No More Learning

” said Don Abbondio. «I declare they
know everything. Eh! how suspicious the world has become!
Don't you trust me ? ”
"What, Signor Curate! Don't I trust you ?
You do me
wrong. But as my name is in your black books, on the debtor's
side- Then, since you have had the trouble of writing once,
From life to death - "
“Well, well,” interrupted Don Abbondio; and muttering be-
tween his teeth, he drew out one of the table drawers, took thence
pen, ink, and paper, and began to write, repeating the words
aloud as they proceeded from his pen. In the mean time Tonio,
and at his side Gervase, placed themselves standing before the
SO -


## p. 9677 (#85) ############################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9677
>>
table in such a manner as to conceal the door from the view of
the writer, and began to shuffle their feet about on the floor, as
if in mere idleness, but in reality as a signal to those without
to enter, and at the same time to drown the noise of their foot-
steps. Don Abbondio, intent upon his writing, noticed nothing
else. At the noise of their feet, Renzo took Lucia's arm, pressing
it in an encouraging manner, and went forward, almost dragging
her along; for she trembled to such a degree that without his
help she must have sunk to the ground. Entering very softly,
on tiptoe, and holding their breath, they placed themselves be-
hind the two brothers. In the mean time, Don Abbondio, having
finished writing, read over the paper attentively, without raising
his eyes; he then folded it up, saying, "Are you content now? ”
and taking off his spectacles with one hand, handed the paper to
Tonio with the other, and looked up. Tonio, extending his right
hand to receive it, retired on one side, and Gervase, at a sign
from him, on the other; and behold! as at the shifting of a scene,
Renzo and Lucia stood between them. Don Abbondio saw indis-
tinctly — saw clearly — was terrified, astonished, enraged, buried in
thought, came to a resolution; and all this while Renzo uttered
the words, "Signor Curate, in the presence of these witnesses,
this is my wife. ” Before, however, Lucia's lips could form the
reply, Don Abbondio dropped the receipt, seized the lamp with
his left hand and raised it in the air, caught hold of the cloth
with his right, and dragged it furiously off the table, bringing
to the ground in its fall, book, paper, inkstand, and sand-box;
and springing between the chair and the table, advanced towards
Lucia. The poor girl, with her sweet gentle voice, trembling
violently, had scarcely uttered the words, “And this when
Don Abbondio threw the cloth rudely over her head and face, to
prevent her pronouncing the entire formula. Then, letting the
light fall from his other hand, he employed both to wrap the
cloth round her face, till she was well-nigh smothered, shouting
in the mean while, at the stretch of his voice, like a wounded
bull, “Perpetua! Perpetua! — treachery! — help! ” The light, just
glimmering on the ground, threw a dim and flickering ray upon
Lucia, who, in utter consternation, made no attempt to disengage
herself, and might be compared to a statue sculptured in chalk,
over which the artificer had thrown a wet cloth. When the light
died away, Don Abbondio quitted the poor girl, and went grop-
ing about to find the door that opened into an inner room: and


## p. 9678 (#86) ############################################

9678
ALESSANDRO MANZONI
>
having reached it, he entered and shut himself in, unceasingly
exclaiming, “Perpetua! treachery! help! Out of the house! Out
of the house!
In the other room all was confusion: Renzo, seeking to lay
hold of the Curate, and feeling with his hands, as if playing at
blindman's buff, had reached the door, and kicking against it,
was crying, “Open, open; don't make such a noise ! » Lucia,
calling to Renzo in a feeble voice, said beseechingly, “Let us go,
let us go, for God's sake. ” Tonio was crawling on his knees,
and feeling with his hands on the ground to recover his lost
receipt. The terrified Gervase was crying and jumping about,
and seeking for the door of the stairs, so as to make his escape
in safety.
In the midst of this uproar, we cannot but stop a moment to
make a reflection. Renzo, who was causing disturbance at night
in another person's house, who had effected an entrance by
stealth, and who had blockaded the master himself in one of his
own rooms, has all the appearance of an oppressor; while in fact
he was the oppressed. Don Abbondio, taken by surprise, terrified
and put to flight, while peaceably engaged in his own affairs,
appears the victim; when in reality it was he who did the wrong.
Thus frequently goes the world; - or rather, we should say, thus
it went in the seventeenth century.
The besieged, finding that the enemy gave no signs of aban-
doning the enterprise, opened a window that looked into the
church-yard, and shouted out, “Help! help! ” There was a most
lovely moon; the shadow of the church, and a little farther on
the long sharp shadow of the bell-tower, lay dark, still, and well
defined, on the bright grassy level of the sacred inclosure: all
objects were visible, almost as by day. But look which way you
would, there appeared no sign of living person. Adjoining the
lateral wall of the church, on the side next the parsonage, was a
small dwelling where the sexton slept. Aroused by this unusual
cry, he sprang up in his bed, jumped out in great haste, threw
open the sash of his little window, put his head out with his
eyelids glued together all the while, and cried out, «What's the
matter? )
“Run, Ambrogio! help! people in the house! » answered Don
Abbondio. "Coming directly,” replied he, as he drew in his
head and shut the window; and although half asleep and more
than half terrified, an expedient quickly occurred to him that


