The Glassmaker

While Orsola is grateful to survive the plague of the 16th century, the narrative soon makes it clear that the 17th and 18th centuries mark a turn to a darker historical era, both for Venice and for Orsola personally. Chevalier observes at the start of Chapter 3 that “Venice’s reign as the center of trade is truly over” (140). Historically, beginning in the 15th century, Venice became embroiled in a long series of wars with the powerful Ottoman Empire and gradually lost more and more of its territory; this misfortune had economic impacts on the Republic. At the very end of the 15th century, the Portuguese navigator Vasco da Gama reached India by sea, navigating around the Cape of Good Hope in South Africa, and over time, Venice’s influence as a trading and mercantile center was reduced as European traders accessed India through this new route. By the mid-18th century, as Chevalier notes, Venice is “known for its parties, its gambling, [and] its Carnevale season” rather than for any political or economic influence (193). While the impacts of these historical shifts do not immediately impact the Rosso family or their business, the author traces a progression in which Venice declines rather than rises.

As Orsola and her family navigate Venice’s fluctuations in fortune and politics, Chevalier challenges the notion that women have only experienced sexual pleasure and sexual autonomy in the modern era. In the immediate aftermath of the plague, Orsola expresses her autonomy and independence by beginning a sexual relationship with Antonio. Perhaps because she has developed a sense of agency due to her bead making, Orsola revels in a pleasurable sexual relationship and has no qualms about her unmarried state. The author’s diction conveys the protagonist’s genuine satisfaction in this arrangement, frankly stating, “Orsola loved everything they did together—every touch, every thrust” (145). In these passages, Chevalier makes it a point to emphasize that, contrary to popular belief, women from all eras have found ways to experience pleasure and some form of sexual freedom, even within patriarchal structures. 

Notably, Orsola’s sister-in-law Monica takes an entirely pragmatic approach to Orsola’s relationship, simply cautioning the protagonist to avoid unwanted pregnancy, and her words do not attach any moral critiques to Orsola’s actions. Likewise, when Orsola realizes that she is pregnant, she has choices (albeit imperfect ones) about how to proceed; when Monica asks her whether she wants to continue with the pregnancy, Orsola responds, “I’ll think about it” (149). By depicting these events in Orsola’s life, Chevalier invites broader, comparative reflections on narratives that portray the actions and relative freedoms of women from different periods.

However, although Orsola is depicted as having some agency over her own body, she must nonetheless face the constraints of a patriarchal era, and this dynamic becomes most prominent in the family’s discussions about her potential marriage to Stefano. It is assumed that Orsola will passively accept Stefano as her husband, and when she objects, Laura rebukes her, saying, “Shame on you, putting yourself before your family” (163). This exchange highlights the Rossos’ focus on Prioritizing Family Loyalty Over Personal Desires, and it is significant that Orsola’s mother is more affronted by Orsola’s desire to select her own husband than Marco is. Marco may be the male head of the household, but because Laura has made her own sacrifices for the family, she feels more entitled to demand a similar level of obedience from her daughter. However, there is an important distinction to make here; Orsola is not required to submit specifically because she is a woman, but because she is a member of a family that relies on a sense of collective responsibility. Even Orsola herself can see that a union between her and Stefano “would benefit everyone” (163), and her own internalized values therefore urge her to work against her desire to pursue a relationship with Antonio.

As Orsola must decide between leaving Murano to be with Antonio or staying with her family, this moment reflects a pivotal turning point for her character, and it is significant that she ultimately makes the more conservative and predictable choice to remain where she is. While a more traditional heroine might set off in search of new experiences and adventures, Orsola accepts a status quo that she knows will be quieter and more conventional. Thus, while some of her decision challenge social norms, she is ultimately unwilling to repudiate her family’s traditional way of life. However, her decision to remain comes with a high cost, for she mourns deeply for Antonio and is never the same after he leaves Murano forever. Like Venice itself, Orsola enters into a period of stagnation and quietude because she no longer embraces change and novelty, but in exchange, she does preserve her core identity as a highly skilled beadmaker. After Antonio’s departure, Orsola relies upon her bead making to find purpose and meaning, and she takes comfort in “the process of creation” (174).

From a different angle of interpretation, Orsola’s choice to stay in Murano can be viewed as a choice to focus on herself; had she left with Antonio, she would have been forced to redefine her identity solely through her relationship to him. By contrast, when she stays in Murano, she retains every accomplishment that she has worked so hard to achieve. Although she does become a wife and mother, these identities are secondary to her core identity as an artisan and a glassmaker, and because she never again experiences the same romantic passion that she felt for Antonio, she channels her deepest emotions into her creative work.

As the narrative moves into the 18th century, Chevalier increasingly critiques the notion that historical progress is synonymous with a movement toward equality. By 1755, significant shifts in European political theory, science, and technology have nudged the world closer to developments such as democracy, mass education, and modern medicine, but Chevalier points out the fact that such advances do not always transform people’s everyday lives. To invoke deeper reflection on this point, she delivers a barrage of rhetorical questions, asking, “Do the Rossos benefit from any of this freedom of thought and body? Is Orsola enlightened, or is she swamped by the more quotidian aspects of a household full of children?” (194). In this way, Chevalier acknowledges the advancements of the European Enlightenment, a period of intellectual transition in the 17th and 18th centuries, but also questions who benefits from these changes, implying that more marginalized groups such as women, enslaved people, and even working-class families may see very little benefit from these broader social changes. 

At the same time, Chevalier’s narrative explores new angles of The Compromising Nature of Business Decisions, especially given that the forces of global capitalism are increasingly impacting the world economy. Historically, by the 18th century, many European powers had violently imposed control on other regions in order to establish overseas empires, and the practice of enslavement had become a major factor in global trade and production. These grim realities are reflected in Chevalier’s narrative when Klingenberg cooly tells Orsola: 

[T]he American colonies […] are successful because the raw materials—the cotton and the sugar cane—are produced by Africans there. Britain is rich from the slave trade […] your beads too are caught up in it. Slavery runs the world (203).

Thus, while the world steadily changes, these shifts do not benefit everyone equally; instead, they increasingly disenfranchise huge portions of the global population while enriching others. By depicting these conflicts and ambiguities, Chevalier imbues her sometimes fanciful narrative with a tone of gritty reality, never shying away from the moral ambiguities of the past.