H. P. GRICE E J. L. SPERANZA -- LA CONVERSAZIONE -- I VERBALI: STEFANONI

 G.: Let us begin with the title itself, Gli spagnoli in Italia. Metonymy before plot. S.: Yes. “The Spaniards” are not merely persons from Spain. They are domination, command, accent, mishearing, military presence, administrative pressure, and the whole theatre of a foreign power trying to make itself understood where it is not loved. G.: Good. So the national label stands for a regime of interaction. S.: Exactly. A metonymy of power disguised as ethnography. G.: Then every little dialogue in such a book is already political. S.: Necessarily. Even when it seems comic. G.: Especially then. Let us fabricate a small fragment. A Spaniard says, “Anda, mujer, trae vino.” What does that mean, beyond the obvious imperative? S.: It means, first, “Bring wine,” and second, “I assume my words travel farther than your dignity.” G.: Good. The Italian woman answers, “Che vuol dire, andate? Vuol che me ne vada?” What is she doing? S.: She literalises the phonetic confusion and converts his command into a question about motion. She means, “Your language has not yet earned obedience here.” G.: Is that implicature particularised? S.: Entirely. Without the social scene, it is only a misunderstanding. G.: And his next move? He tries: “No, no, vino, bere, capisci?” What does that do? S.: He descends from command to pantomime. He means, “I am reduced to the level of shared bodily necessities.” G.: Good. Now transpose the metonymy. Give me an Austrian in Lombardy. S.: Very well. The Austrian says, “Komm, bring Wasser, schnell.” The Italian replies, “Come? Vuol che venga io, o che venga l’acqua?” He means, “Your empire arrives, but your syntax does not.” G.: Excellent. And the Austrian’s struggle? S.: “Nein, nein, acqua, subito, presto.” Which means not merely “water at once,” but “authority survives translation only by becoming ridiculous.” G.: Splendid. Another Spanish dyad. A soldier says, “Silencio, por el rey.” What is implied? S.: That silence is owed not to the room but to sovereignty. The king enters as warrant for muting others. G.: The Italian answer? S.: “Per il re? E il re sa che volete il silenzio qui?” She means, “Distance weakens authority when named too explicitly.” G.: Particularised? S.: Entirely. The wit depends on local irreverence. G.: The Spaniard tries again. S.: “El rey manda en todo.” He means, “Do not separate me from the larger machine.” The Italian replies, “Allora mandi lui, ché voi non bastate.” She means, “Metonymy may be answerable by a better one.” G.: Very good. Now the Austrian version. S.: The officer says, “Ruhe, im Namen des Kaisers.” The Italian says, “In nome suo o nel vostro?” He means, “Names travel more easily than legitimacy.” G.: And the German repair? S.: “Der Kaiser, capite, il Kaiser, comando.” The struggle means, “Power hopes that repetition can substitute for intelligibility.” G.: Good. Another Spanish fragment. A friar or official says, “Es costumbre.” What does that mean? S.: Literally, “It is the custom.” Implicaturally, “Do not inspect the thing too closely.” G.: And the Italian reply? S.: “Di chi? Vostra o nostra?” which means, “Custom is local until empire says otherwise.” G.: Is that generalized or particularized? S.: The appeal to custom often carries a generalized implication of closure. But the retort is particularised by conquest. G.: Good. Then his attempt to explain? S.: “En España se hace así.” He means, “Elsewhere has become superior.” The Italian answers, “Siamo in Italia, non altrove.” She means, “Geography is the first resistance to metonymy.” G.: Very nice. Austrian analogue. S.: “So macht man in Wien.” The Italian says, “Ma il riso qui non viene da Vienna.” He means, “Local life does not wait for imperial grammar.” G.: Better and better. Now let us intensify the linguistic confusion. A Spaniard says, “Mañana pagarás.” The Italian hears “mangiare” in the first syllable. What happens? S.: The Italian replies, “Mangiare sì, pagare poi si vede.” He means, “If your language slips, I shall improve the economics of the