The Betrothed / From the Italian of Alessandro Manzoni

by Alessandro Manzoni

After the famous sedition on St. Martin’s day, it may be said that abundance flowed into Milan, as if by enchantment. The shops were well stored with bread, the price of which was no higher than in the most fruitful years; those who, on that terrible day, had howled through the streets, and committed every excess in their power, had now reason to congratulate themselves. But, with the cessation of their alarm, they had not resumed their accustomed quiet; on the squares, and in the inns, there were congratulations and boastings (although in an under tone) at having hit on a mode of reducing the price of bread. However, in the midst of these popular rejoicings, there reigned a vague apprehension and presentiment that this happiness would be of short duration. They besieged the bakers and vendors of flour with the same pertinacity as during the period of the former factitious and transient abundance, produced by the first tariff of Antony Ferrer. He who had some pence by him converted them immediately into bread and flour, which was piled in chests, in small casks, and even in vessels of earthen ware. In thus attempting to extend the advantages of the moment, their long duration was rendered, I do not say impossible, for it was so already; but even their momentary continuance thus became still more difficult.

On the fifteenth of November, Antony Ferrer, “by the order of his excellency,” published a decree in which it was forbidden to any one, having any quantity of grain or flour in his house, to purchase more; and to the rest of the people to buy bread beyond that which was necessary for two days, “under pecuniary and corporal penalties at the discretion of his excellency.” The decree ordered the anziani (officers of justice), and invited every body, as a duty, to denounce the offenders; it commanded the judges to cause search to be made in every house which might be mentioned to them, issuing at the same time a new command to the bakers to keep their shops well furnished with bread, “under penalty of five years in the galleys, and still greater punishment at the discretion of his excellency.” A great effort of imagination would be required to believe that such orders were easy of execution.

In commanding the bakers to make such a quantity of bread, means ought to have been afforded for the supply of the material of which it was to be made. In seasons of scarcity, there is always an endeavour to make into bread various kinds of aliment, which, under ordinary circumstances, are consumed under other forms. In this way rice was introduced into the composition of a bread which was called mistura.[33] On the 23d of November, there was a decree issued, which placed at the order of the vicar and twelve members of provision the half of the rice that each possessed; under penalty for selling it without the permission of those lords of the loss of the entire commodity, and a fine of three crowns the bushel.

But this rice had to be paid for at a price very disproportioned to that of bread. The burden of supplying this enormous difference was imposed on the city: but the council of ten resolved to send a remonstrance to the governor, on the impossibility of sustaining such a tax; and the governor fixed, by a decree of the 13th of December, the price of rice at twelve livres the bushel. It is also probable, though nowhere expressly stated, that the maximum price for other sorts of grain was fixed by other proclamations. Whilst, by these various measures, bread and flour were kept at a low price in Milan, it consequently happened that crowds of people rushed into the city to supply their wants. Don Gonzalo, to remedy this inconvenience, forbade, by another decree of the 15th of December, the carrying out of the city bread to the value of more than twenty pence; the penalty was a fine of “twenty-five crowns, and in case of inability, a public flogging, and greater punishments still, at the discretion of his excellency.”

The populace wished to procure abundance by pillage and conflagration, the legal power wished to maintain it by the galleys and the rope. Every method was resorted to to accomplish their purpose, but the reader will soon learn the total failure of them all. It is, besides, easy to see, and not useless to observe, that these strange means had an intimate and necessary connection with each other; each was the inevitable consequence of the preceding, and all, in fact, flowed from the first error, that of fixing upon bread a price so disproportioned to that which ought to have resulted from the real state of things. Such an expedient, however, has always appeared to the populace not only conformable to equity, but very simple and easy of execution; it is then very natural that in the agonies and misery which are the necessary effects of scarcity, they should, if it be in their power, adopt it. But as the consequences begin to be felt, the government is obliged to repair the evil by new laws, forbidding men to do that which previous laws had recently prescribed to them.

The principal fruits of the insurrection were these; the destruction or loss of much provision in the insurrection itself, and the rapid consumption of the small quantity of grain then on hand, which should otherwise have lasted until the next harvest. To these general effects may be added, the punishment of four of the populace, who were hung as leaders of the sedition, two before the baker’s shop of the crutches, and two at the corner of the street in which was situated the house of the superintendent of provision.

The historical relations of this epoch are handed down to us with so little clearness, that it is difficult to ascertain when this arbitrary tariff ceased. But we have numerous accounts of the situation of the country, and especially the city, in the winter of that year and the following spring. In every quarter shops were closed; and the manufactories were, for the most part, deserted; the streets afforded a terrible spectacle of sorrow and desolation; mendicants by profession, now the smallest number, were confounded with the new multitude, disputing for alms with those from whom they had formerly been accustomed to receive them; clerks and servants, dismissed by the merchants and shopkeepers, hardly existing upon some scanty savings; merchants and shopkeepers themselves failing and ruined by the stoppage of trade; artificers wandering from door to door, lying along the pavement, by the houses and churches, soliciting charity, and hesitating between want and shame, emaciated and feeble, reduced by long fasting, and the rigours of the cold which penetrated their tattered clothing; servants, dismissed by their masters, who were incapable of maintaining their accustomed numerous and sumptuous establishments; and the numerous dependents upon the labour of these various classes, old men, women, and children, grouped around their former supporters, or wandered in search of support elsewhere.

Among the wretched crowds also might be distinguished, by their long lock, by the remnants of their magnificent apparel, by their carriage and gestures, and by the traces which habit impresses on the countenance, many bravoes, who, having lost in the common misery their criminal means of support, were reduced to an equality of suffering, and with difficulty dragged themselves along the city that they had so often traversed with a proud and ferocious bearing, magnificently armed and attired; they now extended with humility the hand which they had so frequently raised to menace with insolence, or to strike with treachery.

But the most dense, livid, and hideous swarm was that of the villagers. These were seen in entire families; husbands with their wives, dragging along their little ones, and supporting in their arms their wretched babies, whilst their own aged and helpless parents followed behind,—all flocked into the city in hopes of obtaining bread. Some, whose houses had been invaded and despoiled by the soldiery, had fled in despair; some, to excite compassion, and render their misery more striking, showed the wounds and bruises they had received in defending their homes; and others, whom this scourge had not reached, had been driven, by the two scourges from which no corner of the country was exempt, sterility and the consequent increase on the price of provisions, to the city, as to the abode of abundance and pious munificence. The new comers might be recognised by their air of angry astonishment and disappointment at finding such an excess of misery where they had hoped to be themselves the peculiar objects of compassion and benevolence. Here, too, might be recognised, in all their varieties of ragged habiliments, in the midst of the general wretchedness, the pale dweller of the marsh, the bronzed countenance of the plain or hill countryman, and the sanguine complexion of the mountaineer, all, however, alike in the hollow eye, ferocious or insane countenance, knotted hair, long and matted beard, attenuated body, shrivelled skin and bony breast,—all alike reduced to the lowest condition of languor, of infantine debility.

Heaps of straw and stubble were seen along the walls, and by the gutters, which appeared to be a particular provision of charity for these unfortunate creatures; there their limbs reposed during the night; and in the day they were occupied by those who, exhausted by fatigue and suffering, could no longer bear the weight of their emaciated bodies; sometimes, upon the damp straw a dead body lay extended; sometimes, the miserable spark of life was rekindled in its feeble tenement by timely succour from a hand rich in the means and in the disposition to do good, the hand of the pious Frederick.