Wernher von Braun and Science Fiction

It is not easy to define science fiction. Rod Serling, the author of the TV series Twilight Zone gave my preferred one: Fantasy is the impossible made probable, science fiction is the improbable made possible. How to differentiate between good science fiction and bad science fiction? Some readers may try an answer but, again, it is not easy. Perhaps the only method to judge is the same we apply to famous or infamous men. Wait until they are dead, then you will be able to draw a line and decide: good, bad, lucky, unlucky. I have my own simple way to measure how impressive is a science fiction book I am reading. It is a very simple and personal one. I count the times I go back to the page after the frontispiece, to check the year when it was first printed…If I don’t go back at all, then it was bad science fiction.

Ettemberg college, Germany, in the year 1925. A thirteen year old boy is going to get a book he has been waiting for a long time. A strange boy by all counts, because he spends his nights looking at the Moon with a telescope, a present from his parents for his birthday. The postman finally arrives and the boy with trembling hands unpack it. The title of this book was The Rocket into interplanetary Space. That book will change the course of his life. The author of this today obscure and forgotten work was Hermann Oberth, a gymnasium teacher from Transylvania who actually intended to write a scientific treatise, but ended up writing pure science fiction.
Today we may classify that book under the subcategory of Hard Science Fiction since a lot of attention is given to what he thought to be quantitative science. Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke were great specialists of such genre and even Oberth got several things right by intuition more than by math or physic. He argued that machines could be constructed in way that they will soar into space at a speed of thousand of kilometres per hour, a speed mandatory for escaping Earth’s gravity’s pull; then the author’s added that human beings could live inside them and finally that the construction of such devices, in a matter of few decades, could turn out to be a good business.

Even Jules Verne had written about it, but in spite of all the calculations provided by the Frenchman, few people took him seriously. The name of that enthusiastic boy waiting for the arrival of the postman was Wernher von Braun and convinced him to set his life goal on reaching the Moon.

And the ‘Moon’s gravity pool’ proved to be very strong indeed on him, as he did stop at nothing to get there. He accepted to wear an SS uniform and the building for Adolf Hitler the V2 rockets using slave labor. The V2 proved to be the first devices capable of escaping the Earth atmosphere, but with a load of explosive at the top. Then Von Braun, lying about his past, after the war was enrolled by the United States Space Agency and was able to built the Apollo rockets that reached the Moon. Immediately after achieving that goal, a part of his murky past emerged and in spite of his fame he would have been stripped of his american citizenship and expelled. His passing away with cancer in 1977 proved timely and the case was closed.

What set good science fiction apart from the rest is the fact that the author, starting from some real and scientific theorems, can build something logic which may then one day become science. Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein in 1818 as a pastime, but today some of the people walking close to us in the streets have parts of their bodies which belong to someone else. A similar concept was used by the prolific writer H.G. Well for his mesmerizing book The Island of Doctor Moreau printed in 1896 where we find creatures half animal and half human created by the hand of a surgeon with few scruples, like von Braun.

People of all ages have been fascinated by stories involving the future, space travel, other dimensions, and thus we may safety say that science fiction was borne well before science. It was the french poet Beaudelaire who noted how superstition is a large container of many things, including truth. Similarly we may say that science fiction had been the cradle of some real science and, as a matter of fact, the most advanced branches of science today seems to revert back to fiction. Just think about the Big Bang theory, the Higgs particles, the Dark Matter, Strings, Anti-Matter and so on. But this complexity cannot be limited to sub atomic physic, it could be extended to several other branches of scientific thought. Like astronomy, for example.

Some time ago I stumbled into an astronomic study which could be transformed right away into a science fiction book, just by adding a bit of dialogues and human colors. The title is Astronomical Engineering: a strategy for modifying planetary orbits by D.G Korycansky, Gregory Laughlin, Fred C. Adams, all the three authors are American scientists. This scientific study try to tackle an inescapable tragedy waiting our solar system: the Sun and therefore the Earth are not eternal. The most advanced studies tell us that in about 1.1 billion years our star, the Sun, will be about 11% brightest than it is now, thus severely compromising our life and our ecosystem – provided that something similar to us will be still around on our planet which is highly doubtful – and in about 3.5 billion years it will be 40% more luminous. This will spell the absolute doom of life and the Earth will turn into a sort of planet Mars. Furthermore and unfortunately all stars, just before dyeing, expand their size burning all what is within their range.

The only solution to prolong the Earth survival, the three scientists claimed, would be to move the Earth’s orbit and move it a bit back. Easily said than done, right? But the three scientist have came up with a solution, which at our poor stage of knowledge is…pure fiction, but on a theoretical level is viable being always better than no solution at all. Which is then their idea and how could we move our planet?

Simple, we need to get up to the Kuiper Belt, at the edge of the solar system and pick an asteroid large enough to move the Earth by directing its passage close to us. Many of those giant rocks are more than 100 kilometers in diameter. The effort to move one of those rocky monsters should not be impossible for our far away descendants: these asteroids run fast as comets around the sun and a small change in their trajectory, when they are at their aphelion will cause our chosen rock to dart toward us. Perhaps a tick of a few kilograms in the proper position, that we’ll have to calculate, will be sufficient to organise a miss. If we need to slow it down or speed it up we may use Jupiter or other heavy planets as flings or brakes. The complex calculations involving such a complex operation is out of the power of our computers so far, but if we consider that they double in power on the average every 16 months, well then, in a couple of billion of years, our computers will pose absolutely no problem. To minimize the effects on the tides that such comet will have to be carefully arranged, even if the authors of such scientific study cannot decide whether the Moon and Mars will be spared. Let’s just hope that something resembling a tiny part of us will be still around to perform carefully the manoeuvre. This study is just a good example of Hard Science Fiction, but it is not what I like most. My preferred genre is Time Travel and the Apocalyptic, in fact I wrote a novel on this subject, Black Hole is the title. It deals with a group of heretic scientists from Hong Kong trying to stop the LHC at the CERN of Geneva, but since they fail also our planet ceases to exists. But don’t worry Time Travel saves the main characters.

One of the books that impressed me the most was written by a Frenchman, a contemporary of Jules Verne, but of whom very little is known. His name was Eugene Huzar and in 1855 published a book titled La fin du Monde par la Science, which could be translated as The End of the world caused by science.
In a few words, Huzar argues that the constant increase in scientific knowledge will increase the magnitude of our dangers, not reduce them. That the absolute liberty given to scientists will create absolute dangers. He had even an intuition about atomic fission which in his words will create the greatest dangers: a small particle having hidden infinite power, the atom, which hides the infinite power of the Universe. He had also several other brilliant intuitions about the internet, about generalized peace, fast exchange of news and informations and then, when we’ll have reached a unified language, the general process will gather an unstoppable speed getting out of our hands. Then he mentions travel: more and more people traveling and, in his own words, travel is seeing, seeing creates want for more. He points out to his readers: “Look at 1810 how backward we were but now…”

So, by looking backward to the year of his youth, Huzard  was able to extrapolate the future. What he sees it is clearly our doom in the shape of a great snake biting his tail, even if he tries to stay out of mysticism. The LHC Accelerator at Geneve is a great snake, in fact.

Well, let’s hope that this kind of science fiction is only a warning, instead of a representation of true things to come.

Richard Wagner has turned in his grave.

 And when Richard Wagner has turned in his grave? Well, I believe yesterday night, 23 March 2014, watching down from the Wahalla – his usual abode – the performance given in Hong Kong by a group of Finnish singers and musicians flew-in in our city with this purpose in mind (i.e. making R.Wagner turns in the grave).

Here on the left is the advertisement offered by the Hong Kong Arts Festival.

 

The stage was a total mess, costumes were absurd and ridiculous.We could see actors constantly giving out small paper swans, filming with a camera, shooting with AK47 and pistols, while singing about swords…This situation was comic not tragic and destroyed the magic created by Wagner’s notes flying in the air.

We all know that the danger of presenting an Opera like this is to find Uncle Adolf masturbating behind the stage but the answer should not be to trivialize Wagner’s masterpiece, quite the contrary, the answer should rather be to elevate it to loftier levels, then de-germanize it and put it on a position where that it might be called universal.

“Irresistible Lohengrin – a compelling experience, fascinating and captivating. Absolutely must be experienced.” Savon Sanomat

That was the description of the rendering of Wagner’s masterpiece. For people wondering who this Mr. Savon Sanomat might be, I had to check on Google to find out that it is actually a newspaper printed in Kuopio, a city in Finland. I would be curious to know if the New York Times share the same opinion…

Then read below the banal lines posted on their website and the flyers, I should have read them before to understand that something was wrong.

Quote

The sensational experience of a fully staged Wagner opera comes to Hong Kong

Containing some of Wagner’s most beguiling and beautiful music, including the famous Bridal Chorus played at weddings the world over, this is the romantic drama of Elsa, a young noblewoman falsely accused of a murder which sparks dynastic conflict and the threat of civil war. She dreams of rescue by a knight in shining armour, and miraculously that knight arrives, in a boat drawn by swans. He is Lohengrin of the Holy Grail, whose true identity must remain secret.  But just as Elsa finds happiness, dark forces conspire against her. With Lohengrin she must undergo a trial of love and faith.

This acclaimed Savonlinna production was recreated for the 200th anniversary of Wagner’s birth in 2013. It alludes the medieval period of its setting, the Romantic era of its creation, and our present day yearning for heroes.

 Unquote

Yeah, indeed our present day yearning for heroes…

I must add that not all went wrong during the performance, for instance the music offered by the Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra and its Finnish director was well executed and most of the singers were indeed first class (we can imagine their agony for having to behave like fools on stage).

Below is a list of the performers who, in my opinion, should change their job and start to raise chicken or plant potatoes, both seem far better options, given their scarce level of artistic skills, rather than carrying on with their further grotesque activities on stage.

Stage director
ROMAN HOVENBITZER
Stage designer
HERMANN FEUCHTER
Costume designer
HANK IRWIN KITTEL
Lohengrin
BRYAN REGISTER
 

 The final stroke was seeing Elsa refusing to die and addressing the boy appeared on stage as ‘my husband’, instead of my brother (as the original called for the word husband not brother, and the husband, Lohengrin, was nowhere to be seen).

That is what should have happened but didn’t:

As Lohengrin sadly bids farewell to his beloved bride, the swan reappears. Lohengrin tells Elsa that if she had maintained her oath, she could have recovered her lost brother, and gives her his sword, horn and ring, for he is to become the future leader of Brabant. Then, when Lohengrin tries to get in the boat, Ortrud appears. She tells Elsa that the swan who drove Lohengrin to the bank was actually Gottfried, Elsa’s brother, on whom she put a curse by transforming him into a swan. The people consider Ortrud guilty of witchcraft. Lohengrin prays and the swan turns into another form, a young Gottfried. He elects him as the Duke of Brabant. Ortrud sinks as she sees Gottfried and her plans thwarted. A dove descends from heaven and, taking the place of the swan at the head of the boat, leads Lohengrin to the castle of the Holy Grail. Elsa is stricken with grief and falls to the ground dead.

