For some reason I felt a parallel between Gertrude holding back the messy truth and Agnese’ advice when talking with mad nobles. We bend to the conversational circumstance.
Also in this segment is Gertrude’s behavior towards others. One would wish in a community there would be a mentor, friend or guide, but her being the Prince’s daughter creates a pariah status that must be so awfully lonely.
at a few points in today's reading, my mind went to academia, and the life of a scholar - the grueling interviews, the cold, dark passages, lonely, for sure. the gossip mill. the attitude of those more powerful academics to those younger... my belief, perhaps my hope, though, is that there are now more collaborative opportunities. i'm thinking of the experiment in collective criticism that was done on Elena Ferrante's novels, for example, among Sarah Chihaya, Merve Emre, Jill Richard and Katherine Hill.
In this chapter, when Egadio calls out to Gertrude, she "gives her fateful reply. At first she felt a happiness that, while it was certainly not pure, was very much alive. The tedious void in her spirit was now filled with ... a powerful life... She suddenly became more settled, more peaceful." (p. 181)
I find it fascinating Gertrude had a similar emotional experience with the page boy: "gradually something imperceptible and new came over the girl's manner: an unusual tranquility and disquiet, as if she had found something she cared about ..." (p. 159)
I like this similarity. It rings so true! Love pulls at her, pleases her and disturbs her.
She suffered so profoundly after interacting with the page boy, even though she was still "free" and not morally bound to refuse him. Her actions, and her guilt and humiliation when they were discovered, ended up being the straw that broke the camel's back (!), the reason she ended up agreeing (or rather, not disagreeing) to become a nun, altering her whole future.
And yet here, enticed again by a longing for love, she responds to Egadio despite having had his previous disastrous experience--and now, no longer "innocent" but having made promises to be pure--adding "hypocrisy to her old flaws." And then, as before, someone discovers the relationship and she again feels tortured by what might happen.
Are we meant to feel critical of her when she responds to Egadio. I guess so. It's definitely not wise. And she's not respecting her vows. But knowing she didn't sincerely want to take the vows, it is difficult not to sympathize with her!
Oh, and also, I found it very odd the young lay sister who blurts out that she knows something disappears! The text doesn't hint at all in this direction--in fact, strongly suggests the opposite-- but ...I couldn't help wondering if Signora had something to do with it and the narrator was misleading us!
The story of the real-life Nun of Monza who inspired Gertrude involves a murder. I'm not sure if that is where the novel is heading, but it would be a dark turn.
Mar 7, 2023·edited Mar 7, 2023Liked by A Public Space
I did not know that Fermo e Lucia included a more detailed account of the story so I *had* to check it - here are a few details for the non italian-speaking readers.
The narrative is very much PG, so I am not sure if it makes for juicy reading. Egidio lures Gertrude into some kind of undescribed form of contact, then only a sentence, "The dividing wall was only in name" leaves everything to imagination; Manzoni is more interested in psychology than sex (not at all in sex in fact), detailing Gertrude's internal conflict while she descends into sin. He is really a master at that, as should be clear at this point. There is also the luring of two suspicious nuns in the affair (nothing better to make someone an accomplice to prevent the scandal), again without details about the nature of the ménage à quatre, but with the description of the murder of a third nun by one of them (not Gertrude, who remained sitting in her cell tormented by guilt), the smuggling of her body by Egidio, and the simulation of her escape.
Overall, I agree that these pages feel redundant; "La sventurata rispose", in three words, summarizes everything one needs to know. I very much like the final choice.
these details are interesting, and somehow soften the impression their absence gave that either Gertrude herself or Egidio on her behalf killed the missing nun
She didn't act herself but she was definitely part of the conspiracy to kill. I'm not a lawyer but I believe she'd be held responsible given the description.
yes, I thought so from what you wrote, but I think there was also a description of her grief and despair in the aftermath?--I just went to find your original description, "tormented by guilt," maybe that was just in relation to the sex? not the murder, or both? -- in any case, it adds the layer of remorse to her character, which doesn't show up finally, or yet, in the chapter we have now.
