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    Worldly Ways and Byways

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    Chap­ter 36 – Amer­i­can Soci­ety in Italy explores the myth and even­tu­al unrav­el­ing of a uni­fied Amer­i­can social cir­cle in Italy, par­tic­u­lar­ly in cul­tur­al hubs like Rome and Flo­rence. Once imag­ined as a thriv­ing expa­tri­ate com­mu­ni­ty, it is instead revealed as frag­ment­ed, flu­id, and more aspi­ra­tional than sub­stan­tial. The author recalls a dis­tant past—roughly forty to fifty years earlier—when Rome har­bored a qui­et colony of Amer­i­can cre­atives and intel­lec­tu­als, peo­ple who sought inspi­ra­tion in the ruins and seren­i­ty of the Eter­nal City. Back then, Rome was a peace­ful and afford­able place to live. Notable fig­ures like Sto­ry, Craw­ford, and Char­lotte Cush­man were not just pass­ing tourists but con­trib­u­tors to an artis­tic exchange that helped define that fleet­ing era. Hawthorne’s The Mar­ble Faun cap­tured that atmos­phere, por­tray­ing a roman­ti­cized ver­sion of expa­tri­ate life that is no longer pos­si­ble.

    As Rome evolved into the cap­i­tal of uni­fied Italy and moder­ni­ty began reshap­ing the city’s fab­ric, so too did the nature of its vis­i­tors. Wealthy New York­ers soon replaced the mod­est artists, bring­ing with them the desire to min­gle with or mar­ry into Euro­pean nobil­i­ty. The arrival of these social­ly ambi­tious Amer­i­cans dilut­ed what had once been a cohe­sive and intel­lec­tu­al­ly vibrant enclave. The cost of liv­ing rose, sim­ple plea­sures fad­ed, and Rome’s slow pace gave way to aris­to­crat­ic pos­tur­ing. By the 1870s, the city’s Amer­i­can cir­cle had splin­tered, with many absorbed into the local pow­er dynam­ics defined by alle­giance to either the roy­al (White) or papal (Black) fac­tions. The once-shared iden­ti­ty of being Amer­i­can gave way to per­son­al aspi­ra­tions that aligned more with Ital­ian nobil­i­ty than with nation­al cama­raderie.

    This shift was more than just cultural—it rede­fined social motives. Amer­i­cans who once came to Rome for artis­tic growth or philo­soph­i­cal retreat now arrived hop­ing to secure influ­ence, social pres­tige, or even noble titles through strate­gic mar­riages. These unions, while some­times roman­ti­cized, were large­ly trans­ac­tion­al, with Amer­i­can dowries often trad­ed for Euro­pean names. The irony, of course, is that while Amer­i­cans longed for titles, Ital­ians sought for­tunes. The idea of a mutu­al cul­tur­al exchange gave way to an oppor­tunis­tic arrange­ment. The rich Amer­i­cans became increas­ing­ly sus­cep­ti­ble to exploita­tion, their mar­ble-clut­tered vil­las a tes­ta­ment to taste with­out under­stand­ing, wealth with­out restraint.

    The chap­ter doesn’t spare its satire. Amer­i­cans were often mocked for their clum­sy attempts to “buy” culture—shipping home over­sized stat­ues that had no place or val­ue beyond their nov­el­ty. The author paints a pic­ture of women too eager to adopt noble man­ners, and men chas­ing con­nec­tions in vain, rarely accept­ed by true Ital­ian aris­toc­ra­cy. Titles were dan­gled like car­rots, and often, what began as social ambi­tion end­ed in per­son­al or finan­cial ruin. The Italians—witty and charming—knew well how to nav­i­gate this influx. They wel­comed the Amer­i­can pres­ence with grace, but with­out delu­sion. It was always clear who tru­ly belonged and who did not.

    Even­tu­al­ly, all that remained of Amer­i­can soci­ety in Italy were scat­tered indi­vid­u­als, stay­ing behind for rea­sons as prac­ti­cal as cost of liv­ing or as aspi­ra­tional as aca­d­e­m­ic study. Yet, these rem­nants formed no uni­fied group. Instead, they drift­ed into cliques, often defined by pet­ty rival­ries or minor griev­ances. The absence of a com­mon social goal revealed just how hol­low the idea of an “Amer­i­can Soci­ety in Italy” had become. With­out shared val­ues or pur­pose, even those who stayed long-term found lit­tle sense of com­mu­ni­ty, falling into gos­sip, iso­la­tion, or qui­et res­ig­na­tion.

    Still, the chap­ter doesn’t dwell entire­ly in cyn­i­cism. There is a tone of melan­choly appre­ci­a­tion for what once was—a recog­ni­tion that the ear­ly days of Amer­i­can life in Rome, filled with artists and philoso­phers, held some­thing authen­tic. But that time passed. And what fol­lowed was a les­son in the lim­its of cul­tur­al migra­tion. Wealth may open doors, but it can­not buy belong­ing. Iden­ti­ty, once frac­tured by ambi­tion, becomes hard­er to reclaim. The sto­ry of Amer­i­cans in Italy, then, is not just about loss or missteps—it’s about how aspi­ra­tions can obscure real­i­ty, and how nos­tal­gia can mis­lead even the well-inten­tioned.

    By the chapter’s end, Chap­ter 36 – Amer­i­can Soci­ety in Italy invites read­ers to reflect on the deep­er truths of expa­tri­ate life. It’s not mere­ly about geog­ra­phy or even social prestige—it’s about inten­tion, cohe­sion, and cul­tur­al humil­i­ty. With­out those, even the grand­est palaz­zos become lone­ly, and soci­ety becomes lit­tle more than scat­tered indi­vid­u­als cling­ing to illu­sions of grandeur.

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