SOURCE: "The 'End' of Literature: Le terre del Sacramento," in Franscesco Jovine: The Quest for Realism, Peter Lang, 1986, pp. 159-94.

[In the following essay, Provaccini contends that Le terre del Sacramento, Jovine's last novel, successfully integrates the themes he had dealt with separately in his other works, noting the work's maturity and refinement.]

The novel, Le terre del Sacramento, was to be Jovine's last work. Before he could make any last minute revisions, he was stricken by a fatal heart attack, thus leaving the novel to be proofread by his wife, Dina Bertoni Jovine, and his friend Carlo Muscetta. The work was published by Einaudi in 1950, and in that same year it would be the winner of the Viareggio Award.¹

Set in the period 1921-22, the novel takes its title from the name of the ecclesiastical estates expropriated by the newly formed government of united Italy in 1860. These lands were later transferred to the private ownership of the Cannavale family in 1867. When the novel begins Enrico Cannavale, the owner of the estate, is faced not only with historical forces that threaten to ruin him, but also with the problem of what to do with the "contadini" who persist in making use of the lands for their meager existence. The story revolves around the relationship of the land to these two protagonists who struggle to maintain their share of it.

Unlike his other two novels, Un uomo provvisorio and Signora Ava, this work is so structured that all of the major themes heretofore presented are all carefully and delicately unified in it. Through a process of selectivity, Le terre del Sacramento manages to fuse all of the substantive problems that are at the basis of Jovine's literature. The structural composition of the novel manifests not only the maturity of Jovine's ideas, but, further, reveals his extraordinary ability to revise and refine with greater clarity all of the various and divergent themes expressed in his earlier works.

The unique contribution Jovine made with the publication of Le terre del Sacramento was to reopen the whole debate concerning the cultural practice of literature. Following Gramsci's ideas concerning the formulation and the application of a critique of culture, Jovine distinguished himself as the most important literary spokesman of that school of thought. His last novel was to be an expression of as well as a tribute to the longstanding tradition in Italy which upheld the view that the poet/artist was a cultural product as much as a formulator of culture. From Dante and through such notable figures as Machiavelli, Vico, and Manzoni, both the theory and the practice of literature sustain the notion that because literature stimulates and releases dynamic forces in society, it must by necessity then represent as well as produce those changes. In more contemporary terms this simply means that literature both produces as well as criticizes ideology. This being the case, then it is quite reasonable to understand that literature is, and therefore ought to be viewed as, a form of social criticism, obviously, an activity above and beyond its purely formal aesthetic value. However, one must be cautious not to take the "above and beyond" of the aesthetic quality as either a commodity factor or as a license to dispense or ignore what is "below." What one understands from Jovine's literary product is the voice of a literary tradition that insists that if literature is by its very nature a form of social/ideological criticism, it must also be a form of social practice.

Le terre del Sacramento represents Jovine's clearest effort to present action within a moral context. The protagonist of the novel, Luca Marano, embodies this idea. When Luca moves from reflection to action, he moves from an apathetic stand to a committed one, from a position which is a-ethical to one which involves the ethical. His actions involve making a choice, one which represents an alternative to the natural reactions of the peasants who have no other way of responding except defensively. Similarly, Luca's actions also represent a moral choice, an alternative to the unethical conduct of his antagonist, Laura. In short, Luca's behavior constitutes the moral basis of the work.

Le terre del Sacramento expresses Jovine's firm conviction that man's actions should be exercised in function of a moral choice. For this reason, then, the novel is not only a realistic reflection of an historical event but also a work which is intensely involved with the question of political and moral commitment.

The figure of Luca Marano best illustrates these ideas. He is Jovine's "portavoce," the message carrier of the author's social and ideological ideas. Luca represents the Gramscian intellectual, the leader who is driven to action by ethical-ideological impetus.

The problem facing Jovine in Le terre del Sacramento was to create a character and a plot structure, both of which would reflect an historical reality as well as project a credible or probably course of action. The issue of the verosimile is summoned and tested, as Jovine would now have to devise a mode in which the "ought" could be as credible as the "is." The so-called objective rendering of historical events was now to be supplemented by a subjective judgment, the result of which would be credible and persuasive enough to instruct and ultimately to move the reader to accept the "ought" as a possible, realistic course of action.

The stumbling block in all of Jovine's works prior to his last one was that the implied "ought" was simply not plausible, that is, it failed in many ways to adhere to the principle of verisimilitude. Jovine finally realized that the most effective way to make the "ought" credible, therefore realistic, was to alter or convert the protagonist and the plot away from the lyrical and all too often comic vein. The work would have to be structured more like a heroic tragedy, hence in need of characters which, though historically real, would be capable of raising admiration resulting from behavior that could be credible, thus possible. By opting for the tragic plot, Jovine could both respect the conventional tool of vraisemblance and at the same time go beyond it. The radical break with his previous works would have to involve the ethical category of the "ought" such that it would not be constrained or defined by the traditional dictum which holds that only what is verisimilar is what is probable. In Le terre del Sacramento, Jovine understood and put to use the old principle regarding heroic tragedy, namely, that because tragedy does not necessarily have to adhere to the principle of the verosimile, it therefore need not depend exclusively on whether it is merely probable. The tragic mode allowed him to substitute the heroic for the comic and the sentimental of Signora Ava; the tragic hero permitted him to replace the passive hero by an admirable character. Simply put, the whole issue involved going beyond the principle of the verosimile without either denying or subverting it.

1

For the generation that grew up under Fascism the experience proved to be traumatic. Francesco Jovine belonged to this generation, and like so many of his contemporaries, he was faced with the urgent and difficult task of having to reassess his literary role.² A feeling of guilt predominates the atmosphere, as Jovine himself writes:

Chi della giovane generazione tentò durante il fascismo di esprimersi secondo la sua vera ispirazione lo fece a suo danno. La prudenza dovè guidargli necessariamente la mano, ponendo limiti alla sincerità intera dell'espressione, compromettendo cosa a irrimediabilmente il valore dell'opera. . . . Fummo malati di tristezza e di ipocrisia.³

His nostalgic wish to express himself openly and sincerely was now a possibility. For Jovine this meant that he could openly make the demand that literature be more directly involved with social practice, that is, that it be both representative of social forces as much as a mover of those forces.

For Francesco Jovine, a central problem was the issue of human injustice. The theme of disillusionment which we have seen to be generally present in all of his works becomes concretely historicized in Le terre del Sacramento. The image of human misery is sharply delineated and brought into proper focus. The novel depicts a number of human beings engaged in an epic struggle against insurmountable forces, in a conflict in which they are doomed to defeat. However, Jovine wishes to make clear that the defeat has a value beyond its immediate meaning. Although the "contadini" lose their battle, their purpose for doing it is only reinforced. At the end of Le terre del Sacramento a new vision is born, one hereto only inferred. That vision is one of hope.

In this work Jovine continues the debate which he treated especially in L'impero in provincia. The inimical force that seems to overwhelm all of his characters is here more clearly defined; it is humanized, as we termed it in the last chapter. The specific program on which the work rests is based on the notion that an individual's fate should not be considered independently or divorced from his social environment. The concept of the individual struggling with an enigmatic force is translated into ideological terms. Since the individual cannot cope with his destiny in isolation from this sense-experience world, it is self-defeating to pursue that path. Instead of viewing the problem of the individual in reference to fate, Jovine shifts his attention and presents the problem in a socio-political context. Consequently, the emphasis is no longer placed on the individual's relation to his destiny, but on his relation to society.

To do this Jovine needed to delineate the conflict, to objectify it and render it historically concrete. This means to create an epic work, one which portrays a human condition that is based on causal connections that determine a given social reality. The literary work must center its attention on man's relationship to other human beings and not so much on what may be termed man's relationship to an abstract, metaphysical existence.