No it was in relation to the murder. Here is a rough translation from Google of the passage where they go and call her for help to dispose of the body.
«And the Signora, why doesn't she come and help us?» said the murderer: "it's up to her as much as us, and more than her". "Go and call her," Egidio replied: the murderer who was also looking for a pretext to get away, at least for a few moments, from that place and that object that was unbearable to her, set off for Geltrude's room. This she was in the anguish of those who feel the horror of the crime, but wants it. She sat down, got up, went to eavesdrop at the door: she heard the blow, and she too fled to crouch in the furthest corner of her room, horribly agitated between terror of the crime and terror that it would not be well done. The murderer entered, and said: "We have done what was intended: all that remains is to put things in order: come and help us." "No no, for heaven's sake," replied Geltrude. "What does heaven have to do with it?" said the killer. "Let me go, let me go," continued Geltrude. "How!" the murderer replied «who was that...?» "Yes, that's true," replied Geltrude; “but you know I'm a poor fool in business; I am good for nothing; leave me alone for heaven's..." Geltrude's actions and face reflected in such a horrible way the horror of the fact, that the murderer could not bear her presence, and hurried back to him, the look of whom seemed to say: "It's nothing." "She doesn't want to come," she said, with a convulsive movement of her lips, which would have liked to be a mocking smile: "she doesn't want to come: she's a poor girl." "It doesn't matter," Egidio answered; “it would only complicate; behold, it is all over without her.'
I love the "what does heaven have to do with it?" response. Overall the other two nuns are not as well characterized as other minor characters (think of Tonio and Gervaso), but this sentence is a nice attempt at it.
thank you -- even here she remains so complex, and also taking on the power of her familial status, almost in spite of herself, protecting herself from the dirty work, like her father with his minions.
The relationship between Gertrude and Egidio in the original version is very explicitly compared to Eve's ensnarement by Satan. The description is on point but it feels too easy and familiar. I'm glad Manzoni took out the passage. For me, their relationship was not nearly as complex and well-written as that between Gertrude and her father.
Please continue these interesting explanations of your translation decisions! And I agree, Agnese deserves her own book. I had the very uncomfortable feeling that La Signora had the lay sister killed off, but wasn't sure if I was supposed to think this or not. If Gertrude gets involved in very seamy and/or dark activities--and if these activities happen in a convent!--I guess I do think the excisions from Fermo and Lucia leave the reader a little clueless.
Three times in this portion, Manzoni refers to Gertrude as “the poor wretch“.
- as she “recoiled in horror from the idea“ of telling her full story to her inquisitor
- as she “struggled under the yoke“ of being a nun, and her “lost freedom“
- as she answered Egidio, the professional, blackguard, who had “plucked up his courage to speak to her“
Gertrude is a young, beaten down, caged bird yearning to fly free.
Also, yesterday’s text: “The good nuns don’t know anything about what’s happened; that’s a secret which must remain buried in the family”. Seems as if at least one of them knew, although it is her secret that may now be buried.
Mar 7, 2023·edited Mar 7, 2023Liked by A Public Space
Thank you for commenting on those particular passages! The euphemisms were decipherable, but a bit oblique. I also like how you pointed out Manzoni's shift from painting the Signorina with great sympathy to implying she is conspirator in the murder or kidnapping of an innocent nun. That was a sudden turn I wasn't prepared for!
I'd like to read his original version of the affair sometime. Can you suggest a place to find it?
So thankful you are all here! My fateful reply to the fateful reply was confusion. Yes, she sinned. But given the repression under which she is living, it seems sin could lie anywhere from a flirtatious smile to THE original sin. Sounds like it was the latter!
