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Tutti abbiamo il nostro negativo, delle zone d'ombra, o visioni speculari e parliamo d'amore, là, dove io muoio.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

I promessi sposi in inglese. la peste

“The Betrothed" - "I promessi sposi"
The reception given to Manzoni’s masterpiece,“I Promessi Sposi” (1825–26) was very different. In form a historical novel, written at a time when the vogue of the Waverley Novels had stimulated the production of this form of fiction throughout Europe, the interest of “The Betrothed,” as it is usually called in England, is rather psychological and sentimental than external. The scene is laid in Lombardy between 1628 and 1631, and the plot deals with the thwarting of the love of two peasants by a local tyrant. The manners of the time are presented with great vividness and picturesqueness; one of the most notable elements being the elaborate description of the plague which devastated Milan in 1630 (see Chaps. XXXI–XXXVII). The novel has taken a place as the most distinguished novel of modern Italy, and has been translated into nearly all the literary languages.

...Coming down the steps at one of the doorways, and advancing towards the convoy, he beheld a woman, whose appearance announced still-remaining, though somewhat advanced youthfulness; a veiled and dimmed, but not destroyed beauty, was still apparent, in spite of much suffering, and a fatal languor that delicate, and, at the same time, majestic, beauty, which is conspicuous in the Lombard blood.
Her gait was weary, but not tottering; no tears fell from her eyes, though they bore tokens of having shed many; there was something peaceful and profound in her sorrow, which indicated a mind fully conscious and sensitive enough to feel it. But it was not only her own appearance which, in the midst of so much misery, marked her out so especially as an object of commiseration, and revived in her behalf a feeling now exhausted extinguished, in men’s hearts. She carried in her arms a little child, about nine years old, now a lifeless body; but laid out and arranged, with her hair parted on her forehead, and in a white and remarkably clean dress, as if those hands had decked her out for a long-promised feast, granted as a reward. Nor was she lying there, but upheld and adjusted on one arm, with her breast reclining against her mother’s like a living creature; save that a delicate little hand, as white as wax, hung from one side with a kind of inanimate weight, and the head rested upon her mother’s shoulder with an abandonment deeper than that of sleep; her mother, for even if their likeness to each other had not given assurance of the fact, the countenance which still depicted any feeling would have clearly revealed it.
A horrible-looking monatto approached the woman, and attempted to take the burden from her arms, with a kind of unusual respect, however, and with involuntary hesitation. But she, slightly drawing back, yet with the air of one who shows neither scorn nor displeasure, said, ‘No! don’t take her from me yet; I must place her myself on this cart: here.’ So saying, she opened her hand, displayed a purse which she held in it, and dropped it into that which the monatto extended towards her. She then continued: ‘Promise me not to take a thread from around her, nor to let any one else attempt to do so, and to lay her in the ground thus.’
The monatto laid his right hand on his heart; and then zealously, and almost obsequiously, rather from the new feeling by which he was, as it were, subdued, than on account of the unlooked for reward, hastened to make a little room on the car for the infant dead. The lady, giving it a kiss on the forehead, laid it on the spot prepared for it, as upon a bed, arranged it there, covering it with a pure white linen cloth, and pronounced the parting words: ‘Farewell, Cecilia! rest in peace! This evening we, too, will join you, to rest together for ever. In the meanwhile, pray for us; for I will pray for you and the others.’ Then, turning to the monatto, ‘You,’ said she, ‘when you pass this way in the evening, may come to fetch me too, and not me only.’
So saying, she re-entered the house, and, after an instant, appeared at the window, holding in her arms another more dearly-loved one, still living, but with the marks of death on its countenance. She remained to contemplate these so unworthy obsequies of the first child, from the time the car started until it was out of sight, and then disappeared.
And what remained for her to do, but to lay upon the bed the only one that was left to her, and to stretch herself beside it, that they might die together? as the flower already full blown upon the stem, falls together with the bud still enfolded in its calyx, under the scythe which levels alike all the herbage of the field.
‘Oh Lord!’ exclaimed Renzo, "hear her! take her to Thyself, her and that little infant one: they have suffered enough! surely, they have suffered enough!"