## p. 9679 (#87) ############################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9679
would bring more aid than had been asked, without dragging him
into the affray, whatever it might be. Seizing his breeches that
lay upon the bed, he tucked them under his arm like a gala hat,
and bounding down-stairs by a little wooden ladder, ran to the
belfry, caught hold of the rope that was attached to the larger
of the two bells, and pulled vigorously.
Ton, ton, ton, ton: the peasant sprang up in his bed; the
boy stretched in the hay-loft listened eagerly, and leapt upon
his feet. « What's the matter? what's the matter ? The bell 's
ringing! Fire ? Thieves ? Banditti ? » Many of the women
advised, begged, their husbands not to stir — to let others run;
some got up and went to the window; those who were cowards,
as if yielding to entreaty, quietly slipped under the bedclothes
again; while the more inquisitive and courageous sprang up and
armed themselves with pitchforks and pistols, to run to the up-
roar; others waited to see the end.
Renzo, who had more of his senses about him than the rest,
remembered that they had better make their escape one way
or another before the crowds assembled; and that the best plan
would be to do as Menico advised, — nay, commanded, with the
authority of one in terror. When once on their way, and out of
the tumult and danger, he could ask a clearer explanation from
the boy. « Lead the way,” said he to Menico; and addressing
the women, said, “Let us go with him. ” They therefore quickly
turned their steps towards the church, crossed the church-yard,
- where, by the favor of Heaven, there was not yet a living
creature,- entered a little street that ran between the church
and Don Abbondio's house, turned into the first alley they came
to, and then took the way of the fields.
They had not perhaps gone fifty yards, when the crowd
began to collect in the church-yard, and rapidly increased every
moment. They looked inquiringly in each other's faces; every
one had a question to ask, but no one could return an answer.
Those who arrived first ran to the church door: it was locked.
They then ran to the belfry outside; and one of them, putting
his mouth to a very small window, a sort of loophole, cried,
«What ever is the matter ? ” As soon as Ambrogio recognized a
known voice, he let go of the bell-rope, and being assured by
the buzz that many people had assembled, replied, “I'll open
the door. ” Hastily slipping on the apparel he had carried under
his arm, he went inside the church and opened the door.


## p. 9680 (#88) ############################################

9680
ALESSANDRO MANZONI
“What is all this hubbub ? — What is it? - Where is it? -
Who is it ? »
"Why, who is it ? ” said Ambrogio, laying one hand on the
door-post, and with the other holding up the habiliment he had
put on in such haste: “What! don't you know? People in the
Signor Curate's house. Up, boys; help! ” Hearing this, they all
turned to the house, looked up, approached it in a body, looked
up again, listened: all was quiet. Some ran to the street door;
it was shut and bolted: they glanced upwards; not a window was
open, not a whisper was to be heard.
« Who is within ? Ho! Hey! — Signor Curate! — Signor
Curate! ”
Don Abbondio, who, scarcely aware of the flight of the in-
vaders, had retired from the window and closed it, and who at
this moment was reproaching Perpetua in a low voice for having
left him alone in this confusion, was obliged, when he heard him-
self called upon by the voice of the assembled people, to show
himself again at the window; and when he saw the crowds that
had come to his aid, he sorely repented having called them.
“What has happened? — What have they done to you ? - Who
are they? — Where are they? " burst forth from fifty voices at
once.
>
« There's nobody here now: thank you; go home again. ”
“But who has been here ? - Where are they gone? - What
has happened ? ”
« Bad people, people who go about by night; but they're gone:
go home again; there is no longer anything; another time, my
children: I thank you for your kindness to me. ” So saying, he
drew back and shut the window. Some of the crowd began to
grumble, some to joke, others to curse; some shrugged their
shoulders and took their departure.
The melancholy trio continued their walk, the women taking
the lead and Renzo behind to act as guard. Lucia clung closely
to her mother's arın, kindly and dexterously avoiding the prof-
fered assistance of the youth at the difficult passes of this unfre-
quented path; feeling ashamed of herself, even in such troubles,
for having already been so long and so familiarly alone with
him, while expecting in a few moments to be his wife. Now
that this vision had been so sorrowfully dispelled, she repented
having proceeded thus far; and amidst so many causes of fear,
she feared even for her modesty; — not such modesty as arises


## p. 9681 (#89) ############################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9681
from the sad knowledge of evil, but for that which is ignorant
of its own existence; like the dread of a child who trembles in
the dark, he knows not why.
“And the house? ” suddenly exclaimed Agnese. But however
important the object might be which extorted this exclamation,
no one replied, because no one could do so satisfactorily. They
therefore continued their walk in silence, and in a little while
reached the square before the church of the convent.
Renzo advanced to the door of the church, and gently pushed
it open. The moon that entered through the aperture fell upon
the pale face and silvery beard of Father Cristoforo, who was
standing here expecting them; and having seen that no one
was missing, God be praised ! ” said he, beckoning to them to
enter. By his side stood another Capuchin, the lay sexton, whom
he had persuaded by prayers and arguments to keep vigil with
him, to leave the door ajar, and to remain there on guard to
receive these poor threatened creatures; and it required nothing
short of the authority of the Father, and of his fame as a saint,
to persuade the layman to so inconvenient, perilous, and irregu-
lar a condescension. When they were inside, Father Cristoforo
very softly shut the door. Then the sexton could no longer con-
tain himself, and taking the Father aside, whispered in his ear:
"But, Father, Father! at night-in church — with women — shut
- the rule-but, Father! And he shook his head, while thus
hesitatingly pronouncing these words. Just see! thought Father
Cristoforo: if it were a pursued robber, Friar Fazio would make
no difficulty in the world; but a poor innocent escaping from
the jaws of a wolf - "Omnia munda mundis, " * added he, turn-
,
ing suddenly to Friar Fazio, and forgetting that he did not under-
stand Latin. But this forgetfulness was exactly what produced
the right effect. If the Father had begun to dispute and reason,
Friar Fazio would not have failed to urge opposing arguments,
and no one knows how and when the discussion would have come
to an end; but at the sound of these weighty words of a mys-
terious signification, and so resolutely uttered, it seemed to him
that in them must be contained the solution of all his doubts.
He acquiesced, saying, “Very well: you know more about it than
I do. "
»
* Or in rever
erse, « To the pure all things are pure. ”
XVII-606