The digressions so far have been the most compelling parts of the novel for me, first Cristoforo's story (followed by his also rather "fateful" visit to Don Rodrigo's) and now Gertrude's. I should have been sleeping last night, but I couldn't stop reading, horrified at her family and father's ruthless manipulation. I wanted her to achieve freedom/revenge, not just peaceful acceptance despite the incredible injustice done to her, but then I was saddened by her gracelessness and cruelty in the convent, culminating in her becoming, it appears, an accessory to murder (alas). Manzoni knows how to tell a grim tale. I, too, love reading about the translation decisions.
That’s why I resist calling them digressions. While there is an overarching “storia” (story) against the background of “Storia” (history), there is a temptation to look at the novel as a series of interlocking stories (storie).
Mar 7, 2023·edited Mar 7, 2023Liked by A Public Space
such a stormy back-and-forth of feeling for and against Gertrude in this chapter -- from "who, once she had taken that first step, had become better at lying to herself" to the brief moment of her father's "tenderness that was mostly sincere" to the loss of sympathy as she mistreats her girl students to the joy of her rebellious mood that encourages their collective rowdiness (freedom?) to the sympathy brought on with her desire for the dangerous Egadio -- until we're left to imagine she's killed the girl or Egadio has killed her for her -- and not knowing what this means to her seems a wise authorial move as our uncertainty about the extremes of her character means we can't come to confidence about what her impact on Lucia will be--whether her "protection" is an extreme danger, a modest danger, or a great help. The more detailed version offered in other comments from the earlier draft is helpful in some ways, but I'm glad not to have read it initially and that the uncertainty was left to linger.
The Senora learns it's easier to lie than to tell the truth. Really, though, what choice did she have? She did not choose that she was intellectually and temperamentally unsuitable for the nun vocation her father was forcing her into. But if she stood up to him, then what? She may have wound up on the street, a pauper.
I can relate. I was raised in an insular faith where lifelong adherence absent doubt and rejection of many the liberal values I eventually developed beginnning with my eduction was expected. As a young man, I was a missionary. I was the oldest in my family, my devout parents' first born son. "No" was not an option. Then, unexpectedly, at age 21, I found myself looking for an exit strategy. Only because I had rejected the faith. I ceased to believe, and not by my choosing; it was who I was. It was like a burden was lifted. But new burdens and distress were added. Fortunately, I had the option not to lie and retain an ablity to live in a larger society that accepted me for who I am, although there was a price to pay.
"One day, tempted rather than frightened by the danger and the impiety of the endeavor, he dared to call out to her. And she gave her fateful reply. At first she felt a happiness that, while it was certainly not pure, was very much alive. The tedious void in her spirit was now filled with a strong and constant occupation and, I would almost say, a powerful life. But that happiness was like the restorative drink that the ancients, in their ingenious cruelty, used to pour for a condemned man, to give him the strength to survive longer under torture."
This is too abstract! I want concrete details. What exactly happened between her and Egidio!
While I sympathize, this euphemistic approach may be truer to Gertrude’s state of mind. If she had seen her actions from a more concrete perspective (I cannot say more without giving away her fate), would she have engaged in this behavior?
Well...”Such is the muddle of the human heart.” Gertrude, “filled with regrets and regret for her regrets,” is a bullied and abused child who becomes a vindictive and disagreeable adult. What a muddle indeed. Trust Agnese to boil it down: “Nobles are all a little bit mad: some more, some less, some in one way way, some in another.” What a great way to incorporate the real-life (and quite salacious) story of La Signora di Monza.
*Mi dispiace if I repeat ideas already posted. I read, post, then look at comments. Happy reading! ❤️ this book!
catching up, sort of! The idea of being coerced by your own family to accept a career is one thing, but becoming a nun/priest against your wishes, that's so hard to relate to. But the immediate shift to teaching/cruelty is a deft character move by manzoni. Hope we get to see the signora teaching a lesson!
I really do love your comments Michael.
For some reason I felt a parallel between Gertrude holding back the messy truth and Agnese’ advice when talking with mad nobles. We bend to the conversational circumstance.
Also in this segment is Gertrude’s behavior towards others. One would wish in a community there would be a mentor, friend or guide, but her being the Prince’s daughter creates a pariah status that must be so awfully lonely.