In order to demonstrate this relationship between man and society and the injustices which result from that relationship, Jovine selects an historical problem which he understood best, the problem of the individual's attachment to the land. As Jovine himself explicitly states: "Nell'Italia Meridionale i rapporti e i conflitti sociali hanno sempre avuto come termine fisso la terra."⁴ Jovine chooses a specific historical event, a specific problem which serves to feed an important theme. The attempt is to touch an old theme, however one which reflects a new view of reality. For Jovine this new view was what he called "una coscienza unitaria della sofferenza."⁵ But to create a narrative experience capable of communicating the particular theme, Jovine had to go beyond the mere chronicle as portrayed in many of his short stories, and he has to surpass the lyrical expression of the problem exposed in Signora Ava and Il pastore sepolto.⁶ In other words Jovine had to go beyond mere episodic recounting and relate instead how the problem, in effect, has a much more involved history. Giuliano Manacorda unequivocally states:

Jovine è stato l'unico dei nostri scrittori realisti che abbia tentato in questo periodo di superare i contenuti episodici della nostra storia e di raggiungere una prospettiva di dimensioni ormai secolari, portando l'attenzione su quel problema contadino del meridione che era stata la vera pietra d'inciampo della Stato unitario.⁷

Jovine realized that in order to convey the controversial issue associated with the lands he had to polemicize the question. To do this he had to abandon the elegiac sentiment associated with his past and opt for the creation of a characteristic protagonist, a "typical" figure who would represent and symbolize the plight of the contadino. With the creation of Luca Marano, Jovine is able to relate the image of the victim to historical tangible factors, those very causes which, in an open letter to Corrado Alvaro, he considers the roots of the problem: "Miseria e paura, superstizione, sono forse i termini più esatti per indicare i mali del nostro passato."⁸

The narrative experience that Jovine undertakes in his last novel is the epic experience, a work that manages to portray a reality which is outside of what he calls "l'aura dilettosa della fantasia."⁹ What Jovine was out to convey is that the suffering individual, or group, is in function of a larger order. The order is no longer seen as an abstract state; instead it is transferred on a human plane, identified in terms of a political-social order. Jovine's means of correlating the individual to history is done by relating him to his land, or what Jovine prefers to call the "termine immutabile dei suoi conflitti e delle sue speranze."¹⁰ This relationship is based on a deep attachment that involves the individual's whole makeup; it is, as Jovine would have it, "una parentela di anima" which formulates "la storia comune delle genti"¹¹ who live on it. The history of these people is the history of their land: "La storia delle genti meridionali é la storia della terra."¹²

The ancestral and intimately personal relationship that exists between the individual and the land represents a conflict between an individual and his right to exist. "The land," as one critic puts it, "represents a dramatic and painful existence, with its seasonal changes, its capricious moods, its slow development."¹³

Le terre del Sacramento is a testimonial work, a novelistic reconstruction of a specific historical event that marks Jovine's passage from the chronicle to history. The underlying sense of protest evident in his second collection of short stories, especially in L'impero in provincia, is here enlarged and elaborated. Natalino Sapegno extends this point when he observes that Jovine's last novel

riprende l'esigenza di una letteratura legata a una viva problematica politica, conscia della sua funzione civile ed educativa, messa al servizio delle lotte e delle speranze degli uomini.¹⁴

This does not, of course, mean that the novel is or should be read as a political manifesto. On the contrary, the novel proves to confirm Russo's judgment that Le terre del Sacramento is a "[r]omanzo antiapostolico per eccellenza, romanzo anti-propaganda. . . . "¹⁵ Jovine's interest in a theme connected with political and social conflict is a timely topic, part of what Renato Bertacchini calls "an approval of the time."¹⁶

With the shift from the chronicle to history, Jovine does not alter his literature in any fundamental way; he merely extends his argument and probes the question more deeply. His ability to capture and relate the salient quality of the particular reality he wishes to reconstruct in his fiction stands not only as a document of the prevalent ideas put forward by the neorealistic theorists, but more singularly as a basis, to extend and project a local problem into a national issue, involving literature as well as politics.¹⁷ Indeed Le terre del Sacramento assumes a pivotal role in the neorealistic movement, so much so that Carlo Salinari considers it to represent "il punto più avanzato del movimento neorealistico."¹⁸

Jovine's many critical articles regarding his personal stand in connection to the role of literature in an open society are written with the firm conviction that the work of art must permit what Giorgio Pullini defines as "a deeper ideological understanding of the social and political forces which that reality implies and which it aims tolead."¹⁹ The doctrine that Jovine adheres to is the doctrine of social realism as expounded most forcefully by Lukàcs, that is to say, the method of discovering, not merely representing, preestablished reality.²⁰

In Le terre del Sacramento Jovine achieves this by creating a character who embodies, according to Lukàcs, the typical characteristics of the society in which he lives. He is made to be a representative figure who reveals the various characteristics of the society he personifies. Jovine's method is achieved by providing the reader with an accurate representation of an historical period, by selecting his characters and episodes from real life, and by relating the fictional event to a present-day one.²¹ The procedure is to move from the particular to the general, from the individual to the type. The novelist Corrado Alvaro recognized this particular quality in Jovine when he wrote:

Francesco Jovine, come il meglio della letteratura terriera di dopo Verga, avevo portato su un piano nazionale e universale l'esperienza della regione, che è la determinante di tutta la vita italiana, con cui la vita italiana è destinata a fare i conti se vuole salvarsi.²²

The major premise of Le terre del Sacramento is to relate a single private event to a wider common movement. Consequently, it sets out to widen the reader's historical perspective, for, like the "message" expressed in Jovine's famous letter to Alvaro, Le terre del Sacramento like-wise expresses his concern to provide a directive as much as an incentive: "Bisogna portare luce nelle menti e nelle anime; io non vedo altra speranza per il nostro avvenire."²³

The image of the light is, as we shall see, an important one as it relates to the novel, for the very conclusion of the novel ends with a light image: "La notte era buia e le voci si perdevano sulla terra desolata oltre il circolo di luce che faceva il fuoco, ancora vivo" (255).²⁴ As a symbol of hope, this image well represents Jovine's views regarding his ideological and aesthetic vision, for as Carlo Salinari aptly concludes:

Così ne Le terre del Sacramento allo scetticismo un po' aristocratico che accompagnava in Verga e nei veristi l'esame obiettivo e comprensivo della plebe meridionale, al distacco sia pure pieno di simpatia, con cui essi guardavano i loro personaggi, al pessimismo profondo che proveniva dal considerare come immutabile quella società contutte le sue contradizioni, ingiustizie e miserie, Jovine sostituisce la visione di una realtà in movimento, una considerazione meno dolorosa e pessimistica del Mezzogiorno.²⁵

2

As we examine Le terre del Sacramento and compare it to Jovine's other works, we notice that the novel is not divided into definite parts or chapters as Un uomo provvisorio and Signora Ava were. Also, this work does not divide the treatment of themes such as the favoloso versus the historical in Signora Ava, or the "contadini" versus the "cittadini" in Il pastore sepolto. Likewise the work neither is dominated by any single mood as the case was in Ladro di galline or in Tutti i miei peccati. As for the characters, Jovine readapts a number of type-personalities taken from both the "paese" as well as from the "città" environment. The work, in a frescolike manner, is composed of a series of sequential characterizations or descriptions ("capitoletti") which when all put together produce an amalgam of myth, history, and fiction.

Structurally, Le terre del Sacramento can be said to be divided into three periods each of which culminates with what I will term an "encounter." The first period is primarily concerned with the historical makeup of the two worlds: that of Calena ("città") and that of Morutri ("paese"). Here the main characters are introduced and defined in their respective social settings. The second period focuses on the present condition as it affects the representative characters. Here we witness the contrast and the conflict which has forced the two opposing parties to devise their plans for action. The third and final period concentrates on the tragic outcome of the confrontation between the peasants and the national militia.

