On one side were the tear-soaked, heartrending denunciations in newspapers from Britain, France, and other countries; on the other were the facts right before their eyes: Italian merchants were all plump and well-fed, casually throwing money around in casinos, brothels, and auction houses.
Which side were the people of the Austrian Empire supposed to believe?
The benevolent saw benevolence, the wise saw wisdom.
In truth, the stereotype that Italian merchants were generally fat was both right and wrong. Most Italian merchants were indeed quite obese, but they were hardly the only ones.
In fact, Austrians had only been able to eat their fill for a relatively short time. In the past, fatness had been a symbol of wealth and success. For elites outside the nobility, being called fat was actually a very respectable thing.
The unspoken message of fatness was: "I eat well, I do not need to perform manual labor, I possess ample wealth, and you will not lose out by following me." It represented a life of ease.
Thanks to their geographical advantages, Italian merchants generally engaged in foreign trade. Their frequent social engagements made it even more necessary for them to maintain an image of prosperous fullness.
Then there were changes in diet. Since the Austrian Empire had seized a great many sugar bowls, Austrian food had also become sweeter.
Venice, on the coast, enjoyed uniquely favorable advantages, along with the relentless bombardment of high-fat, high-calorie food and beer.
Here was an example: there had once been a dish that swept through the entire Austrian Empire, called "Syrup-Fried Pork Cutlet."
Forget eating it—even hearing the name was enough to tell how cloying it must be.
When economic conditions allowed it, anyone eating such things all day would find it difficult not to get fat.
In fact, after