Good point--she is so alone.
at a few points in today's reading, my mind went to academia, and the life of a scholar - the grueling interviews, the cold, dark passages, lonely, for sure. the gossip mill. the attitude of those more powerful academics to those younger... my belief, perhaps my hope, though, is that there are now more collaborative opportunities. i'm thinking of the experiment in collective criticism that was done on Elena Ferrante's novels, for example, among Sarah Chihaya, Merve Emre, Jill Richard and Katherine Hill.
In this chapter, when Egadio calls out to Gertrude, she "gives her fateful reply. At first she felt a happiness that, while it was certainly not pure, was very much alive. The tedious void in her spirit was now filled with ... a powerful life... She suddenly became more settled, more peaceful." (p. 181)
I find it fascinating Gertrude had a similar emotional experience with the page boy: "gradually something imperceptible and new came over the girl's manner: an unusual tranquility and disquiet, as if she had found something she cared about ..." (p. 159)
I like this similarity. It rings so true! Love pulls at her, pleases her and disturbs her.
She suffered so profoundly after interacting with the page boy, even though she was still "free" and not morally bound to refuse him. Her actions, and her guilt and humiliation when they were discovered, ended up being the straw that broke the camel's back (!), the reason she ended up agreeing (or rather, not disagreeing) to become a nun, altering her whole future.
And yet here, enticed again by a longing for love, she responds to Egadio despite having had his previous disastrous experience--and now, no longer "innocent" but having made promises to be pure--adding "hypocrisy to her old flaws." And then, as before, someone discovers the relationship and she again feels tortured by what might happen.
Are we meant to feel critical of her when she responds to Egadio. I guess so. It's definitely not wise. And she's not respecting her vows. But knowing she didn't sincerely want to take the vows, it is difficult not to sympathize with her!
Oh, and also, I found it very odd the young lay sister who blurts out that she knows something disappears! The text doesn't hint at all in this direction--in fact, strongly suggests the opposite-- but ...I couldn't help wondering if Signora had something to do with it and the narrator was misleading us!
I concur...it is difficult not to sympathize with her!
The story of the real-life Nun of Monza who inspired Gertrude involves a murder. I'm not sure if that is where the novel is heading, but it would be a dark turn.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Nun_of_Monza
I did not know that Fermo e Lucia included a more detailed account of the story so I *had* to check it - here are a few details for the non italian-speaking readers.
The narrative is very much PG, so I am not sure if it makes for juicy reading. Egidio lures Gertrude into some kind of undescribed form of contact, then only a sentence, "The dividing wall was only in name" leaves everything to imagination; Manzoni is more interested in psychology than sex (not at all in sex in fact), detailing Gertrude's internal conflict while she descends into sin. He is really a master at that, as should be clear at this point. There is also the luring of two suspicious nuns in the affair (nothing better to make someone an accomplice to prevent the scandal), again without details about the nature of the ménage à quatre, but with the description of the murder of a third nun by one of them (not Gertrude, who remained sitting in her cell tormented by guilt), the smuggling of her body by Egidio, and the simulation of her escape.
Overall, I agree that these pages feel redundant; "La sventurata rispose", in three words, summarizes everything one needs to know. I very much like the final choice.
https://it.wikisource.org/wiki/Fermo_e_Lucia/Tomo_Secondo/Cap_V
Wait, so the criminal seduced three nuns at the same time?
Gertrude first, and then two who were having suspects were lured into the affair as a way to shut them up
these details are interesting, and somehow soften the impression their absence gave that either Gertrude herself or Egidio on her behalf killed the missing nun
She didn't act herself but she was definitely part of the conspiracy to kill. I'm not a lawyer but I believe she'd be held responsible given the description.
yes, I thought so from what you wrote, but I think there was also a description of her grief and despair in the aftermath?--I just went to find your original description, "tormented by guilt," maybe that was just in relation to the sex? not the murder, or both? -- in any case, it adds the layer of remorse to her character, which doesn't show up finally, or yet, in the chapter we have now.