The story of Lohengrin is taken from medieval German romance, notably the Parzival of Wolfram von Eschenbach and its sequel, Lohengrin, written by a different author, itself inspired by the epic of Garin le Loherain. It is part of the Knight of the Swan tradition. This opera had a strong appeal on the young King Ludwig II of Bavaria. “Der Märchenkönig” (The Fairy-tale King), who built his ideal fairy-tale castle and dubbed it “New Swan Stone”, or “Neuschwanstein”, after the Swan Knight.

 

 

Why Seneca’s biographers should talk to Nero’s biographers and reach a consensus.

Lucius Anneus Seneca, also known as Seneca the Younger, is experiencing a great revival in the USA, being portrayed in the way he wanted, though the distorting lens of the large corpus of his writings.
Aulus Gellius and Fronto disliked him, Girolamo Cardano wrote that he deserved death; Quintilianus wrote that in his times he was read only by teen-agers. Romans could see the hypocrisy hiding in his sentences but fathers of the Church, like Augustinus and Lattantius, could not see it and thus promoted his works, even if they were, like his life, full of contradictions.
He was a sophisticated, well polished, learned, intellectual but had little integrity. Few of his biographers are cross-checking his books with historical facts and the article pasted below is a case in point; it is taken from the WSJ and shows how most academics still tend to interpreter Seneca as an innocent victim of a bloody tyrant.

Translating Girolamo Cardano’s Neronis Encomium, in English (first published in 1562) as Nero: An exemplary Life, Inkstone, 2012, I formed an alternative view of Seneca that had forever changed my perception on him.

While banished to Corsica, Seneca wrote pleas for his restoration rather incompatible with his advocacy of a simple life and the acceptance of our own fate.

I believe that Nero was not a clown and a murderer but a good Emperor who tried his best, failing mid way.  Nero’s modern biographers agree on this point, then why Seneca’s biographers cannot agree on the point that he had not been the victim of a tyrant but he had been rather a willing executioner himself? Or, perhaps, even worst than that, he had been the darkest influence over the young Nero, while siding with the corrupted senatorial class just to enrich himself.

http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052702304250204579431451705798732

March 14, 2014 2:06 p.m. ET

Christopher Serra

Before the modern-day journal and blog, before Michel de Montaigne’s “Essays,” before even Marcus Aurelius’s “Meditations” came the work that, directly or not, set the template for them all: the “Letters to Lucilius” of the Roman sage Seneca the Younger (c. 4 B.C.-A.D. 65). This pathbreaking record of one man’s self-exploration, framed as a batch of letters sent to an intimate friend, holds many pleasures for modern readers—as well as some intricate puzzles. For Seneca was not only a Stoic philosopher, seeking the good life through cultivation of reason, but a powerful senior staffer in the regime of Emperor Nero. He not only tolerated the autocracy begun by Julius Caesar—the system that the “Ides of March” conspirators, as recalled every year on March 15, had tried to stop—but signed on as one of its leading enablers.

Seneca’s political brief did not sort easily with his ethical principles, and the strange dissonance of his life is partly what makes the “Letters to Lucilius” so fascinating a document. Seneca composed the “Letters” in 63 and 64, after working closely with Nero for nearly 15 years. He had helped cover up many dirty deeds as Nero’s paranoia had increased, including the murder of Nero’s mother in 59, a crime that shocked all Rome. Aware that Nero’s assassins might soon come for him as well, Seneca undertook the “Letters” in part to clear his conscience and rescue his reputation, as well as to leave behind a final meditation on virtue, nature and mortality.

There was much that a man in Seneca’s position could not say. Unlike a modern White House insider, who need only wait a presidential cycle to publish a tell-all book, Seneca had to presume that Nero, who came to power at age 16, would reign for decades. And Seneca could not withdraw into private life, for when he tried, in 62, Nero refused permission, claiming that such a high-level defection would give his regime a black eye. Seneca thus wrote the “Letters to Lucilius” from a kind of gilded house arrest, still free to publish but not to tell anything like the whole truth.

Lucilius, the addressee of the “Letters,” was a man of Seneca’s own stamp, a 60-something Stoic thinker who had forsaken the contemplative life to serve in Nero’s vast (and well-paid) bureaucracy. Seneca addresses him as an old and trusted friend, a fellow sojourner nearing the end of life’s road. He replies to questions Lucilius had purportedly asked in his own missives, though whether the two men actually corresponded is unclear; the exchange may have been an elaborate fiction on Seneca’s part. If so, it was an ingenious gambit. The tone of intimate conversation, of shared confidences we readers can overhear, lends warmth and humanity to the whole work, and the looseness of epistolary style allows Seneca to wander wherever his thoughts take him.

Seneca starts many letters by relating some minor incident that has just taken place, then proceeds to meditate on its larger meaning. Perhaps he had gotten seasick in a sudden storm, or raced a young slave boy to a tie, or arrived late and hungry to his country house to find only stale bread in the larder. Seneca finds ethical lessons in even the most banal event, many of them strikingly forward-looking. A chance visit to an arena, at a time when a gladiatorial fight to the death was in progress, prompts Seneca to wonder how such inhuman spectacles can be put on for mere entertainment—the only instance, to our knowledge, that this question was raised by a pre-Christian writer. A chat with a well-treated slave sparks a diatribe, similarly ahead of its time, against the cruelty and arrogance of Roman slave-owners.

Not every letter of the 124 that survive will captivate a modern reader. Some contain long disquisitions on ethical theory—the shop talk, as it were, of the Stoic sect. But the variety of the whole collection, its many shifts of topic and timbre and its apparent lack of serial development, encourages us to sample at will. Montaigne read Seneca in just this way in the 16th century, claiming to always enjoy “taking off a wing or a leg”—as though picking at choice parts of a roast turkey. Indeed, most modern editions of the work, such as Penguin’s “Letters From a Stoic,” contain only substantial excerpts, though a new translation of the whole is scheduled to appear next year.

In counterpoint to the tonal swings of the “Letters to Lucilius” are its continuities of theme, above all the theme of mortality. Seneca’s preoccupation with death, especially suicide, gives the work a somber and profound leitmotif. “We are dying every day,” Seneca asserts in one letter, as though equating human life with a journey toward the grave. Like many great philosophers, Seneca was wrestling with the inevitability of death, while also preparing to meet his own, a crisis he felt to be not far off. But his fascination with suicide also has a particular historical context. Roman emperors, like the one Seneca served, often forced suicide on those whom they perceived as threats, and indeed Seneca himself was to meet his end in this way, only a year or two after the “Letters,” when Nero found a pretext to rid himself of the minister he had come to hate.

For historical sleuths, Seneca’s rapidly deteriorating political position provides a fascinating subtext to the “Letters to Lucilius,” as Seneca himself intended. Aware that the work might well be his last, he sought to atone for misdeeds and distance himself from Nero, yet also to avoid provoking his powerful antagonist. His innuendoes are cleverly couched, as when he tells Lucilius he has found the true path of philosophy only late in life, “after wearing myself out with straying from it,” or compares his moral condition to that of a man suffering from incurable illness. Though he cannot cure himself, he claims, he can at least provide a medicine for those who come after—the “Letters” themselves.

In such passages we hear the plaint of a deeply disillusioned man, a sage who had spent 10 years serving a detested tyrant, but who still hoped to gain redemption through the loftiness of his thoughts and the power of his pen. In the eyes of the many great thinkers the “Letters” have since inspired, he succeeded.

—Mr. Romm, a professor of classics at Bard College, is the author of “Dying Every Day: Seneca at the Court of Nero.”

Richard Nixon in China

The press travelled on a separate aircraft.
‘Clowns,’ Nixon called them, ‘I have beaten them so many times!’ He had personally picked the journalists permitted to follow him into China.

It begun with armed clashes between Soviet and Chinese troops in 1969 on the Ussuri River, 250 miles from Vladivostok, that were widely reported in the west. What went unreported at the time was the spark that ignited the powder keg. But thanks to a KGB document, which ended up in the Mitrokhin archives, we now know.
Apparently, Chinese soldiers,feeling slighted by the haughty behaviour of a Soviet officer on the opposite bank of the river, turned around, dropped their pants and “mooned” the Soviets.
The next morning, when the Chinese flashed their buns once again, their opposite numbers were ready. They raised portraits of Mao Zedong!
The Chinese were flabbergasted and scared: they had mooned their Great Helmsman. Deeply offended, they started firing with their AK47.

The baring of those cold buttocks was one element that helped set in motion a series of events that culminated three years later in Richard Nixon’s breakthrough visit to Peking (Beijing).
This is a detail coming straight from the Mitrokin Archives but also Margareth MacMillan’s book is full of similarly delicious small facts which charts the tortuous paths that culminated in that historical 1972 trip made by the then United States President Richard Nixon.
Three-and-a-half decades later we are still feeling the positive aftermath.
Few people will dispute the fact that Richard Nixon had been one of the most knowledgeable presidents in American history, as far as foreign affairs are concerned. The idea of engaging with China was his brainchild and a dream he held before his elevation to the White House. Henry Kissinger was against it at the beginning, even though he spins a different tale in his memoirs.
At the time, the Chinese were concerned about the threat of a possible Soviet invasion. The Americans, meanwhile, believed that the key to terminating the war in Vietnam was to be found in Peking.

That was the background to Kissinger’s secret trip to China on a Pakistani plane in the summer of 1971.
Officially he was recovering from a bout of diarrhoea in Rawalpindi. In practice he had been smuggled to the airport for his flight, where a stringer for a London newspaper, who was seeing his mother off, noticed a flurry of strange activity. He asked a Pakistani policeman what was happening. “It’s Henry Kissinger. He’s going to China,” was the answer. The diligent journalist promptly filed a story only to receive a warning from his editor to drink less beer if he cared to keep his job.
Kissinger was so unnerved by the prospect of entering the dragon’s den that he asked the President of Pakistani to accompany him. But Yahia Khan was too busy and he declined. The flight went well, save for an outburst of rage from Kissinger when he discovered that an aide had forgotten to pack spare shirts. Then he borrowed some from a bigger fellow which, unfortunately, were prominently labelled: “Made in Taiwan”. During his two days in Peking he was said to bear a resemblance to a large penguin.

