DANTE.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 6315, 16 September 1907, Page 4

DANTE.

THE POET'S LIFE AND WORKS. j f_V ter !i; dOivcrnd at Town Hall by j S'o:i Zeidlit/., chairman Drop our Aon Zcdlitz, Victoria (Joli * About seventy v'Ttr.s ago Thomas Carh'!»‘ v.-i'---. Pa Iu: :ng on Danin before an , b;y, g.:-.!,.:.;! i' got fi c r mainly from Ha- r;,;ik ’-i mdun .--oficty ; or, as Car1, j ...- '■!(' i<) go: I ; ;-n:l 1 m-ma-so to quote to y o n i’.-- -I;* - T • W-OftH Oi I y.~ t;11 - , Ln on pa- ,■ you ho,/ djid- • •uli. ii i.- H. ;’y anything _ •"■•Tc about Dante, and ho>v carefully a lecturer -'UM, :t weigh hm wonL. it he wishes to ■M.y nothing hut the troth. Carlyle bo■gifoi as follow.-,: —“Many volumes harj been written by way of commentary on Dauto and his books; yet, on the whole, v.-ilh no great result. Hi- biography is. It were, irrccovcrably lust to ns. All ojj.lmportant, wandcring, s-orrow-1 1 • Ichon juan. not juiu’k notice was taken M him while- h- lived; and tho most of Dint has vanished in tho long Koacr that now intervenes*': and presently (hirlylo proved]-. lo give djfh meagre lacl.s ox biography as !k» regard'd to bo beyond ell suspicion of doubt —as that Dante was born in .Florence in the year PdtA: that his education was Hie best then going; vf• ueii school-divinily, Ari-ur>t clian logic, come Latin clashes; that in life, lie had gone through th** usual <!.estlr.k>; been twice out campaigning e.s a. soldier for Uu- .Hon'iiUm- Stale; been ou an embassy; had in his thirty-fifth year, by; natural gradation of talent and service become one of the chief magistrates of Florence. Ti, u had met in boyhood a. certain Ucalrieo Porlinari, a beautiful LitHe giri of his own ago and rank, and. growu-np I henceforth in narlial sight oV Ikm-, in some distant intercourse with her. All readers know his rraceful a/feeting-account of this: and then of their bidng parhd ;of Iter being v.udded to another, and of her death >oo;i after. Slip makes u great iigiuo in Dante's poem; scorns to liavo made a great figure in his life. Of all beings it might seem as if she, held apart, from him, far apart at last in the dim eternity. wore* Urn •only one he had ever with his whole otreugth of affection loved. Sin- died; Lhinlo himself was wedded; but it awuns not happily, far from happily. DANTE'S CALLER. I should like to continue quoting front these well-known, pages, and to give yen; Hu the master's words, a Dried' account oi Jhinlo’s exile, wanderings. and death. Lilt tho extract I have given is sufii£iuii to serve my present .purpose. It is trtu-r than ever to say that many 'Volumes have been written about Dauto and Jus book; indeed tho nu/über of them,is so vast, and continues to swell so rapidly, that wo may safely say no man that ever lived on earth has re-* ceived such tribute from posterity. And again, it is truer than over to say that Hie details of his biography aro irrecoverably lost. Wo Enow indeed for certain tho dates of his birth and death;; wo know that he* was prior of Florence, wa*i married, was exiled and led a, wandering exile's life; and wo know that he wrote certain bonks. Bat that is all