No it was in relation to the murder. Here is a rough translation from Google of the passage where they go and call her for help to dispose of the body.
«And the Signora, why doesn't she come and help us?» said the murderer: "it's up to her as much as us, and more than her". "Go and call her," Egidio replied: the murderer who was also looking for a pretext to get away, at least for a few moments, from that place and that object that was unbearable to her, set off for Geltrude's room. This she was in the anguish of those who feel the horror of the crime, but wants it. She sat down, got up, went to eavesdrop at the door: she heard the blow, and she too fled to crouch in the furthest corner of her room, horribly agitated between terror of the crime and terror that it would not be well done. The murderer entered, and said: "We have done what was intended: all that remains is to put things in order: come and help us." "No no, for heaven's sake," replied Geltrude. "What does heaven have to do with it?" said the killer. "Let me go, let me go," continued Geltrude. "How!" the murderer replied «who was that...?» "Yes, that's true," replied Geltrude; “but you know I'm a poor fool in business; I am good for nothing; leave me alone for heaven's..." Geltrude's actions and face reflected in such a horrible way the horror of the fact, that the murderer could not bear her presence, and hurried back to him, the look of whom seemed to say: "It's nothing." "She doesn't want to come," she said, with a convulsive movement of her lips, which would have liked to be a mocking smile: "she doesn't want to come: she's a poor girl." "It doesn't matter," Egidio answered; “it would only complicate; behold, it is all over without her.'
I love the "what does heaven have to do with it?" response. Overall the other two nuns are not as well characterized as other minor characters (think of Tonio and Gervaso), but this sentence is a nice attempt at it.
https://it.wikisource.org/wiki/Fermo_e_Lucia/Tomo_Secondo/Cap_VI
thank you -- even here she remains so complex, and also taking on the power of her familial status, almost in spite of herself, protecting herself from the dirty work, like her father with his minions.
The relationship between Gertrude and Egidio in the original version is very explicitly compared to Eve's ensnarement by Satan. The description is on point but it feels too easy and familiar. I'm glad Manzoni took out the passage. For me, their relationship was not nearly as complex and well-written as that between Gertrude and her father.
Please continue these interesting explanations of your translation decisions! And I agree, Agnese deserves her own book. I had the very uncomfortable feeling that La Signora had the lay sister killed off, but wasn't sure if I was supposed to think this or not. If Gertrude gets involved in very seamy and/or dark activities--and if these activities happen in a convent!--I guess I do think the excisions from Fermo and Lucia leave the reader a little clueless.
Exactly my impression, Pamela! (See my comment above.)
cluelessness may be appropriate for us though -- the world is so full of suspicions and unknowables
Three times in this portion, Manzoni refers to Gertrude as “the poor wretch“.
- as she “recoiled in horror from the idea“ of telling her full story to her inquisitor
- as she “struggled under the yoke“ of being a nun, and her “lost freedom“
- as she answered Egidio, the professional, blackguard, who had “plucked up his courage to speak to her“
Gertrude is a young, beaten down, caged bird yearning to fly free.
Also, yesterday’s text: “The good nuns don’t know anything about what’s happened; that’s a secret which must remain buried in the family”. Seems as if at least one of them knew, although it is her secret that may now be buried.
Yes, in the Penman translation. The Italian is “sventurata”: see my comment on that word.
Thank you for commenting on those particular passages! The euphemisms were decipherable, but a bit oblique. I also like how you pointed out Manzoni's shift from painting the Signorina with great sympathy to implying she is conspirator in the murder or kidnapping of an innocent nun. That was a sudden turn I wasn't prepared for!
I'd like to read his original version of the affair sometime. Can you suggest a place to find it?
See the link from my comment above and try to insert it in google translate
So thankful you are all here! My fateful reply to the fateful reply was confusion. Yes, she sinned. But given the repression under which she is living, it seems sin could lie anywhere from a flirtatious smile to THE original sin. Sounds like it was the latter!
