Despite his faults, especially considering the damage his refusal to perform the marriage would cause, there seems to be a shifting of sympathies here, starting with Manzoni’s own interjection:
“At this, Don Abbondio, who had struggled to answer less pointed questions, was left speechless. And, to tell the truth, even I—manuscript before me and pen in hand, contending only with words and fearing only the criticism of my readers—even I feel a certain reluctance to go on. For there is something unsettling about this effortless deploying of so many fine exhortations: to fortitude and charity, to diligent caring for others and boundless self-sacrifice. But when I realize that all this was said by a man who actually practiced them, I forge bravely ahead.”
At the center of Cardinal Borromeo’s exhortation is a single word: love. I was tempted to use the biblical word, Charity, but its meaning today has shifted, and we are more inclined to interpret it as the giving of alms, helping the poor.
“Even if they had provoked you, offended you, tormented you, I would still tell you (would I have to?) to love them for this very reason. To love them because they have suffered, because they still suffer, because they are your children, because they are weak, because you need forgiveness, and their prayers will help you immensely to receive it.”
Lucia finally confesses to her mother that she made a vow to the Blessed Mother, and cannot marry Renzo. For once, it’s Agnese criticizing her daughter for being venal:
“Listen to me. People who need money are happy to get it, but this money isn’t going to make Renzo any better off.”
Page 438. And where is poor Renzo? He’s had to change his name and his workplace to avoid arrest. Notice that here Manzoni states, “Now for the facts,” signaling a transition to the historical narrative that will animate the next few chapters.
But he cannot resist a comic note. Renzo’s new boss,
“thought the youth a bit dim-witted at first, since whenever he called out, ‘Antonio,’ he didn’t always get an answer.”
Join us on April 10 for a virtual discussion of The Betrothed with Michael F. Moore.
Manzoni admits that all these fine precepts and exhortations to goodness would sound hollow, except for the fact of being spoken by someone who actually walked the talk.
I love the paragraph beginning: "Don Abbondio was quiet". The rest of it is a believable description of D. Annondio's change of heart. The penny finally drops. He sees the truth of what the Cardinal is saying. He stops blaming others and takes responsibility for himself. The metaphor of the damp broken wick of a candle finally catching fire is fitting.
The Cardinal at times reminds me of Padre Cristoforo in his exhortations to goodness and trust in God, even though the words of the latter are less intellectual but equally effective. Reading the chapter, I am reminded of another comparison. Lucia and the Nun of Monzo share similar fates in a way. Both are the victims of things outside their control. My sympathy for Gertrude increased while reading this chapter. By the way, the actress Evi Maltagliati does full justice to the complex and conflicted character of Gertrude in her portrayal of the nun in Mario Camerini's 1941 film adaptation of the novel.
When Agnese tells Lucia she is only too happy to send money to Rezo she says, "I was happy as could be on my way here". I love the way Manzoni describes the woman's basic human joy in one simple line.
The last few pages of the chapter are a great description of how people are easily caught up in circumstances beyond their understanding or control. The poor are busy just trying to survive, while the rulers and the rich have much more important things on their minds. Renzo is linked to Don Gonzalo by a flimsy yet complex set of circumstances., by a "very thin and invisible thread, to too many and too important things".
There’s a bounty of generous and agile thinking in this chapter. Don Abbondio is bombarded with faith as he’s dressed down by the Cardinal who keeps him and me off balance with teachings, and how he listens to DA when DA finally speaks. I found myself finding solace in the same words heard by DA. And then this glimmer of hope as Agnese finally hears about the vow made by Lucia: “She wanted to say, “What have you done?” but it would have been like raging at heaven, especially when Lucia started to describe that night in the most vivid colors: the deep despair and the unexpected liberation in which the vow had been made so explicitly, so solemnly.” The language a constant surprise - raging at heaven, vivid colors, deep despair, unexpected liberation. At this point, I’m feeling hopeful that L and R will be together again.