Among the many texts that have had a significant impact on my way of understanding history, The cheese and worms, historical essay by Carlo Ginzburg, holds a high position. Originally the choice to read it was linked to a rather practical motivation, of a student just twenty years old, with a rather misguided view of many aspects of life, at his first year of university: a book to obtain additional credit points in one of the many modern history exams. However, what initially appeared as a simple “strategic choice”, was revealed immediately after the first chapters, a real key to decoding a new way of approaching discipline, as it allowed me to see beyond the great events and to acquire a different perspective, in which even common lives assume a fundamental cognitive value.
It was not only a work dedicated to a 16th century story, but a concrete example of how it was possible to change perspective in the analysis of the past. The reading led me to reconsider an initial idea of the story that I tended to give for granted, that is, that center almost exclusively on the great events and the most famous characters. Think about it… when we think about history, they jump into our minds or always the same events as wars, revolutions, political decisions or the classic prominent figures as rulers, rulers, religious leaders or state men.
This type of narrative is fundamental to understand the general transformations of societies, but it is likely to leave a much wider and quieter part of the population. The majority of people who lived in the previous eras did not leave great works, did not participate in decisive events and did not appear in school manuals. Yet, these people also helped build the historical reality of their time through daily life, beliefs, work and the way of interpreting the world.
It is from this point of departure that the work of Ginzburg develops. The Turinese historian, focusing on the figure of Domenico Scandella, known as Menocchio, a Friulian mill of the sixteenth century which, at first sight, would not have any particular historical importance. It is not a protagonist of politics, it does not belong to cultural elites and has not produced written texts intended for tradition. However, its case becomes exceptional thanks to the way it was documented: Menocchio was tried by the Inquisition for his religious ideas considered heretic.
What makes the work particularly interesting is not only the story itself, but the method through which it is reconstructed. Ginzburg worked on the procedural papers produced during interrogation and inquisitorial proceedings, transforming documents born with judicial purposes into an extraordinary historical source. Through these testimonies it was possible to reconstruct the mental world of the mill: his readings, personal interpretations of religious texts, the way in which he reworks complex concepts and adapts them to his daily experience.
This aspect struck me in a particular way because it showed concretely how history could be built even from “unarmed” sources, seemingly secondary. Documents that had not been produced to tell a culture, but to judge an individual, have instead become the tool to bring out an entire vision of the world. In this sense, Menocchio is not only an isolated case, but becomes a window wide open on the popular culture of the early modern age.
The central point of Ginzburg’s work was precisely this: to demonstrate that history does not run out in great events or exceptional figures, but can also be understood through the experiences of ordinary individuals. The story of the Friulian mill allows to highlight wider themes, such as the relationship between popular culture and culture, the spread of the press and books and the control exercised by religious institutions on ideas. It is in this passage from detail to general that the methodological value of the work is grasped.
A single individual, initially marginal, becomes an instrument for understanding much wider historical dynamics. This approach has represented an important discovery for me, because it has expanded the way I conceived the historical discipline, making it less distant and more complex, but also closer to the concrete experiences of people.
From this setting, the microhistory, the historical current developed in Italy in the 1970s and of which Ginzburg was one of the main exponents. The microhistory aims to reduce the scale of historical analysis, focusing on specific cases, individuals or restricted communities. The goal is not to give up the understanding of the great processes, but to reach it through the thorough study of detail. In this sense, microhistory does not oppose “traditional” history, but it integrates it. In addition to the reconstruction of the great events, it offers greater attention to individual experiences and social relations that often remain invisible in the most general narratives. The past can thus be observed by more angles, allowing a richer and more articulated understanding.
Cheese and worms are one of the most effective examples of this method. Through the figure of Scandella, the Turinese historian has shown us that even a common person can become the protagonist of historical research and contribute to the understanding of much wider cultural and social phenomena. The main teaching I drew from the work is precisely this: the awareness that history does not belong only to the great characters and great events, but also to all those “minor” lives that, while remaining often invisible, have nevertheless contributed to shape the world, that world in which to be prepared in the present and in the imminent tomorrow can not forget to study the past. And for his study, Ginzburg not only gave us a lens but also moved the point from where to look at things: al prospectius, alia veritas.
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