That something would happen and that something had happened a long time ago was, as they say, in the air.

Seven miles above the Matterhorn, which the captain so sweetly pointed out to us, the plane shook uncomfortably considerably.

During the landing approach to Naples, the lights in the cabin went out, but those above the emergency exits went on.

Children screamed, adults breathed more concentrated.

Nevertheless, we touched down without a break.

It poured.

The wind whipped the orange trees, the palm trees wagged.

"What a cold," the taxi driver cursed.

In Reykjavík it might be cozier at the same time.

On Ischia, however, an hour's boat ride from Naples, the towns of Casamicciola Terme and Lacco Ameno had almost been washed off the map.

There are eight dead and twelve missing, said Matteo Salvini, Minister for Sustainable Infrastructure.

How exactly he knew that was not clear.

The cast director at the Teatro San Carlo, Ilias Tzempetonidis, who can no longer hear that he works in the most beautiful opera house in Italy because it sounds to him as if the praise for beauty hides the lack of other qualities, objected at 8:30 am I received the news that the Mayor of Ischia would not be coming to Naples for the premiere of Giuseppe Verdi's Don Carlo.

Shortly thereafter, Italy's Minister of Culture Gennaro Sangiuliano also canceled his participation in the premiere.

Yes, what's more, he canceled the whole premiere, which he is even authorized to do in Italy.

It would have been his first major appearance as the newly sworn Minister of Culture.

And for the first time ever, Rai 5 would have televised the “Inaugurazione”, the season opener from the Teatro San Carlo.

This is exactly what seemed to frighten the minister, who was also a Neapolitan: television pictures of him in the opera, while a few kilometers away people were struggling with death.

Impossible!

Of course he could have left it at the cancellation of the visit;

the terrible events could have been taken into account with a minute's silence or a mourning address.

After all, Verdi's “Don Carlo” is a tragedy and not an amusing spectacle.

Also, there was no national mourning that night, no nationwide gambling ban;

Stages, casinos and clubs remained in operation.

The hasty cancellation of the premiere didn't save any lives, didn't make up for any failures in the security infrastructure, it only said one thing: we're doing something.

And the lightest.

At the same time, however, that with the greatest symbolic effect.

Even if art once again became a means to a political end, the refusal revealed a residual belief in its great social impact.

All those who wanted to experience how Elina Garanča would sing Eboli in Italian for the first time, how Juraj Valčuha Verdi would conduct and how Claus Guth would interpret the story as director, had traveled in vain.

The minister, afraid of his voters, had staged a coup d'état, so to speak.

But tonight everything should be made up for.

And Rai 5 sticks to it.