The digressions so far have been the most compelling parts of the novel for me, first Cristoforo's story (followed by his also rather "fateful" visit to Don Rodrigo's) and now Gertrude's. I should have been sleeping last night, but I couldn't stop reading, horrified at her family and father's ruthless manipulation. I wanted her to achieve freedom/revenge, not just peaceful acceptance despite the incredible injustice done to her, but then I was saddened by her gracelessness and cruelty in the convent, culminating in her becoming, it appears, an accessory to murder (alas). Manzoni knows how to tell a grim tale. I, too, love reading about the translation decisions.
That’s why I resist calling them digressions. While there is an overarching “storia” (story) against the background of “Storia” (history), there is a temptation to look at the novel as a series of interlocking stories (storie).
such a stormy back-and-forth of feeling for and against Gertrude in this chapter -- from "who, once she had taken that first step, had become better at lying to herself" to the brief moment of her father's "tenderness that was mostly sincere" to the loss of sympathy as she mistreats her girl students to the joy of her rebellious mood that encourages their collective rowdiness (freedom?) to the sympathy brought on with her desire for the dangerous Egadio -- until we're left to imagine she's killed the girl or Egadio has killed her for her -- and not knowing what this means to her seems a wise authorial move as our uncertainty about the extremes of her character means we can't come to confidence about what her impact on Lucia will be--whether her "protection" is an extreme danger, a modest danger, or a great help. The more detailed version offered in other comments from the earlier draft is helpful in some ways, but I'm glad not to have read it initially and that the uncertainty was left to linger.
The Senora learns it's easier to lie than to tell the truth. Really, though, what choice did she have? She did not choose that she was intellectually and temperamentally unsuitable for the nun vocation her father was forcing her into. But if she stood up to him, then what? She may have wound up on the street, a pauper.
I can relate. I was raised in an insular faith where lifelong adherence absent doubt and rejection of many the liberal values I eventually developed beginnning with my eduction was expected. As a young man, I was a missionary. I was the oldest in my family, my devout parents' first born son. "No" was not an option. Then, unexpectedly, at age 21, I found myself looking for an exit strategy. Only because I had rejected the faith. I ceased to believe, and not by my choosing; it was who I was. It was like a burden was lifted. But new burdens and distress were added. Fortunately, I had the option not to lie and retain an ablity to live in a larger society that accepted me for who I am, although there was a price to pay.
"One day, tempted rather than frightened by the danger and the impiety of the endeavor, he dared to call out to her. And she gave her fateful reply. At first she felt a happiness that, while it was certainly not pure, was very much alive. The tedious void in her spirit was now filled with a strong and constant occupation and, I would almost say, a powerful life. But that happiness was like the restorative drink that the ancients, in their ingenious cruelty, used to pour for a condemned man, to give him the strength to survive longer under torture."
This is too abstract! I want concrete details. What exactly happened between her and Egidio!
While I sympathize, this euphemistic approach may be truer to Gertrude’s state of mind. If she had seen her actions from a more concrete perspective (I cannot say more without giving away her fate), would she have engaged in this behavior?
Well...”Such is the muddle of the human heart.” Gertrude, “filled with regrets and regret for her regrets,” is a bullied and abused child who becomes a vindictive and disagreeable adult. What a muddle indeed. Trust Agnese to boil it down: “Nobles are all a little bit mad: some more, some less, some in one way way, some in another.” What a great way to incorporate the real-life (and quite salacious) story of La Signora di Monza.
*Mi dispiace if I repeat ideas already posted. I read, post, then look at comments. Happy reading! ❤️ this book!
Quite a section on the brink of national women’s day. The more things change, the more things stay the same.....
catching up, sort of! The idea of being coerced by your own family to accept a career is one thing, but becoming a nun/priest against your wishes, that's so hard to relate to. But the immediate shift to teaching/cruelty is a deft character move by manzoni. Hope we get to see the signora teaching a lesson!