282 Reviews of Books worthy service, as he portrays that piece of Rome then inhabited or shaped by Spaniards. The crux of Dandelet's argument is that, by dint of pomp, flattery, patronage, and fat subsidies, the kings of Spain, from Ferdinand but especially from Philip II down through Philip IV, shaped a Roman bloc of partisans who kept most popes tame and friendly. Dandelet goes further: Spanish influence calmed Roman politics and ballasted the papal state, and Spanish subsidies so mulched Roman soil that the sprouting baroque monuments-churches, palaces, and their internal finery-owe much to Iberian largess. Perhaps! The argument from subsidies to Rome's global wealth has problems. Dandelet himself allows that it is hard to pin down figures. But, clearly from his text, cash flowed both ways. It was a trade in favors, like modern lobbying, probably detrimental to the general good. In came fine gifts and pensions, but out went vast concessions (to kings for fleets and armies) of annual monies owed the church. How much of the huge church revenue lost had been meant for Rome, and how much not, is a question never raised. Net flows favored whom? What the book does make clear is how extensive, deliberate, and assiduous was Habsburg giving. It also stresses the honorific military orders of Calatrava and Santiago, much coveted by Rome's elite, dealt out by royal hands. When it comes to his more modest aim-to show what in Rome was Spanish-Dandelet does fine service. His portrayal of the busy Spanish confraternity at San Giacomo dei Spagnoli (his "Santiago") and his survey of the geography, work, and wealth of the city's Spaniards are both interesting and useful. He finds a wide range of careers and occupations, some endogamy, but much exogamy, causing easy assimilation via intermarriage. His work on wills is suggestive; he finds much female property and female control of its disposition. It would be interesting to know if Spanish law and custom for women's goods made for difference. He traces the church geography of wills' charities and notes an eclectic mix of many Spanish but some Roman beneficiaries. Another useful service of the book is its survey of wishful texts by Spanish humanists who romanized their national history or hispanized Rome's tale to prettify the Italian ambitions of Borgia popes or Habsburg emperors. The author's approach has risks. To come in from away, and do it well, requires good local knowledge. Here the book falters glaringly. We find a pasticcio of queer errors, most small but so irritatingly abundant as to subvert a worthy project. Many stem from taking Spanish texts on Italy at face value. Titles, offices, monies come out in odd Espaliano, as do, especially, places' and persons' names. Most we can decode, but not always. The usual documentary jumble blurs the identities of cardinals, known promiscuously by family, office, titular church, or homeland: they need consistent tags. Sometimes, too, Italian paleography trips the author up, inventing fictitious families (Capitocchi for AMERICAN HISTORICAL REVIEW Capizucchi, Comellino for Lomellino, Albertini for Albertoni). And there is a lovely mirage, the "Palatina" family-actually the palace staff. All these errors signal that, often, the author did not really understand quite what his documents pointed at. Responsibility for some of these failings lies squarely with Yale University Press. An august press owes its public and a young scholar better service. One more criticism: I would like to see documents taken with a bigger pinch of salt. Dandelet's sources are often wrapped in courtesy, guile, or speculation; they need more siting, more decoding. For facts, the avvisi (weekly Roman newsletters) are often too far from central politics to take so literally, especially for sums of money or numbers of men. And dispatches, petitions, and fulsome thank-you notes to Madrid all need glossing; no such rhetoric should ever be taken at face value. That said, this is a useful book, a worthy empresa, and an interesting new approach. It gives Romanists a new subject, new questions, and new facts to keep in mind. THOMAS V. CoHEN York University ALEXANDER DE GRAND. The Hunchback's Tailor: Giovanni Giolitti and Liberal Italy from the Challenge of Mass Politics to the Rise of Fascism, 1882-1922. Foreword by SPENCER M. DI ScALA. (Italian and ItalianAmerican Studies.) Westport, Conn.: Praeger. 2001. Pp. x, 294. $69.95. The life of the Italian statesman, Giovanni Giolitti (1842-1928), links Italy's Risorgimento to the fascist period. His long career, which started with service in the state administration in 1862 and culminated in five terms as prime minister (1892-1893; 1903-1905; 19061909; 1911-1914; 1920-1921), makes him Italy's most important political figure between Camillo Cavour, the architect of Italian unification, and Benito Mussolini, the fascist leader. Equally, Giolitti was the most controversial figure of his generation. As Alexander De Grand tells us, Giolitti's attempt to hold the center ground in Italian politics aroused hostility on both the Left and Right, while what De Grand calls his "cold realism" made him the enemy of "a self-absorbed generation of intellectuals who sought poetry in politics" (p. 4). Moreover, Giolitti's unrivalled mastery of the political game earned him an enduring reputation for sharp practice. "At best," De Grand comments, Giolitti seemed "an efficient bureaucrat," at worst he was "an unprincipled schemer" (p. 4). For the socialist Gaetano Salvemini, Giolitti was the "ministro della malavita" (minister of the underworld), a parliamentarian who corrupted parliamentary institutions and a liberal who exploited the political backwardness of southern Italy for his own short-term ends. For fascists, Giolitti's rule had separated the "real" people from its government, thereby destroying the unity, greatness, and strength of the Italian nation. FEBRUARY 2003 Europe: Early Modern and Modern De Grand's study of Giolitti's political career belongs firmly to an American