any consideration, he would forego the best situation rather than shave. On the subject of honesty there have been dreadful complaints, but I think they have been exaggerated. I do not deny that with some Italians there is a Spartan characteristic of liking to prove their ingenuity in over-reaching, not only their employers, but the tradesmen with whom they deal. They use a persistence and an eloquence in beating down the price of an article, worthy of a better cause, and if they succeed in doing so they pocket the advantage without scruple. This is not honest, certainly, according to our notions. I must add, however, that this advantage would never be conceded to the master in any case whatever, so that he is not a loser by sending his servant to make purchases instead of himself, he only loses the difference which is made in selling to an Italian instead of a “forestiere,” and which is considered the rightful perquisite of all the negotiation and diplomacy which has been employed. Yet I would trust money, trinkets, plate, as willingly to an Italian servant as to an English one. By showing the first he possesses your confidence you almost invariably secure his fidelity. The fact is, a good servant soon feels a kind of personal affection for the property of his masters, and respects it as he would his own. It is only, I repeat, when he succeeds in driving a sharp bargain that he cannot resist the temptation of profiting by it. Does no pilfering go on with us?
The weakest part of an Italian’s character is his love of making excuses. Lies are, I fear, cosmopolite; but for the inventive faculty of dressing up a falsehood with all kinds of imaginary circumstances, I think the Italians are supreme. It is often as much for the sake of pleasing “per contentarta,” as for the sake of deceiving. I must explain, however, that they jump to conclusions with a rapidity and an unreasonableness, which often bears the appearance of wilful falsehood when it is not so. Their mobile natures and vivid imaginations are to blame for this. Then their perceptions are so quick, that a look or a gesture betrays to them in what direction your inclination tends when you ask them a question, and their wonderful easiness and pliancy of temper enables them to adapt themselves in their answers to it. I must also say that there is something so childlike and simple combined with all their facility of contrivance and plotting, that their intrigues are usually very transparent. “Siamo furbi,” they say with great self-gratulation, for they prize nothing more than this reputation. Dissimulation rather than simulation is their forte. It has been so long the necessity of the oppressed against the oppressor. Fine wit has so often resisted the brutal force opposed to it, that they have acquired a faith in stratagem which it will take years of freedom to uproot.
One thing has always struck me, the indomitable and deep-seated consciousness of their own superiority, as a race, which this people have always cherished. With their necks under the Austrian heel, it existed undiminished. The Austrians were feared and hated, but even more despised.
There is little or no flunkeyism in Italian servants. They do not like to wear a livery. With them servitude forfeits no rights, but bestows a claim. I hear often reproaches made of the ingratitude and mercenariness of Italian servants. This is unjust. They are grateful for acts of courtesy, and for trifling donations, which our countrymen would often scorn and forget; but I allow that their resentment is as easily excited as their love, and often sponges out the previous good will. But I have met with fidelity, disinterestedness, and warm attachment among them, and these are qualities rare everywhere, and not, alas! the staple commodity of any soil.
Your man-servant becomes just as confidential and communicative after he has been some time in your service as your maid. Mine consulted me seriously the other day as to an intention he had of marrying. As a delicate compliment to my nationality, he said he would prefer an Englishwoman.
“Non troppo, Signora,” he said; “but with a little money.”
I am so unromantic that I was not scandalised at this last clause. I like, as far as possible, an equality in all monetary arrangements between the sexes. If a woman brings her quota to the domestic outlay, it gives her, or should give her, of necessity, a voice and a potentiality in it.
Kindness to children is a remarkable trait in Italian man-servants. The patience with which they will try to please them and wait on them is wonderful. The understanding, too, between the old child and the younger one is very striking. These men have a susceptibility to impressions and an elasticity of temperament which is most child-like and appreciated by children.
I know no prettier sight than to see the tall, stout Ferdinand, with his moustache and black eyes, and ex-military air (he served in ’48), sitting the whole evening with that little golden-haired, fair little boy on his knee, making him laugh with stories of his own childhood. To that child “Ferdinando mio,” as he calls him, is a type of manly virtue and genius; to Ferdinando the “Signorino,” is a marvel of precocious and angelic intelligence.
“E nostro Signorino,” says Ferdinando, claiming him, as it were, and I am quite sure that his own children are not more beloved. That child is certain of having in that man a staunch and life-long friend. His having been born in Tuscany completes and crowns his perfections.
“Cosa vaole,” the Italian explains, “he was born in Tuscany, how can he be anything but a Tuscan. I cannot consider him as a ‘forestiere,’ and then, ‘e cosi gentile!’”
THE BALIA, OR WET-NURSE.