## p. 9682 (#90) ############################################

9682
ALESSANDRO MANZONI
(
“Trust me, then,” replied Father Cristoforo; and by the
dim light of the lamp burning before the altar, he approached
the refugees, who stood waiting in suspense, and said to them,
“My children, thank God, who has delivered you from so great
a danger! Perhaps at this moment - And here he began to
explain more fully what he had hinted by the little messen-
ger; little suspecting that they knew more than he, and sup-
posing that Menico had found them quiet in their own house,
before the arrival of the ruffians. Nobody undeceived him,-
not even Lucia, whose conscience, however, was all the while
secretly reproaching her for practicing such dissimulation with so
good a man; but it was a night of embarrassment and dissimula-
tion.
"After this,” continued he, “you must feel, my children, that
the village is no longer safe for you. It is yours, who were
born there, and you have done no wrong to any one; but God
wills it so. It is a trial, my children; bear it with patience and
faith, without indulging in rancor, and rest assured there will
come a day when you will think yourselves happy that this has
occurred. I have thought of a refuge for you, for the present.
Soon, I hope, you may be able to return in safety to your own
house; at any rate, God will provide what is best for you; and I
assure you, I will be careful not to prove unworthy of the favor
he has bestowed upon me, in choosing me as his minister, in
the service of you his poor yet loved afflicted ones. You,” con-
tinued he, turning to the two women, “can stay at Here
you will be far enough from every danger, and at the same
time not far from your own home. There seek out our
vent, ask for the guardian, and give him this letter: he will be
to you another Father Cristoforo. And you, my Renzo, must
put yourself in safety from the anger of others, and your own.
Carry this letter to Father Bonaventura da Lodi, in our convent
of the Porta Orientale, at Milan. He will be a father to you,
will give you directions and find you work, till you can return
and live more peaceably. Go to the shore of the lake, near
the mouth of the Bione, a river not far from this monastery.
Here you will see a boat waiting; say, “Boat! ! It will be asked
you, "For whom? ' And you must reply, “San Francesco. ' The
boat will receive you and carry you to the other side, where you
will find a cart that will take you straight to -
(
con-


## p. 9683 (#91) ############################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9683
If any one asks how Father Cristoforo had so quickly at his
disposal these means of transport by land and water, it will show
that he does not know the influence and power of a Capuchin
held in reputation as a saint.
It still remained to decide about the care of the houses.
The Father received the keys, pledging himself to deliver them
to whomsoever Renzo and Agnese should name. The latter, in
delivering up hers, heaved a deep sigh, remembering that at that
moment the house was open, that the devil had been there, and
who knew what remained to be taken care of !
« Before you go,” said the Father, “let us pray all together
that the Lord may be with you in this your journey, and for
ever; and above all, that he may give you strength and a spirit
of love, to enable you to desire whatever he has willed. ” So
saying, he knelt down in the middle of the church, and they all
followed his example.
After praying a few moments in silence, with a low but dis-
tinct voice he pronounced these words:–«We beseech thee also
for the unhappy person who has brought us to this state. We
should be unworthy of thy mercy if we did not from our hearts
implore it for him; he needs it, O Lord! We, in our sorrow,
have this consolation, that we are in the path where thou hast
placed us; we can offer thee our griefs and they may become
our gain. But he is thine enemy! Alas, wretched man, he is
striving with thee! Have mercy on him, O Lord, touch his heart;
reconcile him to thyself, and give him all those good things we
could desire for ourselves. ”
Rising then in haste, he said, “Come, my children, you have
no time to lose: God defend you; his angel go with you; -
farewell! » And while they set off with that emotion which
cannot find words, and manifests itself without them, the Father
'added in an agitated tone, My heart tells me we shall meet
again soon. ”
Certainly the heart, to those who listen to it, has always some-
thing to say on what will happen; but what did his heart know?
Very little, truly, of what had already happened.
Without waiting a reply, Father Cristoforo retired with hasty
steps; the travelers took their departure, and Father Fazio shut
the door after them, bidding them farewell with even his voice a
little faltering
»
>