exchange.” G.: Excellent. The Spaniard? S.: “No, mañana, domani.” Which means, “Temporal control requires lexical repair.” G.: And the deeper metonymy? S.: Empire must always translate itself into tomorrow. G.: Lovely. Now the Austrian. S.: “Morgen zahlst du.” The Italian hears only the tone of future coercion and says, “Domani è una bella parola per chi ha già preso oggi.” He means, “The occupier loves futurity because he has spent the present.” G.: That is almost too good. S.: Stefanoni permits some flourish. G.: We must not flatter him excessively. Now consider a Spanish gentleman attempting politeness. “Señora, si no es molestia...” What is he doing? S.: He veils command in civility. The implicature is, “Since I have said if it is no trouble, you must treat the trouble as unreal.” G.: Italian reply? S.: “La molestia c’è; la cortesia è vedere se la meritate.” She means, “Politeness is not acquittal.” G.: Particularised? S.: Strongly. The entire force lies in the social imbalance. G.: Austrian version. S.: “Gnädige Frau, wenn es erlaubt ist...” The Italian says, “Permesso non è comprensione.” He means, “Courtesy does not naturalise foreign rule.” G.: Good. Now a Spaniard asks directions. “¿Dónde está la plaza?” Purely practical, it seems. S.: Nothing is purely practical under occupation. G.: Exactly. The Italian answer? S.: “Quale? Qui le piazze cambiano nome secondo chi passa.” She means, “Space itself is politically unstable.” G.: The Spaniard clarifies. S.: “La plaza mayor, la principal.” He means, “I seek the organising centre.” The Italian answers, “Principale per voi, forse.” She means, “Centres are perspectival.” G.: Excellent. Austrian transposition. S.: “Wo ist der Hauptplatz?” The Italian says, “Dipende da chi conta.” He means, “Topography has become jurisdiction.” G.: Good. Another. A Spaniard says, “Habla claro.” What does that implicate? S.: That prior speech has been unsatisfactory and that clarity will now be defined by him. G.: Italian response? S.: “Chiaro per voi o per me?” He means, “There is no neutral plainness under unequal power.” G.: Generalized tendency? S.: Yes. “Speak clearly” often implies blame for prior opacity. But here the metalinguistic asymmetry makes it particularised. G.: Austrian version. S.: “Sprich deutlich.” The Italian replies, “Si capisce sempre meglio nella propria lingua.” He means, “Clarity is local before it is universal.” G.: Good. Let us fabricate a scene of tax collection. Spaniard: “Paga por orden.” What is the implicature? S.: That order itself legitimates extraction. G.: Italian answer? S.: “Ordine vostro, disordine nostro.” He means, “Administration is metonymy from the collector’s side.” G.: And the Spaniard’s repair? S.: “La ley es la ley.” Which means, “I have reached the point at which tautology replaces persuasion.” G.: Excellent. Austrian transposition? S.: “Zahlen, es ist Gesetz.” The Italian says, “La legge arriva sempre con stivali stranieri?” He means, “Law here wears boots before reasons.” G.: Very good. Now a more domestic scene. Spaniard in a kitchen: “Pan.” He wants bread. S.: The Italian answers, “Pane c’è; lingua no.” He means, “Material supply exceeds mutual understanding.” G.: And the Spaniard elaborates? S.: “Sí, pane, pan, dame.” Which means, “Empire survives by pidgin.” G.: Austrian analogue. S.: “Brot.” The Italian says, “Brutto? No, il pane è buono.” He means, “Phonetic misunderstanding is the commoner’s revenge.” G.: Particularised? S.: Entirely. It is wit made out of accidental sound, sharpened by political circumstance. G.: Another Spanish dyad, but now with military order. “A la derecha.” What happens? S.: The Italian, feigning confusion, asks, “Alla diritta di chi?” He means, “Even direction requires a sovereign point of view.” G.: The Spaniard? S.: “Derecha, destra, así.” He gestures. Which means, “Command finally trusts the body when language fails.” G.: Austrian version? S.: “Rechts!” The Italian says, “A destra vostra o destra nostra?” He means, “Orientation itself is occupied.” G.: Splendid. Now let us ask what sort of implicatures dominate