The novel opens in a typically Jovinian fashion, as the omniscient narrator invites us to perceive through the evocation of background description the mood and tone which aids in the preparation of the historical situation:

A Calena, di marzo, incominciava il sole lungo. Per tutto l'inverno la cresta delle Mainarde, che era a ponente della città, faceva brevi i crepuscoli. I raggi, rotti dalle rocce, illuminavano breve tratto del cielo di luce folgorante, lasciando la città e le sue terre nell'ombra. (7)²⁶

Quickly the narrator then focuses on the scene as he introduces one of the main characters, Enrico Cannavale:

In una mattina serena di marzo l'avvocato Cannavale percorreva a cavallo le terre del Sacramento. Lo seguiva a distanza Felice Pretto, suo fattore e affittuario d'una parte della tenuta. L'avvocato si era deciso a fare quella visita ai suoi poderi con il ritorno della buona stagione, non tanto per rendersi conto dei pascoli e delle coltivazioni, quanto per uscire dalla sua casa ci città dopo giorni e giorni di pigrizia e di solitudine. (7)²⁷

The ensuing pages follow up with descriptions and characterizations of Enrico's history and his associations in the provincial city of Calena. Grouped around him are such characters as his orphaned cousin, Clelia, his estate agent Felice Protto, his servants, and his professional friends. But the most important character we meet here is Laura, a young, beautiful, and intelligent woman who cleverly manages to marry Enrico.

At this point Luca Marano enters the scene. The son of a peasant family from a nearby town of Morutri, Luca spends part of the year with his uncle Floteo Natalizio, a judiciary officer in Calena. An ex-seminarian and presently a law student at the University of Naples, Luca divides his year between helping his "contadini" parents and holding a part-time job in the office of the notary Jannaccone in Calena. Luca is thus introduced to us in Calena, and it is here that we witness his first contact with Laura and his social contact with "cittadini" friends in Calena.

From here the narrator takes us to Morutri, a small and poor town whose history is both intriguing and mysterious. The town is introduced to us when the newly married couple, Enrico and Laura, go out to visit it. Laura has realized that in order to save her husband from losing all he possesses she must appeal for help from the local peasants. However, this can only be done, as Laura well knows, by making an alliance with Luca, who has become the spokesman of his community.

The stage is thus set for the first meeting, the first encounter between the two opposing forces. Laura and Luca both realize that a compromise is necessary in order that the lands ("le terre del Sacramento") may be best used. Thus in the first meeting we have a juxtaposition of views on the problem: the way Laura conceives it versus the way Luca sees it. The pattern is to arrive at a conflict by alternating opposing views concerning the question and by relating the past as well as the present to the given situation. Having established this, the novel moves on to its second period.

The plan is drawn up with mutual agreement concerning its implementation. In exchange for the necessary work to clear the land and prepare it for proper cultivation, the peasants are promised a permanent lease of the lands. However, it is in this second period that we are presented with the more concrete and inherent issues connected with the problem. Although the plan sounds ideal, there are two distinct problems which must be solved before any further developments may occur. On the one hand, Laura must procure the necessary capital in order to fund the work; on the other hand, the "contadini" must be dissuaded from their superstitious belief that any cultivation of the lands will be answered by a divine curse, since the history of these lands seems to indicate this belief is justifiable. The second "scontro" thus results as Laura and Luca both face each other with the determination to carry out their promises. While Luca manages to persuade the "contadini" to work the lands, Laura in the meantime has had to revert to taking out a mortgage on the lands since she cannot personally finance the project.

In this second meeting we again have a juxtaposition of views and conflicts. At first we see the problem from Laura's point of view, then from Luca's. Alternating from one to the other, the narrative plot thickens as it prepares to introduce the third and final encounter.

Accepting the fact that not only has he been deceived but, more importantly, the "contadini" he represents have been betrayed, Luca returns to Morutri to declare: "Facciamo sempre le pecore? Io non posso abbandonare i contadini di Morutri" (236).²⁸ Seeing no other available alternative, Luca then directs the peasants to occupy the lands, awaiting justice through the courts. The confrontation is inevitable, and thus Luca tragically succumbs to the final "scontro" as he and two others are killed.

The struggle over the "terre" thus comes to a close only after an intricate and complex pattern has been carefully elaborated. As we have seen, Jovine moves from a general condition in the first period to a specific manifestation of it in the last period. Taking advantage of his ability to set the mood and create the background against which he can set his action, Jovine underscores the dramatic interplay of the two opposing forces. By underling in the first part the characteristic features of the two worlds, the narrator prepares us to receive the stated problem in the second part, thus leading to the point of convergence at the conclusion of the novel.

A feeling of despair and disillusion dominates the atmosphere as Luca Marano returns home to announce to his people, "Io sono tomato per dirvi che ci hanno tradito" (243).²⁹ As he declares these words, Luca knows all too well that this time he is not simply a victim of a prank, as he often had been on previous occasions. As we witness the young man, dejected and disillusioned, we come to the fullest realization of how he and those whom he represents have been misled all along. Almost as if there stood a mirror here which reflects all that has occurred up to this point, the protagonist as well as the readers are faced with an image of the past, the long journey that has led to this point.

The motif of the return, a common one in Jovine's works, finally achieves its most significant and intended meaning. As he faces these people, Luca expresses the tragic reality that has suffocated their yearning hopes. Luca returns because he had committed himself personally to their cause, as he so declares when he tells the duke of Pietracatella: "Sono stato io a persuaderli. Ho garantito io, per lei [Laura]" (234).³⁰

As we go through the final pages of the novel, we realize that two forces are simultaneously present. One is connected to the basic rhythm of the narrative, the forward thrust of the action as it prepares for the dramatic confrontation of the villagers and the armed forces; the other, as we said, makes us glance backwards, to reflect on the incidents and events that have led up to this point. The effect is both an emotional as well as an intellectual one. While we understand perfectly well why Luca must do what he has to do, at the same time we feel his anguish and fear his outcome.

The affirmation by Asor Rosa that "Jovine had a strong sense for the human drama . . ."³¹ is most relevant. All of the drama that occurs in these last pages is made possible only if we keep in mind the experiences which precede it. These moments that establish the mood of disillusionment as well as resolution are but the effects of an extended line of action. Let us return, then, and examine how the process evolves in which this feeling of both anguish and resolution reflects the basic structure of the work. The threefold division I have proposed serves to outline the evolution of these thoughts and feelings.

As with the beginning of Signora Ava, Le terre del Sacramento begins with the same narrative technique of a controlled point of view—the zoom effect—in order to stage the story. From an almost wide-angle view of the city and its surroundings, the eye of the camera sharpens its focus as it closes up on the figure of Cannavale riding on horseback through the church lands, and then draws off again as we follow Cannavale's agent's hand motions, indicating the boundaries of the lands. Amid this sort of impersonal description the narrator feels the need to intervene and tell us that Enrico Cannavale was out inspecting the lands because he was bored at home. The narration continues and we are quickly presented with the central problem of the novel, namely, that because Enrico's financial state is in crisis, coupled with the fact that his lands are being abused by the peasants, he must decide whether he should sell the lands. The following thirty pages restate this, and thus the reader is led to the awareness of not only Enrico's personal problems but also his relation to the overall problem of the lands. As the narration moves along smoothly recounting Enrico's past and present circumstances that have led up to his present state of affairs, we find ourselves almost unexpectedly viewing the problem from a different angle.

We are still in Calena, and a city official has come to deliver a restraining order to Enrico. It is at this point that we are introduced to Luca Marano, the son of "cafoni" from the nearby town of Morutri. Like a figure in a bas-relief, Luca is ingeniously positioned against a background which reveals his psychological as well as his social identity:

Era un ragazzo di forse vent'anni, agile e aitante, di chioma nera e di fresco incarnato. Aveva una testa di delicato disegno, fronte pallida e alta, un naso asciutto tendente leggermente all'aquilino e sulle guance ben resate il segno di una barba già vigorosa. Portava un colletto altissimo chiuso perfettamente, che lasciava spuntare, alla base, appena un filo di cravatta dal colore vistoso, inadatta al suo vestito nero. Sulle spalle la giacca tendeva al rossastro per l'uso e per i danni che l'acqua aveva fatto su una stoffa di cattiva qualità. I pantaloni gli scendevano a onda sulle vecchie scarpe. (42)³²

As a functionary for his uncle, Luca almost inadvertently finds himself caught when Laura enters the room. When made to confront her, Luca's feeling of inferiority is accented by Laura's condescending presence.

The narration continues and as we further observe Luca in Calena, we become aware not only of his position but also of Morutri's relationship to Calena.

