APPENDICES
APPENDIX I
ANTONIO MASCHIO AND THE CELEBRATION OF 1865
The Dante Celebrations of the last fifty-six years—the years that mark the duration of the Poet’s life—have always had about them, as was meet, a touch of fervid Italian patriotism. For Dante is in a true sense “Pater Patriae.” The sexcentenary of his birth in 1865 coincided with the new dignity of Florence as temporary capital of a largely united and independent Italy. It was celebrated by the unveiling of Dante’s statue by Victor Emmanuel, protagonist of the New Italy in the chief Piazza of his new Capital, and it was celebrated with military as well as civic honours.
The Celebration of 1921, on the sexcentenary of the Poet’s death, was marked again with patriotic fervour. The troops who had redeemed “Italia irredenta” in the Great War offered a wreath of bronze and silver at his shrine in Ravenna; and shouts of “Viva l’ Italia! Viva Fiume!” echoed in the Banqueting Hall of the castle of Poppi in Casentino, where Dante had been a guest of the Conti Guidi, and in sight of which he had fought as a young man in defence of his native city. The patriotic cries had now a new note of triumph about them, because Dante’s prophetic envisaging of Italy as “one, and to be loved” and his incidental marking out of her true boundaries had at last been verified.[377]
Between these two, on September 14th, 1908, Ravenna, his “last refuge,” was the scene of a most enthusiastic ceremony, to which flocked representatives of the as yet unredeemed Italian fringe, and men of Trent and Trieste and Gorizia and Pola and Fiume claimed Dante as the prophet of their own “italianità” and of their proximate liberation from the foreign yoke.
There is a little-known incident connected with the first of these Celebrations—that of 1865—which is worth recording, if only for its simple pathos. The story of an attempt at Dante-worship that was motived rather by personal loyalty than by patriotic ardour, yet was baulked by the barrier set up by a foreign domination between a true-hearted Italian and his goal.
Antonio Maschio[378] was close upon forty years old when the news came to him in his humble Venetian dwelling that Italy was going to celebrate her greatest Poet in his native City of Florence.
He was a simple gondolier, son of a small pork-butcher on the island of Murano. In the year ’48, so notable in the annals of Italy’s fight for freedom, he picked up some stray sheets of paper in a tobacconist’s shop, on which were printed Cantos xiii. and xiv. of the Inferno. He took them home and read and re-read them: From that day he took Dante as his Master, and devoted all his spare moments to the study of the Divina Commedia. He lived to see, as he conceived, Dante’s prophecy of the “Veltro”—the great Liberator—fulfilled in 1871; when Victor Emmanuel entered Rome, and before he died he was in correspondence with some of the greatest Dante scholars in Italy and abroad.
Far advanced in his Dante studies in 1865, and over head and ears in love with the great Poet, he dared to brave the Austrian frontier guards—for Venetia was still Austrian territory—setting out on foot for Florence to keep tryst with his Maestro “duca, signore e Maestro.” Before the middle of March he packed up in two great bundles all the Dante material he had collected and evolved, put a favourite “Dantino” in his pocket and started with his precious burden on the adventurous pilgrimage. He passed the first line of guards, posing as a wine-seller from Chioggia. His great obstacle was the river Po, running high and with current all too swift. Moreover it was night, and no boat was to be found. It was but human to shrink back, but the love of Dante conquered his fear. Did he recall the passage where Dante, shrinking from the wall of flame, hears Virgil’s appeal: “Senti figlio, Fra Beatrice e te è questo muro”?[379] Dauntless he flung himself into the chill waters and struck out for the farther shore. In a life and death struggle with the current he lost his precious bundles, and landed more dead than alive, with nothing in his pocket but the little volume of the Divina Commedia; and he afterwards declared that Dante had saved his disciple from drowning that night, even as in his earthly life he had saved a child in the Baptistery at Florence.[380] Next morning the hapless man fell into the hands of the Sindaco of La Mesola, who handed him over to the police, and he suffered a month’s durance in an Austrian prison, after which he was ignominiously sent back to his native town.