historiographical tradition that has long sought to rehabilitate the Italian statesman. Some forty years ago, A. William Salomone argued that Italy under Giolitti moved decisively toward democracy, a step tragically interrupted by World War I and its chaotic aftermath (Italy in the Giolittian Era: Italian Democracy in the Making, 1900-1914 [1960]). According to De Grand, this moment of transition, and Giolitti's role in guiding it, provide the keys to understanding his beliefs and actions. Thus, it is "wrong and profoundly ahistorical to judge (Giolitti) by democratic standards" (p. 273). He was not a mass political leader and did not seek to build a mass movement; democratic politics were "distasteful" to him (p. 7). Instead, Giolitti must be judged by the standards of "the old liberal tradition" (p. 273) represented by Cavour and the historic Right. And here Giolitti's achievement was to have built a relatively stable coalition, based on a very Italian mixture of parliament, bureaucracy, and business, which worked to promote "gradual and unglamorous progress" (p. 5) and which continued the tradition of state-building and modernization started by Cavour. Equally important, De Grand tells us, was Giolitti's pessimism about the possibility of real change in Italian politics. Giolitti saw much in Italian political life that was "ugly and displeasing" and compared his own role to that of a tailor who "does not succeed in dressing a hunchback if he does not take the hump into account" (p. 1). De Grand seems to share this bleak vision. The late liberal Italy dominated by Giolitti was divided by "deep regional, class and ideological differences" (p. 271), ruled by self-serving politicians, and beset by financial, political, and military scandals. Yet what is perhaps missing in this account is any explanation of why this should be. Oddly lacking, in such a carefully researched and well-argued study, is a deeper sense of either Giolitti the man or the Italy in which he lived and died. The reader learns very little about the connections between Giolitti's personal and public life (or if, indeed, there were any), while an analysis of the social and economic context of the politician's career, of the kind that made Rosario Romeo's biography of Cavour (Cavour e il suo tempo, 3 vols [1979-1984]) compulsive reading, is also absent. What exactly "the old liberal tradition" represented by Cavour and inherited by Giolitti consisted of is left unexplained. The impact of political developments in other European states, or of foreign policy on the domestic scene, is rarely discussed. It is, in short, frustrating that so few general conclusions are drawn from such a detailed and richly illustrated study. The opportunities for a reassessment of the legacy of Cavour, the nature of the "new nationalism," the transition to mass politics, and/or the rise of fascism are never really seized by the author. The close focus of De Grand's study, and his meticulous account of the political machinations of Giolittian Italy, ensure that his book is and will remain a AMERICAN HISTORICAL REVIEW 283 crucial work of reference. The book has much to say to the Italian specialist. But the non-specialist will struggle to find a way through the bewildering succession of governments and the collision of political personalities and problems. The political confusion so characteristic of late liberal Italy and described so aptly here can often overwhelm the reader as well. Lucy RIALL Birkbeck College, University of London MAcGREGOR KNox. Hitler's Italian Allies: Royal Armed Forces, Fascist Regime, and the War of 1940-1943. New York: Cambridge University Press. 2000. Pp. xiv, 207. $24.95. With this book, MacGregor Knox emphasizes that cultural limitations affected technological and strategic matters and prevented the Italian armed forces from preparing for modern warfare. Benito Mussolini's regime was unable to reform and revolutionize the military traditions, to mobilize the resources, to modernize industry, or to stop the venality of the high command and its bureaucratic incompetence. In the end, all of these caused the defeat of fascist Italy. Knox notes that the military disintegration of September 1943 requires a more comprehensive analysis. In the global clash of World War II, Italy was a dwarf among giants; Mussolini could not hope to escape if Adolf Hitler was defeated. Knox considers the military cultural background, the precarious relationship between Mussolini and the king, and the lack of a military ideology capable of linking the goals of the Duce to the ethos of the Italian ruling class. When the war began, Mussolini hoped to implement a more thorough fascist revolution through the militarization of his nation and thus to endow his people with the ability to create a permanent revolution. But Italian dependence on foreign raw materials, lack of preparedness of the armed forces, public opinion, and the king's veto forced Mussolini to declare Italy's nonbelligerence. Nevertheless, ideology, geopolitical considerations, and the victories of Nazi Germany in 1940 introduced Italy to the parallel war. Knox describes the technical problems and intelligently highlights the absence of any realistic plan for prosecuting an Italian campaign. When Nazi victory was secure, Mussolini opened new theaters just to underline the right of Italy to participate in future peace talks and try to dictate conditions. Within six months, the opportunity for a fascist victory dimmed. The military impasse changed Italy's strategic aims in the subaltern war: Hitler saved the Duce, but Mussolini now had to fight his war under German tutelage. The catastrophe of 1942-1943 struck Italy very hard. In that summer, Anglo-American forces invaded the Italian peninsula and the fascist war was over. Knox attributes the total loss of dignity in defeat to the army. The tension between Mussolini and the king caused deep ruptures that were worsened by the conflicts FEBRUARY 2003
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