In much the same way Calena was introduced, Morutri is now depicted for the reader by the narrator. The question of the lands is viewed from an opposing point of view, that of the peasants. Luca, who stood out in Calena, is now seen in his natural habitat. In contrast, we observe Enrico and Laura in relief as they have come to Morutri to investigate the question. Just as Luca's image was projected when he was confronted by Laura in Calena, Enrico's and Laura's images are now sharpened as we see them out of their natural environment. For instance, when Enrico fails to climb his horse with ease, the town priest sardonically remarks, "È spennacchiato il gallo. . . . Ha perduto la sveltezza, la Capra del Diavolo. Monta a cavallo come un bifolco e si fa reggere la staffa dalle donne" (70-71).³³ The sharp and biting remark serves to manifest Morutri's relationship to the Cannavale family together with what they symbolize for them.

In addition to describing and relating the peasants to their environment, the narration focuses on an important event which further delineates the condition of the "paese." Just as there had been given a retrospective account of Enrico's earlier life, now the narrator turns back and gives us an account of Luca's past. For instance, the extended reference to Luca's decision to suspend his seminary studies reveals not only Luca's ambivalent attitude toward the question—but, more importantly, it indirectly exposes a way of life which finds such behavior to be indeed inexcusable, if not sacrilegious; an act which his mother sees as "a sign of betraying the Lord" (79). However, by relating Luca's decision to his mother's negative reaction, the narrator underscores the hopeless condition of those others in Morutri, who, unlike Luca, will never have the opportunity to escape their fate.

Because the author feels it necessary to develop Luca's characterization as much as he develops that of Morutri, he now introduces a vital theme heretofore not treated, that is, the theme of maturity and the principle of compromise. The event here is Luca's meeting with the missionary Don Giacomo Fontana. Luca's discussion with the elderly intellectual priest serves to demonstrate Luca's intellectual growth. We shall see that for Luca this experience corresponds to Lura' s initiative to come to terms with the peasants, that is to say, Luca's meeting with Don Giacomo, is his first step towards reaching a compromise with Laura.

Leaving Morutri now, the narrator leads us back to Calena. The main emphasis in this section is to outline Laura's role in the novel. Here we come to know that the beautiful and intelligent Laura has managed to enter the Cannavale family as she astutely manipulates Enrico into marrying her. As a result, Laura's presence in the Cannavale household becomes increasingly more obvious, gradually bringing unexpected changes. The reference to the changes of course alludes to her having taken over Enrico's patrimony as she sets out her idealistic project of resolving the problem connected with Enrico's estate. The emphasis then shifts to those aspects connected with the present condition as opposed to the past. This is likewise true for Morutri since the narrator returns there again and provides us with a view of how the problem of the lands affects the people there in the present situation. Hence we witness, for instance, the dispute between Immacolata and Seppe Marano (Luca's parents) as the latter overruns the boundary line that connects their property with the "terre del Sacramento." The key word here is boundary, "confini," an image which is repeated throughout the novel, and which assumes a symbolic meaning for the law. The dispute raises the important question regarding the basic attitude toward the land, as the two characters clearly indicate:

Un giorno Seppe Marano, voltando la coppia di asini che tiravano l'aratro, aveva superato i confini. —Sei andato un' altra volta più in là del termine,—disse Immacolata, quando vide la pietra scura di confine spiccare sulla terra smossa.

—Non faccio niente di male,—rispose Seppe.—C'è ancora buona terra prima che incomincino le pietre. Che faccio di male se l'aro e la semino?

—È terra di Dio, Seppe. Dove incominciano i terreni del Sacramento non si può più lavorare.

—Dove c'è terra buona, Iddio la benedice, Immaccolata,—disse Seppe.—Questo è fiore di terra, e non si può lasciarla così, senza ararla. (102)³⁴

The question underlines the basic conflict regarding what Immacolata calls the law, "la legge"; the boundary line which serves to establish the guiding line between what is permissible and what is not. The question of course is not only a legal one; it constitutes the whole psychological makeup of these people. The "confini" represent a symbolic indicator which affects the particular viewpoint of the people involved. Every "contadino" knows that "le terre del Sacramento" are a prohibitive element and therefore knows that the transgression of laws governing them means facing the resulting consequences. But despite this, some of them, like Seppe, sense that the law is unjust and thus ambiguously feel that somehow the transgression is a justified one. This particular episode is most significant, for it stands as a prelude to the important episode at the end of the novel when the "contadini" must decide whether they should occupy the lands or not.

The narrator again returns to Calena and further unveils the historical tone of the period. The juxtaposition of the empty and humdrum lives led by the underemployed professional men with the impulsive and flustered youths brings to light the stultified quality of the place. Using this condition as a background, the narrator takes the opportunity to further develop Laura's character. By means of the technique of superimposition, Laura's role assumes greater weight:

Dopo qualche mese Laura incominiciò a sentire Calena; si rese conto, sia pure oscuramente, della sua antica, mortuaria saggezza. Era una scienza sepolta nelle pietre; a Calena era accaduto tutto senza modificare nulla. (126)³⁵

We now see a scene similar to the argumentative scene between Immacolata and Seppe where Laura and Enrico argue about what should be done with the lands. As Enrico completely retreats, Laura takes her first effective step, and calls Luca in for a meeting.

To reinforce the merging effect of this first real encounter, Jovine interjects Laura's trip to Morutri where she invites Luca to her house with Luca's trip to Calena. But before Luca leaves for Laura's house, we see him in his uncle's house, diligently preparing himself to make an impressive appearance, and telling Zio Filoteo about the visit. Surprised to hear about it, his uncle quickly warns Luca:

—Attento, Luca, ... I ricchi sono come le pentole, che vanno usate con cautela. Se ci stai troppo vicino ti sporchi; se stai troppo lontano non mangi. Pensaci bene, Luca. (143)³⁶

This short episode is significant in that it reveals the two basic attitudes of Luca and his uncle: the first is essentially naive, the second is fundamentally cautious. This is even better illustrated when a few paragraphs below the two discuss Christ's sacrifice in metaphorical terms:

Gesù Cristo, quando venne al mondo, fu terrorizzato dalla forza dei ricchi, e diede ai poveri la sua protezione.

—Un po' teorica questa protezione,—disse Luca.

—Già,—fece Filoteo sorpreso dalla risposta.—Un po' teorica.—Stette soprappensiero un attimo e poi aggiunse con tono vanitoso:—Teorica, ma Cristo firmò una cambiale ai poveri.

—Buona la cambiale?—disse Luca ironico.

—Così,—aggiunse Filoteo.—Si può scontare solo alla banca del cielo. (143)³⁷

Together with the boundary image as seen in the episode involving Immacolata and Seppe, this episode serves as a counterpoint to the final episode in the novel, where the metaphor of the promissory note is taken up again.

The meeting proves to be uncomfortable for Luca, and further reveals the dichotomy between the two. The narrator underscores their differences with most effective description:

A Luca pareva che il suò odore di contadino profumato dovesse invadere la leggera aria della stanza e mozzare il fiato. . . .

[Laura] porse il bicchiere fumigante a Luca che lo tenne in mano qualche istante, incerto se cominciare a bere prima che la signora si servisse. . . .

Laura àpri una grande scatola di sigarette e gli offri da fumare. Fece scattare la molla di un accendisigari, e accese prima la sigaretta dell'ospite poi la sua. (145)³⁸

With the scheme presented, we are led back to Morutri and Calena to see the reactions. The peasants are cynical of the plan and Laura realizes that the problem is much more complex than she had envisioned. Hence a new approach is necessary, and Laura once again takes action. A second meeting with Luca is arranged, this time with the idea of inducing the peasants to work the lands. Cleverly, Laura persuades a Neapolitan banker to finance the labor on the lands and at the same time manages to persuade the peasants to work by having the ruined chapel rebuilt.