It was a famous gathering on that 14th of May in the broad space before the church of Santa Croce; and many learned and ingenious speeches marked the occasion. But the Festival was the poorer by the enforced absence of one who had risked his life to be there: Antonio Maschio, “il Gondolier Dantista.”
APPENDIX II
DANTE AND THE POPE
Interesting on several grounds is the Encyclical of His Holiness Benedict XV, published in the Osservatore Romano of May 4th last, in which he commends to all Catholic teachers and students the study of the works of Italy’s greatest Poet. He seems to admit that a certain constraint lay upon him in the matter, that the successor of St. Peter could not afford to be silent while all the civilised world was sending up a chorus of praise. That indeed, it would befit him to propose himself as Choragus: “Jam vero tam mirifico quasi choro bonorum omnium non solum non deesse Nos decet, sed quodammodo praeesse.” Yet the eulogy which he utters, if here and there it suggests a touch of patronising, is, on the whole so spontaneous and sincere in tone, that one is inclined to forgive the half-evasion with which he manipulates the awkward fact of Dante’s fierce invective—“perquam acerbe et contumeliose”—directed against the Holy Father’s illustrious predecessors. First of all he suggests for Dante the excuse of a harassed and embittered spirit, misled by the poison of malicious tale-bearers; and next, with an appearance of candour which it would be discourteous to discount, he asks, Who denies that there were in those days; there were faults even in the ordained clergy—“Quis neget nonnulla eo tempore fuisse in hominibus sacri ordinis haud probanda?” ... a somewhat general statement which might or might not include the Infallible. For the rest, Dante is praised as a true-hearted Catholic—as indeed he was—and as an extraordinarily effective teacher of the Catholic Faith. The spirit and purpose of the Divine Comedy—the aim, as set forth in the famous tenth Epistle[381]—and the Poet’s treatment of his subject in his pictures of Hell, Paradise and Purgatory, all come in for hearty commendation. His ever-living treatment of an ever-living theme is rightly characterised as strikingly modern compared with the revived Paganism of some modern poets. The teaching power of his spiritual ideas outsteps the bounds of the archaic Ptolemaic system in which they are framed. True to the teaching of his great master Aquinas, he attracts moderns to that teaching by the sublimity of his poetic genius. The Pope claims to know personally unbelievers who have been converted to the Faith by the study of Dante.
This emphasis on Dante’s importance as a religious teacher is interesting in view of Benedetto Croce’s recent critique, in which he dismisses the theological aspect of Dante as irrelevant. In this connection it is worth noting that a distinguished Friar has been lecturing in Rome on Dante’s theology, and directly attacking Croce for his depreciation of the same.
We have thus two Benedicts disputing over the spirit of Dante, even as the Archangel and another disputed over the body of Moses—Benedict the Pope and Benedict the Philosopher, Critic and Minister of Education. That the latter has the greater name in the realm of literary criticism, we cannot doubt. His best friends go far to claim for him infallibility in that line. The infallible claims of the former are confined to the region of Faith and Morals; but if Dante could be called in as arbitrator he would probably decide in favour of the Pope, pronouncing with regard to his own religious teaching that it was meant to count, and does count. It is, however, with no animus against the other Benedict in his official capacity that His Holiness proceeds—making an excellent point, which most of us would applaud—to note the absurdity of a State system of secularised Education which tries to banish the Name and the thought of God from the schools, and at the same time hold up the Divina Commedia as an indispensable instrument of culture. Italian priests of to-day are ready to defend the present Minister of Public Instruction as one who, whatever his personal views may be, has endeavoured to mete out evenhanded justice even to “denominational” Education.