Back in Washington the news of this top secret visit nearly broke when Marshal Green, the Assistant Secretary of State for Asia, cracked a joke in front of his colleagues about the elusive envoy. “Perhaps we can’t find Kissinger because he’s gone to China …” Realising what he had just said, he rushed to warn his boss, Secretary of State William Rogers, who went pale.
After it was officially announced that Nixon was indeed bound for China, the White House received lots of unsolicited advices from “old China hands” – much of it dubious.
Nixon’s wife Pat, for instance, was urged not to wear red dresses because red was the colour of prostitutes in old China. She ignored that piece of “advice” and she always wore red. Nixon summoned from Paris the “old and mendacious” French author and politician André Malraux who bragged of being a China expert on the grounds he had once, briefly, met Mao and had interviewed him, misunderstanding and falsifying all the words of the Chairman, in fact missing the greatest news he was giving to him: the beginning of the Cultural Revolution .

John Scali, who was present, when Malraux met Nixon, said: “I felt I was listening to the views of a romantic, vain old man who was weaving obsolete views into a special framework for the world as he wished it to be.”
When Nixon left Washington for the Chinese capital he had received no assurance that Mao would receive him. Perhaps the Chinese wanted to punish the Americans for John Foster Dulles’s refusal to shake hands with Chou Enlai at a Geneva conference in 1954, a rebuff that still stung? What Nixon did not know was that the sickly Chairman was just as eager as him to have a meeting.
The plane landed in Shanghai on February 12 where a local pilot climbed aboard to fly it to Peking, petrifying those in the cockpit when it dawned on them that he had no idea how to use the sophisticated instrumentation on board. He ignored the technology and navigated by flying the aircraft at low altitude.

Not everybody was happy about the trip. On seeing Nixon toasting Chou Enlai, conservative journalist William Buckley commented that it was as if “Sir Hartley Shawcross had suddenly risen from the prosecutor’s stand at Nuremberg and descended to embrace Goering and Hess, begging them to join with him in making of a better world”. Others were less cynical. Canadian journalist John Burns picked up the chopsticks used by Nixon at the gala dinner as a souvenir. A New York dealer wired him with an offer of US$10,000 for them. Burns refused.

To prove their sincerity, the Americans passed to the Chinese entire cases of classified documents, including secret treaties with Moscow, photos of military installations and files about new Soviet weaponry which many credit as kick-starting later disarmament treaties with the Soviets.
Mao was very impressed by the energy and youth of Nixon, but of Kissinger he had this to say: “He is just a funny little man. He is shuddering all over with nerves every time he comes to see me.”
Time magazine named both Nixon and Kissinger ‘Men of the Year’ for 1972, something that angered the President and it seems that he never forgave his adviser for it, that ‘funny little man.’

Nixon in China: The Week That
Changed the World
By Margaret MacMillan
Viking Books, 2006
HB 395 pp
ISBN 10: 0-670-04476-8 /
13: 978-0-670-04476-4

The first English translation of the presentation of Cardano’s Neroos Lof by J. Glazemaker – from Dutch by Mattijs Gevers & Marta Marotta.

In September 1562 the Basel press of Sebastian Henricum Petri published a two-volume edition of miscellaneous works by Girolamo Cardano (1501–1576?), the famous Milanese polymath. The first volume consisted of the Somniorum Synesiorum Omnis Generis Insomnia Explicantes, a work dealing with dreams, their classification, origin and interpretation. The second volume contained eleven shorter philosophical and medical treaties, among which was the Neronis Encomium, a new biographical treatment of Nero, the much-maligned Roman emperor. It is a work that still has much to teach us, four and a half centuries later.

The first translation in English was published (I translated it from Latin) under the title Nero: An Exemplary Life, Inkstone, 2012.

This particular work was printed for the first time as an individual book in Amsterdam, by Cornelium Blaeu in 1640 and nine years later appeared an elusive Dutch edition: Hieronymus Cardani Neroos Lof, L. Lescaille, Amsterdam, 1649, now available in print-on-demand. A real copy of this book in Dutch is very difficult to find, being exceedingly rare.

Reading his introduction we can notice that he censured some parts which were sexually too explicit:

and also I did not leave any part out, except some lewd things, which are so sinister, that they should remain unknown, and cannot be heard, without any shame, by honourable ears.

I thing which was expected, in Latin they don’t sound so  much vulgar as when they are transformed into a modern language.

The Translator of the Latin text was done Jan Hendrik Glazemaker (Amsterdam, 1620 – 1682) and the publisher was Iacob Lescaille (1611 – 1679)  a philosopher and editor.

 

Here is the first translation ever made of the presentation in Dutch by J. H. Glazemaker

Neroos Lof – In praise of Nero

To the reader.

Dear curious reader, I see, if my eyes do not deceive me, the marvel and surprise on your face, caused by the strange and almost unheard name of this book, in which the praise of Nero is mentioned [lit…. is understood by].

“How?” Do you say: what kind of praise can you give to somebody, who killed his father, mother, wives, brother, sister, grandmother, teacher and many others close to him [lit…..Whom he cared about], and besides them, killed so many eminent men, persecuted Christians, set Rome on fire, and committed so many other horrors?

It is no wonder, since the things that are strange to us now, give big emotions. And about me, I have to confess, that when I received this book, and reading it’s title, I could barely believe, that any excuse, let alone praise for this nefarious tyrant (as he is now regarded by everybody) could be made; but that I, reviewing this [lit. looking at this], so powerful and concise (in my humble opinion), that I, excited from various causes, felt like translating it from Latin into our Dutch language, and, as you can see accomplished it, with help from others.

My intention is not, to withhold [lit. To don’t give yet] you, whom I can see already eager to start reading, with a long reasoning, to demonstrate the causes that induced the writer of this praise to call Nero the supreme ruler; because he himself in the preface of his work, and in various other places, assures us, that the righteousness of the case forced him to this conclusion.

And surely, in case we compare the life of Nero to that of other emperors, yes even of the ones who are regarded as the best, I trust that he is not depicted as sinister, as he is deemed to be, or the other emperors, of whom we now speak so respectfully, not as good and sound, as they are praised. Furthermore, concerning the translation, I adhered myself, where possible, to the original Latin, and I did not make any change to it, and also did not leave any part out, except some lewd things, which are so sinister, that they should remain unknown, and cannot be heard, without any shame by honourable ears. In case you find something somewhere, that is not as such mentioned, as it should be, then I will generally, in no other way than generally, add any apologies. Farewell,

(Translated from the Dutch by Mattijs Gevers & Marta Marotta)

Not Leonardo’s Work. The Debate on the authenticity of the Turin’s Shroud rages on

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leonardo Da Vinci as a forger of the Shroud is by now out of the picture, the Turin’s shroud is far too complex even for a Renaissance genius like him. 

John Walsh in a book on this subject published in 1963 observed that: “The Shroud of Turin is either the most awesome and instructive relict of Jesus Christ in existence…or it is one of the most ingenious, most unbelievably clever, products of the human mind and hand on record. It is one or another; there is no middle ground.”
I personally don’t believe that the Shroud of Turin is the burial cloth used to lay Jesus Christ in his tomb, prior to his resurrection. But I also believe that there is no other fabric in the world which could stir such strong emotions, positive or negative.

Was it made in Syria or in Lebanon? No one can say for sure. Certainly it was not woven in Europe, as such fine fabrics were not available and an Asiatic origin is quite certain from a microanalysis of the pollens.

The old fire about its authenticity was rekindled on the release of a scientific paper, authored by a group of 5 Italian scientists (Di Lazzaro, Murra, Santoni, Nichelatti, Baldacchini) working for ENEA, a government owned agency located in Frascati, Italy.

After several years of research their conclusion was that there is no way that the image impressed on the Shroud (Sindone in Italian) could be replicated. Their findings are available online. The direct implication is that all the theories of a medieval forgery are, once again, rejected.

In 1978 a special commission received permission to investigate scientifically this mysterious fabric, which appeared out of nowhere in Lirey, France, in the year 1353. This commission was called STURP (Shroud of Turin Research Project). It started well, but soon descended into a factional war between bickering scientists and reluctant cardinals. Being this basis, it is not surprising that the results, instead of clearing the waters, made them even murkier.

In Hong Kong we have an expert in this field. A resident since 1970, William Meacham, is an archeologist and a professor at HKU. He is an expert in ancient South China culture, who headed a 16-month survey and salvage of Chek Lap Kok island. He has many books published under his name and in particular there is one, which is often cited by sindonologists: “The Rape of the Shroud” published in 2005. It is an highly scientific and well researched work in which he details his personal Via Crucis following his study of the Shroud. He was one of the expert summoned to Italy and involved in the dating project of the Shroud, but was later sidelined by a group of people with a narrow view of what they were examining, and perhaps lacking deep testing expertise. The result of this mess was the C14 radiocarbon test carried out simultaneously in 3 laboratories: Oxford, Zurich and Tucson Arizona by the STURP team.

Their results were announced in 1988 and according to their laboratory findings the age of the tested samples was from 1260 to 1390 A.D. In a few words, a medieval fake, as some had long suspected. Case closed, or was it?

The validity of the C14 radiocarbon dating was put in doubt from the very beginning, and for a number of good reasons. We’ll limit ourselves to the most basic ones, noting only that is hard to believe how scientists could act in a so clumsily fashion.

The sample analyzed in the three different labs was coming from the same area of the Shroud, right on the edge of the fabric, a point were contamination was assured since the cloth, for centuries, had been exposed to the public holding it on by the borders by hundreds of greasy fingers. No prior study was made to ascertain the degree of its contamination. A study by Leoncio Garza-Valdes, carried out in the early 1990s on fragments of the leftover fabric used for the same tests has shown that the degree of biogenetic varnish on the fabric accounted to more than half of the weight of the fragment. But that was not all, the consensus today is that what they tested in 1988 was not actually a part of the Shroud, but a medieval patch applied to cover a hole, and at least a part of the tested sample was made up of cotton fibers rather than linen. Apart from the C14 dating the STURP findings were remarkable for other aspects, even if these were overshadowed by the claim of the C-14 medieval dating.

They found that there were no traces of pigments or colors, and the image was certainly not obtained by heating or printing. The stains were indeed made of human blood, which had left somehow a tridimensional imprint. The colouring, which forms the outline of the images, is resting on a very superficial part of the linen fibers, narrower than 1/5th of a thousand part of a mm. and this could only have been achieved through an unknown process of oxidation. Since under the bloodstains there is no image, then the conclusion was that first the blood had been deposited and later the image had appeared. The only way to replicate such image would be the use of a flash of light.  The scientists of ENEA agree on the point that an excimer UV laser burst coloring the complete image is theoretically possible, but it will require a huge installed power, sort of 34.000 billion of volts which is impossible to obtain today. Even if such source of power will became available one day, not all the details would be reproducible, for instance the soft change of tones depending on the grade of yellow within the colored fibers.

