Romanità is a trigger word that inevitably calls 
forth a psychological response — 
either strongly positive or strongly negative.

What is Romanità?

By Russell E. Smith

Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento
(hæ tibi erunt artes) pacique imponere morent,
parcere subiectis et debellare superbos
(Æneid, VI, 851-53)

 “Remember thou, O Roman, to rule the nations with thy sway — these shall be thine art — to crown Peace with Law, to spare the humbled, and to tame in war the proud.” These words of wisdom belong to Anchises, the father of Æneas. Æneas is the hero of Vergil’s epic poem about the tumultuous pre-history of the founding of the Eternal City of Rome. Here, in the sixth book, the ghost of Anchises tells his son, and, through him, all those blessed to be Romans, what are their duty and their destiny. This “vocation” of Rome has, in every age, given shape to a reality called “Romanità,” “Romanness.” Romanità is a trigger word that inevitably calls forth a psychological response — either strongly positive or strongly negative.

Romanità (1): A troublesome notion

Today, at Rome, there are two buildings known as the “Collegio Americano,” the North American College. The younger, dating from 1953 sits atop the Janiculum Hill, with a commanding view of St. Peter’s Basilica. This building houses the seminary department. In the center of Rome, halfway between the Victor Emmanuel Monument and the Trevi Fountain, stands the “old” North American College, known as the Casa Santa Maria dell’Umiltà. This was the original North American College, a gift of Pope Blessed Pius IX in 1859. The Casa now houses those American priests sent to Rome for advanced degrees.
The Casa has an interesting history. It was built in 1603 by the noble Orsini family, whose daughter founded in this building a contemplative Dominican convent. (The Orsinis, it is said, are related to the “John and Paul” mentioned in the Roman Canon — the martyrs, not the apostles.) The Dominicans were scattered and the Casa despoiled when Napoleon invaded and sacked Rome. Troops were quartered here at the time and the chapel served as a stable for the horses, as there is a natural fountain in the Casa’s courtyard. Later, Visitation nuns took up residence at the Casa, sent as a mission from Paray-le-Monial to work for the beatification of Margaret Mary Alacoque. This was done personally by Blessed Pius IX, at which time the nuns withdrew, making the building available for use by the American hierarchy.

In 1984, four years after my ordination to the priesthood, I was assigned to the Casa in order to study for my doctorate at the Accademia Alfonsiana. Early on, I befriended another American priest, who, unlike myself, had studied for the priesthood at the North American College on the Janiculum. During a walk together one day, I happened to use the phrase “Romans” in a general way to describe “American priests studying in Rome.” He stopped the conversation and asked me what I meant by that phrase, that is, how I understood the words I had just used. I then became aware of the “polyvalence” of the term, to put it mildly.

I assured my friend that I had no hidden or pejorative intention by using that phrase. I was merely using the term to make a geographical distinction, as opposed to the American centers of study, say, in Belgium or Washington, D.C. He then told me that most priests who use the term do so with more political motives.

Romanità (2): a thing either exclusive or effete

Like most schools, the North American College (especially its seminary division), has a distinctive (and in this case, strong) esprit de corps. Historically, this has generated a certain pride among its members, and often generates a certain, shall we say, distaste (born, perhaps of a certain envy), among non-members. This latter is not entirely without cause. For example, NAC alumni refer to themselves as “Bags,” which derives from any of several possible Italian words used to denigrate the clergy which mean “profiteer,” “scalper” or “nitwit.” Others claim it derives from a word in Italian dialect which means “cockroach.” Whatever its origin, “Bags” assume this designation with great pride. “Real Bags” are those who have attended the NAC seminary. Those, like myself who received their priestly training in the United States, are condescendingly referred to as “DTs,” “domestically trained.” Further, like myself, a DT who does doctoral studies at the Casa, is not a “real Bag,” but a “plastic Bag.” We need not make further distinctions along this line (though we could!) In other words, from the perspective of the NAC alumni, there is a definite “food chain” among seminaries, and theirs is at the top.

Fine and good. But on the other side, many DTs and other non-Roman educated priests evaluate such an attitude as officious, obnoxious and elitist. “Non-Roman” priests easily take up an “anti-Roman” cudgel to beat up on what they deem to be NAC snobbery. Here, Romanità degenerates into something exclusive and effete — and, actually, a purely “American thing.” Obviously, this cannot be the real Romanità.