Although Laura's plans to get the peasants to work the lands is completely successful, we the readers should not overlook some delicate and subtle hints which the narrator drops here and there to communicate the apprehensive and fearful state of mind that dominates the whole atmosphere—for instance, when the narrator states: "Da che mondo era stato mondo il sole stupendo della primavera dava fame e promesse" (172).³⁹ We cannot dismiss this as a neutral description. The statement, in fact, alludes to two fundamental notions which are opposed to all that Laura and Luca may stand for: the first is connected to the general conviction that things really never change; the second, and the more important one, is related to the idea of expectation. In a most poignant way the narrator has introduced a statement that captures an essential characteristic of the novel. The peasants have been promised "un sole stupendo" for their labor, but insofar as reaping their harvest, they stand just as distant from it as "primavera" does, and hence can expect either starvation or promises. This particular statement refers to the hidden theme of the hopeless cause of the peasants, which, in a sense, could be considered the background to the obvious theme connected to the movement associated with Luca's role in the novel.

This and other similar statements, such as,

I contadinin camminavano con aria preoccupata, battendo le palpebre come se, usciti la prima volta da una tana tenebrosa, fossero abbagliati dal sole primaverile di Calena (158)⁴⁰

serve to evoke both the oppressive state that governs the peasant and at the same time reestablish the legitimate grounds on which we can measure Luca's actions. This is, then, a functional move which serves to transfer attention from the individuals whom we have seen develop up to now (Luca and Laura) to the group with which they will be more directly concerned from now on.

Luca Marana represents "il sole stupendo della primavera" for the peasants of Morutri. From his previous indeterminate stand, Luca has now taken a step, a decision that is responsive to the needs of the people for whom he speaks. Consequently when Luca shouts out to his people that they should work the lands, and a young girl answers, "Ma ci vuole uno che non ci tradisca. Tu non ci devi tradire, Luca" (179),⁴¹ it confirms Luca's role not only in relationship to the peasants but also to Laura. Despite all risks, the peasants of Morutri are willing to be led by Luca, hoping that this spring may offer something beyond the usual "fame e promesse."

Laura in the meantime has met with further problems. Her idealistic scheme has been challenged and so she must revert to some practical solutions. Because she was unable to raise the necessary capital, Laura decides to put the lands up for mortgage, with the result that the lands can no longer be leased on a permanent basis to the peasants since they, in effect, belong to the bank. The whole second section, from the first meeting held by Luca and Laura to Luca's awareness that he and his people have been deceived, serves to create the necessary tension which explodes at the end of the novel. Laura's private meetings with her Neapolitan friends are offset by Luca's meetings with his people. The divergent directions of the two main characters in this section make room for the crisis to which both must react.

The occasion arises when Luca goes to naples to take a few exams at the university. There he receives a telegram from his uncle to return immediately to Calena because the peasants have received order to evacuate the lands. Not understanding what any of this is about, Luca visits one of Laura's friends in Naples, the duke of Pietracalla, hoping to find Laura there. To his bewilderment, he discovers from the duke that he and his people have been deceived by Laura.

With the gradual unfolding of the chronological and thematic intricacies, and the clarification of the problem, the reader is now fully prepared for the final pages of the novel. At this point—as Luca gathers the peasants for the occupation of the lands—we realize that the novel has reached a point of possibility, the same ambiguous possibility of "fame e promesse" which spring offers. Luca, backed by his people, realizes that his actions must adhere to his committed promise and so orders: "Bisognerà rimanere sulle Terre notte e giorno per aspettare che ci facciano giustizia" (243).⁴²

As our understanding of the problem grows, Luca's actions become clearly more meaningful. Luca has chosen to commit himself to a cause, and by accepting his responsibility he proves to be faithful to his promise and to the people for whom he made it, as his death will confirm. The tragic episode which closes the novel stresses the fact that Luca's act was a pure act of his will, and is thus a moral gesture. The image of Luca running towards his destiny is a further indication of his commitment. His death is a sacrificial gesture, a redemptive act precisely because, as Carlo Muscetta puts it, Luca "ha lottato per salvare sè e gli altri da una menzogna".⁴³ In an ironic way, then, Luca masters his fate and that of his people. The passive gesture of retreating or isolating oneself, as Giulio Sabò and Siro Baghini do, is now transformed into a moral and heroic act.

3

The one fundamental issue which generates Jovine's writings is the problem of action. As we have witnessed, the Jovinian protagonist, beginning with Giulio Sabò, through Pietro Veleno, up to Siro Baghini, is confronted in a direct or indirect way with the question of action. The main problem facing them is always in terms of how to react to a particular crisis. We have seen, for instance, how these characters again and again fail or refuse to engage in action which may have the effect of escapism.

Likewise, we have observed that in the movement from the "paese" to the "città," the character is faced with the problem of belonging neither to one nor the other. He exists somewhere in the middle, faced with the task of being forced to shuttle physically as well as psychologically from one to the other. In Un uomo provvisorio and Ladro di galline, for example, the fulcrum of force never resides in the personal will but rather somewhere outside. The individual is never the agent; he simply reacts as a result of some outside—and often evasive—force, which reduces him to only a manifestation of that force. Consequently, the relationship between the individual and the force is merely a causal one. He represents the effect of the force which moves him. His effective role as an actor is practically negated. Qualitatively judged, the individual's actions are reduced to what may simply be termed movement.

As we recall the question as it develops in Signora Ava and in the second collection of short stories, especially in L'impero in provincia and Tutti i miei peccati, we noted that the relationship has somewhat altered. Here the outside force was somehow better defined. The motivating factors, or "i motivi dei fatti," as is stated by Jovine at one point,⁴⁴ have been located, and are viewed as governed by human intention. But to merely define the motivating factors, however, does not resolve the problem. What remains is still the question of how to act upon them, that is, how they ought to be treated.

Following his declaration that he and everyone there has been betrayed, Luca exclaims: "Non vogliamo fare male a nessuno, vogliamo solo lavorare" (244).⁴⁵ The narrator picks up here and adds:

Marco Cece e Antonacci erano vicini a Luca, e parlavano rivolti ai loro compaesani. I più prossimi raccoglievano le loro parole e le trasmettevano ai gruppi più lontani. Le frasi navigavano nell'oscurità, sulle teste, e si perdevano in un rumorio confuso; facevano il cammino a ritroso e s'incrociavano con altre parole. Ogni tanto, una voce dal fondo raccoglieva il mormorio delle donne che erano rimaste sulla piazza, e il pensiero comune diventava una frase chiara che arrivava alle prime file degli uomini. (244)⁴⁶

Luca and the people decide to confront a force which they know all too well might bring tragic consequences, despite Luca's assertion that they are to behave peacefully. In their ordeal, the great fear is not only that their hopes will be shattered, but that they will even lose the little that they have, something perhaps more important than their very lives. Facing the problem, the important question for Luca is how to respond.

Luca's decision to leave quickly stands as a sharp alternative to the defensive response which the peasants would have given in the same situation. Luca's action partakes of the general dramatic problem that involves an individual challenging an imminent force in the name of a higher law, such as in this case, justice. The question is, in fact, directly treated in the novel when Zio Filoteo voices the general sentiment of all the peasants:

Io seguirò la sorte generale; il mio è un atto collegato con il vostro; l'ho scientemente collegato. Io ho sempre sequito la legge. Ma questa volta la legge è entrata in conflitto con la giustizia, e io ho scelto la giustizia. (248)⁴⁷

This statement, like Luca's decision to lead the peasants, is the culmination of a long journey that commences with innocence and naivetè. Luca's moral growth is the recognition of the need to act when faced with a moral question.

As a representative of not only the adolescent type but also of his social background, Luca is torn between contradictory feelings. On the one hand, he is acutely aware of his superiority over those who come from his home town; on the other hand, he also knows that he is too closely attached to that world to be able to break away. Luca shares the pain and misery his family and other peasants from Morutri must live. In fact, he knows that his relatively comfortable life as a student in Calena is due chiefly to the sacrifice of his family members. His experience in the seminary, and now in Calena, has somewhat removed him from Morutri, and for it he feels guilty:

Le sue permanenze a Morutri erano tristi. Si sentiva sempre più estraniato, col passare degli anni, dalla vita della sua famiglia, e questo distacco gli pesava dolorosamente sul cuore. (55)⁴⁸

Conversely, when he is in Calena, whether it is in his relationship with Laura or with his friends, Luca always feels inferior; he is always afraid to step out of the welldefined boundaries that govern his behavior. As a result of this feeling in Calena, Luca withdraws into himself which consequently makes him reflective about his position both in Calena as well as in Morutri. Luca is caught between two worlds, feeling both adequate and inadequate in both. Consequently he turns inward, like all of Jovine's intellectual protagonists, and creates a world of his own making.