The imprint is so vivid that a detailed forensic analysis of the deceased is still possible. The linen fabric is of a very high quality, brownish in color. The approx size is 430 X 110 centimeters, and the construction is a 3/1-herringbone twill. It is carrying the negative image of an adult man, naked, about 175 – 180 cm tall, with a weight of approx. 75-81 kg and an estimated age of about 30 to 45 years. He has a beard, mustaches, hairs parted in the middle, and an unbound pigtail, which is the strongest Jewish feature of this image.

The body of this tortured man should have remained in contact with the fabric from a minimum of a few hours, to a maximum of a couple of days. Sign of crucifixion tally almost exactly the description given in the Christian Gospels. The mark of flogging is consistent with the shape of metal pellets used at that time by Romans, the memory of which was lost during the Middle Age. Even more impressive is the fact that the long nails went through the wrists, not through the palms, another unknown point after the fall of the Roman empire and certainly unknown to medieval and renaissance painters and sculptors, as it can be seen from their surviving works. It is even possible to identify the kind of spear used to penetrate his chest and where it struck: not right in front as we see in all the old paintings but from under the armpit sub alas which was the correct spearing point.  The spear shape, as we know from archeological finds, is the right type issued to the militia. It was a lancea, not the hasta, or pilum or hasta veliaris used by Roman infantry. Another remarkable finding by the 31 strong STURP team was the faint shadow of two roman coins put on the eyes of the deceased.

An analysis of the pollens found on its surface confirms the Asiatic origin of the fabric, perhaps Lebanon or Syria, and if we accept the point that is 2000 years old then we may think that came back via Turkey and Constantinople, perhaps hidden inside the bag of an unknown Crusader. It remained a property of the royal house of Italy until 1983, when it was finally bequeathed to the Vatican by the last king of Italy, Umberto II, in his testament.

Curiously this donation had been challenged, because what did belong to the last king should have been taken over by the republican government of Italy in 1946. This matter is still taking dust in the Italian Parliament and it is highly unlikely that it will be review any time soon, as more pressing matters concerning the economy are at hand. 

There were strong hopes that with the election of pope Benedict XVI a new round of scientific evidence through non-destructive analysis would have been allowed. These hopes were soon dashed due to the stiff resistance within the Church, as well as within part of the scientific community. In the meantime theories of the ‘Da Vinci Code’ type have flourished and several novels having this subject as a starting point have been published, with few more in the pipeline.

Here is the latest update, from The Guardian:

 A Caveat first…how can Sarah Knapoton write: Last year scientists at the University of Padua in northern Italy dated it to between 300BC and AD400 – still hundreds of years after Christ, who is believed to have died between 30-36 A.D. ? Is she not familiar with Carbon dating results, or is it just a slip?

Turin Shroud may have been created by earthquake from time of Jesus

An earthquake in Jerusalem in AD 33 may have caused an atomic reaction which created the Turin Shroud and skewed radiocarbon dating results, scientists believe

Many Catholics believe that the 14ft-long linen cloth was used to cover Christ’s body when he was lifted down from the cross after being crucified Photo: EPA

By , Science Correspondent

The Turin Shroud may not be a medieval forgery after all, after scientists discovered it could date from the time of Christ.

The shroud, which is purported to be the burial cloth of Jesus – showing his face and body after the crucifixion – has intrigued scholars and Christians alike.

But radiocarbon dating carried out by Oxford University in 1988 found it was only 728 years old.

However a new study claims than an earthquake in Jerusalem in 33AD may have not only created the image but may also have skewed the dating results.

The Italian team believes the powerful magnitude 8.2 earthquake would have been strong enough to release neutron particles from crushed rock.

This flood of neutrons may have imprinted an X-ray-like image onto the linen burial cloth, say the researches.

In addition, the radiation emissions would have increased the level of carbon-14 isotopes in the Shroud, which would make it appear younger.

“We believe it is possible that neutron emissions by earthquakes could have induced the image formation on the Shroud’s linen fibres, through thermal neutron capture on nitrogen nuclei, and could also have caused a wrong radiocarbon dating,” said Professor Alberto Carpinteri, from the Politecnico di Torino.

The Shroud has attracted widespread interest ever since Secondo Pia took the first photograph of it in 1898 which showed details which could not be seen by the naked eye.

Last year scientists at the University of Padua in northern Italy dated it to between 300BC and AD400 – still hundreds of years after Christ, who is believed to have died between 30-36AD.

Other scientists have previously suggested that neutron radiation may have been responsible for the ghostly image of a crucified man with his arms crossed.

However, no plausible explanation has been offered for the source of the radiation.

Now Carpinteri’s team have hypothesized that high-frequency pressure waves generated in the Earth’s crust during earthquakes are the source of such neutron emissions.

The scientists base the idea on research into piezonuclear fission reactions which occur when brittle rock is crushed under enormous pressure.

Neutron radiation is usually generated by nuclear fusion or fission, and may be produced by nuclear reactors or particle accelerators.

During the process, neutron particles are released from atoms.

A powerful earthquake could achieve the same effect, generating neutron radiation from stresses in the Earth, it is claimed.

Mark Antonacci, a leading expert on the Shroud and president of the Resurrection of the Shroud Foundation, is currently petitioning Pope Francis to allow molecular analysis of the cloth using the latest technology. It is hoped that such an investigation will be able to confirm or rule out the radiation theory.

The Vatican has never said whether it believes the shroud to be authentic, although Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI once said that the enigmatic image imprinted on the cloth “reminds us always” of Christ’s suffering.

The first, hotly debated, documented reference to the Shroud of Turin dates back to the 14th century when a French knight was said to have had possession of the cloth in the city of Lirey.

Records suggest the Shroud changed hands many times until 1578, when it ended up in its current home, the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist in Turin, Italy.

The 14-foot long herringbone woven cloth appears to show the faint imprint of a man bearing wounds consistent with crucifixion.

Some have proposed that it came from the body itself, or was generated by an event inside the tomb, pointing to a divine origin linked to the resurrection.

The new theory is published in the journal Meccanica.

This is an article from the previous year, always on the  The Guardian

Turin Shroud ‘is not a medieval forgery’

The Turin Shroud is not a medieval forgery, as has long been claimed, but could in fact date from the time of Christ’s death, a new book claims.

Many Catholics believe that the 14ft-long linen cloth was used to cover Christ’s body when he was lifted down from the cross after being crucified Photo: EPA

By , Rome correspondent

28 Mar 2013

Experiments conducted by scientists at the University of Padua in northern Italy have dated the shroud to ancient times, a few centuries before and after the life of Christ.

Many Catholics believe that the 14ft-long linen cloth, which bears the imprint of the face and body of a bearded man, was used to bury Christ’s body when he was lifted down from the cross after being crucified 2,000 years ago.

The analysis is published in a new book, “Il Mistero della Sindone” or The Mystery of the Shroud, by Giulio Fanti, a professor of mechanical and thermal measurement at Padua University, and Saverio Gaeta, a journalist.

The tests will revive the debate about the true origins of one of Christianity’s most prized but mysterious relics and are likely to be hotly contested by sceptics.

Scientists, including Prof Fanti, used infra-red light and spectroscopy – the measurement of radiation intensity through wavelengths – to analyse fibres from the shroud, which is kept in a special climate-controlled case in Turin.

The tests dated the age of the shroud to between 300 BC and 400AD.

The experiments were carried out on fibres taken from the Shroud during a previous study, in 1988, when they were subjected to carbon-14 dating.

Those tests, conducted by laboratories in Oxford, Zurich and Arizona, appeared to back up the theory that the shroud was a clever medieval fake, suggesting that it dated from 1260 to 1390.

But those results were in turn disputed on the basis that they may have been skewed by contamination by fibres from cloth that was used to repair the relic when it was damaged by fire in the Middle Ages.

Mr Fanti, a Catholic, said his results were the fruit of 15 years of research.

He said the carbon-14 dating tests carried out in 1988 were “false” because of laboratory contamination.

The mystery of the shroud has baffled people for centuries and has spawned not only religious devotion but also books, documentaries and conspiracy theories.

The linen cloth appears to show the imprint of a man with long hair and a beard whose body bears wounds consistent with having been crucified.

Each year it lures hundreds of thousands of faithful to Turin Cathedral, where it is kept in a specially designed, climate-controlled case.

Scientists have never been able to explain how the image of a man’s body, complete with nail wounds to his wrists and feet, pinpricks from thorns around his forehead and a spear wound to his chest, could have formed on the cloth. Mr Fanti said the imprint was caused by a blast of “exceptional radiation”, although he stopped short of describing it as a miracle.

He said his tests backed up earlier results which claimed to have found on the shroud traces of dust and pollen which could only have come from the Holy Land.

Mr Gaeta is also a committed Catholic – he worked for L’Osservatore Romano, the Vatican newspaper, and now works for Famiglia Cristiana, a Catholic weekly.

The Vatican has never said whether it believes the shroud to be authentic or not, although Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI once said that the enigmatic image imprinted on the cloth “reminds us always” of Christ’s suffering.

His newly-elected successor, Pope Francis, will provide an introduction when images of the shroud appear on television on Saturday, the day before Easter Sunday, which commemorates the resurrection.

The Pope has recorded a voice-over introduction for the broadcast on RAI, the state television channel.

“It will be a message of intense spiritual scope, charged with positivity, which will help (people) never to lose hope,” said Cesare Nosiglia, the Archbishop of Turin, who also has the title “pontifical custodian of the shroud”.

“The display of the shroud on a day as special as Holy Saturday means that it represents a very important testimony to the Passion and the resurrection of the Lord,” he said.

For the first time, an app has been created to enable people to explore the holy relic in detail on their smart phones and tablets.

The app, sanctioned by the Catholic Church and called “Shroud 2.0”, features high definition photographs of the cloth and enables users to see details that would otherwise be invisible to the naked eye.

“For the first time in history the most detailed image of the shroud ever achieved becomes available to the whole world, thanks to a streaming system which allows a close-up view of the cloth. Each detail of the cloth can be magnified and visualised in a way which would otherwise not be possible,” Haltadefinizione, the makers of the app, said.

 

 

 

                  

 

 

  

 

An Italian editor corrected Shakespeare’s spelling mistakes.

 In Great Britain the idea that John Florio was somehow involved in the tragedies of Shakespeare was considered pure Fascist propaganda, just because it was put forward during Mussolini’s years.

John Florio (1553 – 1625) thought the English uncouth and barbaric and set about teaching the Protestant aristocrats European manners, linguistic skills and polished expressions. This mission was in some ways similar to that of reformer Philip Sidney who sought to educate the English to write and to read the Scriptures in their own enriched language.

