ntroductory
Now that this point in our historical view of Italian civilization has
been reached, it is time to speak of the influence of antiquity, the
'new birth' of which has been one-sidedly chosen as the name to sum up
the whole period. The conditions which have been hitherto described
would have sufficed, apart from antiquity, to upturn and to mature the
national mind; and most of the intellectual tendencies which yet remain
to be noticed would be conceivable without it. But both what has gone
before and what we have still to discuss are colored in a thousand ways
by the influence of the ancient world; and though the essence of the
phenomena might still have been the same without the classical revival,
it is only with and through this revival that they are actually
manifested to us. The Renaissance would not have been the process of
world-wide significance which it is, if its elements could be so easily
separated from one another. We must insist upon it, as one of the chief
propositions of this book, that it was not the revival of antiquity
alone, but its union with the genius of the Italian people, which
achieved the conquest of the western world. The amount of independence
which the national spirit maintained in this union varied according to
circumstances. In the modern Latin literature of the period, it is very
small, while in the visual arts, as well as in other spheres, it is
remarkably great; and hence the alliance between two distant epochs in
the civilization of the same people, because concluded on equal terms,
proved justifiable and fruitful. The rest of Europe was free either to
repel or else partly or wholly to accept the mighty impulse which came
forth from Italy. Where the latter was the case we may as well be
spared the complaints over the early decay of mediaeval faith and
civilization. Had these been strong enough to hold their ground, they
would be alive to this day. If those elegiac natures which long to see
them return could pass but one hour in the midst of them, they would
gasp to be back in modern air. That in a great historical process of
this kind flowers of exquisite beauty may perish, without being made
immortal in poetry or tradition, is undoubtedly true; nevertheless, we
cannot wish the process undone. The general result of it consists in
this--that by the side of the Church which had hitherto held the
countries of the West together (though it was unable to do so much
longer) there arose a new spiritual influence which, spreading itself
abroad from Italy, became the breath of life for all the more
instructed minds in Europe. The worst that can be said of the movement
is, that it was antipopular, that through it Europe became for the
first time sharply divided into the cultivated and uncultivated
classes. The reproach will appear groundless when we reflect that even
now the fact, though clearly recognized, cannot be altered. The
separation, too, is by no means so cruel and absolute in Italy as
elsewhere. The most artistic of her poets, Tasso, is in the hands of
even the poorest.
The civilization of Greece and Rome, which, ever since the fourteenth
century, obtained so powerful a hold on Italian life, as the source and
basis of culture, as the object and ideal of existence, partly also as
an avowed reaction against preceding tendencies--this civilization had
long been exerting a partial influence on mediaeval Europe, even beyond
the boundaries of Italy. The culture of which Charlemagne was a
representative was, in face of the barbarism of the seventh and eighth
centuries, essentially a Renaissance, and could appear under no other
form. Just as in the Romanesque architecture of the North, beside the
general outlines inherited from antiquity, remarkable direct imitations
of the antique also occur, so too monastic scholarship had not only
gradually absorbed an immense mass of materials from Roman writers, but
the style of it, from the days of Einhard onwards, shows traces of
conscious imitation.
But the resuscitation of antiquity took a different form in Italy from
that which it assumed in the North. The wave of barbarism had scarcely
gone by before the people, in whom the former life was but half
effaced, showed a consciousness of its past and a wish to reproduce it.
Elsewhere in Europe men deliberately and with reflection borrowed this
or the other element of classical civilization; in Italy the sympathies
both of the learned and of the people were naturally engaged on the
side of antiquity as a whole, which stood to them as a symbol of past
greatness. The Latin language, too, was easy to an Italian, and the
numerous monuments and documents in which the country abounded
facilitated a return to the past. With this tendency other elements--the
popular character which time had now greatly modified, the
political institutions imported by the Lombards from Germany, chivalry
and other northern forms of civilization, and the influence of religion
and the Church--combined to produce the modern Italian spirit, which
was destined to serve as the model and ideal for the whole western
world.
How antiquity influenced the visual arts, as soon as the flood of
barbarism had subsided, is clearly shown in the Tuscan buildings of the
twelfth and in the sculptures of the thirteenth centuries. In poetry,
too, there will appear no want of similar analogies to those who hold
that the greatest Latin poet of the twelfth century, the writer who
struck the keynote of a whole class of Latin poems, was an Italian. We
mean the author of the best pieces in the so-called 'Carmina Burana.' A
frank enjoyment of life and its pleasures, as whose patrons the gods of
heathendom are invoked, while Catos and Scipios hold the place of the
saints and heroes of Christianity, flows in full current through the
rhymed verses. Reading them through at a stretch, we can scarcely help
coming to the conclusion that an Italian, probably a Lombard, is
speaking; in fact, there are positive grounds for thinking so. To a
certain degree these Latin poems of the 'Clerici vagantes' of the
twelfth century, with all their remarkable frivolity, are, doubtless, a
product in which the whole of Europe had a share; but the writer of the
song 'De Phyllide et Flora' and the 'Aestuans Interius' can have been a
northerner as little as the polished Epicurean observer to whom we owe
'Dum Diana vitrea sero lampas oritur.' Here, in truth, is a
reproduction of the whole ancient view of life, which is all the more
striking from the medieval form of the verse in which it is set forth.
There are many works of this and the following centuries, in which a
careful imitation of the antique appears both in the hexameter and
pentameter of the meter and in the classical, often myth- ological,
character of the subject, and which yet have not anything like the same
spirit of antiquity about them. In the hexametric chronicles and other
works of Guglielmus Apuliensis and his successors (from about 1100), we
find frequent trace of a diligent study of Virgil, Ovid, Lucan,
Statius, and Claudian; but this classical form is, after all, a mere
matter of archaeology, as is the classical subject in compilers like
Vincent of Beauvais, or in the mythological and allegorical writer,
Alanus ab Insulis. The Renaissance, however, is not a fragmentary
imitation or compilation, but a new birth; and the signs of this are
visible in the poems of the unknown 'Clericus' of the twelfth century.
But the great and general enthusiasm of the Italians for Classical
antiquity did not display itself before the fourteenth century. For
this a development of civic life was required, which took place only in
Italy, and there not till then. It was needful that noble and burgher
should first learn to dwell together on equal terms, and that a social
world should arise which felt the want of culture, and had the leisure
and the means to obtain it. But culture, as soon as it freed itself
from the fantastic bonds of the Middle Ages, could not at once and
without help find its way to the understanding of the physical and
intellectual world. It needed a guide, and found one in the ancient
civilization, with its wealth of truth and knowledge in every spiritual
interest. Both the form and the substance of this civilization were
adopted with admiring gratitude; it became the chief part of the
culture of the age. The general condition of the country was favourable
to this transformation. The medieval empire, since the fall of the
Hohenstaufen, had either renounced, or was unable to make good, its
claims on Italy. The Popes had migrated to Avignon. Most of the
political powers actually existing owed their origin to violent and
illegitimate means. The spirit of the people, now awakened to
self-consciousness, sought for some new and stable ideal on which to rest.
And thus the vision of the world-wide empire of Italy and Rome so
possessed the popular mind that Cola di Rienzi could actually attempt
to put it in practice. The conception he formed of his task,
particularly when tribune for the first time, could only end in some
extravagant comedy; nevertheless, the memory of ancient Rome was no
slight support to the national sentiment. Armed afresh with its
culture, the Italian soon felt himself in truth citizen of the most
advanced nation in the world.
It is now our task to sketch this spiritual movement, not indeed in all
its fullness, but in its most salient features, and especially in its
first beginnings.