The road to moral growth becomes possible, however, precisely because of these oppositions. Calena and Morutri are not only physical realms but also psychological points of reference for Luca. When we witness Luca oscillating between the two, the experience is as much an emotional growth as it is an intellectual one.

4

In Jovine's world, the moral journey, as we said, begins with innocence, where the individual is placed within a clearly defined state, totally subjected to a higher law which defines his life. Sooner or later, however, the individual feels the compulsion to challenge or test this law. For Luca, this occurs when he questions his life as a seminarian. Luca's resolution to leave the seminary is his first act of transgression, an act which stands in opposition to the general law of his "paese"—best defined by his mother, who considers it diabolical obstinacy, "quel gesto di tradimento verso il Signore che lo aveva chiamato a sè" (79).⁴⁹

This act, of course, represents Luca's first step in becoming aware of his identity. From this point in his life the story of Luca is the record of a conscious yearning to examine his life and to question the value of knowledge and action. Leaving the seminary gives Luca a feeling of liberation, but it also leaves him stranded in Calena with feelings of frustration and loneliness. As he moves about having to cope with his distressed condition, he gradually becomes aware that he must overcome his feeling of being submissive, especially with regard to Laura. In fact, the very resentment he feels toward her forces him to realize the need to react: "Niente da fare,—disse una volta a se stesso.—O picchio o m'inginocchio" (161).⁵⁰

It is in these circumstances that one day Luca meets the old African missionary, Don Giacomo Fontana. The encounter proves to unveil more clearly Luca's state of mind, as, for instance, when he is admonished by the old priest for behaving in an unreflective manner. Don Giacomo's observations are stated within a moral context as he goes on to equate mental sluggishness with moral indifference, and even if Luca himself does not fully comprehend Don Giacomo's parable of the poisoned trout, the reader recognizes that Luca is being compared to the floating dead trout he has just thoughtlessly killed. When the priest reproaches him with "'E tu peschi cosí? . . . Ammazzi cento pesci per prenderne uno? Comodo e rapido'" (87),⁵¹ Luca himself finally understands that he too is but a fish, one as dispensable as the fish are to Luca. For the reader, the poignancy of the incident, however, is not fully visible until the end of the novel when Luca falls victim to the indiscriminate killing by the police force. It is only when we read the episode of the killing of Luca that we are reminded of Don Giacomo's words.

Luca's encounter with Don Giacomo serves to introduce the key factor that convinces Luca to take up action. Because Luca acted without reason in the fish episode, his behavior was aimless. It is at this point that Luca understands his relation to the peasants. Controlled either by fear or superstition, the peasants' actions are, like Luca's, merely reflexive, rather than reflective. The point is reinforced when Don Giacomo relates his own life as a missionary to the general question regarding action as connected with reason:

—Io—disse il prete—sono stato quarant'anni in Africa. Tu sai la riflessione più dolorosa che ho fatto in tanti anni? Ho visto migliaia di uomini e di donne crescere, invecchiare e morire con perfetto svolgimento della loro vita fisica. Ma la loro mente rimaneva immobile; morivano corpi di vecchi con cervelli di bambini. Erano uomini coraggiosi che si battevano contro le belve e tremavano di paura per la predizione d'uno stregone. Erano temerari di corpo e vili di anima.

—Ci sono due forme di coraggio—aggiunse come parlando a se stesso.—Uno fisico e uno mentale. Io dovevo cercare di dare loro questo secondo coraggio. (88)⁵²

It is evident that the peasants are in much the same position as are the tribesmen. In order for them to be saved, they too need to acquire the "coraggio mentale." Of course, we realize that Luca's role will have to be like Don Giacomo's. He will have to convert the peasants to action. But before that is possible, Luca must convert himself, '"Ci devo riflettere sopra'" (89).⁵³ Luca has been motivated to reflect on his life and his actions, or, as Don Giacomo tells him, '"Il tuo libro .. . è tutto da scrivere'"(89).⁵⁴

Luca's gradual awareness of the problems affecting the peasants moves him to question his own role. His decision to spur the peasants to work the lands is the result of his conscious recognition that the peasants have been deceived; he tells them:

—Siete stati sempre ingannati—continuò Luca;—vi hanno fatto paura con il diavolo e con la disgrazia; ma io dico che il Signore non può prendersela con quelli che vogliono lavorare la terra e farla fruttare. (178-79)⁵⁵

When in the end he realizes that he has been made victim of the same perpetual deception that had been carried out against the peasants, Luca accepts the responsibility to act so that justice may be had. Luca now realizes how his task is a sacerdotal one, akin to that of Don Giacomo in Africa. In fact, as Luca leads his people onto the lands, we the readers are once again prompted to reflect back and recall Luca'a second encounter with Don Giacomo, when the old missionary told him of his role in Africa. It was at this meeting that the priest discusses the hard task which he had set out to accomplish:

—Potevo aiutarli soltanto materialmente, curarli, sfamarli. Era quello che tentavo di fare nel limite delle mie forze ricorrendo alla carità, ma parlando loro della giustizia. Alla loro rassegnazione tentavo di sostituire la speranza. (190)⁵⁶

As we observe Luca's actions now, we realize that his task is likewise to "sostituire la speranza . . . alla loro rassegnazione." Luca stands as the only hope for the peasant's struggle to obtain their rights; the only one capable of directing the peasants' aspirations. In contrast to the deep sense of despair and feeling of futility expressed by the peasants, Luca stands at least as a possibility, as a hope for their cause. Luca identifies himself with their struggle and because of this, he feels compelled to remain faithful to his promise.

By accepting his challenge, Luca proves that even when faced with the concrete possibility of imminent defeat, his actions have a deep significance for others. Luca's death, like that of the other two who are killed at the hands of the militia, assumes a special kind of meaning: a symbolic act of sacrifice and redemption.

The dramatic effect of the gesture is stressed and given full significance in the end by the "jacoponico"⁵⁷ death scene, by the choral lament of the women who encircle the three dead bodies. Their lament and grief speak not only of the tragic event, but also of their collective suffering and future hopes:

Quando la notte divenne buia, i vecchi accesero i fuochi alle spalle dei morti. A un tratto Immacolata Marano urlò:

—Luca, oh Luca!—e si mise le mani intrecciate sul capo dondolando sul busto.

—Luca, spada brillante—gridò una voce giovanile.

—Spada brillante—ripeterono in coro le altre. Via via le donne si misero le mani intrecciate sulle teste, altre presero le cocche dei fazzoletti nei pugni chiusi e li percuotevano facendo:

—Oh! oh! Spada brillante, stai sulla terra sanguinante!

—T'hanno ammazzato, Luca Marano.

—A tradimento, Luca Marano.

—Non lo vuole la terra il tuo sangue cristiano.

—Difendevi le terre del Sacramento.

—Erano nostre, nostre le terre.

—Avevamo le ossa per testamento.

—Le avevamo scavate con le nostre mani.

—T'hanno ucciso, Luca Marano.

—Piangete anche Marco Cece!

—È morto anche Marco Cece, stasera.

—Era vecchio e aveva patito fatica, fame e galera.

—Morte e galera su Morutri.

—Le donne, sole, col pianto.

—A lavorare, le donne soltanto.

—Piangete, donne; domani con la zappa in mano non si piange.

—Luca Marano, spada brillante; stai sulla terra sanguinante.

—Non piantate zappa e bidente sul sangue cristiano.

—E il sangue di Luca Marano.

—Aveva la luce nella mente e gli occhi di stella.

—E Gesualdo era suo fratello.

—Torneremo sulle terre maledette;—il sangue avvelena l'acqua santa.

—Ci verremo senze messa;—i figli vogliono pane—anche se è pane di Satanasso.

—Non bestemmiate, donne cristiane.

—Per noi fame e dannazione—ma per i figli paradiso e pane.

—Torneremo al Sacramento—saremo serve, saremo;—ma avremo di lutto il vestimento.

