Belle Parole: A Journey Through Wonder, Awe, and Enchantment

Exploring the beauty and hidden stories behind three Italian words

I have always been fascinated by etymology and the hidden stories behind words. This passion often inspires me to delve into broader aspects of history, uncovering connections and meanings that enrich my understanding of the past.

Every week, I publish a micro-article in the Notes section of Historia Minuta, focusing on an Italian word. I’ve named this series Belle Parole, a celebration of the beauty and depth of the Italian language.

In this article, I’ve gathered the first three words I explored: meraviglia (wonder), stupore (awe), and incanto (enchantment). These words are intricately connected, each evoking the realm of amazement and admiration—a world where language captures the profound emotions sparked by beauty, mystery, and creativity.

Meraviglia

From Latin mirabilia (wonderful things).

In English: wonder.

The word meraviglia evokes admiration and awe, bringing to mind the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World—monuments celebrated for their grandeur and ingenuity. Of these, only the Great Pyramid of Giza, the oldest (2584–2561 BCE), has survived to this day.

Seven Wonders of the Ancient World

In Italian literature, meraviglia often conveys a sense of amazement in front of something extraordinary. Alessandro Manzoni uses this word to describe the awe that the protagonist of I Promessi Sposi (1842) feels when seeing the Duomo of Milan:

Renzo, salito per un di que’ valichi sul terreno più elevato, vide quella gran macchina del duomo sola sul piano, come se, non di mezzo a una città, ma sorgesse in un deserto; e si fermò su due piedi, dimenticando tutti i suoi guai, a contemplare anche da lontano quell’ottava maraviglia, di cui aveva tanto sentito parlare fin da bambino.

Renzo, having climbed one of those passes to the highest ground, saw that great structure of the Duomo standing alone on the plain, as if it rose, not in the midst of a city, but out of a desert; and he stopped dead in his tracks, forgetting all his troubles, to contemplate, even from afar, that eighth wonder he had heard so much about since childhood.

(I Promessi Sposi, Ch. XXXIII)

“Milano. La Cattedrale”, photo by Giacomo Brogi (1870s)

Stupore

From Latin stupor (astonishment, wonder).

In English: astonishment.

The word stupore describes a state of emotional immobility in front of something unexpected, leaving one fascinated, overwhelmed, or in awe. The Latin root stupere means "to be astounded" or "to be struck," capturing the dual nature of stupore: a mix of enchantment and disorientation.

In the introduction to the first day of the Decameron, Boccaccio uses this word to describe the shock caused by the plague that struck Florence in 1348:

E oltre a questo ne seguio la morte di molti che per avventura, se stati fossero atati, campati sarieno; di che, tra per lo difetto degli oportuni servigi, li quali gl'infermi aver non poteano, e per la forza della pistolenza, era tanta nella città la moltitudine di quegli che di dì e di notte morieno, che uno stupore era a udir dire, non che a riguardarlo. Per che, quasi di necessità, cose contrarie a' primi costumi de' cittadini nacquero tra coloro li quali rimanean vivi.

And furthermore, many died who, perhaps, if they had been cared for, might have survived; for, on the one hand, due to the lack of proper services, which the sick could not obtain, and on the other, due to the power of the pestilence, so great was the multitude of those who died day and night in the city that it was astonishing to hear of it, let alone to see it. As a result, almost inevitably, behaviors contrary to the former customs of the citizens arose among those who remained alive.

Stupor Mundi (Wonder of the World) was the title given to the controversial emperor Frederick II of Hohenstaufen (1194-1250), one of the most fascinating figures of the European Middle Ages.

Ruler of the Holy Roman Empire and the Kingdom of Sicily, he was a cultural innovator, a patron of the arts and sciences, and a man of extraordinary intellectual curiosity. Admired by some for his modernity and tolerance, and hated by others for his conflicts with the papacy and his unorthodox religious views, Frederick is remembered as much for his genius as for the accusations of cruelty, including extreme scientific experiments.

Emperor Frankenstein: The Truth Behind Frederick II of Sicily’s Sadistic Science Experiments

Incanto

This word encapsulates a universe of supernatural suggestions. It derives from the Latin verb incantare, meaning “to sing over something” or “to subject something to a magical chant.” The word incantesimo shares the same origin and refers to a magical act.

In English, it can be translated as enchantment or charm.

When I think of this word, I can’t help but recall the image of the beguiling song of the sirens in the Odyssey. That sound, described as irresistibly sweet and seductive, could capture the soul of anyone who heard it, dragging them into an abyss as wonderful as it was fatal.

Incanto is also the evocative power of enchanted forests in fairy tales, mysterious and suspended worlds where anything can happen. Here, wizards and witches weave their spells, powerful rhymes that transform words into magic.

The Romantic poet Ugo Foscolo (1778–1827) describes incanto as a creative force in his poem Le Grazie (1812). Here, he captures the moment when incanto, represented by the harmony spread by the Graces, flows into the human heart, transforming every thought and perception into a source of wonder and inspiration.

Udiro intente

le Grazie; e in cor quell'armonia fatale

albergàro, e correan su per la terra

a spirarla a' mortali. E da quel giorno

dolce ei sentian per l'anima un incanto,

lucido in mente ogni pensiero, e quanto

udian essi o vedean vago e diverso

dilettava i lor occhi, e ad imitarlo

prendean industri e divenia più bello.

They heard attentively,

the Graces; and in their hearts that fateful harmony

dwelt, and they roamed across the earth

to breathe it into mortals. And from that day

a sweet enchantment filled their souls,

every thought grew lucid in their minds, and all

they heard or saw, lovely and diverse,

delighted their eyes, and striving to imitate it,

they labored, and it became more beautiful.

"Ulisse e le Sirene", 16th century fresco by Annibale Carracci (Palazzo Farnese, Rome).