rhat can bo regarded as absolv'dcly certain. oven out of tho residuum recorded by Cariylo; and all who aro in any wi?o familiar with tho story of life know what a large mass of traditional information, of anecdote, and of supposition rendered venerable by age, has boon omitted from tills short account. Carlyle, thinking to proceed with utmost caution and reserve, commits himselt to certain assertions which you have fust hfwird, about Dante’s education, about bis political and military oxperionco, liia married life, and above all,, about Beatrice. In the light of modern; research, some of these assertions may bo regarded as disproved: not one is free from reasonable doubt. I am not thinking of entering upon the details of these points: you would not wish mo to weigh minutiae of argument, or to Array formidable lists of authorities., But you ai*c all to some degree acquainted with the traditional Dante, you have peon ouo or tho other tho numerous J ‘Lives o£ Dante” which are still being Issued at frequent intervals from tha pro's: and I am now commenting on Carlyle's very bald account of Dante’s life, in order to impress upon you the fact that practically every word contained in tku traditional histories of Danto ; l£i't3 extremely insecure foundations. Thus as regards Dante's education, "tho bast then going,” says Carlyle: but as; u inntJcr 01 fact Dante’s education was considerably neglected; what ho knew in later Lit 1 ,? ho mostly taught himself, and that at a time of life when education is usually considered as completed; and tho famous Brunette Latini was not, jts is usually repeated, Dante's preceptor. Dante never looked upon himself as a I man of learning by profession, and tho curious love for a pedantic display on erudition shown in some of his prose; works is best explained, by supposing' that his learning was a late and laborious acquisition, and one that needed proving to the world. Dante certainly took an active part in political life for a time; he certainly served as one of the chief magistrates of Florence; but then to understand the meaning of that expression on? must grasp the curious nature of tile Florentine democratic constitution of that date; Dante's prior*to involves practically no more of "natural gradation of talent and service*' than is involved by those offices of the Athenian democracy which fell for short periods upon any able-bodied citizen by the. casting of lots. The story of his embassy to Pop© Boniface finds a place in ©very life of Dante, and will continue to do to because of the characteristic •anecdotes which hang upon it. and because tho traditional theory that Dante was banished during absence on this errand, and heard of Ms banishment on his homeward way, lends itself to dramatic treatment by tho emotional biographer. .Perhaps it is impossible to deny categorically tho fact of Danto's \pre*cnco on this embassy; but there aro many circumstances which render it remotely improbable that he went, and all the weight of evidence is against it. As for tho two campaigns of Dante: there is no intrinsic improbability, as in the case of the embassy to Home; lie may havo taken part in tho battle of Campaklino, fighting for Florence and tho then prevailing faction, with which h© sympathised, at the time, Bui the evidence on which this rests is rendered doubtful by all sorts of embellishments and additions which are certainly untrue; and arguments on the other side have been put forward of which the greatest living Dante scholar says that they aro of great weight, and "almost decisive. As for the other campaign, Dante hinv&df tells us that he was present at tho surrender of Caprona. and although oven the poet's own statement has been treated as of doubtful authority, no real doubt remains that Dante, in his own \vords: /r Onco saw the faces change with fear, of men. Who issued from Caprona treaty-bound. When they beheld their foemen all around.” But there are valid reasons for supposing that on this occasion Dante was merely present with the troops as a spectator. ' 3TJS MARRIED LIFE. Then as to Dante's married life. Carlyle. like tho other biographers, has not been able to resist the pathetic sadness of tho thought that the groat loverpoet, whoso Vita Nuova remains the perfect gospel of pure human tenderness, should havo been doomed to unhappiness in his own marriage choice. Apart from the sort of pathetic attractiveness of tho situation, which has at all times induced men to see a sort of fitness, a sort of epitome of the irony cf human