APPENDIX III
DANTE THE POET
Benedetto Croce’s[382] contention is, of course, fundamentally true, that Dante is first and last a Poet, and that it is the magnetism of his poetic genius that attracts interest to all the varied subjects which he touches. If he had not been a Poet, these essays would never have been written; and the writer hopes that the poetic quality of his hero will have been felt as a background all through the book. His lyrical power is the driving force of his many-sided message. To the struggling patriot, whether of 1848 or of 1918, he is a Tyrtaeus; to the artist in poetry, a Horace (although he never saw the Ars Poetica); to the lover, a Christian Anacreon; to the religious devotee, a Psalmist and Prophet in one; to the student of human nature in its detail and its large epic aspect, a Homer and a Virgil; in every aspect a supreme poet. The very magnetism of his lyrical appeal will, however, continue to keep countless disciples busy, in the future as in the past, exploring the by-ways and investigating the by-products of his genius; gloating over his obscurities, and glorying in everything, big or little, that Dante has touched. Those “questioni dantesche” on the more puerile of which Croce rightly pours his scorn,[383] will emerge to the end of the chapter—a lush growth of mingled flowers and weeds witnessing to the extraordinary fertility of the soil.
And we may go on to ask, what, exactly, is the value, or the nature of that “lyrical quality” which Croce justly exalts if it is entirely divorced from its content, its subject-matter?
True, Beauty has a value of its own, as Dante himself saw. In theory, indeed, he makes Poetry a humble gilding of the didactic pill, on the Horatian principle of miscere utile dulci; a beauteous fiction for a moral purpose—“una verità ascosa sotto bella menzogna”[384] a “clumsy device,” as Professor Foligno puts it, “to rivet the attention of readers while the lessons of virtue and truth were expounded.”[385] In practice, however, the author of the Convivio “spoke as Love dictated”[386]—nay, even in the Convivio itself (as Prof. Foligno points out), in the envoi of the first Canzone,[387] he bids his poetry, if its argument prove unintelligible, take heart of grace and draw attention to its own sheer beauty—
Allor ti priego che ti ricomforte,
Dicendo lor, diletta mia novella.
“Ponete mente almen com’ io son bella!”
But lyrical form cannot exist as a mere abstraction. It must needs express itself in words that have a meaning—in “subject-matter.” The Poet sings of what is in his heart, and sings—
... A quel modo
Ch’ e’ ditta dentro;
he sings because he must. And Dante has this irresistible impulse of the artist to express himself. He tells us in the XIXth chapter of the Vita Nuova the story of the birth of his canzone, “Donne ch’ avete intelletto d’ amore,” the famous song by which Bonagiunta knew him in Purgatory.[388] First, a great desire for utterance, then a pondering over the appropriate mode, and finally, “I declare,” he says, “my tongue spake as though by its own impulse and said—
Donne ch’ avete intelletto d’ amore.”[389]
That is the artistic impulse to create, and represents, indeed, the sum total of his “Message” as conceived by many an artist. But Dante took his message and his mission seriously; and unless we recognise as a factor in his poetry this sense of responsibility for the gift, and for the use of it—in however exalted a sense—as the handmaid of Religion, we surely misconceive him. He is essentially (not accidentally) didactic, prophetic, a conscious and purposeful inspirer of his own generation and of those to come.
From the point of view of purely aesthetic criticism his “Theological Romance,” his “Epic of man’s freewill,” with its massive architectural framework and its recurring theological, philosophical, political and otherwise didactic passages may be entirely secondary—may be, in fact, so much awkward and obstructive material which the poet only reduces to order and dominates by force of titanic genius.[390]
Dante certainly rises superior in fact to the contemporary theory of the Art of Poetry which he repeats in the Convivio and the De Vulgari Eloquentia.[391] It is this which makes his verse to be, as we have called it, the driving power of his message. But this homage to the traditional theory is not mere lip-service. Supreme poet as he is, he deliberately makes his sublime verse the instrument of spiritual teaching. And in so doing only renders it the more sublime.