I love the hustle and bustle of the activity taking place inside and outside the house of the tailor and his wife. It reminds me of a scene from a Frank Capra film.
A lovely touch reminiscent of Flaubert is when, from the window in her upstairs room, the tailor's wife, seeing the Cardinal approach her house "had fixed herself up as best she could before running down the stairs" Another favourite moment is when the the Cardinal comes to visit the home of the tailor and his wife to thank the family, the tailor is unable to find the words he feels would have been more appropriate, and shown him in a better light. All the tailor could think to say was "Think nothing of it". In the years to come he would look back in regret that he could come up with nothing better to say in that once in a lifetime opportunity. The tailor is a fully rounded character and a believable human being.
The last pages of the chapter focusing on the Nameless One are true to his character. He is as resolute and determined in his devotion to goodness as he had been in his commitment to evil. Because of his conversion, he becomes almost a Christ-like figure, speaking to his bravi. At the end of his speech or exhortation to his men, Manzoni writes that: "they all filed out together, quietly quietly, like a herd of sheep". There is a hint of the scriptural in this.
One of the most poetic paragraphs is the one beginning, 'Although he had always gone in search of affairs that were complicated and urgent....' The narrator describes the tumult and exhaustion experienced by the Nameless One at the realization that his world and psyche have been turned upside down by his own choice. I love that triple insertion of "Yet he was tired" (eppure aveva sonno). I was reminded of San Juan de la Cruz and his repetition of 'aunque es de noche' (although it is night) in his poem Cantal del alma.
The next paragraph shows the Nameless One, after the previous complexity, return to a state of childhood innocence and simplicity, trust and prayer. The chapter ends in a fading into a timeless panorama of history and myth. Those last three paragraphs form a kind of lovely triptych.
I found the shift into a poetic register a little distracting. It continues the repetition ("quickly, quickly" and "slowly, slowly") that Manzoni introduces seemingly out of the blue in this chapter. It is an idiosyncratic novel, but I wondered why he chose this point to use repetition as a device.
Whatever happens to the arc of Don Abbondio's character, our interest in him will not match our fascination with the Nameless One. An extreme evildoer's conversion is always more gripping than a milquetoast's development. These pages bring to my mind the conversion of Saul of Tarsus, who would become St. Paul, but at the time of his conversion was "breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord." The Nameless One's conversion occurs gradually, and reaching climax on seeing the believers streaming to adore Cardinal Borromeo, following the penultimate event, his sudden pity for Lucia. Perhaps because of the times, this is a more subtle and quiet transformation than Paul's: "And as he journeyed, he came near Damascus: and suddenly there shined round about him a light from heaven: And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?"
Here, I'm not sure I agree. I love the conversion of The Nameless One, but he seems a cipher or a symbol of the power of redemption. To me, Don Abbondio is more complex, not very nice and very self-serving, but I think also very well rounded and represents many of us at our self-justifying and fearful worst.
But, as Cardinal Borromeo tells Don Abondio in the next chapter, you're a priest, not an ordinary person. What's the point of your existence if you won't stand up to bullies and risk martyrdom?
I adore Manzoni’s psychology. The Nameless One’s traits of ferocity and self-mastery persist after his conversion, as Fra Cristoforo’s temper persists after his. The complex responses of the N.O.’s retainers, as they listen to his speech. When Manzoni reminds us that the N.O. was once a child innocently repeating his prayers, I viscerally feel his conversion at last. And am moved by his understanding that he can never return to that innocence—but he can attempt to approach it.
Lucia (as innocent - naive — as ever) and Agnese remain oblivious to Gertrude’s betrayal. Agnes throws Don Abbondio under the bus (where he belongs). Lucia withholds from her mother the news of her vow (embarrassed; ashamed; afraid?). The Cardinal remains true to form, gentle, thoughtful and generous. Don Abbondio remains true to form, clumsy and selfish. The Nameless One (“N.O.”; thank you Pamela) remains true to his (new) form, and his men are “dumbfounded” and “uncertain”.
I like the idea of the lullaby-like ending “singing us to sleep with the reformed man.” Nice way to end the chapter. The scene at the table was very humorous with the rambunctious children interrupting their father when he’s describing the Cardinal, “And with that gold thing he wore in his head”😂 The image of a partially complete jigsaw puzzle came to me, arranged of course by Divine Providence/narrator as Lucia and Renzo make their way back to each other.