 

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John Florio, 1611

The father of John Florio, Michelangelo, was born in Florence during the first decade of the XVI century in a Jewish family who had switched to Catholicism. He entered a Franciscan convent becoming a monk but then he switched again becaming a Calvinist, visiting and preaching at Faenza, Padua, Rome, Venice and Naples. He was jailed by the Holy Inquisition in Rome at Tor di Nona at the beginning of 1548. He was able to escape on 4 May 1550 and he sought refuge in Venice and then went to England where he met W. Cecil and received founding from him (20 pounds per year).  He was caught fornicating with a woman and expelled. He began teaching Italian to the English nobility, writing a grammar Regole di Lingua Toscana, which was published in Italy in 1554.

With the restoration of Mary Tudor he had to leave the country, going to Antwerp and Strasbourg he then became a preacher in Val Bregaglia, Switzerland where he remained until his death but always keeping contacts with England, he translated a book by Agricola on metals in Italian in 1563 dedicating it to Queen Elisabeth I. He died in Switzerland in 1567.

John Florio was a friend of Giordano Bruno while he worked as tutor and spy (for Elizabeth’s spymaster, Sir Francis Walsingham in the home of the French Ambassador).

His magnum opus is his admirable translation of the Essays by Michael de Montaigne, published in folio in 1603 in three books, each dedicated to two noble ladies. A second edition in 1613 was dedicated to the Queen. Special interest attaches to the first edition, because a copy in British Library bears the signature of Shakespeare, long accepted as genuine but now supposed to be an 18th century forgery. The complete text of John Florio’s Montaigne can be downloaded here:

https://archive.org/details/essaysofmontaign02montuoft

John Florio died at Fulham, London in the autumn of 1625 in apparent poverty, because his royal pension had not been paid. His house in Shoe Lane was sold to pay his many debts but his daughter married well. Florio’s descendants became Royal Physicians, part of the fabric of the highly educated English professional classes.

from www.theshakespeareunderground.com

In an article published on the Guardian, Saul Frampton sets out a case that John Florio, Italian linguist and poet at the English court, may have anonymously played a role in producing the first collection of Shakespeare’s plays.

Modern scholars agree that actors John Heminges and Henry Condell, traditionally considered the Folio’s assemblers, were unlikely to have been entrusted with editing the expensive, 900+ page volume. Frampton quotes scholar Eleanor Prosser: “somewhere behind the Folio … lies a conscientious and exacting editor with literary pretensions,” one “more experienced in the transcription of literary than of theatrical works.”

Frampton, author of a book on Montaigne (whose Essays Florio translated into English) and an upcoming work on Shakespeare and Florio, finds significant correspondences between words Florio used in his writings of the 1570s-1610s and revisions made to the 1623 Folio versions of Shakespeare’s plays. He also suggests that Shakespeare satirized Florio in Hamlet, and that these passages were toned down in the Folio version of the play.

“Somewhere behind the Folio … lies a conscientious and exacting editor with literary pretensions.”

The Guardian article opens with a fashionable rant against inquiry into the authorship of Shakespeare’s works, but Frampton sometimes veers a bit toward authorship heresy himself. His suggestion that street smart commoner Will Shakespeare would risk imprisonment or worse for a few swipes at Florio, a man with powerful friends at court, evades hard realities of the era. And more intriguingly, Frampton notes: “Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of Florio’s possible involvement with the Folio is that we may never know its true extent.” While earlier editions of many Shakespeare plays exist for comparison, about half the plays had never previously been published, and “We cannot tell for certain whether the words were written by John Florio or by William Shakespeare.”

Here is the long Guardian Article of July 2013:

 

Much nonsense is talked about Shakespeare not writing his plays, but more interesting questions remain: who edited the First Folio? And were substantial changes made?

Sometime in 1623, seven years after Shakespeare’s death, the actors John Heminges and Henry Condell published Mr William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies – what we now know as the First Folio. It was the literary event of the century, recording for all time the sound of Shakespeare’s English and the sweep of his imagination: Elsinore, Egypt and the Forest of Arden; a balcony, a spotted handkerchief and a skull.

Yet despite this shrine to Shakespeare’s memory, erected by those who knew him, sceptics have continued to doubt his authorship of the plays. He was, they insist, inadequately educated, insufficiently travelled, and didn’t know how to spell his own name. A range of alternative candidates have come and gone over the centuries, including Anne Hathaway, the Jesuits, and more recently Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford, the subject of Roland Emmerich’s film Anonymous. As always, conspiracy is more fun than consensus, and the doubters have the internet on their side. Shakespeare has thus become the focus of a global conspiracy industry, joining company with reptilian elites, self-destructing lightbulbs and skeletons on the moon.

Scholars have recently fought back against this scepticism, however. Books such as James Shapiro’s Contested Will and Paul Edmondson and Stanley Wells’s Shakespeare Beyond Doubt marshal facts, allusions and funeral monuments to prove that Shakespeare did indeed write the plays and poems attributed to him. Or as Iago says at the end of Othello: “what you know, you know.”

So Shakespeare wrote “Shakespeare”. The printing of the First Folio, however, raises another, ultimately more interesting, question. Without the Folio, Shakespeare’s plays – scattered around in playscripts or in smaller quarto editions – might have been lost to posterity. But did Heminges and Condell edit the text?

Many of the plays existed in a number of versions: all needed to be edited and prepared for the press. Neither Heminges nor Condell had produced a book before, nor would they afterwards. And it is unlikely that the backers of the Folio, the printers Isaac Jaggard and Edward Blount, would have risked putting such an expensive project in their hands. As one expert puts it: “it is doubtful” whether they would be capable of such “exacting work”.

Some have suggested that the scribe to the King’s Men, Ralph Crane, may have been involved, or the bookkeeper, Edward Knight. But again, would they have been entrusted with such a long and complex undertaking?

New technology has changed scholarship. Whereas previous generations of experts have sought to reconcile the differences between quarto and Folio, current thinking highlights the difficult relationship between the various incarnations of Shakespeare’s texts, something made easier by the availability of rare Shakespeare quartos in digital databases such as Early English Books Online.

The scholar Eleanor Prosser thus detects “considerable evidence” for the elimination of metrical and stylistic “irregularities” in the Folio: short lines are lengthened to 10 syllables, verbs agreed with subjects, double negatives resolved. In addition, a range of unusual words are added to the text, words not used elsewhere by Shakespeare. Prosser concludes: “somewhere behind the Folio … lies a conscientious and exacting editor with literary pretensions”, albeit one “more experienced in the transcription of literary than of theatrical works”. But who was it?

Hamlet provides interesting reading on this question. In Act 5 scene 2 Hamlet taunts a pretentious “Courtier” (renamed “young Osricke” in the Folio):

HAMLET put your Bonet to his right vse, ‘tis for the head.

OSRIC I thanke your Lordship, ‘tis very hot …

HAMLET Mee thinkes it is very soultry, and hot for my Complexion.

OSRIC Exceedingly, my Lord, it is very soultry, as ‘twere I cannot tell how …

HAMLET I beseech you remember. [pointing to his hat]

OSRIC Nay, in good faith, for mine ease …

As critics have noted, Hamlet’s frustration with the courtier’s over-formality recalls a dialogue from John Florio’s Italian language manual,Florio’s Second Fruits, printed in 1591:

G Why do you stand barehedded? you do your self wrong.

E Pardon me good sir. I doe it for my ease.

G I pray you be couered, you are too ceremonious.

E I am so well, that me thinks I am in heaven.

G If you loue me, put on your hat.

“Nay, in good faith, for mine ease”; “I doe it for my ease”. The

similarities of the passages, as well as the mention of “complexion” suggest a desire to satirise not only the stereotypical courtier, but Florio himself, who had become a groom of the privy chamber in August 1604 (Hamlet was published later the same year) and who was known for his “fiery” – possibly acned – complexion.

And in the following lines the satire of Florio’s ornate linguistic register, with its alliteration and invented words, becomes more overt:

OSRIC Sir there is newly come to Court Laertes, belieue me an absolute gentleman, ful of most excellent differences, of very soft society, and great showing: in-deede to speake fellingly of him, hee is the card or kalender of gentry …

HAMLET Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you, though I know to deuide him inuentorially, would dazzle th’arithmaticke of memory …

OSRIC Sir …

HORATIO His purse is empty already, all’s golden words are spent.

Horatio’s words offer a reminder of the full title of John Florio’s first book:Florio’s First Fruits, which yield Familiar Speech, Merry Proverbs, Witty Sentences, and Golden Sayings (1578).

Shakespeare’s “Courtier” may therefore be a satirical portrait of Florio, with whom Shakespeare had shared a patron in Henry Wriothesley. But what is especially interesting is that all the lines in this second quotation from Hamlet are deleted from the 1623 Folio. There are two, equally uncertain, possibilities as to why. The first is that, thinking he had overdone the satire of Florio, and perhaps needing to make a theatrical cut, Shakespeare erased the passage from the play. The major – although not conclusive – problem with this theory is that Shakespeare was long dead before the text was edited in its Folio form.

The other possibility is more disturbing – that alongside Jaggard and Blount there worked an experienced editor who had a particular reason to cut it, someone used to seeing long and  inguistically demanding works through the press. And in that sense, one acquaintance of theirs was uniquely qualified.

John Florio was born in 1553, 11 years before Shakespeare. His father, Michaelangelo Florio, was an Italian Protestant refugee who served as preacher to the Italian Church in London. On the restoration of Catholicism under Mary, the family fled, settling in the Italian Alps. But sometime in the 1570s, the young Florio returned to England and began to make his mark as a scholar and translator. He wrote his pair of pioneering language manuals, the First Fruits of 1578 and the Second Fruits of 1591, and edited the 1590 edition of Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia. His career culminated in his monumental translations of the Essays of Montaigne in 1603, Boccaccio’s Decameron in 1620, and his Italian-English dictionaries – A World of Wordes (1598) and Queen Anna’s New World of Words (1611). In all, the OED ascribes 1,224 first usages to Florio – words such as “judicious”, “management” and “transcription”, but also “masturbation” and “fucker”. In this, he is matched only by Chaucer and Shakespeare.

What is important for this story is how Florio’s career brought him into close contact with the printers of the First Folio. Blount had published Florio’s translation of Montaigne, as well as his dictionaries. Jaggard had printed his translation of the Decameron. The Shakespeare First Folio was dedicated to William and Philip Herbert, patrons with whom Florio had links going back to his father’s day.

If Jaggard and Blount were looking for someone to edit Shakespeare, Florio was an obvious choice. He was an indefatigable editor and wrote dialogue and verse, contributing a dedicatory poem to Ben Jonson’sVolpone. And he was seasoned in the pitfalls of book production. He describes how books may “misse their ayme, by the escape of Errors and Mistakes, either in sense or matter, the one fault ensuing by a ragged Written Copy; and the other through want of wary Correction”.