Romanità (3): Something parochial and passé

In 1964, while the Second Vatican Council was still in progress, but before any major changes were in evidence, The Saturday Evening Post presented a major research article on the Catholic Church and the “restlessness” within it, and the “yearning” for changes and freedoms from old forms and restrictions. (“Not Peace, but the Sword,” by Edward R. F. Sheehan, pages 20-42.) The article described the Church as an entity composed of two predominant “sides,” the progressives and those adhering to Romanità. The author makes the following observation: “Numerous authorities have described the Curial conservatives as men dominated by Romanità — that mentality which conceives of everything Catholic in terms of Counter-Reformation Roman culture, that nostalgic yearning for the epoch when the citadel of faith was so triumphantly defended against the onslaughts of theological pluralism and philosophic anarchy” (p. 23f.) That author’s desire to meet a prelate of Romanità was satisfied when he landed an appointment to interview a “peripatetic and very prominent Italian archbishop, a man high in Vatican officialdom . . . a protégé of the redoubtable Alfredo Cardinal Ottaviani and a militant ‘Curia man.’” In a discussion of theological trends, the prelate said that Hans Küng “represents the rebellion of the German mind against the Roman mind. The Germans were defeated on the field of battle in two world wars. Having been vanquished in their effort to dominate the world by force of arms, they are now attempting to assert their dominance in the realm of theology.” (It did not matter to this prelate that Küng is Swiss. He writes in German.)

When the reporter opined that sometimes doctrine can seem a bit narrow, the Archbishop quipped, “Ah. That is because the truth is narrow.” The reporter then concludes, “‘The truth is narrow’ — this is a splendid summation of the philosophy of Romanità. It is the sort of slogan so effortlessly produced by the historical system that a great part of the American Church is in the process of rejecting.” This is a simplistic reduction of larger issues to a checker game between “freedom fighters” and “control freaks.”

In this casting of the definition of Romanità, one can understand a sharp difference in studying theology: the use of the neo-scholastic manuals which shore up the Tridentine concerns and carry on Trent’s polemics on the one hand, and the speculative recasting of theological thought and insight in light of the four hundred years of subsequent philosophical and scientific development going on outside the walls of the Church, on the other, This is often formulated in political terms by media who inevitably size up churchmen as “doctrinally conservative and socially liberal.” However, this model is completely inapplicable.

In point of fact, from the 1960s onwards to this day, manuals are no longer the general fare of seminary studies. Neo-scholasticism has been replaced in nearly every corner either by a return to the more traditional sources themselves (e.g., St. Thomas Aquinas or St. Augustine) or by twentieth century developments such as transcendental Thomism and proportionalism. Nevertheless, Romanità still exists, even without what was thought to be its essential philosophical grounding in an arid neo-scholasticism, counter-Reformation issues, and anti-German prejudice. Romanità does not derive from one’s Alma Mater, one’s genetics, one’s knowledge (or ignorance) of Immanuel Kant or city of residence. Romanità is bigger than all that.

(The Real) Romanità: A culture and way of life

Returning to the opening quotation from the Æneid, one hears the “mandate” given to those who bear the name “Roman.” To them is entrusted the destiny of ruling the world in a way that is just and responsible. It was Vergil’s intent in writing the Æneid to stir up again in the Roman people the virtues that made the Empire a world power.

It is the cultivation of these virtues that creates the distinctive “Roman” mien, character and culture. These virtues are characteristic of the Roman perspective of all times, both pre-Christian and Christian. The culture arising from these virtues, bridging as it does both pagan and Christian Rome, is necessarily larger than the narrow American understanding of Romanità as inter-seminary rivalry on the one hand, and attempted theological hegemony of either Italians or Germans, on the other.

The fundamental virtue of Romanità: Pietas.

The primary virtue of the Romans — from the Caesars to the Popes — is pietas, weakly translated “piety” or “devotion.” It is a foundational virtue producing the proper esteem for and devotion to the three objects of pietas: God, the country (in the Christian’s case, the Church) and the family. It is this fundamental love and duty for God and his earthly representatives that are expressed in a contemporary Roman’s burning commitment to the unity of the Church and doctrinal purity.

The greatest crimes are disloyalty and disbelief. St. Thomas taught that the sin of unbelief is greater than all other sins that play a part in depravity (ST II-II, 10, 3.) A true Roman never turns his back on the Church, as he would never abandon his family. Æneas left the flaming shambles of Troy carrying his father on his back and holding in one hand the household gods, and with the other holding the hand of his son. Within Æneas was the quest for his destined homeland, Rome. This bittersweet sight exemplifies pietas.

