insignificant be the prize, or paltry the venture,
the delight in all games of chance is still predominant.
Besides the caffè, properly so called, with its talkers and loungers
and smokers, its players at dominoes and cards, its readers of the
few newspapers permitted—so meagre of details, so garbled in their
statements, that little information can be gathered from their
columns—the premises generally contain a _sala del bigliardo_ upstairs,
and sometimes a private room for the accommodation of such systematic
card-players as nightly resort there, and do not wish the magnitude
of their stakes to attract public attention. Members of the oldest
nobility, and the most questionable mezzo cetto, princes and brokers,
merchants and _marchesi_, Jews and Christians, are known to pass every
evening of their lives together in this manner; and, nevertheless, hold
no intercourse at other times, never entering each other's houses, or
acknowledging or seeking any further acquaintance beyond the mysterious
precincts of the caffè.