## p. 9684 (#92) ############################################

9684
ALESSANDRO MANZONI
The trio slowly made their way to the shore they had been
directed to; there they espied the boat, and exchanging the pass-
word, stepped in. The waterman, planting one oar on the land,
pushed off; then took up the other oar, and rowing with both
hands, pulled out and made towards the opposite beach. Not a
breath of wind was stirring; the lake lay bright and smooth, and
would have appeared motionless but for the tremulous and gen-
tle undulation of the moonbeams, which gleamed upon it from
the zenith. No sounds were heard but the muffled and slowly
measured breaking of the surge upon the pebbly shore, the more
distant gurgling of the troubled waters dashing among the piles
of the bridge, and the even plash of the light sculls, as, rising
with the sharp sound of a dripping blade, and quickly plunged
again beneath, they cut the azure surface of the lake. The
waves, divided by the prow, and reuniting behind the little bark,
tracked out a curling line which extended itself to the shore. The
silent travelers, with their faces turned backwards, gazed upon
the mountains and the country, illumined by the pale light of
the moon, and diversified here and there with vast shadows.
They could distinguish the villages, the houses, and the little
cabins: the palace of Don Rodrigo, with its square tower, rising
above the group of huts at the base of the promontory, looked
like a savage standing in the dark and meditating some evil
deed while keeping guard over a company of reclining sleepers.
Lucia saw it and shuddered; then drawing her eye along the
declivity till she reached her native village, she fixed her gaze on
its extremity, sought for her own cottage, traced out the thick
head of the fig-tree which towered above the wall of the court-
yard, discovered the window of her own room, -- and being seated
in the bottom of the boat, she leaned her elbow on the edge,
laid her forehead on her arm as if she were sleeping, and wept
in secret.
Farewell, ye mountains, rising from the waters and pointing
to the heavens! ye varied summits, familiar to him who has been
brought up among you, and impressed upon his mind as clearly
as the countenance of his dearest friends! ye torrents, whose
murmur he recognizes like the sound of the voices of home! ye
villages, scattered and glistening on the declivity, like flocks of
grazing sheep! Farewell! How mournful is the step of him
who, brought up amidst your scenes, is compelled to leave you!


## p. 9685 (#93) ############################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9685
Even in the imagination of one who willingly departs, attracted by
the hope of making a fortune elsewhere, the dreams of wealth at
this moment lose their charms; he wonders he could form such a
resolution, and would even now turn back but for the hope of
one day returning with a rich abundance. As he advances into
the plain, his eye becomes wearied with its uniform extent; the
atmosphere feels heavy and lifeless; he sadly and listlessly enters
the busy cities, where houses crowded upon houses, and streets
intersecting streets, seem to take away his breath; and before
edifices admired by the stranger, he recalls with restless longing
the fields of his own country, and the cottage he had long ago
set his heart upon, and which he resolves to purchase when he
returns enriched to his own mountains.
But what must he feel who has never sent a passing wish
beyond these mountains, who has arranged among them all his
designs for the future, and is driven far away by an adverse
power! who, suddenly snatched away from his dearest habits, and
thwarted in his dearest hopes, leaves these mountains to go in
search of strangers whom he never desired to know, and is un-
able to look forward to a fixed time of return!
Farewell, native cottage — where, indulging in unconscious
fancy, one learnt to distinguish from the noise of common foot-
steps the approach of a tread expected with mysterious timid-
ity! Farewell, thou cottage, - still a stranger, but so often hastily
glanced at, not without a blush, in passing - in which the mind
took delight to figure to itself the tranquil and lasting home
of a wife! Farewell, my church, where the heart was so often
soothed while chanting the praises of the Lord; where the pre-
paratory rite of betrothal was performed; where the secret sigh-
ing of the heart was solemnly blessed, and love was inspired,
and one felt a hallowing influence around. Farewell! He who
imparted to you such gladness is everywhere; and he never dis-
turbs the joy of his children but to prepare them for one more
certain and durable.
Of such a nature, if not exactly these, were the reflections of
Lucia; and not very dissimilar were those of the two other wan-
derers, while the little bark rapidly approached the right bank of
the Adda.


## p. 9686 (#94) ############################################

9686
ALESSANDRO MANZONI
A LATE REPENTANCE
From (The Betrothed
С
>>
[In several chapters preceding the following affecting extract from Man-
zoni's story is described the imprisonment of Lucia Mondella, the heroine of
the tale, in the lonely castle of an outlaw. The latter is a man of rank; but
guilty of such a succession of murders, robberies, and other villainies, during
many years, that he — in the story he is called only (The Unnamed) — has
become a terror throughout all the country-side. A sudden repentance and
remorse comes to this monster of wickedness. Hearing that the great Cardi.
nal Federigo Borromeo of Milan is arrived in the neighborhood, he decides, in
great hesitation and contrition, to visit that kindly and courageous priest. ]
ARDINAL FEDERIGO was employed — according to his usual
custom in every leisure interval-in study, until the hour
arrived for repairing to the church for the celebration of
Divine service; when the chaplain and cross-bearer entered with
a disturbed and gloomy countenance.
"A strange visitor, my noble lord — strange indeed! ”
«Who? " asked the Cardinal.
“No less a personage than the Signor – replied the chap-
lain; and pronouncing the syllables with a very significant tone,
he uttered the name which we cannot give to our readers. He
then added, “He is here outside in person, and demands noth-
ing less than to be introduced to your illustrious Grace. ”
“He! ” said the Cardinal with an animated look, shutting his
book and rising from his seat: “let him come in! — let him
come in directly!
”
« But” rejoined the chaplain, without attempting to move,
your illustrious Lordship must surely be aware who he is: that
outlaw, that famous »
"And is it not a most happy circumstance for a bishop, that
such a man should feel a wish to come and seek an interview
with him? "
“But » insisted the chaplain, “we may never speak of cer-
tain things, because my lord says it is all nonsense: but when
it comes to the point, I think it is a duty – Zeal makes many
enemies, my lord; and we know positively that more than one
ruffian has dared to boast that some day or other —
"And what have they done? ” interrupted the Cardinal.
“I say that this man is a plotter of mischief, a desperate
character, who holds correspondence with the most violent des-
peradoes, and who may be sent