But do they, Lucia and Renzo? I'm not at all sure that they make their way back to each other, and somehow I think we'll have to wait many chapters before we'll find out definitively
I am not ready to say goodbye to the Nameless One. I envisioned a (chaste) love affair between he and Lucia. I envisioned an entire subplot with some bravi following and some seeking his life. Couldn't Manzoni have written Nameless One, the Spin-Off?
I think as modern readers we're in danger of underestimating the power and significance of Lucia's vow -- one side of the mutual transformation the encounter of Lucia and the Nameless One has set in motion.
At the same time, I noted a touch of vanity in the saintly Cardinal when "the purpose of the visit" to Lucia at the tailor's was not only "to pay homage...to misfortune, innocence, hospitality," but also to "his own ministry."
Also want to note the final "tangled" imagery (continuing from the first part of the chapter) in the Nameless One rediscovering the prayers of his childhood, as "those words, which had remained tangled in a ball for so long, started to come one after the other, as if they were unraveling."
Since we learned that the original cat in the tangled ball was introduced in translation, now I wonder whether the later tangles belong to Manzoni in Italian, or only to the English?
The Italian text reads: "e quelle parole, rimaste quivi tanto tempo ravvolte insieme, venivano l’una dopo l’altra come sgomitolandosi". There is the sense of unraveling or unwinding in the original Italian. Ravvolte and sgomitolandosi being the key words.
The Nameless One will atone by doing good deeds for the rest of his life, and praying, and releasing his henchmen from their marching orders, but what of the people he/they hurt? Manzoni is fast forwarding to a redemption in the eyes of God, but what about the punishment due in the eyes of the law? An example of the church taking in its own and rehabilitating, but also protecting the brand. My take is modern and furious about priests being sent off, taken off screen, not being arrested. I need to read this in the context of the 1600s, I know. My crisis of faith is getting in the way of enjoying this story, at least this part of this story. Also: I haven’t forgotten Michael’s footnote about the Cardinal, and what suffering did he cause that’s been forgiven by God via himself?
I love the hustle and bustle of the activity taking place inside and outside the house of the tailor and his wife. It reminds me of a scene from a Frank Capra film.
A lovely touch reminiscent of Flaubert is when, from the window in her upstairs room, the tailor's wife, seeing the Cardinal approach her house "had fixed herself up as best she could before running down the stairs" Another favourite moment is when the the Cardinal comes to visit the home of the tailor and his wife to thank the family, the tailor is unable to find the words he feels would have been more appropriate, and shown him in a better light. All the tailor could think to say was "Think nothing of it". In the years to come he would look back in regret that he could come up with nothing better to say in that once in a lifetime opportunity. The tailor is a fully rounded character and a believable human being.
The last pages of the chapter focusing on the Nameless One are true to his character. He is as resolute and determined in his devotion to goodness as he had been in his commitment to evil. Because of his conversion, he becomes almost a Christ-like figure, speaking to his bravi. At the end of his speech or exhortation to his men, Manzoni writes that: "they all filed out together, quietly quietly, like a herd of sheep". There is a hint of the scriptural in this.
One of the most poetic paragraphs is the one beginning, 'Although he had always gone in search of affairs that were complicated and urgent....' The narrator describes the tumult and exhaustion experienced by the Nameless One at the realization that his world and psyche have been turned upside down by his own choice. I love that triple insertion of "Yet he was tired" (eppure aveva sonno). I was reminded of San Juan de la Cruz and his repetition of 'aunque es de noche' (although it is night) in his poem Cantal del alma.
The next paragraph shows the Nameless One, after the previous complexity, return to a state of childhood innocence and simplicity, trust and prayer. The chapter ends in a fading into a timeless panorama of history and myth. Those last three paragraphs form a kind of lovely triptych.
I found the shift into a poetic register a little distracting. It continues the repetition ("quickly, quickly" and "slowly, slowly") that Manzoni introduces seemingly out of the blue in this chapter. It is an idiosyncratic novel, but I wondered why he chose this point to use repetition as a device.
Those are quotes from the comic opera, The Barber of Seville.
Thank you!
