ITALY, wrote Luigi Barzini, that most perceptive of pundits, is a country that "has never been as good as the sum of all her people".
Barzini wrote that almost half a century ago but little has changed in the meantime to render his view redundant. For those such as myself, who visit regularly, immersing oneself in its art as well as the baser delights of food and wine, it remains unknowable, a mystery, rooted in an illustrious past and uncertain of its present role. I know of no other country which combines such high sophistication and crass ignorance. It is as if one half of it is living in the Renaissance and the other in an era of passionate philistinism.
The best known living Italian is, of course, Silvio Berlusconi who has let it be known that, at the age of 76 and regarded in many quarters as a cowboy, he intends to run for a fourth term as prime minister, following the announcement of the resignation by the present incumbent, Mario Monti. A few days ago Mr Berlusconi's People of Freedom party withdrew support in the Senate for a package of economic measures, rendering Monti's position untenable. Standing outside San Siro stadium, home of AC Milan, which is part of his extensive empire, Mr Berlusconi said without a hint of insincerity: "I'm coming back out of a sense of responsibility."
Responsibility is not something the sleazy billionaire has a proven record of accepting. Two months ago he was sentenced to four years after being found guilty of tax fraud. But thanks to an amnesty law which he had introduced in his third term as prime minister this was immediately reduced to one year. Not that he was ever likely to spend as much as a day behind bars. An appeal was immediately lodged and camels are more like to walk on Mars before Mr Berlusconi's case is finally resolved. In Italy, where the law operates according to geological time, you can bet your bottom dollar that legal wrangling will ensure that he will go to his bier a free man.
It is hard not to see Mr Berlusconi's latest intervention as revenge for what happened in October. Receiving his sentence like a football manager whose side has just lost to a penalty awarded for a dive, he raged against "intolerable judicial harassment". It was all, he added, politically motivated. Perhaps it was. But for many intelligent Italians, many of whom regard Mr Berlusconi as an embarrassment, it was the moment they have waited for much of their lives.
With the possible exception of Houdini, no-one has escaped from so many scrapes unscathed. Slurs bounce off him. The Economist said he was unfit to lead Italy, having royally screwed it. His long-suffering wife left him after one humiliation too many. Accusations of sex with under-age girls merely added lustre to his reputation as a hair-implanted Lothario. Promoting "show girls" from his television stations to powerful positions in government did not unduly affect him either, for had not Caligula put a horse in the Senate? Even the Vatican had enough of him, telling him and his cohorts to "rediscover their spiritual and moral roots".
Not that that bothered Mr Berlusconi. who has long done as he pleased. Nor, it seems, can his opponents land a killer blow on him. In Italy, money buys influence and the power of patronage follows Medici principles. Whatever else one thinks of Mr Berlusconi and his studied boorishness, he is well versed in the philosophy of Machiavelli. But he does not, insofar as we know, use physical violence to quell opposition, preferring to allow his multifarious media outlets to do his dirty work for him. For him, the keyboard and the microphone are mightier than the sword.
The effect on his country is no less malign. As the Edinburgh-based author David Gilmour writes in The Pursuit of Italy, which appeared last year: "It is no coincidence that the Mafia's resurgence coincided with the political ascendancy of Silvio Berlusconi." That, then, is the true legacy of this incorrigible, ridiculous megalomaniac. Will Italians welcome his return? Hopefully not but I would not rule it out. If only they could wake up and smell their own rather wonderful coffee.
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