What’s more, Florio had known Shakespeare. They had shared a patron, and both knew Jonson. But whether the relationship between them was entirely amicable is unclear. Shakespeare may have mocked Florio not only in Osric, but also in the pedantic Holofernes in Love’s Labour’s Lost, as well as perhaps even Malvolio and Shylock (Florio’s father was originally of Jewish descent). And such animosity may have been mutual. The biographer Jonathan Bate suggests that the “Dark Lady” of the Sonnets may well have been Florio’s wife.

But Shakespeare had died in 1616, and Florio was hard up: a pension promised to him by James I had failed to materialise. The opportunity to improve Shakespeare’s “ragged written copy”, and further ingratiate himself with the Herberts may have come as a welcome opportunity.

So much is speculation. But a close reading of the Folio reveals some fascinating evidence.

If we look at Hamlet, for instance, we notice that the editor of the Folio introduces a number of unusual words to the text. Thus in Act 1 scene 5, Hamlet instructs his sinews to bear him “swiftly up” to revenge. The Folio changes the quarto’s “swiftly” to “stiffely”, a word never used elsewhere by Shakespeare but familiar to Florio, who uses it four times. In Act 5 scene 2, “breed” is changed to “beauy” (bevy), again a word never used elsewhere by Shakespeare but which Florio uses three times. And the same can be said of a number of unusual additions to the play – words such as “pratlings”, “checking”, “detecting”, “quicknesse”, “diddest”, “daintier”, “hurling” and “roaming”. In Act 2 scene 2, Polonius tells how Hamlet was “repell’d” (rejected) by Ophelia. The Folio changes “repell’d” to “repulsed”, the latter a familiar word now, but one never used elsewhere by Shakespeare, or Marlowe or Jonson. But such a substitution would occur naturally to Florio, who uses “repulsed” four times, defining the Italian Ripulso as “repulsed, repelled”.

This pattern of rather recondite substitution can be seen across the Folio. In Henry V, Exeter presents the French king with a copy of Henry’s family tree, describing it as “In every branch truly demonstrated”. The Folio changes “demonstrated” to “demonstratiue”, a word never used elsewhere by Shakespeare, Marlowe or Jonson. However, while Florio used “demonstrated” only once, he uses “demonstratiue” 20 times. InHenry IV, Part One, “intemperence” is replaced by “intemperature”, again never used by Shakespeare, Marlowe or Jonson, but again familiar to Florio. And in Henry VI, Part Two, the Folio version has the King enter “on the Tarras”, a somewhat redundant elaboration on the King’s entrance in the quarto. But whereas Shakespeare was never to use the word again, Florio used it 13 times in his translation of theDecameron, published three years before.

Time to put it down? … an open book. Photograph: Jan Stromme/Getty Images

 

Further comparison of the quartos to the Folio reveals a number of words in passages added to the plays that are again uncharacteristic of Shakespeare but familiar to Florio, among them “abutting”, “blabbing” and “bungle” (there are lots more). And in the Folio-only plays there are several very rare words that again are familiar to Florio: “longly”, “mothy”, “queasines”, “roynish”. And some words from the Folio can onlybe found in Florio and not in any other writer – “enfoldings”, “swaruer”.

Even more interesting is where the editor of the Folio feels entitled to not only correct but supplement Shakespeare’s text. In King Lear (a play so differing in its quarto and Folio versions that it is often printed as two texts), Gloucester has been fooled into thinking that Edgar has conspired against him, and laments the treachery of the times (the words in italics show the Folio additions):

In Cities, mutinies, Countries, discord; in Pallaces, Treason; and the Bond crack’d, ‘twixt Sonne and Father. This villaine of mine comes vnder the prediction; there’s Son against Father, the King fals from byas of Nature, there’s Father against Childe. We haue seene the best of our time. Machinations, hollownesse, treacherie, and all ruinous disorders follow vs disquietly to our Graues. Find out this Villain, Edmond, it shall lose thee nothing …

The words added include some not used by Shakespeare anywhere else, such as “disquietly”, but also the word “machinations” – never used elsewhere by Shakespeare but used five times by Florio in singular and plural forms and also added to Edgar’s speech in Act 5 scene 1.

And while it might seem gratuitous scepticism to doubt the integrity of Shakespeare’s text, it is clear that someone edited the Folio. It is Florio’s linguistic inventiveness – as well as his links to Jaggard and Blount – that would seem to single him out as the most likely contender. Indeed, inKing Lear we might almost fancy we can see the lexicographer Florio at work – as Edmond expresses his worship of “nature” rather than nurture:

well the legitimate Edgar, I must haue your land, our Fathers loue is to the bastard Edmund, as to the legitimate: fine word: Legitimate. Well my legitimate, if this letter speede, and my inuention thriue, Edmund the base shall to’th’legitimate.

It seems odd that the nefarious Edmond should pause to admire the word “legitimate”. But it is almost as if Florio stops to afford Shakespeare some credit, adding “fine word: Legitimate” to the Folio text.

If Florio was indeed involved in the Folio, a number of other passages may well be his work. It is well known that Gonzalo’s utopian vision inThe Tempest is lifted from Florio’s translation of Montaigne’s essay “Of Cannibals”. The standard view has been that this represents Shakespeare’s borrowing from Montaigne; the alternative is that it might represent Florio borrowing from himself.

There is no reason to assume, of course, that Florio was responsible for every change made between quarto and Folio. Nor should we assume that Shakespeare’s quartos represent “pure”, unadulterated texts. On the other hand, it is possible that Shakespeare made changes to his plays after their quarto publication. In other words, uncertainties abound.

Yet there are three pages of the Folio that we know for a fact were not written by Shakespeare: the “Dedicatorie Epistle”, and the address “To the great Variety of Readers” at the beginning. They are signed by Heminges and Condell, but the cost of the project suggests they were written by a more experienced hand. The obvious candidate would seem to be Ben Jonson: but if he did write them, why didn’t he sign them?

These pages feature a number of unusual words and phrases – “exposed”, “leauened”, “imitator”, “ouerseen”, “most bounden” – most of which are unfamiliar to Jonson or his contemporaries, but which are familiar to Florio. Other evidence exists, too, not least that calling the preface an “Epistle Dedicatorie” is almost a Florio trademark: he includes them in his Second Fruites (1591), his World of Wordes (1598) and his translation of Montaigne’s Essayes (1603), as well as defining the Italian Dedicatória, in his dictionary, as “a dedicatorie Epistle”.

Of course, objections remain. Why is Florio’s name not on the title page? One response is that Florio had published his translation of theDecameron anonymously, and might have thought it best to lie low, especially if his relationship with Shakespeare had been less than amicable. Secondly, if Florio “censored” a possible allusion to himself inHamlet, might he not have removed other possible slights elsewhere – in relation to Shylock, perhaps, or Malvolio in Twelfth Night? Here one might say that he could not sabotage the whole project: the scenes involving Malvolio, then as now, were some of the most celebrated in the play. Yet the other simple answer is that we don’t know he didn’t.

Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of Florio’s possible involvement with the Folio is that we may never know its true extent. As Othello says in lines added to the Folio: “I thinke my Wife be honest, and thinke she is not.” While with plays such as HamletOthello and King Lear we can compare the Folio against the quarto, for other plays – such as Antony and CleopatraThe Tempest and Macbeth – we cannot. Half of Shakespeare’s works were published for the first time in the Folio; the question remains whether they were subject to Florio’s “wary correction”. Our knowledge of changes made to the quartos, as well as Florio’s treatment of Boccaccio and Montaigne, suggests that there is a strong chance that they were. And yet we have no sure way of knowing. We cannot tell for certain whether the words were written by John Florio or by William Shakespeare.

In the final scene of Twelfth Night, a play published only in the Folio, Fabian reveals the tricks that have been played on the puritanical Malvolio, but pleads “sportful malice”, in the hope that it may “pluck on laughter than reuenge”. The clown Feste joins in, quoting from the letter that had duped Malvolio into believing Olivia loved him – “Why some are borne great, some atchieue greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse throwne vpon them” – adding: “and thus the whirlegigge of time brings in his reuenges”.

What is interesting is that Feste was not on stage when Malvolio read the letter, nor when he repeated its contents to Olivia. Moreover, the original letter read: “Some are become great, some atcheeues greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse thrust vppon em.” In Feste’s lines the words and spellings have changed: “atcheeues” is spelt “atchieue”, and made to agree with the pronoun, “thrust” becomes “throwne”, and “them” used for “em”. The word “whirlegigge” is also interesting, meaning a children’s top, but is not used anywhere else by Shakespeare.

But both the words and the spellings and the grammar are familiar to Florio, whose verbs always agree with their pronouns, who never writes “atcheeue”, always “atchieue”, who disdains the use of “em”, and who uses the word “whirlegigge” five times. Malvolio’s response is his final utterance in the play and receives no reply: “Ile be reueng’d on the whole packe of you.”

 

Rifiutato da DAGOSPIA.

Speravo pubblicassero il 24 Marzo, 70 anniversario della strage delle Fosse Ardeatine, ma Dago non pubblica.

In Italia si pubblicano tonnellate di libri sulla strage delle Fosse Ardeatine, eppure in pochi vanno davvero a controllare come andarono le cose. Per avere un quadro chiaro dobbiamo leggere libri scritti da storici tedeschi e americani.

(Kesselring dopo la guerra, come presidente 
d'una associazione di reduci)

Fra pochi giorni cadrà il settantesimo anniversario della strage nazista delle Fosse Ardeatine. Il 23 marzo 1944, alle ore 15 e 45, esplose una bomba, piazzata da Rosario Bentivegna, che investì una colonna di militari tedeschi che rientravano da un’esercitazione. Questi appartenevano alla XI compagnia di polizia “Bozen” acquartierata alla caserma Macao, nel Castro Pretorio. La loro età media era di 35 anni e molti avevano in precedenza militato nell’esercito italiano. 32 poliziotti morirono, cinque o sei erano in gravissime condizioni, e due civili italiani moriranno in seguito a causa delle ferite. Il giorno dopo, 24 marzo 1944 alle 20 e 30, si concluse la strage di 335 civili. Alcune unità dell’esercito tedesco, fra cui i commilitoni dei caduti, avevano rifiutato di sparare sui civili italiani.
La sequenza temporale riportata qui sopra dimostra chiaramente che non fu possibile, né pensabile, stampare e appendere manifesti con i quali s’intimavano ai responsabili dell’attentato di costituirsi. La segretezza e la rapidità della strage impedirono ai romani di venirne a conoscenza, se non nei giorni successivi.