—Per tutti gli anni che durerà buio e galera—vestiremo di panno nero. (254-55)⁵⁸

By dying, Luca symbolizes human sacrifice and man's hope for deliverance. His suffering and death make him both a tragic and dramatic figure who engages the reader's sympathies at an emotional level. But beyond the tragic and the dramatic a more intellectual vision is reasserted. Luca's sacrifice bridges the gap between the individual and the historical forces that would have otherwise destroyed him. His death is the proof of his existence.

The moral cause is all that Luca wished to fulfill. However, we the readers know that his tragic death stands as a symbol of an heroic act which transcends the personal level. The final episode that follows the "duolo" scene and brings the novel to a conclusion is but the true expression of the symbolic value of Luca's death:

Piansero e cantarono grande parte della notte, rimandandosi le voci, parlando tra loro con ritmo lungo, promettendo tutto il loro dolore ai morti. La notte era buia e le voci si perdevano sulla terra desolata oltre il circolo di luce che faceva il fuoco, ancora vivo.(255)⁵⁹

The two images of the voices and the light juxtaposed with each other serve to evoke the double feeling of defeat and hope. Like the revolt which has just failed, the voice of the crying women has no strength to carry itself beyond the immediate confines of the event. But, like the meaning of the protest and the death of Luca, the light of the fire is bright enough to go beyond itself, to maintain a flicker of hope.

The concluding scene clearly indicates that in Le terre del Sacramento Jovine finally succeeds in achieving his quest: the creation of a work which both reflects or mirrors an historical condition as well as overcomes it. The double image of death and light standing as symbolic manifestations of defeat and hope alludes to Jovine's technique whereby the mimetic principle normally associated with realism becomes self-critical rather than merely reflective. Luca's death both reflects as well as overcomes the idea that he and the peasants were defeated. By making Luca a participant of the struggle, Jovine accomplished his wish and his goal to create a character capable of overcoming the spectator posture which typified his earlier characters.

Le terre del Sacramento ends on a most Christian note, namely, that sacrifice and death are grounds for expectation rather than defeat. Like Luca, the chorus of cries that lament his death uphold the promise to extend his life, hence fulfill his dream to see in the future a reality which does not yet exist.

The important shift in Le terre del Sacramento is, then, to make of death a sign for hope rather than despair. As a temporal metaphor, and the uniquely Christian virtue that it is, hope offers not only a vision for the future but more significantly it alters one's preconceptions of that vision. Hope disturbs the present or, better, the realm of the status quo, simply because it opens up possibilities. Within this perspective it is easy to see why Jovine would appeal to the metaphor and the concept of hope, for hope is indeed realistic, the only alternative that takes seriously the possibilities with which all reality is fraught. The celebrated realism of the stark facts, of the established order of the "is," becomes contingent on the "ought."

With his last novel, Jovine finally was able to resolve the prevailing ambiguity present in all of his previous works, that constant tension between an intellectual belief in the cause of justice and progress and an emotional nostalgia for a legendary world. The resolution of these two ideals, one rooted emotionally in the past, and the other intellectually projected in the future, is what allows Jovine to offer in Le terre del Sacramento a new vision. The realism of Le terre del Sacramento lies in Jovine's ability to have fulfilled his quest to be critical of both the subject and the object of literature.

NOTES

¹ All references will be from the first edition, Le terre del Sacramento (Torino: Einaudi, 1950).

² On Jovine's views regarding the effects of Fascism, see his "Qualcosa è accaduto," La Nuova Europa 21 January 1945.

³ "Those belonging to the younger generation during the period of Fascism who tried to express their true feelings did so to their own harm. Prudence had to necessarily guide their hand, consequently imposing restraint over any sincere mode of expression, and irreparably compromising the integrity of the work... . We suffered the disease of sadness and hypocrisy." Francesco Jovine, La Nuova Europa 1945, cited in Gennaro Savarese, "Ricordo di Francesco Jovine," La Rassegna May-June 1972: 299.

⁴ "In southern Italy social relations and conflicts have always had the land as a fixed point of reference." Francesco Jovine, Viaggio nel Molise (Campobasso: Casa Molisana del Libro, 1968): 135.

⁵ " . . . a collective conscience of suffering." Francesco Jovine, "Confini del mezzogiorno," Unità 13 December 1949.

⁶ The critic Carlo Salinari accurately reviews the issue in his Preludio e fine del realismo in Italia (Napoli: Morano, 1967): 44-46.

⁷ "Of all our neorealist writers of this period, Jovine was the only one who tried to overcome the episodic formula of our history, as well as grasp an age-old prospective in order to bring attention to that problem of the Southern contadino which had been the real stumbling block for the unification of the Nation." Giuliano Manacorda, Storia della letteratura italiana contemporanea (1940-1965) (Roma: Editori Riuniti, 1967): 109.

⁸ "Poverty and fear, superstitution, are perhaps the more correct terms to indicate the evils of our history." Francesco Jovine, "Lettera ad Alvaro,"Aretusa 2.8 (1945): 33.

⁹ " . . . the delightful sphere of the imagination." Jovine, "Confini del mezzogiorno" 13.

¹⁰ " .. . the permanent reference point of his conflicts and his hopes." Jovine, "Confini del mezzogiorno" 13.

¹¹ " . . . a spiritual relationship." Jovine, "Confini del mezzogiorno" 13.

¹² Jovine, "Confini del mezzogiorno" 13.

¹³ Walter Mauro, Realtà mito e favola nella narrativa italiana del novecento (Milano: SugarCo, 1974): 117.

¹⁴ " . . . picks up the idea of the need for a literature to be tied to a real political issue, aware of its civil and educational role, and put it at the service of the struggles and the hopes of mankind." Natalino Sapegno, "II narratore Jovine," Società 6.2 (June 1950): 284.

¹⁵ " . . . an antiapostolic novel, par excellence, an antidogmatic novel." Russo, I narratori (Milano: Principato, 1951): 354.

¹⁶ Renato Bertacchini, Figure e problemi di narrative contemporanea (Bologna: Cappelli, 1960): 137.

¹⁷ For this view of the novel see especially Renato Bertacchini, Figure e problemi 139-40. Walter Mauro shares this same view, and further asserts that Le terre del Sacramento "sottolineerà una svolta per il neorealismo degli Anni Cinquanta . . ." (Mauro, Reità mito e favola nella narrative italiana del novecento 137).

¹⁸ " . . . the highest moment of the neorealistic movement." Carlo Salinari, Preludio e fine 44.

¹⁹ Giorgio Pullini, Il romanzo italiano del dopoguerra (Padova: Marsilio, 1965): 183.

²⁰ See, most notably, Georg Lukàcs, Studies in European Realism (New York, 1964).

²¹ In one article Jovine examines the social condition of the contadino in respect to the landowners, demonstrating how the present (post-World War II) condition is but a continuation of an historical process (Jovine, "Confini del mezzogiorno," Unità 13 December 1949).

²² "Francesco Jovine, the best writer of literature dealing with the theme of land after Verga, brought the regional experience onto a national and universal level, the very experience which determines the whole way of life in Italy and to which Italian life is destined to answer if it wishes to be saved." Corrado Alvaro, Ultimo diario (1948-1956) (Milano: Bompiani, 1959): 53.

²³ "We must bring light to the mind and the soul; I see not other hope for our future." Jovine, "Lettera ad Alvaro" 36. The letter is an important document in that it puts forward the ideological basis which is at the heart of Le terre del Sacramento.

²⁴ "The night was dark and the sound of voices drifted away in the desolate land beyond the circle of light made by the fire, still alive."

²⁵ "Thus in Le terre del Sacramento, in contrast to the somewhat aristocratic skepticism present in Verga and his followers, that is, to the objective and comprehensive analysis of the southern lower class, to the distance maintained albeit a feeling of sympathy they held toward their characters, to that deeply felt pessimism which considered that society incapable of changing because of its contradictions, injustice, and suffering, to all of this Jovine provided a vision of reality subject to change, therefore a less painful and pessimistic view of the south." Carlo Salinari, Preludio e fine 46.

²⁶ "At Calena, the long days full of sun began in March. To the west of the city the crest of the Mainarde mountains had, throughout the winter, shortened the twilight. Shining jaggedly through the rocks, the sun's rays would light up parts of the sky, leaving the city and its surrounding lands in shadow.