## p. 9687 (#95) ############################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9687
Will you
(C
“Oh, what discipline is this," again interrupted Federigo, smil-
ing, “ for the soldiers to exhort their general to cowardice ? ”
Then resuming a grave and thoughtful air, he continued: “Saint
Carlo would not have deliberated whether he ought to receive
such a man: he would have gone to seek him. Let him be
admitted directly: he has already waited too long.
The chaplain moved towards the door, saying in his heart,
"There's no remedy: these saints are all obstinate. ”
Having opened the door and surveyed the room where the
Signor and his companions were, he saw that the latter had
crowded together on one side, where they sat whispering and
cautiously peeping at their visitor, while he was left alone in one
corner. The chaplain advanced towards him, eying him guard-
edly from head to foot, and wondering what weapons he might
have hidden under that great coat: thinking at the same time
that really, before admitting him, he ought at least to have pro-
posed - But he could not resolve what to do. He approached
him, saying, "His Grace waits for your Lordship.
be good enough to come with me? ” And as he preceded him
through the little crowd, which instantly gave way for him, he
kept casting glances on each side, which meant to say, "What
could I do? don't you know yourselves that he always has his
own way ?
On reaching the apartment, the chaplain opened the door and
introduced the Unnamed. Federigo advanced to meet him with
a happy and serene look, and his hand extended, as if to wel-
come an expected guest; at the same time making a sign to
the chaplain to go out, which was immediately obeyed.
When thus left alone, they both stood for a moment silent
and in suspense, though from widely different feelings. The
Unnamed, who had as it were been forcibly carried there by an
inexplicable compulsion, rather than led by a determinate inten-
tion, now stood there, also as it were by compulsion, torn by two
contending feelings: on the one side, a desire and confused hope
of meeting with some alleviation of his inward torment; on
the other, a feeling of self-rebuked shame at having come hither,
like a penitent, subdued and wretched, to confess himself guilty
and to make supplication to a man: he was at a loss for words,
and indeed scarcely sought for them. Raising his eyes, however,
to the Archbishop's face, he became gradually filled with a feel-
ing of veneration, authoritative and at the same time soothing;


## p. 9688 (#96) ############################################

9688
ALESSANDRO MANZONI
which, while it increased his confidence, gently subdued his
haughtiness, and without offending his pride, compelled it to give
way, and imposed silence.
The bearing of Federigo was in fact one which announced
superiority, and at the same time excited love. It was natur-
ally sedate, and almost involuntarily commanding, his figure being
not in the least bowed or wasted by age; while his solemn
yet sparkling eye, his open and thoughtful forehead, a kind of
virginal floridness, which might be distinguished even among
gray locks, paleness, and the traces of abstinence, meditation, and
labor: in short, all his features indicated that they had once
possessed that which is most strictly entitled beauty. The habit
of serious and benevolent thought, the inward peace of a long
life, the love that he felt towards his fellow-creatures, and the
uninterrupted enjoyment of an ineffable hope, had now substi-
tuted the beauty (so to say) of old age, which shone forth more
attractively from the magnificent simplicity of the purple.
He fixed for a moment on the countenance of the Unnamed
a penetrating look, long accustomed to gather from this index
what was passing in the mind; and imagining he discovered,
under that dark and troubled mien, something every moment
more corresponding with the hope he had conceived on the first
announcement of such a visit. “Oh! ” cried he, in an animated
voice, “what a welcome visit is this! and how thankful I ought
to be to you for taking such a step, although it may convey to
me a little reproof! ”
"Reproof! ” exclaimed the Signor, much surprised, but soothed
by his words and manner, and glad that the Cardinal had broken
the ice and started some sort of conversation.
“ Certainly it conveys to me a reproof,” replied the Arch-
a
bishop, for allowing you to be beforehand with me when so
often, and for so long a time, I might and ought to have come
to you myself. ”
“You come to me! Do you know who I am ? Did they de-
liver my name rightly ? ”
"And the happiness I feel, and which must surely be evi-
dent in my countenance,- do you think I should feel it at the
announcement and visit of a stranger ? It is you who make me
experience it; you, I say, whom I ought to have sought; you
whom I have at least loved and wept over, and for whom I
have so often prayed; you among all my children — for each
(