.1 , u . 1 ..101, H ii. o of So r ! l ( < :.■>■! V-. 00 ,p‘:. O’.' O’ .'.! i f 1.0 M ami 111, ' J-.,,. - i-.00-’m’ I| | ; 11-n.ia a’al la, uito; VI <l. I! i’ll a- 1 »»• Daiiio'K , J- .11..,..; im ynin< U’ . - 1 i | .. .I -a,!„ !:i- chil-.i.-oii, iiiiooo’il 'on Im, ami Ilia v, ii- ; . i•.i[ u'liica nf mua.l aiihl - ■ 1.-lli. I:■ i -■ tlio real n ai-.aa v/liy Dmiir : j- a’jra; -.-c! U, liavo »,<■.•« aiiliam;;.- wiln ; 1.1- ’.vir,. „:m.< '.<■ -•o.iKi.t in ti.o la .-a-rapUy Ol |l,v 'ilocc-arcio. Uwi-accio was liitio voars 'riM at th<- tima of l)DTit.-'s . ti'-’aUi; ho «-a acimiiaf- I witli nmny: I/!.;. )—([ linov.il the po: 1 ji“rsonrtli.v; ~,0 . i,(. Wllit th--- !ir-i nccmlit-il ; ici-i’ar--!- on IMnta; li-'ty yc-.rs after ‘ Uir.t'-’s li.iali, iP-ai-m-aio imluc : -d tho ,ily „f J'loraua to fill)!:! tin- liivf Ilslilt la ol'a-■ or -hip. ami tif-’t ' crii'.i.r t;, f . chair. rm- .viphordy <■■. Eur-mrio fhc-rffore deservedly ranks 1.1- Hut the ether of 1 D--cacicroir vc'i born novclj-.t and r-n.nucm; iio he Id Hrit it was a man’s Main duly to hand cu a good Hory it. u_ shape- somc- , .iai L-cSi.t-r tnau In- n*c:-:v.d it’, cud sucii fa bell ishmen t s are I'rcciucnt in ids so-calicd Idogranhy ox Baute*. In the present instance Boccaccio, wlio seldom 10..-es an oppoit unity of disparaging wo ! ! mankind, thought lit to iu.-ert a long; dlsfttribo again-t women and marriage, taken verbatim from a Latin tram la- , •tion of TJicoph rustiu. And lie concludes : 1 ]io long calalngiu* of an imagxiu: ry hus- ’ baml’s with tho loliov.'ilig i woids: . i “I do not imlecd e.fhnn that all ihi? j befell Oa'nte; far I do not l:now . Mar let any om- suppose that from what, ] Ikivc said 1 --vish to conclude that men ;

sl'Oiihl not take wives, nay t prame it tmiiHi, l> u t not in i very inr, n Vraw. Let philosophers leave lo rich fools, to Jos-ds. and. lo labouring men, and let dhem take tliciv ple:v>uro with phiioso‘phy, who is a far belter bride than any • other.” Such is the tone of Boccaccio’s tcsH;mony. and, furthermore, there is reason •to believe that subsequently ho sought •to retract his implicit acrir.rlions against Dante's wife. In any ease we know that •Dante in twenty years of exile 'wavrred. for an hour in his passionate longing to iT-ont'-r the walls that sheltered his wife and children; Dante, •who speaks of the biltorncvs of exile ,in these words: l‘ r Tho first ami forcmo.it of tho harbod shafts Winged from the bc-w of banishment, is this. The pax-ting from all things most dearly loved.*" lIT3 IDEAL LOVE. As tho last of Carlyle's assertions we como to tho much-vexed question of

/Xante's relations to Beatrice, and of tho moaning of the idyll which he entitles tho "New Life.” Whatever opinion may | prevail, these hundred pages of mingled! pro so and verso must remain a posses-1 sioti and a joy for all time to every; tender and romantic heart. The young j poet tells tho ethereal story of his pure J boyhood's dream of idealising love, and j tells tho bitter grief and desolation; which oefcll him upon the death of “his! beatitude." And the simple talc, with I its slender wool of incident running! Through tho web of syihbolical visions | and oi dreams, is couched partly in I well-knit, lissom, graceful prose, partly ! in sonno-ts aiid in songs of varying excellence-, some of which at least attain to exquisite beauty. To the student cf Italian literature the Vita Nuova represents tho first real specimen of Italian prose, which thus sprang into existence; 1 farmed and mature, like Dallas in full 1 armour from tho brain of Zeus, it was s Dante’s elder friend and brother-poet, | Guido Cavalcanti, who persuaded him to use tho vernacular speech for tho ;proso as well as tho verso of his first book, and we may well suppose that tho young poet thought thereby to make his i tale of lovo intelligible to the fair ladies . of Florence, to that gentle company of j friends whom he shows us laughing with Beatrice, or mourning by her bier. Often and often has tho Vita Nuova tempted the skill of the translator. Tho version of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, who has transposed into English verso the lyrical poems of Dante and his friends, remains the classic favourite: not long ago a scholarly prose version lias been added to the list by* Charles Stuart Boswell, a version preceded by a most able introduction, admirably fitted to open the door for an intelligent study of Dante. In the Vita Nuova* Dante

