“Here, among the poor terrified people, we find a few individuals of our acquaintance.”
A brief reprieve from the march of history.
The Landsknechts, literally “servants of the land,” were the German mercenaries employed by the Holy Roman Empire. The Venetian Republic employed mercenaries of its own, the cappelletti (some claim—especially in Verona!—that the surname Capulet, of Shakespeare’s Juliet, is a translation of Cappelletti).
We finally have another moment with Agnese, prudent rather than scheming, and longing for her daughter in the midst of the exodus from the village.
“The sight of these familiar places made her thoughts more vivid, her sorrow more piercing.”
Even with a marauding army on the way, the tailor still cannot resist little sparks of pedantry (though not on the scale of Don Ferrante):
“I don’t imagine the soldiers will be coming to this village for lodgment—the correct term, I’m sure you know.”
Not to mention his rather perverse false modesty:
“When they got up from the table, he showed her a print of the Cardinal that he had attached to the side of the door, in homage to the man, but also so he could tell anyone who came by, from one who knows, that it didn’t look anything like the man. Because he’d had the chance to see the Cardinal in person, up close and at length, in this very room.”
Despite Don Abbondio’s skepticism (“Converted? But is he truly converted?”), the Nameless One is indeed a changed man.
“Through that voluntary humiliation, his presence and bearing had acquired, without his realizing it, something loftier and more noble, since even more than before, one could see the absence of all fear in him.”
In the disquisition that follows, Manzoni makes an interesting remark:
“In those days, there was a peculiar relationship between Church and State.”
I’ll say!
Join us on April 10 for a virtual discussion of The Betrothed with Michael F. Moore.
Parts of this chapter are quite comic operatic in some ways, with the two women and Don A. preparing to evacuate the house, reinforced by Manzoni's use of 'quickly quickly' and 'slowly slowly'. I liked Don A complaining that the Duke of Nevers could have stayed in France and amused himself by playing the Prince, but no, he wanted to be Duke of Mantua. Francesco Gorin's original illustration captures the lazy Don A and the two busy women.
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fe/I_promessi_sposi_356.jpg
The contrast between Don A and the Nameless One is striking. The former is still his complaining fearful self, even after his apparent reformation during his encounter with the Cardinal. The Nameless One's genuine transformation after his encounter with the Cardinal is confirmed by his even greater presence and bearing, the primary sign being "the absence of all fear in him" (la noncuranza d’ogni pericolo). The priest is still self-focused and is unable to really care about others, while the Nameless one is able to forget about himself in his service to those in need.
“In those days, there was a peculiar relationship between Church and State”, is a concise description of Manzoni's satire on both of those institutions.
I love the details of this little "potluck" -- the roasted chestnuts, the peaches, the figs, eaten with linen, majolica, and silver! It is exactly the respite we all need at this moment in the story. I took a virtual visit to the Museo Internazionale Delle Ceramiche in Faenza to get a look at some 17th century dishes. Here is one: https://www.micfaenza.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Piatto-Deruta-XVII-sec.-maiolica-1024x919.jpg