Dante Alighieri has the greatest respect for Vergil, and makes the poet his guide through the Inferno and Purgatory in the Divine Comedy. Dante praises the ancient poet in words majestic enough to describe a prophet: He it was who sang of Rome’s glory as the home also of the mantle of the Pope, who foretold the place where great St. Peter would sit (cf. Inferno, II, 22-24.) This would anchor pietas forever in the Eternal City of Rome, the only city in the world proud enough to be called simply, Urbs, “The City.”

Virtues of seriousness and restraint

Two other virtues are closely aligned to pietas. The first is gravitas, translated as “seriousness” or perhaps, “sobriety.” Yes, this was considered a virtue even prior to its recent application to Vice President Dick Cheney. Ruling the world is serious business, certainly not for light-weights.

In the Golden Age of Rome, in the hundred years of the Pax romana, during which time Our Lord, the Prince of Peace, was born, the Romans were masters of world administration and the finest of military geniuses who literally “crowned peace with law.” This took patience, skill, keen minds and an acceptance of one’s destiny (later understood as Providence) which created in the Roman not only humble acceptance, but also serious resolve to do and to be one’s very best. Julius Caesar and Cicero were to write favorably of gravitas understood in this way.

A second virtue closely associated with this is the much misunderstood severitas. Cicero writes that like its cousin, gravitas, severitas has a good and a bad meaning. The pejorative meaning of the word is clear. The positive understanding of the term, however, denotes restraint in action, self-discipline and seriousness. As gravitas denotes more an attitude or inner virtue, severitas may denote more a manner of bearing in action — but a manner of action which guards, tempers and curbs one’s own action. The positive understanding of severitas does not mean an explosive or harsh response. Quite the opposite. Severitas is a measure of action, a personal ascesis, not an effect on the object of action.

Piety, seriousness and measure are three virtues that are needed for a culture of Romanità. In scholastic theology, they would be considered potential parts of the virtue of Romanità. All these are necessary for the existence of the virtue. Each plays its part in the persona romana.

But more is needed. Piety, seriousness and measure are moral virtues. In addition to this, Romanità requires the intellectual virtues of wisdom, understanding and knowledge, specifically, the cultivation of an historical sense. In order to cope with the challenges of one’s own time, one who exercises Romanità sees things within the larger context of history and, with Christian pietas, faith as well. Only in this way will perspective and sanity be brought to bear in the midst of present calamity. Pope Paul VI declared that the Church was an “expert in humanity.” As the oldest institution on Earth, the Church has an unparalleled breadth of experience, and under the providential guidance of the Holy Spirit, has the supernatural gifts and protections to evaluate historical epochs and to survive them — in some way or another.

Seriousness spares the Church the embarrassment of frivolity and euphoria in prosperity, as well as hysteria and tantrum in oppression. Measure is the moral “high road” so beautifully prescribed by the present Holy Father, Pope John Paul II. Piety is the fundamental rule of faith taught by the Church and its actuality in the New Law of Christ: the grace of the Holy Spirit poured forth in the hearts of believers. The fruit of this is no less than the life of discipleship imbued with a culture of the City to which the Apostles brought the Good News, the City to which “all roads lead,” and therefore, from which all roads go out to the ends of the earth.

This City, of all cities in the world, referred to simply as “Urbs,” invites all citizens of the earth to a rich “urbanity,” or culture, to which we give the noble name “Romanità.” One need never visit the City to acquire her noble virtue. One need but embrace the Catholic faith. True Romanità, far from a dreaded thing, the opposite of something effete, hardly confined to one seminary, is a profound perspective, virtue and way of life, originating in the heart of “Pious Æneas,” coming to birth with the founding of the City of Rome, finding highest human expression in the Golden Age of the Roman Peace, and being ensouled in and given the sublime dignity of bearing the name of the City of Apostolic authority.

At the end of the Purgatorio, leaving Vergil behind, Dante meets his beloved Beatrice, who will escort him from the Garden of Eden to Paradise. As they embark upon this leg of Dante’s journey, as he laments the beauty and post-lapsarian emptiness of the Garden of Eden, Beatrice assures him: “You shall be a forest-dweller here but briefly, but shall be forever with me a citizen of that Rome where Christ Himself is Roman.” (Purgatorio, xxxii, 100-102.) 

Reverend Russell E. Smith, S.T.D., is a priest of the Diocese of Richmond, Va. He is past president of the National Catholic Bioethics Center in Boston. Currently he is theological and health care consultant in Richmond. This is his first article in HPR.