Thanks for that link! It was such a pleasure to hear (at least part of) those last elegiac pages spoken in the original. Though I am glad that Manzoni did not divide the thoughts between Lucia and her mother and lover, as is done in the adaptation. He gave it to Lucia alone - which I think is no insignificant thing. And despite the social satire in the book, I never forget that the author was a poet first (and deeply religious) "He who gave you such bliss is everywhere and would never trouble the joy of his children, except to make it more certain and great."
"A night of treachery and tricks"! I loved the "Omnia munda mundis" for what it promises, and I loved the sharp observation that comes before to set it up (‘Will you look at this. Had it been a fugitive from justice, Fra Fazio wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But a poor innocent girl, escaping from the clutches of a wolf… ).
The beauties of the departure, of course, both in the translation and with the Italian (which I don't understand but can hear), and also the implication of this image that gives Lucia a shiver, "Don Rodrigo's big palace...like a cruel master...both keeping vigil and contemplating a crime" -- making me fear Don Rodrigo will never relent.
The range of styles, voices and genres. We are in a serene poetic landscape, then melodrama, then a romance, then social criticism, then spirituality, then madcap physical comedy to rival Chaplin, then philosophical digression, then gritty crime drama, then allegory. Crossing the lovey lake like crossing the river Styx? I get the feeling that violence and disease are still to come.
“[T]hey warned the headman not to make any statement to the mayor about what had happened, not to tell him the truth if he asked about it, not to gossip about it nor to encourage the gossip of the villagers, if he valued his chances of dying in bed.“
Father Cristoforo to the betrothed, “this part of the world is no longer safe for you.”
“Don Rodrigo’s palace … looked like a savage villain … plotting a crime. Lucia saw it and shuddered.”
The repetition at the end of the chapter is deeply affecting as the boat moves farther away, (camera pulls back), revealing the village, taking stock of what is being left. The gentleness and longing in the farewells did to me what Goodnight Moon used to do to me when I’d read it to my son.
The absurd rules of conduct. Fugitives from justice - sanctuary. Young women bullied by those fugitives - no sanctuary. Towns must have consuls to keep order. But they can be easily intimidated to not keep order.
Some things really are timeless…
(Btw - I’m already ready for a sequel called Agnes & Perpetua!)
Two different passages jump out as treating of inarticulateness or incomprehensibility. There's the "Omnia munda mundis" interaction, in which words that can't be understood are more powerful than those that can. And two pages later, with: " ... they rose, with an emotion for which there are no words, but can express itself without them ..." we're told that silence may convey more than any kind of words at all. I feel that maybe Manzoni was in a mood.....
the chapter's affecting last four paragraphs of farewells portends a future emigrant nature that today willfully allows fleeing refugees to drown in the Mediterranean
The peaks and contours of mountains…the meanings and profiles of individuals…such beautiful symmetry in this section of the reading going from fast action, short clipped sentences of the crowd scenes, toward the more majestic sinuous ones of the smaller group rowing down the river.
I wonder if the role, the job titles of each character — the priest, the sentinel, the fra, matters as much as it does with Shakespearean characters, so much of the significance of the professions is lost on me.
"Farewell rivers, whose roaring she knows as well as the voices of home. Farewell small white villages, clinging to the slopes like flocks of grazing sheep.” And: "She leaves the mountains behind to follow in the footsteps of strangers she had no wish to meet, unable to even imagine the moment when she might return."
So heartbreaking. For the most vulnerable people, it is always a time of forced immigration.
One of my favourite paragraphs in this chapter is towards the end:
'Before you go,’ said the Father, ‘let us pray all together that the Lord may be with you in this your journey, and for ever; and, above all, that He may give you strength, and a spirit of love, to enable you to desire whatever He has willed.’ So saying, he knelt down in the middle of the church, and they all followed his example. After praying a few moments in silence, with low but distinct voice he pronounced these words: ‘We beseech Thee, also, for the unhappy person who has brought us to this state. We should be unworthy of Thy mercy, if we did not, from our hearts, implore it for him; he needs it, O Lord! We, in our sorrow, have this consolation, that we are in the path where Thou hast placed us; we can offer Thee our griefs, and they may become our gain. But he is Thine enemy! Alas, wretched man! he is striving with Thee! Have mercy on him, O Lord; touch his heart; reconcile him to Thyself, and give him all those good things we could desire for ourselves.’ (not the translation we are reading)
I think this piece encapsulates the ethos of Christianity.