,speaks of tho lady of his heart by tho iharuo of Beatrice; and at its close, he j isays: "There appeared unto me a vision, wherein I beheld things which made ma; resolve to say no more concerning my; CBlesscd one, until I could treat of her j more worthily. .■ . "Wherefore, if it j shall bo the pleasure of Him by whom! all things live that my life shall yet endure for some years, I hope to say concerning her that which has never been said concerning any woman.” A proud pledge which the poet fully redeemed by the part assigned to Beatrice in the Divine Comedy, and by the place! »sho holds in Paradise. But who was j This Beatrice? Did she know of Dante's! love? Was her heart touched, while yeti she lived among the “Christians of the 'thirteenth century?” Nay/ was there] ever a Beatrice of flesh and blood, whoso! sweet young beauty made Dante's blood i run fire? These are questions not easy | of, solution, concerning which, the "wordy j war of argument and supposition still j is hotly waged. There is no doubt that; there did live in Florence, and die in I Florence, at dates and under circum-! stances such as are thought to correspond with Dante's story, one Beatrice Portinari, for a short while the wife of | Me«ser Simone do' Bardi. The first per-1 son who is responsible for Identifying; this Beatrice Portinari with the Beat-i rice of the Vita "Nuova is Boccaccio;! and Boccaccio, who was a masterhand! at tolling a pretty story prettily, has; loft an account of Dante’s meeting with I Bcatrico which ha© often been quoted, which is probably tho work of his imagination, and which may still bear quoting again, as representing the traditional story of Dante afid Beatrice. A BOYHOOD PASSION. "It was the custom in our city among men and women, as* tho sweet season of spring returned at their country houses, that each one should hold festival, with separate companies. For which reason, among the others, Folco Portinari, a respected citizen, on the first day of May had gathered together his neighbours to entertain them in Ms own house: among tho which was tho aforesaid Alighieri: and lie, as fathers aro wont to do with their little ones, especially, at times of: festival, had brought with him ouvj Dante, whoso age had not yet attained | unto tho ninth year; and he, together i with such others of his own ago ns were] in tho house, began to disport himself! in boyish fashion. Among the rest there; was a daughter of the said Folco, Bice! by nemo, who in age had not exceeded 1 her eighth year, most daintily graceful,; of pleasing address and well-bred chnrac-1 ter, fair to look upon, and in her speech; showing greater dignity than her ten-; der years supposed. Upon her did Dante j gaze more than once with such tender-; ness that child though he was, ho re-; reived her into his soul, so that no other ! delight which thereafter came to him; could extinguish the beautiful image of her, or drive it from his memory. And leaving aside any mention of«thc circumstances of his childhood, this love not only continued but itscreased day by day. ho having no other desire greater, nor consolation, save the seeing her; and in riper wars «he became for him most often a dolorous cause of burning pighs ■md bitterest tears, as himself has partly shown us in the ’New Life.’ ” Now

it must be retnemberd that Boccaccio relates this story some seven!y years after Beatrice's death, and that earlier commentators. among them Dante's own -mis. know .nothing of the indentiflention •>f Dante's Beatrice vi!h +lm daughter of Folco Borfinavi. Whether true or Fißm tho traditional idenGfication rests on Doec-ccio, and on his authority nlo-ac. The conflicting views as to B«ntrico have boon summed up and examined in a learned essnv by Pr Moore, to whoso woik I am principally indebted for tho following nnapsis of the extensive literature of this department cf

