Most foreign visitors to Naples are inclined to think that the Camorra is as entirely a thing of the past as the Swiss guards that used to protect the King of the Two Sicilies, or the military pageant that was formerly held in honor of Santa Maria Piedigrotta, the Madonna who was once nominated commander-in-chief of the Neapolitan armies, and led them to victory. Young men with gorgeous, if somewhat tawdry, caps and jewelry are no longer to be seen sauntering through the streets and markets with an insolent air of mastery which no one dares to question; and the old man who used to collect money for the lamps of the Madonna—a request which, somehow, no coachman ever refused—have vanished from the cabstands. The outward glory of the Camorra has passed away; it is anxious now to conceal instead of displaying its power; but among the older residents in Naples there are many who believe that this strange secret society has never exercised a greater influence than it does at present, though it is possible that the interest it is said to have lately taken in politics may lead to its fall. In fact, such an interference in public affairs is a distinct departure from the principles on which the earlier traditions of the association were founded.

The whole subject is of course shrouded in mystery. There are important points connected with it on which it is impossible to obtain trustworthy information, as all who have any real knowledge of the facts have the strongest personal reasons for concealing them. Still, the organization of the lower ranks of the society is well known to the police, and it is by no means impossible to form a clear conception of its real character and aims, though it is necessary to sift every statement made about them with unusual care, as the inquirer must be on his guard not only against the romance and exaggeration of popular fancy, but also against a desire to mislead. It is only by inadvertence that any correct information is likely to be given, and as soon as the stranger exhibits an interest in the subject, he is supplied with a splendid stock of pure inventions. He must look and listen, and refrain from questioning as much as possible, unless he has the good fortune to meet an intelligent official connected with the police, or still better one who served the deposed dynasty. Before entering on the subject itself, however, a digression will be necessary in order to explain to English readers how such an association could be formed, and what were the circumstances that favored its growth and have hitherto secured its existence.

With respect to Sicily, Dr. Franchetti tells us that, whenever several men combine to support their own interests in opposition to those of their neighbors, that is Mafia. Where the condition of society is favorable, such combinations become exceedingly powerful. The strongest, the most enterprising, and the most violent inhabitants unite together. The will of each member is law in as far as the outside world is concerned; in executing it his companions will shrink neither from force nor fraud, and all they expect is that he should be ready to render similar services in his turn. When such a body has been formed in a district where the law is not powerful enough to hold it in check, the other members of the community must either tamely submit to its oppressions, put themselves under its protection, or form a new Mafia of their own. Now the Camorra is only a fully-developed and highly-organized Mafia.

It owes its long existence and its great influence chiefly to two circumstances. Family feeling in Naples is much stronger than in the North. Not only do parents and children, brothers and sisters cling together through life, but even distant cousins are recognized as relations whose interests must be guarded and advanced. If your cook's uncle happens to have a friend who is a butcher, nothing will induce him to buy your meat at any other shop; if your boy is sent to fetch a cab, he will waste half an hour looking for some distant acquaintance of his aunt's. As soon as you take a servant your custom becomes the property of his family connections. If you attempt to prevent this, you only embitter your life with a vain endeavor to thwart petty intrigues. If you dismiss your man, you only change your set of tradesmen; if you submit good humoredly, you soon begin to be regarded as a patron of the whole family, and will therefore be treated with all fitting consideration and esteem. The single members will serve you honestly, and even go out of their way to please you. It is clear that a society so clannish is excellently suited for a Mafia.

On the other hand, the uncertainty of the law under the old dynasty might well serve as an excuse for a good deal of self-assertion and self-defence. The tyranny of the Bourbons, it is true, was chiefly exercised upon the educated members of the middle class, whom they suspected, not unjustly, of designs against their rule. For the poor and the uneducated they did a good deal, often in a rather unwise way, and they never seem intentionally to have oppressed them. But the police are generally said to have been corrupt, the influence of the man of birth and wealth was great, and it was doubtless at times capriciously exercised. Against this the individual was powerless; when a large number were bound together by secret pledges, they could ensure respect and consideration.

It must not, however, be thought that there was anything heroic even in the old Camorra. It was not a league of justice and freedom, but simply an association which was pledged to advance the interests of its members, to right their wrongs, and to protect them to the utmost against every external power, including that of the law. And it has always maintained this character. Though it has occasionally done acts of justice and mercy, these are by no means its chief, or even an important, object; though many of its members belong to the criminal classes, it is not a society for the furtherance of crime. It pays no respect to the law except from prudential motives, and, as it has often dirty work to do, it makes use of dirty hands; but many men in all classes who are otherwise perfectly honest and respectable belong to it, and find their advantage in doing so.