²⁷ "One clear morning in March, Cannavate was riding through the church estates, of Sacramento. A short distance behind him rode Felice Protto, his agent and tenant of part of the estate. With good spring weather returning, Cannavale decided to make a visit to his estates, not so much to inspect the pastures and the crops as to get out of his mansion after so many days of doing nothing and feeling lonely."

²⁸ "Are we always going to be the sheep? I can't abandon the peasants of Morutri."

²⁹ "I have returned to tell you that they betrayed us."

³⁰ "I was the one to persuade them. I assumed the responsibility for her [Laura]."

³¹ The context of the reference is Asor Rosa's comparison of Jovine to Pratolini, "Alberto Asor Rosa," Scrittori e popolo (Roma: Samona e Savelli, 1965): 243.

³² "He was an agile, lusty youth of about twenty, with a shock of black hair and youthful skin. He had a delicately shaped head, a high pale forehead, a thin, slightly aquiline nose, and the signs of a healthy growth of beard on his well-shaven cheeks. He wore a high collar buttoned at the neck, barely showing an inch or two of a gaudy tie sharply in contrast to his black suit. On his shoulders his jacket was getting rust-coloured from use and the effects of rain on poor-quality material. His trousers undulated down over his battered old shoes."

³³ "The rooster is without his feathers. .. . He climbs his horse like an aged peasant, making the ladies hold the stirrup."

³⁴ "One day Seppe Marano had overstepped the boundary when turning a pair of donkeys drawing the plough.

'"You've gone over it again,' said Immacolata, when she saw the dark boundary stone standing out in the ploughed soil.

'"I'm doing no wrong,' answered Seppe. 'There's still some good soil before the markers begin. What harm do I do if I plough and sow it.'

'"The land is God's property, Seppe. Where the lands of the Sacramento begin, one can't work anymore.'

'"Where there is good land, my God bless it, Immacolata,' said Peppe. 'This land is too good to let it go without ploughing it.'"

³⁵ "After a month or two Calena began to affect Laura: she began to feel, if only obscurely, its ancient deathlike wisdom. It was a knowledge buried in its stones; everything at Calena had happened without anything changing."

³⁶ "Be careful, Luca, .. . the rich are like pots, they have to be handled with caution. If you stay too close to them, you'll get dirty; if you stay too far away from them, you won't eat. Think about it carefully, Luca."

³⁷ "Jesus Christ, when He came down to earth, was terrified of the power of the rich, and so gave His protection to the poor."

'"Somewhat theoretical, this protection,' said Luca.

'"Well, yes,' said Filoteo, rather surprised by the reply. 'Rather theoretical.' He brooded a moment and then added in a slightly pompous tone: 'Theoretical, but Christ signed an I.O.U. for the poor.'

'"Is it a good note,' said Luca ironically.

'"More or less,' added Filoteo. 'One can only cash it at a bank in heaven.'"

³⁸ "Luca felt that his peasant smell must be almost breathtaking in the light air of the room. . . . "

"[Laura] held the smoking glass of punch to Luca, who kept it in his hand a second, uncertain whether to begin to drink before Laura had served herself. . . .

"Laura opened a big box of cigarettes and offered him one. She flicked a cigarette lighter, lit her guest's cigarette and then her own."

³⁹ "From the beginning of time the stupendous run of Spring had offered hunger and promises."

⁴⁰ "The peasants walked about with a worried look, winking as if they had just come out of a dark cave and were blinded by the spring sunshine."

⁴¹ '"But we need someone who will not betray us. You can't betray us, Luca.'"

⁴² "It's necessary to remain on the lands night and day, and wait for justice to arrive."

⁴³ " . . . fought to save himself and the others from a deception." Carlo Muscetta, Letteratura militante (Firenze: Parenti, 1953): 261.

⁴⁴ Francesco Jovine, Racconti (Torino: Einaudi, 1960): 221. The statement is in the opening pages of "L'impero in provincia."

⁴⁵ '"We don't want to hurt anyone, we only want to work.'"

⁴⁶ "Marco Cece and Antonacci were standing near Luca talking to their fellow villagers. Those closest to them took up their words and repeated them to those further away. The phrases sailed off in the darkness, over their heads, getting lost in the confused muttering, then eddying back and crossing each other on the way. Every once in a while a voice from the end of the room gathered the muttering of the women who had remained outside on the piazza until the thought they all had in common became one clear expression reaching the front row of men."

⁴⁷ '"My lot is with everyone else's; my actions are linked with yours, and knowingly so. I've always done what the law told me. But this time the law conflicts with justice, and I've chosen justice.'"

⁴⁸ "His days in Morutri were gloomy. As the years passed, he felt himself drawing further away from the life of his family—a fact that weighed heavily on his heart."

⁴⁹ " . . . a gesture of betrayal toward the Lord who had called him to his service."

⁵⁰ "Enough—he once told himself.—Either I fight or I bow."

⁵¹ '"Do you think this way? . . . you kill a hundred fish in order to get one? It's easy and quick.'"

⁵² "'I was in Africa for forty years,' said the priest. 'Do you know the most painful reflection I made in all those years? I saw thousands of men and women grow, age, and die with their bodies working perfectly. But their minds remained motionless; they died with the brain of a child in an old person's body; they were brave individuals who had fought against wild beasts, yet trembled with fear at the prophecy of a witch. They were bold in body, but cowardly in mind.'

"There are two types of courage,' he added, as if talking to himself, 'one physical, one mental. I would always try to give them the second kind.'"

⁵³ "'I must reflect on it.'"

⁵⁴ "'Your book . . . has yet to be written.'"

⁵⁵ '"You've always been deceived,' went on Luca. 'They've frightened you with the devil and disasters; but I say the Lord can't be against those who want to work the earth and make it yield.'"

⁵⁶ "'I could only help them materially, cure them, feed them, and that is what I tried to do as far as I could, falling back on charity, but talking to them of justice. For their resignation I tried to substitute hope.'"

⁵⁷ G. Pepe in his review of Le terre del Sacramento in Avanti, 29 September 1950, uses this term.

⁵⁸ "When the night grew dark, the old woman lit fires at the shoulders of the dead. Suddenly Immacolata Morano shrieked:

'"Luca, oh Luca!' placing her crossed hands on her head and rocking her body.

'"Luca, shining sword,' cried a young voice.

'"Shining sword,' repeated the others in chorus.

"One by one the women twined their hands on their heads, while others rolled their handkerchiefs in closed fists, shaking them and crying:

'"Oh! Oh! Shining sword, there you lie on the bloodstained earth.'

'"They've killed you, Luca Marano.'

'"Betrayed you, Luca Marano.'

'"The earth doesn't want your holy blood.'

'"You were defending the lands of Sacramento.'

'"They were ours, the lands were ours.'

'"Our bones were witnesses.'

'"We had dug them with our own hands.'

"They've killed you, Luca Marano.'

'"Grieve for Marco Cecce too.'

'"Marco Cecce also died tonight.'

'"He was old and he had suffered hardship, hunger, and prison.'

'"Death and prison over Morutri.'

"The women, alone, in their grief.'

"The women, to work by themselves.'

'"Weep, women; tomorrow with your spades in your hands, you can't weep.'

'"Luca Marono, shining sword, on the bloodstained earth you lie.'

'"Use no pick or spade where holy blood has fallen.'

'"It's Luca Marono's blood.'

'"He had light in his mind, and his eyes were like stars.'

'"And Gesualdo was his brother.'

'"We will return to the cursed lands—blood poisons holy water.'

'"We'll come back with the mass; our children want food; even if it's the devil's food.'

'"Do not blaspheme, good women.'

'"For us it's hunger and hell; but food and paradise for our children.'

'"We'll return to the Sacramento—we'll be slaves, and we'll be dressed in mourning.'

'"For all the years that darkness and prison shall last, we'll wear black.'"

⁵⁹"They wept and chanted most of the night, taking up and holding on to each others' long rhythmic words, dedicating all their grief and pain to the dead. The night was dark and the sound of their voices drifted away in the desolate land beyond the circle of light made by the fire, still alive."