A key paragraph in this chapter for me is the one beginning: "His being, as I have already mentioned, the famous Ambrogio Spinola, who had been sent to set the war campaign on the proper footing, correct the mistakes of Don Gonzalo, and, incidentally, to govern." The word 'incidentally' is repeated in the next sentence, when the narrator recalls that Spinola died a few months later in a war so dear to his. It's a lovely example of Manzoni's irony and satire. It's too good not to quote the Italian:
"Era quest’uomo, come già s’è detto, il celebre Ambrogio Spinola mandato per raddirizzar quella guerra e riparare agli errori di don Gonzalo, e incidentemente, a governare; e noi pure possiamo qui incidentemente rammentar che morì dopo pochi mesi, in quella stessa guerra che gli stava tanto a cuore; e morì, non già di ferite sul campo, ma in letto, d’affanno e di struggimento, per rimproveri, torti, disgusti d’ogni specie ricevuti da quelli a cui serviva. "
The second half of the chapter is fascinating with its mysterious poisonous unguents. I was reminded of Bruno Dumont's funny film "Coincoin and the Extra-Humans", where Dumont uses the appearance everywhere of a slimey substance as a metaphor for the alien, unwanted and unknowable.
I wouldn’t say “tempered,” which would seem to muffle their response. I think it gave voice to their dread, alerted them to just how devastating it would be, and rekindled their fatalistic sense that the past is never past.
This chapter might have flagged for me if I hadn't been astonished at every turn how closely our plague echoed this one. There are too many lines to quote that could have been lifted from what has been or will be written about the pandemic.
And they kept having large public gatherings, as if no health warnings had been issued, until the authorities finally paraded the dead bodies of a family through a crowd in order to convince them of the plague's reality, even as it was spreading rapidly amongst them at that very moment. A frightful climax to this train wreck of governance.
I loved how the opening pages of this chapter become a meditation on how to write history.
And then as others note the way the political thinking seems so familiar -- the governors for whom "concerns about the war were far more urgent," the ignoring of the advice of the health officers who are themselves reluctant to advise what they know is necessary, the prevalence everywhere of denial, and then when it's too late the outbreak of conspiracy theories, aimed especially at "foreigners" starting with the French (although the anticipation of plague with the army passing through itself blames the German "other"). And then so much more!
The paragraph on the "dictatorship" of the Capuchins over the lazaretto was amazing too, too long to quote, but I'm curious about that word "dictatorship" -- can someone amplify that?
And the reflection on "entrenched convictions."
Everything in this chapter (and the chapter before), as many have commented, reflects our now ... the many responses to covid and the continuing confusions between investigating origins and pinning the blame.
It is a direct translation from the Italian *dittatura*, a term used only once in the text. I think it sounds a bit awkward, as if he was trying to make a joke out of a serious situation but the text is so full of somewhat archaic phrasing and word choices that i try not to dwell on it too much
The Capuchins' role interested me too. Manzoni decries, with irony, the government/society's fecklessness in having to turn to them--creating that "dictatorship"--but for the Capuchins, he has only earnest praise. They accepted the task gracefully and even died gracefully, and there is, he suggests, beauty in the fact that it was offered to them because they alone had the energy and fortitude for it. One of those paragraphs that makes me want to be a better person.
Manzoni's assignment to passing German troops of responsibility for the spread of the plague reminds me of the criticism and mockery heaped on the Germans in Tolstoy’s War and Peace.
And, yes, the parallels to our own plaque in 2020 are astounding.
A key paragraph in this chapter for me is the one beginning: "His being, as I have already mentioned, the famous Ambrogio Spinola, who had been sent to set the war campaign on the proper footing, correct the mistakes of Don Gonzalo, and, incidentally, to govern." The word 'incidentally' is repeated in the next sentence, when the narrator recalls that Spinola died a few months later in a war so dear to his. It's a lovely example of Manzoni's irony and satire. It's too good not to quote the Italian:
"Era quest’uomo, come già s’è detto, il celebre Ambrogio Spinola mandato per raddirizzar quella guerra e riparare agli errori di don Gonzalo, e incidentemente, a governare; e noi pure possiamo qui incidentemente rammentar che morì dopo pochi mesi, in quella stessa guerra che gli stava tanto a cuore; e morì, non già di ferite sul campo, ma in letto, d’affanno e di struggimento, per rimproveri, torti, disgusti d’ogni specie ricevuti da quelli a cui serviva. "
The second half of the chapter is fascinating with its mysterious poisonous unguents. I was reminded of Bruno Dumont's funny film "Coincoin and the Extra-Humans", where Dumont uses the appearance everywhere of a slimey substance as a metaphor for the alien, unwanted and unknowable.
I find it impossible to read this now without wondering to what extent it tempered the Italian reaction to the Pandemic.
I wouldn’t say “tempered,” which would seem to muffle their response. I think it gave voice to their dread, alerted them to just how devastating it would be, and rekindled their fatalistic sense that the past is never past.
This chapter: WOW. So . . . contemporary.
This chapter might have flagged for me if I hadn't been astonished at every turn how closely our plague echoed this one. There are too many lines to quote that could have been lifted from what has been or will be written about the pandemic.
And they kept having large public gatherings, as if no health warnings had been issued, until the authorities finally paraded the dead bodies of a family through a crowd in order to convince them of the plague's reality, even as it was spreading rapidly amongst them at that very moment. A frightful climax to this train wreck of governance.
I loved how the opening pages of this chapter become a meditation on how to write history.
And then as others note the way the political thinking seems so familiar -- the governors for whom "concerns about the war were far more urgent," the ignoring of the advice of the health officers who are themselves reluctant to advise what they know is necessary, the prevalence everywhere of denial, and then when it's too late the outbreak of conspiracy theories, aimed especially at "foreigners" starting with the French (although the anticipation of plague with the army passing through itself blames the German "other"). And then so much more!
The paragraph on the "dictatorship" of the Capuchins over the lazaretto was amazing too, too long to quote, but I'm curious about that word "dictatorship" -- can someone amplify that?
And the reflection on "entrenched convictions."
Everything in this chapter (and the chapter before), as many have commented, reflects our now ... the many responses to covid and the continuing confusions between investigating origins and pinning the blame.
It is a direct translation from the Italian *dittatura*, a term used only once in the text. I think it sounds a bit awkward, as if he was trying to make a joke out of a serious situation but the text is so full of somewhat archaic phrasing and word choices that i try not to dwell on it too much
The Capuchins' role interested me too. Manzoni decries, with irony, the government/society's fecklessness in having to turn to them--creating that "dictatorship"--but for the Capuchins, he has only earnest praise. They accepted the task gracefully and even died gracefully, and there is, he suggests, beauty in the fact that it was offered to them because they alone had the energy and fortitude for it. One of those paragraphs that makes me want to be a better person.
Manzoni's assignment to passing German troops of responsibility for the spread of the plague reminds me of the criticism and mockery heaped on the Germans in Tolstoy’s War and Peace.
And, yes, the parallels to our own plaque in 2020 are astounding.
A nice portrait of Giulia Beccaria, Alessandro Manzoni's mother.
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/96/Maria_Cosway_Giulia_Beccaria.jpg