I Dmilo love, -.vliic-h alone amounts to ol iiimJr. do of volumes, "he uit- ; views nmy ho ovoupeci under four ; mum headings ; THE IDEALISTIC THEORY. ! a «'-ordi’i" to tltis, Beatrice, “not ■ ‘•o muck lifelike as iovclike," re-prf--Tfiits the ideal cf womanboo'i, tho “eternal feminine." She has i:o prclol vne in this earth-world of ours, ‘and i; as uiueh a creature of tho poets imagination as are the various Utopias, ! -. he "ideal republics imagined by ITato i 01 . sir Thomas ALc-re, or Bellamy or But- ; H omc supporters of this theory concede ‘ ibnt th'- ‘historical Beatrice Portinan i-’i v Livo sir-gc.Acd the-name of tho idral v.'c-man, oj- even that a meeting • with the Beatrice of flesh and blood niflv j.a\e ILet Hashed the ideal into Dantes mind but that in anv case all the inci-d'-nt4 rc-'-O’dcd in 11m Vila Xuova arc im-Mnaiv, e.ud that the real Beatnco ulteTly dUanpcai s in the transform aDon s!i'- umierwcut at tiio poet’s han(l«. •'i‘P ■ tlu ovy, whirl. E hold by cevcwd : Ifidlng Italian scholars, is bowed chiefly on tin'’exalted position assigned to BcaMrlec’ in Paradi>e, on the hyperbolical ! nature of the language of the Vita ! Xuova and on sumlrv minor diincultirfi 'involved in a liioral acceptation of Dante’s words: if it be not prc-siimptona ; }-, as minor ditlicultios thowe ob- ■ jccDciv- which have been judged concluI . ivj*. by authorities like Bartoh and : Renicr. I THE SVAFBOLICAL THEORY. ' L. this view the figure of Beatrice is pure * v ailcgoricab linving no more foun- ' (litioii in actual fact than the characters ct tho Pilgrim’s Progress. The conception (hat Beatrice is a mere fiction of Hie p-o-tV- brain was first propounded more than live ccnturic.s nga, and has ]imi -tlefrmlcd liy many writers'up to the present day. They are agreed that Beatnco is a mere symbol, but as to what lhi«s symliol represents hardly any

|v.-o of them ore in full accord. Some v-iv "Wisdom,” in one or another meanink of that word; others Theology, or F/q-h, or Revelation. A very able ’„-.v..n V n writer, Father Giotmann, of the s'vmty of Jesus, proposes “tho Ideal . Church, svmboliscd in* scripture as the i iidik of Christ.” Then again, the cider I Rn«s«otH, father of Dante Gabriel, con- ! reived that not only Dante’s writings, but those of several contemporary poets as well, conceal an elaborate political system, * shrouded ns carefully as tho supposed identity of Shakcspeare-Bacon. in which every name is as it wore, a secret code word standing for pome political notion. Thus the “New Life" of Panic would symbolise a new departure in his political sympathies, and Beatrice might stand for Dante’s theory of an ideal polity. Even stranger is the noI tion of a French writer, who looks upon ! Dante’s works as an equally elaborate I and equally mysterious means of enun- : dating socialistic doctrines mingled with | heretical dogmas. Among more sober i contributions to the symbolical theory | must be reckoned an article which api peared in tho “Fortnightly Review" | about ten years ago. In this article it jis most ingeniously contended that in | the Vita Nuova Route was deliberately i inventing a series cf realistic details in order to'eroate the illusion that Beatrice j was a real person, and, as such, fitted to i be his;'guide to Paradise in the Divine Comedy, This line of argument is entirely novel and very interesting. It grapples fairly with the difficulties pre-. aentrd by the Vito Nuova. instead of , concentrating attention mainly on Bea- ; trice as she appears in the Paradise, as is i the rase with most of the symbolists, and inf the idealists too. Besides, on this ■ ! theory, when defender* of the historical reality of Dante's Beatrice urge the ’ strong impression of reality which : Dante’s love storv conveys, he can reply ’ triumphantly that this is only a fresh 1 ! tribute to the skill with which Dante [ j has thrown dust into the .eyes of poster- ] ity. So far as 1 know, the writer of ■ tin* article is the only English scholar who hats, thrown in his lot with either ' the symbolical or the idealist school. [ THE SEPARATIST THEORY. * This view is of importance chiefly bei cause rfc has been maintained, among : others, by the most learned living auth-