Whatever happens to the arc of Don Abbondio's character, our interest in him will not match our fascination with the Nameless One. An extreme evildoer's conversion is always more gripping than a milquetoast's development. These pages bring to my mind the conversion of Saul of Tarsus, who would become St. Paul, but at the time of his conversion was "breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord." The Nameless One's conversion occurs gradually, and reaching climax on seeing the believers streaming to adore Cardinal Borromeo, following the penultimate event, his sudden pity for Lucia. Perhaps because of the times, this is a more subtle and quiet transformation than Paul's: "And as he journeyed, he came near Damascus: and suddenly there shined round about him a light from heaven: And he fell to the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?"
Here, I'm not sure I agree. I love the conversion of The Nameless One, but he seems a cipher or a symbol of the power of redemption. To me, Don Abbondio is more complex, not very nice and very self-serving, but I think also very well rounded and represents many of us at our self-justifying and fearful worst.
But, as Cardinal Borromeo tells Don Abondio in the next chapter, you're a priest, not an ordinary person. What's the point of your existence if you won't stand up to bullies and risk martyrdom?
I adore Manzoni’s psychology. The Nameless One’s traits of ferocity and self-mastery persist after his conversion, as Fra Cristoforo’s temper persists after his. The complex responses of the N.O.’s retainers, as they listen to his speech. When Manzoni reminds us that the N.O. was once a child innocently repeating his prayers, I viscerally feel his conversion at last. And am moved by his understanding that he can never return to that innocence—but he can attempt to approach it.
Lucia (as innocent - naive — as ever) and Agnese remain oblivious to Gertrude’s betrayal. Agnes throws Don Abbondio under the bus (where he belongs). Lucia withholds from her mother the news of her vow (embarrassed; ashamed; afraid?). The Cardinal remains true to form, gentle, thoughtful and generous. Don Abbondio remains true to form, clumsy and selfish. The Nameless One (“N.O.”; thank you Pamela) remains true to his (new) form, and his men are “dumbfounded” and “uncertain”.
I like the idea of the lullaby-like ending “singing us to sleep with the reformed man.” Nice way to end the chapter. The scene at the table was very humorous with the rambunctious children interrupting their father when he’s describing the Cardinal, “And with that gold thing he wore in his head”😂 The image of a partially complete jigsaw puzzle came to me, arranged of course by Divine Providence/narrator as Lucia and Renzo make their way back to each other.
But do they, Lucia and Renzo? I'm not at all sure that they make their way back to each other, and somehow I think we'll have to wait many chapters before we'll find out definitively
I am not ready to say goodbye to the Nameless One. I envisioned a (chaste) love affair between he and Lucia. I envisioned an entire subplot with some bravi following and some seeking his life. Couldn't Manzoni have written Nameless One, the Spin-Off?
Yes. I kept expecting him to fall (chastely) in love with Lucia 💕 and really complicate the plot.
I think as modern readers we're in danger of underestimating the power and significance of Lucia's vow -- one side of the mutual transformation the encounter of Lucia and the Nameless One has set in motion.
At the same time, I noted a touch of vanity in the saintly Cardinal when "the purpose of the visit" to Lucia at the tailor's was not only "to pay homage...to misfortune, innocence, hospitality," but also to "his own ministry."
Also want to note the final "tangled" imagery (continuing from the first part of the chapter) in the Nameless One rediscovering the prayers of his childhood, as "those words, which had remained tangled in a ball for so long, started to come one after the other, as if they were unraveling."
Since we learned that the original cat in the tangled ball was introduced in translation, now I wonder whether the later tangles belong to Manzoni in Italian, or only to the English?
The Italian text reads: "e quelle parole, rimaste quivi tanto tempo ravvolte insieme, venivano l’una dopo l’altra come sgomitolandosi". There is the sense of unraveling or unwinding in the original Italian. Ravvolte and sgomitolandosi being the key words.
The Nameless One will atone by doing good deeds for the rest of his life, and praying, and releasing his henchmen from their marching orders, but what of the people he/they hurt? Manzoni is fast forwarding to a redemption in the eyes of God, but what about the punishment due in the eyes of the law? An example of the church taking in its own and rehabilitating, but also protecting the brand. My take is modern and furious about priests being sent off, taken off screen, not being arrested. I need to read this in the context of the 1600s, I know. My crisis of faith is getting in the way of enjoying this story, at least this part of this story. Also: I haven’t forgotten Michael’s footnote about the Cardinal, and what suffering did he cause that’s been forgiven by God via himself?
catching up! now that lucia is sort of safe, I worry a lot about renzo. first time I'm getting very strong romeo & juliet fatalism feelings...