## p. 9689 (#97) ############################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9689
(
))
one I love from the bottom of my heart — whom I should most
have desired to receive and embrace, if I had thought I might
hope for such a thing. But God alone knows how to work won-
ders, and supplies the weakness and tardiness of his unworthy
servants. ”
The Unnamed stood astonished at this warm reception, in lan-
guage which corresponded so exactly with that which he had not
yet expressed, nor indeed had fully determined to express; and,
affected but exceedingly surprised, he remained silent. « Well!
resumed Federigo still more affectionately, you have good news
to tell me; and you keep me so long expecting it ? ”
“Good news! I have hell in my heart; and can I tell you
any good tidings ? Tell me, if you know, what good news you
can expect from such as I am ? »
« That God has touched your heart and would make you his
own,” replied the Cardinal calmly.
“God! God! God! If I could see him! If I could hear him!
Where is this God ? »
“Do you ask this ? you? And who has him nearer than you ?
Do you not feel him in your heart, overcoming, agitating you,
never leaving you at ease, and at the same time drawing you for-
ward, presenting to your view a hope of tranquillity and conso-
lation, a consolation which shall be full and boundless, as soon
as you recognize him, acknowledge and implore him ? »
« Oh, surely! there is something within that oppresses, that
consumes me! But God! If this be God, if he be such as they
say, what do you suppose he can do with me? ”
These words were uttered with an accent of despair; but
Federigo, with a solemn tone as of calm inspiration, replied:
“What can God do with you? What would he wish to make of
A token of his power and goodness: he would acquire
through you a glory such as others could not give him. The
world has long cried out against you; hundreds and thousands of
voices have declared their detestation of your deeds. ” (The Un-
named shuddered, and felt for a moment surprised at hearing such
unusual language addressed to him and still more surprised that
he felt no anger, but rather almost a relief. ) "What glory," pur-
sued Federigo, "will thus redound to God! They may be voices
of alarm, of self-interest; of justice, perhaps-a justice so easy!
so natural! Some perhaps — yea, too many— may be voices
of envy of your wretched power; of your hitherto deplorable
you?
)
(


## p. 9690 (#98) ############################################

9690
ALESSANDRO MANZONI
man, that
security of heart. But when you yourself rise up to condemn
your past life, to become your own accuser,- then, then indeed,
God will be glorified! And you ask what God can do with you.
Who am I, a poor mortal, that I can tell you what use such a
Being may choose henceforth to make of you ? how he can em-
ploy your impetuous will, your unwavering perseverance, when he
shall have animated and invigorated them with love, with hope,
with repentance ? Who are you,
weak
you
should
imagine yourself capable of devising and executing greater deeds
of evil, than God can make you will and accomplish in the cause
of good ? What can God do with you ? Pardon you! save you!
finish in you the work of redemption! Are not these things noble
and worthy of him ? Oh, just think! if I, a humble and feeble
creature, so worthless and full of myself — I, such as I am, long
so ardently for your salvation, that for its sake I would joyfully
give (and he is my witness! ) the few days that still remain to
me,-oh, think what and how great must be the love of Him
who inspires me with this imperfect but ardent affection; how
must He love you, what must He desire for you, who has bid
and enabled me to regard you with a charity that consumes
me! »
While these words fell from his lips, his face, his expression,
his whole manner, evinced his deep feeling of what he uttered.
The countenance of his auditor changed from a wild and con-
vulsive look, first to astonishment and attention, and then gradu-
ally yielded to deeper and less painful emotions; his eyes, which
from infancy had been unaccustomed to weep, became suffused;
and when the words ceased, he covered his face with his hands
and burst into a flood of tears. It was the only and most evi.
dent reply.
“Great and good God! ” exclaimed Federigo, raising his hands
and eyes to heaven, “what have I ever done, an unprofitable
servant, an idle shepherd, that thou shouldest call me to this
banquet of grace! that thou shouldest make me worthy of being
an instrument in so joyful a miracle ! ” So saying, he extended
his hand to take that of the Unnamed.
"No! ” cried the penitent nobleman; “no! keep away from
me: defile not that innocent and beneficent hand. You don't
know all that the one you would grasp has committed. ”
“Suffer me,” said Federigo, taking it with affectionate vio-
lence, “suffer me to press the hand which will repair so many
(c


## p. 9691 (#99) ############################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9691
more
wrongs, dispense so many benefits, comfort so many afflicted, and
be extended — disarmed, peacefully, and humbly - to so many
enemies. ”
« It is too much! ” said the Unnamed sobbing: “leave me, my
lord; good Federigo, leave me! A crowded assembly awaits you;
so many good people, so many innocent creatures, so many come
from a distance, to see you for once, to hear you: and you are
staying to talk — with whom ! »
“We will leave the ninety-and-nine sheep,” replied the Cardi-
nal: "they are in safety upon the mountain; I wish to remain
with that which was lost. Their minds are perhaps now
satisfied than if they were seeing their poor bishop. Perhaps
God, who has wrought in you this miracle of mercy, is diffusing
in their hearts a joy of which they know not yet the reason.
These people are perhaps united to us without being aware of
it; perchance the Spirit may be instilling into their hearts an
undefined feeling of charity, a petition which he will grant
for you, an offering of gratitude of which you are as yet the
unknown object. ” So saying, he threw his arms around the neck
of the Unnamed; who, after attempting to disengage himself, and
making a momentary resistance, yielded, completely overcome by
this vehement expression of affection, embraced the Cardinal in
his turn, and buried in his shoulder his trembling and altered
face. His burning tears dropped upon the stainless purple of
Federigo, while the guiltless hands of the holy bishop affection-
ately pressed those members, and touched that garment, which
had been accustomed to hold the weapons of violence and treach-
ery.
Disengaging himself at length from this embrace, the Un.
named again covered his eyes with his hands, and raising his face
to heaven, exclaimed:-"God is indeed great! God is indeed
,
good! I know myself now, now I understand what I am; my
sins are present before me, and I shudder at the thought of
myself; yet! - yet I feel an alleviation, a joy - yes, even a joy,
such as I have never before known during the whole of my hor-
rible life!
«It is a little taste," said Federigo, “which God gives you, to
incline you to his service, and encourage you resolutely to enter
upon the new course of life which lies before you, and in which
you will have so much to undo, so much to repair, so much to
mourn over ! »