orftv on Dante, Dr. Scartazzini. _Ac- • cording to this theory, Beatrice was a ' real woman and tho Vita Nuova tolls the real story of Dante’s love for her; but, whoever or whatever ghe may have been, i her name was certainly not Beatrice: > that name was pul forward only as a I concealment and a feint; and therefore Dairtc’s love, though real enough, oor- ! tain!y had nothing to do with the daugh- : ter of Folco Portinari, and Boccaccio’s I pretty story becomes an absolute invenj tion. It would be rash indeed to assert I that this explanation is impossible. But the arguments on which it rests are mainly drawn from considerations about the normal relations of men and women, .and the normal current of love affairs, in this 20th century; they leave one i with tho feeling that in tho world of I I chivalrous woman-servUce, and trouba- ■ doure, and courts of love, many things might bo possible and natural which ; j would bo accounted preposterous to-day. j We may readily concede to Dr. Scartazj zini that nowadays a man could hardly , | publish a book in whTcTTTie openly proj claims his passion for the wife j of one of hie fellow-cßTzens, even though j it were a love ae ethereally pure as that |of Dante. But we need not admit that • such a proceeding was even strange in | the 13th" century. As Dr. Moore truly

.; ©ays: . 1 “There is no doubt that the term Love, ■ I among other senses, bore a meaning for i‘the Christians of fhe 13th century" , | which has passed out of later experience. ■ | Doubtless, tlien as now, the term love j wao applied beta to matrimonial affecI tion on the one hand, and to animal paeI sion on the other. But there was also ; | another sentiment distinct from cither of i these, and able to co-exisT perhaps with both, but certainly with the former, namely the chivalrous devotion to a woman, neither wife nor mistress, by means of which the spirit of man, were he knight or poet, was rendered capable of ©elf-devotion and nouto deeds, and of rising, to a higher ideal of life. How utterly distinct thi© sentiment was from those which we connect with the same term may be judged from the fact that some of the highest authorities of the 'Courts ,of Lore" pronounced it to be incompatible with the marriage relation, though it did not exclude marriage, except between the lovers themselves/" Now I do not wish to suggest that Danto’s love for Beatrice is entirely to be 1 explained in this way; nay, it's wondrous : charm lies in it"© being unlike any other | love, and yet like all true loves. The | argument is merely intended to show the 1 nature of Dr. Scartazzini"s .contentions I and the way in which they may he coin- : bated. Perhaps the nearest analogue of I modern times to the of ; chivalry is to be found in the United • States, or at any rate in the pages of ; modern American novels. Here too we | way of love’"—a point of ; view • as to the relations, of men and ; women which seems to be new in human ;i experience. And no doubt <?ix centuries . j hence, if any specimen of the novels of | to-day survives so long, critics will be ; ready to argue that euch a state of soI cioty is obviously unreal, and that the • shook in which it occurs must have a symbolical, or allegorical, or idealist . purpose. Dr. Scartazzini is by no means : tho only Dante-echolar who transports . tho atmosphere of respectable middle- • class life and current notions of proprie- ■ ty into the literature of the *ago of : chivalry. To bo continued in to-morrow ; a issue*) ’i === '