It is nothing short of a social revolution, depopulating the country of
its most laborious elements. 788,000 emigrants left in one year alone
(1906); in the province of Basilicata the exodus exceeds the birthrate.
I do not know the percentage of those who depart never to return, but it
must be considerable; the land is full of chronic grass-widows.
Things will doubtless right themselves in due course; it stands to
reason that in this acute transitional stage the demoralizing effects of
the new system should be more apparent than its inevitable benefits.
Already these are not unseen; houses are springing up round villages,
and the emigrants return home with a disrespect for many of their
country's institutions which, under the circumstances, is neither
deplorable nor unjustifiable. A large family of boy-children, once a
dire calamity, is now the soundest of investments. Soon after their
arrival in America they begin sending home rations of money to their
parents; the old farm prospers once more, the daughters receive decent
dowries. I know farmers who receive over three pounds a month from their
sons in America - all under military age.
"We work, yes," they will then tell you, "but we also smoke our pipe."
Previous to this wholesale emigration, things had come to such a pass
that the landed proprietor could procure a labourer at a franc a day,
out of which he had to feed and clothe himself; it was little short of
slavery.