Frammento "la peste" da "Promessi sposi" di Alessandro Manzoni
...Scendeva dalla soglia d'uno di quegli usci, e veniva verso il con­voglio, una donna, il cui aspetto annunziava una giovinezza avanzata, ma non trascorsa; e vi traspariva una bellezza velata e offuscata, ma non guasta, da una gran passione, e da un languor mortale: quella bellezza molle a un tempo e maestosa, che brilla nel sangue lombardo.
La sua andatura era affaticata, ma non cascante; gli occhi non davan lacrime, ma portavan segno d'averne sparse tante; c'era in quel dolore un non so che di pacato e di profondo, che attestava un'anima tutta consapevole c presente a sentirlo. Ma non era il solo suo aspetto che, tra tante miserie, la indicasse cosi particolarmente alla pietà, e ravvivasse per lei quel sentimento ormai stracco e am­mortito ne' cuori. Portava essa in collo una bambina di forse nov'anni, morta; ma tutta ben accomodata, co' capelli divisi sulla fronte, con un vestito bianchissimo, come se quelle mani l'avessero adornata per una festa promessa da tanto tempo, e data per premio. Nè la teneva a giacere, ma sorretta, a sedere sur un un braccio, col petto appoggiato al petto, come se fosse stata viva; se non che una manina bianca a guisa di cera spenzolava da una parte, con una certa inanimata gra­vezza, e il capo posava sull' omero della madre, con un abbandono più forte del sonno: della madre, chè, se anche la somiglianza de' volti non n'avesse fatto fede, l'avrebbe detto chiaramente quello de' due ch'esprimeva ancora un sentimento.
Un turpe monatto andò per levarle la bambina dalle braccia, con una specie però d'insolilo rispetto, con un'esitazione involonta­ria. Ma quella, tirandosi indietro, senza però mostrare sdegno ne di­sprezzo, " no! " disse: non me la toccate per ora; devo metterla io su quel carro: prendete. " Così dicendo, apri una mano, fece vedere una borsa, e la lasciò cadere in quella che il monatto le tese. Poi continuò: " promettetemi di non levarle un filo d'intorno, nè di lasciar che altri ardisca di farlo, e di metterla sotto terra cosi. "
Il monatto si mise una mano al petto; e poi, tutto premuroso, e quasi ossequioso, più per il nuovo sentimento da cui era come soggio­gato, che per l'inaspettata ricompensa, s'affaccendò a far un po' di po­sto sul carro per la morticina.
La madre, dato a questa un bacio in fronte, la mise li come sur un letto, ce l'accomodò, le stese sopra un panno bianco, e disse l'ultime parole: " addio, Cecilia! riposa in pace! Stasera vcrremo anche noi, per restar sempre insieme. Prega intanto per noi; ch'io pregherò per te e per gli altri. " Poi voltatasi di nuovo al monatto, " voi, " disse, "passando di qui verso sera, salirete a prendere anche me, e non me sola"
Cosi detto, rientrò in casa, e, un momento dopo, s'affacciò alla fine­stra, tenendo in collo un'altra bambina più piccola, viva., ma coi segni della morte in volto. Stette a contemplare quelle cosi indegne esequie della prima, finchè il carro non si mosse, finchè lo potè vedere; poi disparve.
E che altro potè fare, se non posar sul letto l'unica che le rimaneva, e mettersele accanto per morire insieme? come il fiore già rigoglioso sullo stelo cade insieme col fiorellino an­cora in boccia, al passar della falce che pareggia tutte l'erbe del prato.
" O Signore! " esclamò Renzo: " esauditela! tiratela a voi, lei e la sua creaturina: hanno patito abbastanza! hanno patito abbastanza!"....

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

imparato molto