INITIATION FESTIVAL
By W. HILTON-YOUNG
THE Italian Festa delle Matricole was originally a collective initiation of freshmen at the beginning of the academic year, but by now this purpose is lost sight of, and it has become a three- day outburst of non-stop nonsense, put on for the fun of it. Each year a different university acts as host, and delegations come from all the other universities of Italy. For the last such festa, it was Perugia's turn, and I was one of the two English students present.
On Friday morning the resident and visiting students, mostly in fifteenth-century clothes, gathered on the loggia of the Palazzo Communale, looking very Renaissance indeed, with pikes and trumpets and banners. Then, an hour and a half late, was held the official " coming-out " of the banditore. The banditore was the largest and most imposing student that could be found, who stalked magnificently down the main street accompanied by crackers, whistles, streamers, cheers, and the Renaissance rout on motor- bicycles, blessing the crowd with "pax vobiscum, et jubilatio in aeternum." He went under the provisional name of "Cosa Forte- coso da Montone "—Thingurnmy Strongthingturuny of the Ram.
In all Italian towns the routine for civil disorder is by now well known. A fortnight before we had had a general strike, and the Com- munists had marched to besiege the Prefettura in the same direction and much the same mood as we were now marching. Our pro- ceedings now were so like the civil disorder drill that there' was nothing to do but to follow precedent and go on from stage two (procession in main street) to stage three (siege of Prefettura).
So we closed up gallantly round the iron gates, where the armoured cars still showed inside, and shouted, "Pre-fel-to, Pre-fet-to! " like " mes deux sous" or " le ri-deau" in a French theatre. Then
Coso Fortecoso (stage four) went in to negotiate. Instead of stage five (singing The International) a space was cleared for somebody in a heavy overcoat to do an Oriental dance. Coso Fortecoso re- appeared in time, looking pleased and reassuring (stage six), and (stage seven) we marched back down the street saying, "What happened?—what happened? Did he see the Prefect?" The after- noon was devoted to "vivaci iniziative individuali," i.e., the letting- off of small bombs, dancing and so on under a light rain.
On the Saturday morning, in common with the State schools, we at the university for foreigners were subjected to a "pastoral visita- tion " by the students, who "liberated" us in the middle of a lecture. Six or seven young men, wearing long students' hats like those you see in Florentine pictures, burst in and installed them- selves on the rostrum singing esoteric songs. The lecturer fled. We were then escorted up to the main street, where individual initiatives were going on with undiminished vivacity. Tradition prescribed a polite, half-mendicant assault on the big chocolate- factory. This was fairly successful. In the afternoon rain cancelled the football match, with six teams and three balls. In the evening free wine, with a good deal of rain in it, was distributed to the populace. Bring glasses.
Sunday was the big day. The first thing was the procession in costume of delegations from all the universities. They varied from the statuesque to the downright ribald. Milan and Ferrara were impressive and straightforward as Sforza and Estensi magnifioos, dukes in finery and duchesses with great ropes of black hair. Trieste bore a gigantic symbol, to divine the significance of which one did not have to consult the Golden Bough. Modena, none knew why, sent five young men dressed alternately in lank black and white robes, with mournful hats. They trooped in single file with bowed heads, each with a hand on the shoulder of the one in front. The leader, bearing a silent guitar, leant back, the others leant forward. It was very suggestive and quite irrelevant. Rome was the next. A very young cardinal, surrounded by an ecclesiastical rabble, carried a bedroom-pot into which he dipped an immense black creosote brush and scattered water on the crowd. There was a Scots band wearing tin helmets and wrapped in table-cloths and curtains for kilts, blowing combs and paper and beating drums. One had a big tobacco-pipe in his mouth. They had caught to a T the trick of marching of the Brigade of Guards, and drill-orders were given in nonsense English which reproduced perfectly the drawl and bark but had no recognisable syllables.
Then came the allegorical chariots, one for each faculty of Perugia University. These were immense lorries with trailers, on the scale of the Lord Mayor's Show. First came the veterinary faculty with a huge wooden cow labelled "Miss Veterinaria, 1947." Some fed her with hay, some milked her, but most were occupied in deliver- ing from her a series of young men who were unfolded, straightened out, and set on their feet, like newly-born calves. Next came the medicals, and with a certain repetition of theme their first scene reproduced a well-known students' rendezvous, a garden with benches, where couples were conscientiously embracing. One with a lantern presented moonshine. On the trailer a gigantic wooden woman covered with a sheet represented the maternity ward. Those not busied about her professionally scattered talc and antiseptics into the crowd. Behind, bearded figures were wheeled in bassinettes. I remarked to a girl, a medical student, that this was the only -chariot manned entirely by men. "Well," she said, "it wasn't exactly a scene a girl could appear- in, was it? But we had all the fun of preparing it."
Then came the faculty of chemistry. A creditable alchemist, surrounded by smoke, blue flames and retorts, with a suitably dis- reputable apprentice, made incantations. He finally got into the biggest retort. Then came law, perhaps the best. Three black- robed Judges judged with immense élan three prisoners in dun- garees in a tiny barred cage, guarded by three uniformed policemen. The next two times round, these parties changed position between judgement seat, guard and prison, and on the last round all three united to pull the cage to pieces. Their placard was, "For once let us be frank." Commercial economy was only a donkey-cart containing a manual labourer, bound, and a black-suited proprietor beating him. Agriculture brought up the rear with a simple pastoral scene—hay, pitchforks, flowers and dancing. The whole cortege rolled round for about two hours, with frequent stops when per- sonnel and equipment fell off.
The festa wound up with an all-night dance, just three times as rowdy, vinous and merry as even the most war-time of war- time dances in England. It was in a theatre, so the floor was on a strong slope, besides being made of very soft wood, which was soon soggy and later awash with wine, confetti and streamers. Cosa Fortecoso presided, his dignified features marred only by a lot
of lipstick. Seven students combined to propose to an American girl, and formed up in single file behind her for the whole even- ing, alternately menacing each other, and being maudlin and self- abnegating. At i a.m. those with " black " parents, who may not dance in Advent, went home, because that is when the cinemas come out and they had to account for their evening. The situation was too confused by then for anyone to remember the beauty competition, so the prize, a chocolate doll, was broken up and eaten by the last to go home. There were two bands and twenty loud-speakers all tuned up to full-treble. In the middle of all this I was hauled before the Magnificent Rector of the University and presented to him as the Delegate of the University of Cambridge, fraternally come from England to present salutations, et cetera. The Magnificent Rector made a flowery speech to me, and all went well.
The festa was financed by a collection from the townsfolk, the motive being to put up a good show for the Venetians, the Romans and the rest. The Prefect allowed a special ration of petrol for the motor-bicycles. But there are few days in the year on which you can drive a car through Perugia without getting involved in a pro- cession. My landlady said to me, "Haven't we got a good festa today?" with the accent on today.
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