Ci si chiede ancora se la feroce reazione nazista, di dieci italiani per ogni tedesco ucciso, fosse in qualche modo giustificata dalle convenzioni internazionali. No, non le era. La Convenzione dell’Aja del 1907 non prevedeva l’applicazione di una tale norma in tali circostanze e seguendo la procedura adottata. Questa fu l’opinione accettata e condivisa anche da vari generali della Wehrmacht, come Frido von Senger und Etterlin e il capo delle SS in Italia, il generale Karl Wolff.
I militari messi alla sbarra, primo fra tutti Albert Kesselring, giustificarono la loro decisione scaricando la responsabilità su Adolf Hitler. Dissero che aveva ordinato la morte di 10 civili per ogni militare tedesco e che l’esecuzione della rappresaglia spettava alle SD, il servizio di sicurezza nazista. Di questi ordini di Hitler non si è mai trovata traccia, ed è possibile che non siano mai stati impartiti. Il colonnello Beelitz, di stanza al Monte Soratte, presso al quartier generale germanico, testimoniò di aver parlato al telefono con un ufficiale di collegamento del generale Jodl, a Berlino, il quale gli disse: “Il Führer è furioso. Per ogni poliziotto tedesco ucciso devono essere fucilati trenta o cinquanta italiani!”
In seguito ci fu una nuova telefonata, sempre secondo Beelitz, nella quale si disse che Hitler chiedeva la morte di dieci ostaggi italiani e che voleva un rapporto.

È possibile pensare che le sue istruzioni, se davvero ci furono, fossero negoziabili e che il numero dei “fucilandi” poteva essere ridotto. Conosciamo esempi di ufficiali tedeschi che ostacolavano ordini diretti di rappresaglia sui civili e che non andarono incontro alla fucilazione o alla corte marziale. Invece Kappler, assistito da Priebke, partì a tutta velocità uccidendo addirittura un numero maggiore di civili rispetto a quanto necessario. Che cosa accadde, dunque?

(foto a sinistra, il col. Alex Scotland, un sostenitore di  
Kesselring).

Richard Raiber nel suo Anatomy of Perjury Newark 2008 e Kesselring’s Last Battle di Kerstin von Lingen, Kansas 2009 – incredibilmente mai tradotti in italiano – offrono risposte convincenti. Pare che la Wehrmacht con Albert Kesselring scaricò il problema sulla SD, nella persona di Kappler, convincendolo che esisteva un preciso Führerbefehl (ordine segreto di Hitler al quale si poteva solo obbedire) affinché chiudessero il caso.

Tutto ciò accadde proprio perché mancò l’uomo chiave, mancò il regista, in altre parole Albert Kesselring, occupato altrove.

Nelle sue auto-celebrative memorie Soldat bis zum letzen Tag (Soldato sino all’ultimo giorno) e durante le fasi del processo per la strage delle Fosse Ardeatine, Kesselring sostenne sempre di non aver potuto intercedere per mitigare l’ordine di Hitler, anche perché rientrato tardi da un’ispezione in prima linea a Cassino, un fatto sempre supportato da tutti gli ufficiali del suo stato maggiore.

In realtà non fu così e la loro menzogna, perché di menzogna si trattò, servì a non far finire Kesselring davanti al plotone d’esecuzione. Il plotone d’esecuzione era quello davanti al quale finì il generale Anton Dostler, a causa dell’uccisione di quindici soldati americani, per la gran parte di origine italiana, facenti parte di un commando di guastatori in uniforme, denominato Commando Ginny. Furono catturati il 24 marzo 1944 vicino alla Spezia e fucilati il 26 marzo nei pressi di Lerici. Forse esisteva anche qui un Führerbefehl segreto che stabiliva che tutti i commando nemici andavano fucilati, e anche se vestivano l’uniforme e portavano i gradi, non dovevano essere internati in campi di prigionia. Tale ordine era noto a pochi generali, ma uno era certamente Albert Kesselring, che godeva della piena fiducia di Adolf Hitler.
Due settimane dopo l’esecuzione dei 15 americani alla Spezia arrivò un ordine nel quale si stabiliva che tutta la documentazione riguardante tale caso andava distrutta, fu così che a guerra finita, non riuscendo a rintracciare documenti e alcuni testimoni chiave per la difesa, il generale Dostler pagò con la propria vita un ordine ricevuto da Kesselring per interposta persona.

La presenza di Kesselring in Liguria e non al fronte di Cassino è stata dimostrata dal ritrovamento del libro di volo del suo pilota personale, Manfred Bäumler, nel quale si dimostra, senz’ombra di dubbio, che Kesselring nel suo quartier generale di Monte Soratte giunse solo il 26 marzo 1944. Questo fu tardivamente confermato nel 1997 da Dietrich Beelitz, l’ultimo sopravvissuto di quella banda di depistatori. Questa sua assenza spiega anche certi suoi buchi di memoria per quanto riguarda le Fosse Ardeatine: per esempio in una deposizione da lui resa il 25 settembre 1946, egli mostra incredibilmente di ignorare che delle esecuzioni si era occupata la SD!
Risulta dunque evidente che Albert Kesselring si assunse la responsabilità di quanto accaduto alle Fosse Ardeatine perché aveva calcolato di potersela cavare, mentre se fosse risultato responsabile per l’ordine di fucilazione del commando Ginny sarebbe stato sicuramente messo davanti al quel plotone d’esecuzione che, ad Aversa, il 1° dicembre 1945 uccise il generale Anton Dostler.
Kesselring durante la sua prigionia a Londra – nella famosa Gabbia diretta dal colonnello Alexander Scotland – e poi in Italia, durante il processo, conquistò tutti con il suo comportamento da generale-gentiluomo, con la sua cortesia e la sua supposta lealtà che avevano tanto affascinato anche Hitler. In realtà egli restò un cinico nazista anche dopo la guerra.

Albert Kesselring fu un freddo e spietato calcolatore capace di far fucilare quegli ufficiali tedeschi che il 26 aprile 1945 avevano cercato di prendere il controllo di Monaco e consegnare la città agli americani. Cercò di far lo stesso con i suoi camerati italiani, Westphal e Karl Wolff, che in Svizzera negoziarono la resa dell’esercito tedesco (trattative di cui lui stesso era stato informato). L’ordine di fucilarli fu ritirato solo il 30 aprile, dopo la morte di Adolf Hitler.

Il processo a Dostler si tenne a Roma dal 8 al 12 ottobre 1945 e il suo interprete fu Albert O. Hirschman (1915 – 2012) destinato poi a diventare uno dei maggiori intellettuali ed economisti americani contemporanei.

I ragazzi del Commando Ginny furono sepolti con gli onori militari nel cimitero di Follonica ma otto furono poi riesumati e riportati negli Stati Uniti; solo sette restano sepolti nel cimitero americano di Firenze.

Anton Dostler è sepolto nel cimitero di Pomezia, assieme ad altri 27.000 soldati tedeschi caduti in Italia.

Ecco i nomi dei ragazzi americani, anche loro in qualche modo vittime delle Fosse Ardeatine:

Ten. Vincent Russo

Serg. Alfred L. DeFlumeri

Liberty J. Tremonte

Joseph M. Farrell

Salvatore DiSclafani

Angelo Sirico

John J. Leone

Thomas N. Savino

Joseph A. Libaldi

Ten. Paul J. Traficante

Serg. Livio Vieceli

Serg. Dominick C. Mauro

Joseph Noia

Rosario F. Squatrito

Santoro Calcara

 

Albert Kesselring e l’Operazione Ginny

L’esecuzione di Anton Dostler

Dal Blog di Dino Messina ‘La Nostra Storia’:

http://lanostrastoria.corriere.it/2014/02/14/le-responsabilita-di-kesselring-nelle-strage-delle-fosse-ardeatine/

Ecco qualcosa di nuovo che non conoscevo sul cinismo e le responsabilità di Albert Kesselring sia riguardo alla strage delle Fosse Ardeatine sia nella condanna a morte del suio collega, il generale Anton Dostler. Angelo Paratico ha letto un libro di Richard Reiber, “Anatomy of perjury” che spiega perché Ksselring riuscì con una bugia a farla franca sulle Fosse Ardeatine e si defilò anche da altre responsabilità.
Di seguito la bella recensione di Paratico.

 