## p. 9692 (#100) ###########################################

9692
ALESSANDRO MANZONI
(
((
(
"Unhappy man that I am! ” exclaimed the Signor: "how
» "
many, oh, how many — things for which I can do nothing besides
mourn! But at least I have undertakings scarcely set on foot
which I can break off in the midst, if nothing more: one there
is which I can quickly arrest, which I can easily undo and repair. ”
Federigo listened attentively while the Unnamed briefly
related, in terms of perhaps deeper execration than we have
employed, his attempt upon Lucia, the sufferings and terrors
of the unhappy girl, her importunate entreaties, the frenzy that
these 'entreaties had aroused within him, and how she was still
in the castle.
"Ah, then let us lose no time! ” exclaimed Federigo, breath-
less with eagerness and compassion. You are indeed blessed!
This is an earnest of God's forgiveness! He makes you capable
of becoming the instrument of safety to one whom you intended
to ruin. God bless you! Nay, he has blessed you! Do you
know where our unhappy protégée comes from ? ”
The Signor named Lucia's village.
It's not far from this,” said the Cardinal, “God be praised;
and probably – So saying, he went towards a little table and
a
rang a bell. The cross-bearing chaplain immediately attended the
summons with a look of anxiety, and instantly glanced towards
the Unnamed. At the sight of his altered countenance, and his
eyes still red with weeping, he turned an inquiring gaze upon
the Cardinal; and perceiving, amidst the invariable composure
of his countenance, a look of solemn pleasure and unusual solici-
tude, he would have stood with open mouth in a sort of ecstasy,
had not the Cardinal quickly aroused him from his contempla-
tions by asking whether, among the parish priests assembled in
the next room, there was one from
« There is, your illustrious Grace,” replied the chaplain.
“Let him come in directly,” said Federigo, “and with him the
priest of this parish. ”
The chaplain quitted the room, and on entering the hall where
the clergy were assembled, all eyes were immediately turned upon
him; while, with a look of blank astonishment, and a countenance
in which was still depicted the rapture he had felt, he lifted up
his hands, and waving them in the air, exclaimed, “Signori!
Signori! Hæc mutatio dextera Excelsi” [This change is from
the right hand of the Almighty). And he stood for a moment
without uttering another word.


## p. 9693 (#101) ###########################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9693
AN EPISODE OF THE PLAGUE IN MILAN
From "The Betrothed
[The hero of the novel, young Renzo Tramaglino, enters Milan on foot,
seeking his lost betrothed, Lucia Mondella. Among the scenes of suffering
and horror which continually meet his eyes is the following. )
R
Enzo had already gone some distance on his way through the
midst of this desolation, when he heard, proceeding from
a street a few yards off, into which he had been directed
to turn, a confused noise, in which he readily distinguished the
usual horrible tinkling.
At the entrance of the street, which was one of the most
spacious, he perceived four carts standing in the middle: and as
in a corn market there is a constant hurrying to and fro of people,
and an emptying and filling of sacks, such was the bustle here,
- monatti intruding into houses, monatti coming out, bearing
a burden upon their shoulders, which they placed upon one or
other of the carts;. some in red livery, others without that distinc-
tion; many with another still more odious,-plumes and cloaks of
various colors, which these miserable wretches wore in the midst
of the general mourning, as if in honor of a festival. From time
to time the mournful cry resounded from one of the windows,
«Here, monatti! ” And with a still more wretched sound, a harsh
voice rose from this horrible source in reply, “Coming directly! »
Or else there were lamentations nearer at hand, or entreaties to
make haste; to which the monatti responded with oaths.
Having entered the street, Renzo quickened his steps, trying
not to look at these obstacles further than was necessary to
avoid them: his attention, however, was arrested by a remarkable
object of pity, - such pity as inclines to the contemplation of its
object; so that he came to a pause almost without determining
to do so.
Coming down the steps of one of the doorways, and advan-
cing towards the convoy, he beheld a woman, whose appearance
announced still remaining though somewhat advanced youthful-
ness; a veiled and dimmed but not destroyed beauty was still
apparent, in spite of much suffering and a fatal languor,— that
delicate and at the same time majestic beauty which is con-
spicuous in the Lombard blood. Her gait was weary, but not
tottering; no tears fell from her eyes, though they bore tokens of
having shed many; there was something peaceful and profound