Thanks for that link! It was such a pleasure to hear (at least part of) those last elegiac pages spoken in the original. Though I am glad that Manzoni did not divide the thoughts between Lucia and her mother and lover, as is done in the adaptation. He gave it to Lucia alone - which I think is no insignificant thing. And despite the social satire in the book, I never forget that the author was a poet first (and deeply religious) "He who gave you such bliss is everywhere and would never trouble the joy of his children, except to make it more certain and great."
"A night of treachery and tricks"! I loved the "Omnia munda mundis" for what it promises, and I loved the sharp observation that comes before to set it up (‘Will you look at this. Had it been a fugitive from justice, Fra Fazio wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But a poor innocent girl, escaping from the clutches of a wolf… ).
The beauties of the departure, of course, both in the translation and with the Italian (which I don't understand but can hear), and also the implication of this image that gives Lucia a shiver, "Don Rodrigo's big palace...like a cruel master...both keeping vigil and contemplating a crime" -- making me fear Don Rodrigo will never relent.
The range of styles, voices and genres. We are in a serene poetic landscape, then melodrama, then a romance, then social criticism, then spirituality, then madcap physical comedy to rival Chaplin, then philosophical digression, then gritty crime drama, then allegory. Crossing the lovey lake like crossing the river Styx? I get the feeling that violence and disease are still to come.
I imagined Styx also.
The bravoes are 17th century terror-ists!
“[T]hey warned the headman not to make any statement to the mayor about what had happened, not to tell him the truth if he asked about it, not to gossip about it nor to encourage the gossip of the villagers, if he valued his chances of dying in bed.“
Father Cristoforo to the betrothed, “this part of the world is no longer safe for you.”
“Don Rodrigo’s palace … looked like a savage villain … plotting a crime. Lucia saw it and shuddered.”
The repetition at the end of the chapter is deeply affecting as the boat moves farther away, (camera pulls back), revealing the village, taking stock of what is being left. The gentleness and longing in the farewells did to me what Goodnight Moon used to do to me when I’d read it to my son.
The absurd rules of conduct. Fugitives from justice - sanctuary. Young women bullied by those fugitives - no sanctuary. Towns must have consuls to keep order. But they can be easily intimidated to not keep order.
Some things really are timeless…
(Btw - I’m already ready for a sequel called Agnes & Perpetua!)
The “fugitives” cast out of their homes. Somber ending and a farewell.
Two different passages jump out as treating of inarticulateness or incomprehensibility. There's the "Omnia munda mundis" interaction, in which words that can't be understood are more powerful than those that can. And two pages later, with: " ... they rose, with an emotion for which there are no words, but can express itself without them ..." we're told that silence may convey more than any kind of words at all. I feel that maybe Manzoni was in a mood.....
the chapter's affecting last four paragraphs of farewells portends a future emigrant nature that today willfully allows fleeing refugees to drown in the Mediterranean
*emigrant nation
The peaks and contours of mountains…the meanings and profiles of individuals…such beautiful symmetry in this section of the reading going from fast action, short clipped sentences of the crowd scenes, toward the more majestic sinuous ones of the smaller group rowing down the river.
I wonder if the role, the job titles of each character — the priest, the sentinel, the fra, matters as much as it does with Shakespearean characters, so much of the significance of the professions is lost on me.
"Farewell rivers, whose roaring she knows as well as the voices of home. Farewell small white villages, clinging to the slopes like flocks of grazing sheep.” And: "She leaves the mountains behind to follow in the footsteps of strangers she had no wish to meet, unable to even imagine the moment when she might return."
So heartbreaking. For the most vulnerable people, it is always a time of forced immigration.
One of my favourite paragraphs in this chapter is towards the end:
'Before you go,’ said the Father, ‘let us pray all together that the Lord may be with you in this your journey, and for ever; and, above all, that He may give you strength, and a spirit of love, to enable you to desire whatever He has willed.’ So saying, he knelt down in the middle of the church, and they all followed his example. After praying a few moments in silence, with low but distinct voice he pronounced these words: ‘We beseech Thee, also, for the unhappy person who has brought us to this state. We should be unworthy of Thy mercy, if we did not, from our hearts, implore it for him; he needs it, O Lord! We, in our sorrow, have this consolation, that we are in the path where Thou hast placed us; we can offer Thee our griefs, and they may become our gain. But he is Thine enemy! Alas, wretched man! he is striving with Thee! Have mercy on him, O Lord; touch his heart; reconcile him to Thyself, and give him all those good things we could desire for ourselves.’ (not the translation we are reading)
I think this piece encapsulates the ethos of Christianity.