Fra circa un mese cadrà il settantesimo anniversario della strage nazista delle Fosse Ardeatine, del 24 Marzo 1944. In Italia questo tragico episodio è un campo di scontro fra opposte ideologie, un campo dove i fatti e, dunque, la verità spariscono. Credo sia giunto il momento di superare questo muro e comincerò con il farlo io, uno scrittore di destra.
Nell’esprimere succintamente le mie opinioni mi baserò su opere contemporanee tedesche e americane, dove ci si può aspettare un grado di obiettività superiore a quelle italiane.
I fatti nella loro crudezza sono noti. Il 23 marzo 1944, alle ore 15 e 45, una bomba piazzata da un partigiano appartenente ai Gap, Rosario Bentivegna, affiancato da altri compagni, esplose, investendo una colonna di militari tedeschi che rientravano da un’esercitazione. Questi appartenevano alla XI compagnia di polizia “Bozen” acquartierata alla caserma Macao, nel Castro Pretorio. La loro età media era di 35 anni, molti fra di loro avevano in precedenza militato nell’esercito italiano. Il giorno dopo 32 poliziotti erano morti, cinque o sei erano in gravissime condizioni, e anche due civili italiani morirono a causa delle ferite. Il giorno dopo, 24 marzo 1944, alle 20 e 30, la strage di 335 civili era stata compiuta dalle SD guidate da Herbert Kappler. Alcune unità dell’esercito tedesco, fra cui i commilitoni dei caduti, avevano rifiutato di sparare sui civili italiani.
La sequenza temporale riportata qui sopra dimostra chiaramente che non fu possibile, né pensabile, stampare e appendere manifesti con i quali si intimava ai responsabili dell’attentato di costituirsi, la segretezza e la rapidità della strage impedì ai partigiani e ai romani di venirne a conoscenza se non nei giorni successivi. Del resto nessuno può dubitare del fatto che se Bentivegna e i suoi compagni si fossero costituiti, questi sarebbero stati messi assieme ai 335 assassinati.
Quali che fossero gli intenti dei gappisti non credo esistano dubbi sul fatto che il loro fu un atto di guerra e non un atto terroristico. Immaginiamo che uno spitfire inglese si fosse abbassato sulla Città Eterna e scorgendo una colonna di soldati tedeschi in marcia, avesse aperto il fuoco, provocando lo stesso numero di morti. In tal caso staremmo ancora qui a discutere di un atto terroristico? Io credo di no. E che i partigiani avessero ricevuto un riconoscimento come co-belligeranti dagli Alleati e dal governo monarchico italiano è altrettanto fuori discussione. Dunque quell’esplosione va riconosciuta come un legittimo atto bellico.
Ci si chiede ancora se la feroce reazione nazista, di dieci italiani per ogni tedesco ucciso, fosse in qualche modo giustificata dalle convenzioni internazionali. Eppure la Convenzione dell’Aja del 1907 non prevedeva l’applicazione di una tale norma in tali circostanze e seguendo la procedura adottata, questa fu l’opinione accettata e condivisa anche da vari generali della Wehrmacht, come Frido von Senger und Etterlin e il capo delle SS in Italia, il generale Karl Wolff.
I militari messi alla sbarra, primo fra tutti Albert Kesselring, giustificarono la loro decisione scaricando tutta la responsabilità su di un primo Führerbefehl (un ordine diretto di Hitler al quale non si poteva disubbidire) nel quale si ordinava appunto la morte di 10 civili per ogni militare tedesco e di un secondo Führerbefehl con il quale si stabiliva che l’esecuzione del massacro doveva ricadere sulle SD, il servizio di sicurezza nazista. Di questi ordini di Hitler non si è mai trovata traccia, né pare che siano mai stati effettivamente impartiti. Il colonnello Beelitz, di stanza al Monte Soratte, presso al quartier generale germanico, testimoniò di aver parlato al telefono con un ufficiale di collegamento del generale Jodl, a Berlino, il quale gli disse: “Il Führer è furioso. Per ogni poliziotto tedesco ucciso devono essere fucilati trenta o cinquanta italiani!”
Successivamente ci fu una nuova telefonata, sempre secondo Beelitz, nella quale si disse che Hitler chiedeva la morte di dieci ostaggi italiani per ogni soldato tedesco e di nuovo che l’esecuzione era affidata alla SD aggiungendo che voleva un rapporto per la sera del giorno successivo. Hitler, dunque, non aveva dato istruzioni dirette, lasciando la mano libera ai suoi generali, ma voleva un rapporto per la sera del giorno successivo. È possibile pensare che le sue istruzioni si potevano negoziare, che il numero dei “fucilandi” poteva essere ridotto, non solo ma che si poteva ritardarne l’esecuzione. Conosciamo esempi di ufficiali tedeschi che contraddissero, o che oppure ostacolavano degli ordini di repressione sui civili, senza andare incontro alla fucilazione o alla corte marziale. Invece Kappler, assistito da Priebke, partì a tutta velocità uccidendo addirittura un numero maggiore di civili rispetto a quanto necessario. Cosa accadde, dunque?
La mia personale opinione, supportata da quando pubblicato da Richard Reiber nel suo “Anatomy of Perjury”, Newark 2008, è che la Wehrmacht con Albert Kesselring scaricò il problema sulla SD, nella persona di Kappler, convincendolo che esisteva un preciso Führerbefehl affinché chiudessero il caso. Forse Kappler e Priebke vollero esagerare in brutalità per confermare la loro lealtà alla causa nazista. Tutto ciò accadde proprio perché mancò l’uomo chiave, mancò il regista, ovvero Albert Kesselring, occupato altrove. Nelle sue auto-celebrative memorie “Soldat bis zum letzen Tag” e durante le fasi del processo per la strage delle Fosse Ardeatine, Kesserling sostenne sempre di non aver potuto intercedere per mitigare l’ordine di Hitler perché rientrato tardi da un’ispezione in prima linea a Cassino, un fatto sempre supportato da tutti gli ufficiali del suo stato maggiore.
In realtà non fu così e la loro menzogna, perché di questo si trattò, servì a non far finire Kesselring davanti a un plotone d’esecuzione. Quel plotone d’esecuzione davanti al quale finì il generale Anton Dostler a causa dell’uccisione di 15 soldati americani, per la gran parte di origine italiana, che facevano parte di un commando di guastatori in uniforme. Furono catturati il 24 marzo 1944 vicino a La Spezia e fucilati il 26 marzo nei pressi di Lerici.
Quella operazione era stata denominata Ginny e la loro missione era di far saltare una galleria ferroviaria. Esisteva anche qui un Führerbefehl segreto che stabiliva che tutti i commando nemici andavano fucilati, anche se vestivano l’uniforme e i gradi, non dovevano essere internati in campi di prigionia. Ma tale ordine era noto a pochi generali, uno fra questi era certamente Albert Kesserling, che godeva della piena fiducia di Adolf Hitler.
Due settimane dopo l’esecuzione dei 15 americani arrivò un ordine nel quale si stabiliva che tutta la documentazione relativa a quel caso andava distrutta, fu così che a guerra finita, non riuscendo a rintracciare documenti e certi testimoni chiave per la difesa, il generale Dostler pagò con la propria vita un ordine ricevuto, per interposta persona, impartito da Kesselring. Il processo a Dostler si tenne a Roma dall’8 al 12 ottobre 1945 e il suo interprete fu un giovane Albert O. Hirschman (1915 – 2012) destinato poi a diventare uno dei maggiori economisti americani contemporanei. Lui e Anton Dostler vennero invitati ad alzarsi per la lettura della sentenza e Hirschman, sbiancando in viso, tradusse la condanna di morte a un impettito Dostler, che indossava ancora l’uniforme da generale tedesco.
La presenza di Kesselring in Liguria e non al fronte di Cassino è stata dimostrata dal ritrovamento del libro di volo del suo pilota personale, Manfred Bäumler, nel quale si dimostra senza ombra di dubbio che Kesselring nel suo quartier generale di Monte Soratte giunse solo il 26 marzo 1944. Questo fu tardivamente confermato dal Dietrich Beelitz, l’ultimo sopravvissuto di quella banda di depistatori, nel 1997. Kesselring stava certamente in Liguria il 24 marzo 1944. Questa sua assenza spiega anche certi suoi buchi di memoria per quanto riguarda le Fosse Ardeatine; per esempio in una deposizione da lui resa il 25 settembre 1946 egli mostra di ignorare che delle esecuzioni s’era occupata la SD!
Risulta dunque evidente che Albert Kesselring s’assunse la responsabilità di quanto accaduto alle Fosse Ardeatine perché aveva calcolato di potersela cavare, mentre se fosse risultato responsabile per l’ordine di fucilazione del commando Ginny sarebbe stato sicuramente messo davanti al plotone d’esecuzione che, ad Aversa, il 1° dicembre 1945 uccise il generale Anton Dostler.
Kesselring durante la sua prigionia a Londra – nella famosa “Gabbia” diretta dal colonnello Alexander Scotland – e poi in Italia, durante il processo, conquistò tutti con il suo comportamento da generale-gentiluomo, con la sua cortesia e la sua supposta lealtà che avevano affascinato anche Hitler. In realtà egli restò un cinico nazista anche dopo la guerra. Fu un freddo espietato calcolatore capace di far fucilare quegli ufficiali tedeschi che il 26 aprile 1945 avevano cercato di prendere il controllo di Monaco e consegnare la città agli americani. Cercò di far lo stesso con i suoi camerati italiani, Westphal e Karl Wolff, che in Svizzera negoziarono la resa dell’esercito tedesco (trattative di cui lui stesso era stato messo al corrente). L’ordine di fucilarli fu ritirato solo il 30 aprile, dopo la morte di Adolf Hitler.

Angelo Paratico

A Book tells of Italian History in Macau – From Macau Daily Times

Local residents may be very familiar with the stories and history of Portuguese settlers in Macau. However, there are in fact some other European nations that have left their mark on the city and contributed to its unique culture. A launch ceremony was held last week to introduce two new books that give an account of the lives of Italians in Hong Kong and Macau, as well as the history of the Jesuit’s Far East enterprise.
Mr Gianni Criveller, whose essay is included in the book “500 Years of Italians in Hong Kong & Macau” (published by the Società Dante Alighieri di Hong Kong under the patronage of the Consulate General of Italy in Hong Kong), discusses the legacies that the Italians and the Jesuits left behind in the city of Macau. He believes that the most important remnant is the Ruins of St Paul’s. “It is an important landmark. It has become, somehow, the symbol of Macau. We are certain that it was built by the Jesuits, and the Italians exercised a role of leadership amongst them.” As far as intangible influences go, the scholar suggested that the Italians and the Jesuits facilitated an environment where people could freely interact with each other; most importantly through the then St Paul’s College. “Macau is one of those cities where people meet without war. If you are aware of the history of Macau, you will know that technically, Macau only became a colony of Portugal in the nineteenth century. Before then it was in fact a Chinese territory on loan to the Portuguese as part of their friendly relationship to allow them to participate in trade and commerce with China. So it was not even a colony in a strict sense like Hong Kong… Macau is a place where people are able to establish communications with China.”
Criveller gave the example of Wu Li, one of the Six Masters of painting in the early Qing period who later became a Jesuit priest. The scholar believes that Wu Li is a good example of how the eastern and western cultures communicated with each other in Macau. “[Wu Li] came and studied in Macau. He also wrote poetry and painted here. So for people like Wu Li, who was a very important scholar and artist, Macau was – at that time – a place of learning, education and formation.”
Criveller pointed out that many Chinese scholars also provided assistance to the missionaries and contributed to their work. “I would like to mention that, without the contribution of his Chinese friends, Matteo Ricci, his disciples and successors could not have achieved what they did… They produced books and maps together…”
Moreover, the fact that this cultural communication was done without any significant altercations shows an outstanding legacy as well. “There is no alternative, I believe, to dialogue and cultural exchange. The only alternatives would be racism, war, oppression and discrimination, all these horrible things that we are still experiencing in this world. The only alternatives are cultural encounters and dialogues. I think that this is probably the most important legacy that we have gained from these people”, said Criveller. JPL

Italian consulate to support academic exchanges

The Consul General of Italy in Hong Kong and Macau, Ms Alessandra Schiavo, who also attended the launch ceremony, told the Times on the sidelines of the event that the Italian population in Macau has grown by 55 percent to 199 people since 2010. She hopes to help her compatriots understand the importance of Macau as a place where the east and the west meet, as well as facilitating more cultural and academic exchanges between Macau and Italy. Schiavo pointed out that there is also an increasing amount of Italian scholars coming to Macau. She revealed that the Consulate is planning to establish a scholarship to attract Macau students to study in Italy as well. “We would love to see more Macau students going to study in Italy. I am actually trying to create a small fund to promote this. The first part of the fund will go towards scholarships for Macau students to go to Italy. Basically what they need to apply for a scholarship are ideas for collaboration projects between Macau and Italian universities.” The Consul suggested that universities on both sides sign agreements regarding student exchanges, and called on them to be the ones that take the initiative to create this sort of cooperation.  JPL