these scenes. S.: Mostly particularised conversational implicatures, though some are loaded by politeness or by the social script of domination. G.: Any conventional implicature? S.: Hardly any in your strict sense. The force does not come from stable particles so much as from local negotiation. G.: Any presupposition worth saving? S.: Only the dull ones. Commands presuppose some uptake relation; titles presuppose rank; but the fun is in the implicatures. G.: Good. Another fragment. Spaniard: “Por favor.” Is that enough to civilise a command? S.: Never. The Italian says, “Il favore vien dopo il perché.” He means, “A please without explanation remains conquest in gloves.” G.: Austrian version? S.: “Bitte.” The Italian replies, “Prima il senso, poi la grazia.” He means, “Politeness does not precede understanding.” G.: Excellent. Now a Spanish officer tries to reassure. “No tengas miedo.” What is implied? S.: That fear is already present, perhaps deservedly. G.: Generalized? S.: Yes. Reassurance often implicates the existence of the very state it denies. G.: Italian answer? S.: “La paura viene da chi la nomina troppo presto.” He means, “Your comfort arrives carrying its own indictment.” G.: Austrian transposition. S.: “Keine Angst.” The Italian says, “Chi la porta, l’angoscia, se non chi entra armato?” He means, “The vocabulary of calm is suspect in a uniform.” G.: Good. Another. Spaniard seeking obedience from a child: “Buen muchacho.” What does that do? S.: It rewards submission in advance. The implicature is, “Be as I have already labelled you.” G.: Italian reply by the child’s mother? S.: “Buono è chi ascolta la madre, non il primo straniero.” She means, “Moral categories remain domestically owned.” G.: Austrian version? S.: “Braver Junge.” The mother says, “Bravo per casa, non per caserma.” He means, “The household redraws the adjective.” G.: Very good. Now a scene of confession or clerical exchange. Spaniard says, “Dios lo quiere.” What is implicated? S.: That argument is now to be closed by transcendence. G.: Italian answer? S.: “Dio vuole molte cose; qui però parlate voi.” He means, “Do not recruit heaven to do the work of your tongue.” G.: Austrian equivalent? S.: Perhaps not theological but imperial: “So will es der Kaiser.” The Italian replies, “L’imperatore vuole in tedesco; noi soffriamo in italiano.” He means, “The sentence already contains the asymmetry.” G.: Excellent. Now let us consider whether Stefanoni’s metonymic title licenses a broad transposition to Austrians. S.: It does, because “Gli spagnoli” names a historical occupying type rather than a mere passport. G.: Good. So “the Spaniard” is a mobile figure of foreign command, misheard civility, and embarrassed coercion. S.: Exactly. Which is why the Austrian dyads are not treason to the title but commentary on its principle. G.: Very nice. Another Spanish fragment. “Entiendes?” What is the implicature? S.: That failure of understanding, if it occurs, will be placed on the hearer. G.: Generalized? S.: Fairly. “Do you understand?” often carries blame in advance. G.: Italian answer? S.: “Capire sì; obbedire è altra grammatica.” He means, “Comprehension and consent are different verbs.” G.: Austrian transposition? S.: “Verstehst du?” The Italian says, “Intendere non è inchinarsi.” He means exactly the same, but with more spinal dignity. G.: Splendid. Now a Spaniard attempts a gift. “Toma, para ti.” What is implied? S.: That benevolence may purchase the translation that force could not secure. G.: Italian reply? S.: “Il dono parla più chiaro del comando, ma non cambia lingua.” He means, “Material generosity does not naturalise dominion.” G.: Austrian version? S.: “Nimm, für dich.” The Italian says, “La mano capisce; il cuore fa i conti.” He means, “Gratitude is not annexation.” G.: Very good. Now a scene of romantic or gallant misfire. Spaniard says, “Hermosa.” What happens? S.: The Italian woman asks, “Hermosa o rumorosa?” She means, “You will not master me by imported adjectives.” G.: The Spaniard? S.: “Bella, bella.” Which means, “When empire flirts, it quickly