The Leopard: A Novel Paperback – November 6, 2007

I approached The Leopard with high expectations which were thoroughly satisfied. The novel, apparently based on the life of di Lampedusa's great-grandfather, is the story of a proud, sensual, Sicilian aristocrat at the time of Italy's Risorgimento (1860 or thereabouts), and his reaction to the changes he sees in his society: mainly the inevitable, indeed necessary, but still in some ways regrettable displacement of the aristocracy from their traditional position. The title character is a wonderful creation, and the lesser characters about him (his wife and children, his favorite nephew, the Jesuit priest Father Pirrone, and so on), are also very elegantly depicted. The Sicilian countryside, and telling details of social life at that time period, are also fascinating elements of the book. And finally, the prose is wonderful, and this translation seems very good, save for just a couple mild moments of clunkiness.
The Leopard is the story of Don Fabrizio, Prince of Salina, at the time of the main action a man in his forties, with several children. He is a sort of benevolent tyrant in his household, a man of a very old family, accustomed to knowing his place and to having those about him know their places. The Prince is also a man of great sensual appetites, careless with his money (though not wasteful or dissolute), politically knowledgeable but completely apolitical in action, and also an amateur astronomer of some note.
When the story opens, the Risorgimento is ongoing, but it is clear that it will be ultimately successful, and that the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies will be absorbed into the newly unified, somewhat more democratic, Italy. Don Fabrizio, out of loyalty, is nominally supportive of the old regime, but he realistically stays out of the conflict. His favorite nephew, Tancredi, the penniless but charismatic son of his sister, is an ardent supporter of Garibaldi (leader of the revolution).
Several long chapters, separated by months, follow the progress of the Risorgimento at a distance, and more closely follow events which impinge directly on Don Fabrizio's life, yet which reflect the coming societal changes. These include the plebiscite to confirm popular support for the unification of Italy, his nephew Tancredi's love affair and eventual marriage to the daughter of a wealthy but decidedly lower class neighbor, his daughter's reaction to the attentions of a friend of Tancredi's, and Father Pirrone's visit to his home village. Finally, the action jumps forward some decades to the Prince's death, in a very moving and beautiful chapter, then still further forward to the household of his unmarried daughters in their old age.
The events of the story tellingly illustrate both the changing face of society and also the nature of Sicilian society in general. At another level, the Prince's aging and death, and his knowledge of his own mortality, echo the senescence of his class. Loving descriptions of the Prince's homes, of his meals, of balls, of hunting, of peasant life, of politics both at the Prince's level and at the level of the peasants, of the attitude of churchmen towards their flock (especially Father Pirrone's toleration but not approval of his friend's sensual escapades) are laced throughout the novel. Moreover, the Prince himself is a truly compelling, charismatic character, full of faults but an admirable man nonetheless. Also, the narrator's voice is often with us, ironically, often even cynically, commenting on the expectations of the characters and both their failings and the failings of "real life" to meet their expectations, but, though sad, the voice is never bitter.

Brilliant, sad, transcendant. Limpid elegance and athletic grace. The outward Prince in all his ebbing glory vs the inner scientist, cool, dispassionate, analytical. The Prince often comes to the right conclusion, but his own personality and the circumstances around him serve to diffuse and deflect any practical application of his intellectual gifts. For example, on his first arrival at Donnafugata, he shocks his flunkies with unexpected openness, kindness and generosity -- and promptly loses everyone's respect. Is it because they know he doesn't really mean it, but is simply aping what he thinks is happening in the larger world? Or is it because -- as Lampedusa brings home again and again -- these Sicilians are so resistant to change, even as it is taking place around them?
While his beloved nephew, Tancredi, comes across as a bit of a cardboard doll, the vulgar upstart who becomes Tancredi's father-in-law is fully realized down to his grimy fingernails. The reader wonders: what might have happened if the Prince had simply said no, had denounced the upstart's daughter (whom the Prince instantly recognizes as cunning and no better than she should be -- in fact, far worse), had snatched away the smitten Tancredi and more or less forced him to marry his own daughter and Tancredi's first cousin, Conchetta? Of course, the Prince's scruples -- call them "code of the Salinas" -- prevent his ever engaging in such ungentlemanly behavior, and as a consequence doom him and his (few) descendants.
Lampedusa has written that the Prince was based on his own grandfather, and when a fictional character faces these constraints, he or she can't do much that wasn't in the original script. The arc of muted tragedy must not leave its predetermined path. The Leopard's great charm as a novel is its celebration of detail, its evocation of the beauty, history and tradition of its setting, all of which shine against the mostly gloomy backdrop like a pile of gold coins in a cobwebby corner.

I know little of Italian politics or history, but that didn't keep me from being swept up in the story, whose well-drawn characters inhabited a feudal landscape that was inevitably fading away. Don Fabrizio, a prince in Sicily, is at the peak of his power in 1860, living a life of luxury with his wife and seven children and taking the appeasement of his sensual appetites with other women as a given, despite his wife's tears. But around him swirl the winds of war and change, as Garibaldi's army is sweeping through Sicily and there are changes that challenge his way of life. He resents the upstart commoner who is making a fortune by buying the land and yet still is willing to arrange a match between his nephew and the commoner's beautiful daughter, Angelica. There is a great scene where this marriage arrangement takes place, which is ripe with the subtleties of class.
The writing is rich in descriptive texture. I could almost smell the fragrance of the garden and touch the extravagant furnishings of the estates. This sets the stage for the very real people who taste the dust of long carriage rides as well as dress in silk and attend great balls. I learned about the politics of the time, the role of the church and the view of the world as perceived by the privileged few for the fifty-year time span of the book, which concludes in 1910. It was a deeply satisfying read. Highly recommended.