## p. 9694 (#102) ###########################################

9694
ALESSANDRO MANZONI
in her sorrow, which indicated a mind fully conscious and sensi-
tive enough to feel it. But it was not merely her own appear-
ance which in the midst of so much misery marked her out
so especially as an object of commiseration, and revived in her
behalf a feeling now exhausted - extinguished — in men's hearts.
-
She carried in her arms a little child, about nine years old, now
a lifeless body; but laid out and arranged, with her hair parted
on her forehead, and in a white and remarkably clean dress,
as if those hands had decked her out for a long-promised feast,
granted as a reward. Nor was she lying there, but upheld and
adjusted on one arm, with her breast reclining against her
mother's, like a living creature; save that a delicate little hand,
as white as wax, hung from one side with a kind of inanimate
weight, and the head rested upon her mother's shoulder with an
abandonment deeper than that of sleep; - her mother; for even
if their likeness to each other had not given assurance of the
fact, the countenance which could still display any emotion would
have clearly revealed it.
A horrible-looking monatto approached the woman, and at-
tempted to take the burden from her arms; with a kind of unusual
respect, however, and with involuntary hesitation. But she, slightly
drawing back, yet with the air of one who shows neither scorn
nor displeasure, said, “No! don't take her from me yet: I must
place her myself on this cart - here. » So saying, she opened her
hand, displayed a purse which she held in it, and dropped it into
that which the monatto extended towards her. She then con.
tinued: «Promise me not to take a thread from around her, nor
to let any one else do so, and to lay her in the ground thus. ”
The monatto laid his right hand on his heart; and then, zeal-
ously and almost obsequiously,- rather from the new feeling
by which he was, as it were, subdued, than on account of the
unlooked-for reward, — hastened to make a little room on the car
for the infant dead. The lady, giving it a kiss on the forehead,
laid it on the spot prepared for it, as upon a bed, arranged it
there, covering it with a pure white linen cloth, and pronounced
these parting words:— “Farewell, Cecilia! rest in peace! This
evening we too will join you, to rest together forever. In the
mean while pray for us; for I will pray for you and the others. ”
Then, turning again to the monatto, “You,” said she, “when you
pass this way in the evening, may come to fetch me too; and
not me only. "
>


## p. 9695 (#103) ###########################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9695
nance.
So saying, she re-entered the house, and after an instant
appeared at the window, holding in her arms another more dearly
loved one, still living, but with the marks of death on its counte-
She remained to contemplate these so unworthy obsequies
of the first child, from the time the car started until it was out
of sight, and then disappeared. And what remained for her to
do but to lay upon the bed the only one that was left her, and
to stretch herself beside it, that they might die together? as the
flower already full blown upon the stem falls together with the
bud still infolded in its calyx, under the scythe which levels alike
all the herbage of the field.
"O Lord ! ” exclaimed Renzo, “hear her! take her to thyself,
her and that little infant one: they have suffered enough! surely,
they have suffered enough! ”
CHORUS
IN THE COUNT OF CARMAGNOLA'
(
From Modern Italian Poets,' by W. D. Howells. Copyright 1887, by
Harper & Brothers
O
N THE right hand a trumpet is sounding,
On the left hand a trumpet replying,
The field upon all sides resounding
With the tramping of foot and of horse.
Yonder flashes a flag; yonder, flying
Through the still air, a bannerol glances;
Here a squadron embattled advances,
There another that threatens its course.
The space 'twixt the foes now beneath them
Is hid, and on swords the sword ringeth;
In the hearts of each other they sheathe them;
Blood runs, — they redouble their blows.
Who are these ? To our fair fields what bringeth,
To make war upon us, this stranger ?
Which is he that hath sworn to avenge her,
The land of his birth, on her foes ?
They are all of one land and one nation,
One speech; and the foreigner names them
All brothers, of one generation;
In each visage their kindred is seen:


## p. 9696 (#104) ###########################################

9696
ALESSANDRO MANZONI
This land is the mother that claims them,
This land that their life-blood is steeping,
That God, from all other lands keeping,
Set the seas and the mountains between.
Ah, which drew the first blade among them,
To strike at the heart of his brother ?
What wrong or what insult hath stung them
To wipe out what stain, or to die?
They know not: to slay one another
They come in a course none hath told them;
A chief that was purchased hath sold them;
They combat for him, nor ask why.
Ah, woe for the mothers that bare them,
For the wives of the warriors maddened!
Why come not their loved ones to tear them
Away from the infamous field ?
Their sires, whom long years have saddened,
And thoughts of the sepulchre chastened,
In warning why have they not hastened
To bid them to hold and to yield ?
As under the vine that embowers
His own happy threshold, the smiling
Clown watches the tempest that lowers
On the furrows his plow has not turned,
So each waits in safety, beguiling
The time with his count of those falling
Afar in the fight, and the appalling
Flames of towns and of villages burned.
There, intent on the lips of their mothers,
Thou shalt hear little children with scorning,
Learn to follow and flout at the brothers
Whose blood they shall go forth to shed;
Thou shalt see wives and maidens adorning
Their bosoms and hair with the splendor
Of gems but now torn from the tender
Hapless daughters and wives of the dead.
Oh, disaster, disaster, disaster!
With the slain the earth's hidden already;
With blood reeks the whole plain, and vaster
And fiercer the strife than before!


## p. 9697 (#105) ###########################################

ALESSANDRO MANZONI
9697
But along the ranks, rent and unsteady,
Many waver, — they yield,- they are flying!
With the last hope of victory dying,
The love of life rises again.
As out of the fan, when it tosses
The grain in its breath, the grain flashes,
So over the field of their losses
Fly the vanquished. But now in their course
Starts a squadron that suddenly dashes
Athwart their wild fight and that stays them,
While hard on the hindmost dismays them
The pursuit of the enemy's horse.
At the feet of the foe they fall trembling,
And yield life and sword to his keeping;
In the shouts of the victors assembling,
The moans of the dying are drowned.
To the saddle a courier leaping,
Takes a missive, and through all resistance,
Spurs, lashes, devours the distance;
Every hamlet awake at the sound.
Ah, why from their rest and their labor
To the hoof-beaten road do they gather?
Why turns every one to his neighbor
The jubilant tidings to hear ?
Thou know'st whence he comes, wretched father!
And thou long'st for his news, hapless mother!