becomes dictionary work.” G.: Austrian transposition? S.: “Schön.” The woman says, “Suona duro per voler essere dolce.” He means, “Language itself betrays the courtship.” G.: Excellent. Now let us ask: are these mostly failures of semantics or successes of pragmatics? S.: Successes of pragmatics under failing semantics. The misunderstanding becomes productive. G.: Good. Another. Spaniard at market: “Cuánto?” The Italian seller replies, “Quanto per voi o quanto per noi?” What is implicated? S.: That prices are political under occupation. G.: The Spaniard’s repair? S.: “Precio, costo, dinero.” Which means, “Commerce is the emergency language of empire.” G.: Austrian analogue? S.: “Wie viel?” The seller says, “Dipende da che uniforme porta la domanda.” He means, “The price rises with the boot.” G.: Very good. Now a Spaniard says, “Amigo.” What is that doing? S.: It tries to erase hierarchy by lexical warmth. The implicature is, “Let us pretend this relation is voluntary.” G.: Italian answer? S.: “Amico si diventa, non si comanda.” He means, “Friendship resists administrative issuance.” G.: Austrian version? S.: “Freund.” The Italian says, “Gli amici arrivano a piedi, non in colonna.” He means, “Marching formation spoils intimacy.” G.: Excellent. Any conventional implicature there? S.: No. The warmth is lexical, but the political sting is entirely contextual. G.: Good. Another. Spaniard says, “Es por tu bien.” Generalized? S.: Deeply. “It is for your good” almost always implies paternal authority and suppressed dissent. G.: Italian reply? S.: “Il mio bene lo riconosco quando non mi viene imposto.” He means, “Benevolence is least credible when compulsory.” G.: Austrian transposition? S.: “Zu deinem Besten.” The Italian says, “Il bene con accento straniero costa doppio.” He means, “Benefaction and burden travel together.” G.: Splendid. Now a Spanish official says, “Todos hacen así.” What is the implicature? S.: That conformity has already been achieved, so resistance becomes eccentricity. G.: Italian answer? S.: “Tutti chi? Voi contate presto.” He means, “Occupiers numerate too quickly.” G.: Austrian version? S.: “Alle machen so.” The Italian says, “Tutti è una parola grande in una bocca forestiera.” He means, “Universality spoken by strangers sounds like inventory.” G.: That is very good. Now, are any of these not conversational implicatures but rather politeness-based or authority-based non-conventional implications? S.: Certainly. The imported honorifics, the deferential formulas, the “please” and “good fellow” and “friend” cases often rely as much on social ritual as on cooperative maxims. G.: Good. So not everything interesting is strictly my own preserve. S.: A sentence your disciples should embroider on cushions. G.: They would get the stitching wrong. Another dyad. Spaniard: “Rápido.” Italian answer? S.: “Presto, ma per chi aspetta o per chi ordina?” He means, “Speed serves different masters.” G.: Austrian? S.: “Schnell.” Italian: “La fretta arriva sempre con gli ordini.” He means, “Urgency has uniform.” G.: Good. Now let us end with a larger question. What is Stefanoni’s title implying by saying Gli spagnoli in Italia instead of, say, Occupation in Lombardy? S.: That foreign rule is best shown not in constitutional prose but in the friction of mouths, accents, orders, repairs, domestic wit, and small mistranslations. G.: So the metonymy is justified by dialogue. S.: Entirely. The empire enters by dyad. G.: Very good. Then one last transposition. Spaniard says, “Aquí mando yo.” Italian answer? S.: “Qui, forse; ma il qui passa.” He means, “Local command is temporally thinner than it sounds.” G.: Austrian version? S.: “Hier befehle ich.” Italian: “Il qui di oggi domani è un altro qui.” He means, “Occupation always mistakes present location for permanent grammar.” G.: Excellent. And the final lesson? S.: That misunderstanding under domination is never merely comic; it is the smallest theatre in which power, wit, compliance, and resistance rehearse each other. G.: Dry enough? S.: Sufficiently Milanese, with foreign boots on the floor.