To a certain extent, however, the aims of the Camorra have grown with the growth of its power. In the face of so powerful an association, it became necessary for those who did not belong to it to take steps to guard their own interests, and most of them did so by seeking its protection. This could be obtained by the payment of a tribute which consisted either of a fixed tax or of a percentage on profits. Thus the association claims, and has long claimed, a right to levy an impost on all meat, fish, fruit, and vegetables exposed for sale in the markets, on all goods sold in the streets, on the winnings in all games of chance played in public, and on all cab hire. Very stringent laws have been enacted against this practice, and the Government has from time to time made energetic efforts to suppress it, but without success. The peasants and fishermen are eager to pay the illegal tax. The threat not to accept it will awe the most refractory among them into obedience to the other regulations of the Association, for they know that if the countenance of the Society is withdrawn, it will soon become impossible for them to visit the market. For a week or two they may thrive under the exceptional care of the police, but as soon as the attention of the authorities relaxes, customers will be crowded away from their stalls, their goods will be pilfered, and their boats or carts, as the case may be, either seriously injured or put vexatiously out of gear. The mere fact that the Camorra has ceased to favor So-and-so is enough to expose him to the violence and the wiles of half the roughs and thieves of the district, as well as to the tricks and torments of the most impish crowd of street boys that any European town can show.

The Camorra dues are, therefore, an insurance against theft and annoyance. Those who pay them are not members of the fraternity, they for the most part know nothing of its constitution, and they can make no claim upon it, except for protection, on their way from the gates of the town to the market-place, and during their stay there. This, however, is highly valuable, and it is honestly exercised. Some years ago a party of fishermen brought a rather unusual supply to market, and left their wares standing at the accustomed place while they went into a neighboring coffee-house to breakfast. They were stolen, and the men applied to the official representative of the Camorra as naturally an Englishman would to the police. He asked some questions, took a few notes, and then bid them leave the market for a time, and come back at a certain hour. They did so, and on their return found their fish standing where they had originally left it, “not a sardine was missing.” Such events are constantly occurring.

The almost unlimited influence which the association exercises over the criminal classes is due less to the fact that many of them are enrolled among its members than to the extraordinary information it can command as to any detail of city life. In every district it has a body of highly-trained agents, as to whose education and organization we may perhaps have an opportunity of saying something in a future number. These men are all eye and ear, and if a question is proposed to them by their superiors as to the private life of any one who resides in their district, it will go hard if they are not able to supply a trustworthy answer in a few days. Hence it would be almost impossible for a criminal to escape the officers of justice if the Camorra sincerely desired his arrest. It never interferes in such matters, however, except when one of its members or tributaries has been wronged, and compensation is refused. This rarely happens; but when it does it is said that its vengeance is swift and implacable, while it takes the perfectly legal form of a judicial sentence. Nor does the victim escape from its power when the prison gates close upon him. Some members of the association are almost sure to be confined within the same gloomy precincts, and they spare no pains to render the life of the foe of their society intolerable by a thousand petty vexations which the gaolers could not prevent, even if they cared to incur the personal danger of endeavoring to do so. As a rule, they prefer to stand on a good footing with the Camorrists, and to employ their influence in keeping the other prisoners in order.

When a dispute arises, either in the streets or market-places, between persons who have purchased the protection of the association, it is usually referred to one of its agents whose decision is regarded as final, and so great is the reputation of many of these men for justice and fair play, that they are frequently requested to arbitrate on matters with which they have officially no concern whatever. On such occasions it is usual to make a present to the amateur judge, proportionate in worth to the matter he has settled, or at least to invite him to a sumptuous dinner. In a similar way these Camorrists form the court of honor of the lazzaroni. All questions of vendetta which have their origin in a sense of honor rather than personal hatred are submitted to them, and it is only just to recognize that they almost invariably do their best to bring about a reconciliation, though they themselves are notoriously ready to use their knives. In a word, whatever the ultimate purposes of the Camorra may be—they are doubtless always lawless, and not unfrequently criminal—its influence over the poorer classes is not an unmixed evil. It is unscrupulous both in forming and executing its designs, but when its own interests are not involved, it can be both just and merciful. There are honest and well-to-do tradesmen in Naples who would never have risen from the gutter, if, in their boyhood, the Camorra had not given them a fair start and something more.—Saturday Review.