Thoughts on Manzoni's The Betrothed

 Thought on Manzoni's The Betrothed

Look at me using italics now that I know it's proper!

I kept telling my husband about different parts of the book as I read, so I certainly have some things to say here about it. Some of the thoughts will be short snippets, and others will be more developed. 

Read no further if you wish to avoid spoilers!

I love Fra Cristoforo; he is what I tried to do with my Friar Tuck character in my novel attempt, but executed perfectly. He and one of the monks at the end had some great lines and helped me think about what true humility might look like. 

I was surprised at just how much trouble Renzo could get into in 24 hours in Milan. Really, it's kind of impressive that he goes from "visitor from the country" to "most wanted criminal" narrowly escaping execution in that timespan.

The section about Gertude, or "The Signora," was heartbreaking and disquieting and disturbing all at once. Boy, did Manzoni make that part plenty real enough! I found it quite telling that he referred to her by multiple names - "Gertrude" or "The Signora" or "the nun of Monza" - but never by the name she would have taken on when she professed her vows. She is never "Sister So-and-so." Using the name she would have had in the convent would have indicated that she had taken on a new way of life and become, in a way, a new creation. She never did - her body entered the convent and she vowed herself to living the life of a nun, but in her heart and actions, she did not live out those vows, making it appropriate to call her by the various other names.

I thought the conversion of The Unnamed was dramatic - as in, a bit melodramatic - but at the same time, it worked. My first thought was, "Really? God starts planting seeds of dissatisfaction in this man's life just before Lucia shows up, so that he can convert and help her? After all those years of living an unrepentant life of evil works?" And my second thought was...yes! God's works are providential, in literature as well as in real life. I see God's hand at work in so much of my life - including finding my husband, my vocation. Is it that surprising to see God's hand so clearly at work in a story? Certainly not! Tolkien hid providential workings a bit more in his work, but Manzoni describes it clearly in The Betrothed without ever stating outright that the hand of God was at work. 

Writing of The Unnamed leads onto two more trails of thought. First, Manzoni's characters speak of God without self-conscious embarrassment or in didactic treatises. God is a part of life, and when the characters pray to Him, it is sincere, not showy; natural and not pretentious. It was beautiful, and at times, inspiring, to see characters turn to God in their need, placing their trust in Him.

The second trail has to do with Ignatian discernment of spirits. There were several points during the novel that I felt illustrated different aspects of discernment of spirits. The clearest instance of this was in The Unnamed's conversion. After years of living in sin, the good spirit pricks The Unnamed's conscience, taking away his pleasure in past and present evil deeds. He even tries to bring up memories of acts that once gave him pleasure, but they are no consolation to him now. The evil spirit tries to prompt him to commit suicide, but The Unnamed is preserved from this and the good spirit continues its work by drawing him towards the good via the providential arrival of Cardinal Federigo Borromeo. A conversation with this holy man confirms The Unnamed in his resolution to change his life, release Lucia from her prison, and make amends for his past deeds. It was quite exciting to see this sample of Ignatian spirituality play out in great detail and pathos.

The other slice of Ignatian spirituality that stood out to me was that Lucia pledged herself to give up her engagement to Renzo and take on a life of virginity in a moment of great duress. I learned that we should not make major life decisions when we are Hungry, Anxious/Angry, Lonely, or Tired (HALT), and Lucia was most if not all of those things when she decided to pledge her virginity to our Lady if Mary would only help her escape the danger she experienced. I loved how Fra Cristoforo resolved the difficulty at the end, stating, "Our Lord, my daughter, willingly accepts sacrifices and offerings when what we offer is our own. It is our heart, it is our will He wants; but you cannot offer Him the will of another to whom you were already bound." (pp. 575-576) This line has returned to me in the days since then, thinking of how I can make personal sacrifices without making them sacrifices for others. Fra Cristoforo goes on to ask her if she ever asked anyone advice about her resolution or opened up to anyone about it; the evil spirit wants us to not disclose some things, but once we speak of them, those thoughts or temptations can lose their power. It was really fascinating to see some of these principles of discernment of spirits play out in the story.

Joseph Pearce wrote about this book in Literature: What Every Catholic Needs to Know, and I believe he pointed out that there multiple characters are contrasted with each other in pairs - the Signora and Lucia, Don Rodrigo and The Unnamed, Fra Cristoforo and Abbott Abbondio, and Fra Cristoforo and several others. In fact, I would go a step farther and argue that much of the conversation that drive the novel forward are one-on-one interactions. There are plenty of group episodes, but the really powerful and impactful parts often happen in conversations between just two people.

I appreciated that Manzoni wrapped up all the loose ends by letting us know what happens to, or at least reaching a good stopping point for, all the characters we came to know by name.

I'm going to end by talking about my favorite part of the book, and one of my favorite characters: Cardinal Federigo Borromeo and his conversation with Abbott Abbondio. I regret to say that Abbott Abbondio, ridiculous and weak-willed and self-centered, is amusing to me and I see a lot of myself in him. I pray that God will help me to be strong in moments when I'm faced with the choice to do right or wrong, but I can absolutely see how I could be like him. He made poor choices from a great desire for self-preservation and mentally dwelt on his frustration with what seems to be lack of consideration for him on the part of everyone else. How easy it is to form an inaccurate idea of a situation when I am the only person I'm thinking about! 

Anyway, I loved the whole conversation between the two men - this was another moment of beautiful contrast, this time, happening between a great man who humbled himself and loved every priest and layperson under his charge, and a small man who exalts himself and his own preservation over the needs of the poor laypeople in his care. This long excerpt comes from a long conversation between the two men; the cardinal is asking Abbott Abbondio about what played out in his heart when Renzo and Lucia were in need of his priestly office to marry them in the face of opposition from a powerful bully.

"Have you forgotten that whenever you need courage to carry out your obligations in this ministry, however you started in it, there is One who will give it infallibly if you but ask for it? Do you think that all those millions of martyrs were courageous by nature? That they naturally held life of so little account? ...They all had the courage, because courage was necessary; and they had trust. Knowing your own weakness and your own duties, did you ever think  of preparing yourself for the difficult situations that might overtake you, that have overtaken you? Ah! If you have loved (as you must have loved) your flock for so many years of pastoral labours, if you have put all your heart and your cares and your delight in them, then courage ought not to fail you in the moment of need. Love is bold. Surely, then, if you loved those who have been entrusted to your spiritual care, those whom you call your children, surely, when you saw two of them threatened together with yourself, ah, surely then love must have made you tremble for their sakes, as the weakness of the flesh had made you tremble for your own? You must have felt humiliated at those first fears, because they were the result of your misery. You must have begged for the strength to overcome them, to expel them as a temptation. At least you must have felt that holy and noble fear for others, for your own children, that fear which must have given you no peace, that must have urged you to do everything possible to avert the danger that was threatening them...What did this fear, this love, inspire in you? What did you do for them? What did you think of doing?" (p. 398)

That's a great reflection for me as I pray one day to have children entrusted to my care.

Manzoni's work made me cry and try flipping forward a few times to find out how things ended up. It was a great work and I hope more people have the chance to read it some day; then they can come and talk to me about it!