An Italian secret

A miserable day: grey, grizzling, drizzly — October going on February. Our host had reluctantly given up the crazy idea of lunch in the garden; the first guests helped him move the tables and chairs inside. It may have been an attempt to warm ourselves against winter, but the talk turned to Italy, further stimulated by someone spotting a copy of David Gilmour’s In Pursuit of Italy. In the event of your not having devoured it already, a treat awaits you.

We agreed there is a basic distinction in the way that one thinks about Italy, and about France. Although there are vast differences between the French regions, there is an ultimate unity; there lives the dearest Frenchness deep down things. There is a France profonde. But Italy remains as Bismarck described it: a geographical expression. The convulsions from 1789 onwards created a French national identity; the Risorgimento did not unify Italy.