he higher forms of social intercourse, which here meet us as a work of
art--as a conscious product and one of the highest products of national
life have no more important foundation and condition than language. In
the most flourishing period of the Middle Ages, the nobility of Western
Europe had sought to establish a 'courtly' speech for social
intercourse as well as for poetry. In Italy, too, where the dialects
differed so greatly from one another, we find in the thirteenth century
a so-called 'Curiale,' which was common to the courts and to the poets.
It is of decisive importance for Italy that the attempt was there
seriously and deliberately made to turn this into the language of
literature and society. The introduction to the 'Cento Novelle
Antiche,' which were put into their present shape before l 300, avows
this object openly. Language is here considered apart from its uses in
poetry; its highest function is clear, simple, intelligent utterance in
short speeches, epigrams, and answers. This faculty was admired in
Italy, as nowhere else but among the Greeks and Arabs: 'how many in the
course long life have scarcely produced a single "bel parlare." '
But the matter was rendered more difficult by the diversity of the
aspects under which it was considered. The writings of Dante transport
us into the midst of the struggle. His work 'On the Italian Language'
is not only of the utmost importance for the subject itself, but is
also the first complete treatise on any modern language. His method and
results belong to the history of linguistic science, in which they will
always hold a high place. We must here content ourselves with the
remark that long before the appearance of this book the subject must
have been one of daily and pressing importance, various dialects of
Italy had long been the object of study and dispute, and that the birth
of the one ideal was not accomplished without many throes.
Nothing certainly contributed so much to this end as the great poem of
Dante. The Tuscan dialect became the basis of the new national speech.
If this assertion may seem to some to go too far, as foreigners we may
be excused, in a matter on which much difference of opinion prevails,
for following the general belief.
Literature and poetry probably lost more than they gained by the
contentious purism which was long prevalent in Italy, and which marred
the freshness and vigor of many an able writer. Others, again, who felt
themselves masters of this magnificent language, were tempted to rely
upon its harmony and flow, apart from the thought which it expressed. A
very insignificant melody, played upon such an instrument, can produce
a very great effect. But however this may be, it is certain that
socially the language had great value. It was, as it were, that the ;
of eager language the crown of a noble and dignified behavior, and
compelled the gentleman, both in his ordinary bearing and in
exceptional moments to observe external propriety. No doubt this
classical garment, like the language of Attic society, served to drape
much that was foul and malicious; but it was also the adequate
expression of all that is noblest and most refined. But politically and
nationally it was of supreme importance, serving as an ideal home for
the educated classes in all the States of the divided peninsula. Nor
was it the special property of the nobles or of any one class, but the
poorest and humblest might learn it if they would. Even now-- and
perhaps more than ever --in those parts of Italy where, as a rule, the
most unintelligible dialect prevails, the stranger is often astonished
at hearing pure and well-spoken Italian from the mouths of peasants or
artisans, and looks in vain for anything analogous in France or in
Germany, where even the educated classes retain traces of a provincial
speech. There is certainly a larger number of people able to read in
Italy than we should be led to expect from the condition of many parts
of the country--as for in- stance, the States of the Church--in other
respects; but what is more important is the general and undisputed
respect for pure language and pronunciation as something precious and
sacred. One part of the country after another came to adopt the
classical dialect officially. Venice, Milan, and Naples did so at the
noontime of Italian literature, and partly through its influences. It
was not till the present century that Piedmont became of its own free
will a genuine Italian province by sharing in this chief treasure of
the people--pure speech. The dialects were from the beginning of the
sixteenth century purposely left to deal with a certain class of
subjects, serious as well as comic, and the style which was thus
developed proved the equal to all its tasks. Among other nations a
conscious separation of this kind did not occur till a much later
period.
The opinion of educated people as to the social value of language is
fully set forth in the 'Cortigiano.' There were then persons, at the
beginning of the sixteenth century, who purposely kept to the
antiquated expressions of Dante and the other Tuscan writers of his
time, simply because they were old. Our author forbids the use of them
altogether in speech, and is unwilling to permit them even in writing,
which he considers a form of speech. Upon this follows the admission
that the best style of speech is that which most resembles good
writing. We can clearly recognize the author's feeling that people who
have anything of importance to say must shape their own speech, and
that language is something flexible and changing because it is
something living. It is allowable to make use of any expression,
however ornate, as long as it is used by the people; nor are non-Tuscan
words, or even French and Spanish words forbidden, if custom has once
applied them to definite purposes. Thus care and intelligence will
produce a language, which, if not the pure old Tuscan, is still
Italian, rich in flowers and fruit like a well-kept garden. It belongs
to the completeness of the 'Cortigiano' that his wit, his polished
manners, and his poetry, must be clothed in this perfect dress.
When style and language had once become the property of a living
society, all the efforts of purists and archaists failed to secure
their end. Tuscany itself was rich in writers and the first order, who
ignored and ridiculed these endeavors. Ridicule in abundance awaited
the foreign scholar who explained to the Tuscans how little they
understood their language. The life and influence of a writer like
Machiavelli was enough to sweep away all these cobwebs. His vigorous
thoughts, his clear and simple mode of expression wore a form which had
any merit but that of the 'Trecentisti.' And on the other hand there
were too many North Italians, Romans, and Neapolitans, who were
thankful if the demand for purity of style in literature and
conversation was not pressed too far. They repudiated, indeed, the
forms and idioms of their dialect; and Bandello, with what a foreigner
might suspect to be false modesty, is never tired of declaring: 'I have
no style; I do not write like a Florentine, but like a barbarian; I am
not ambitious of giving new graces to my language; I am a Lombard, and
from the Ligurian border into the bargain.' But the claims of the
purists were most successfully met by the express renunciation of the
higher qualities of style, and the adoption of a vigorous, popular
language in their stead. Few could hope to rival Pietro Bembo who,
though born in Venice, nevertheless wrote the purest Tuscan, which to
him was a foreign language, or the Neapolitan Sannazaro, who did the
same. But the essential point was that language, whether spoken or
written, was held to be an object of respect. As long as this feeling
was prevalent, the fanaticism of the purists--their linguistic
congresses and the rest of it--did little harm. Their bad influence was
not felt till much later, when the original power of Italian literature
relaxed and yielded to other and far worse influences. At last it
became possible for the Accademia della Crusca to treat Italian like a
dead language. But this association proved so helpless that it could
not even hinder the invasion of Gallicism in the eighteenth century.
This language--loved, tended, and trained to every use--now served as
the basis of social intercourse. In northern countries, the nobles and
the princes passed their leisure either in solitude, or in hunting,
fighting, drinking, and the like; the burghers in games and bodily
exercises, with a mixture of literary or festive amusements. In Italy
there existed a neutral ground, where people of every origin, if they
had the needful talent and culture, spent their time in conversation
change of jest and earnest. As eating small part of such
entertainments, it not difficult to keep at a distance those who sought
society for these objects. If we are to take the writers of dialogues
literally, the loftiest problems of human existence were not excluded
from the conversation of thinking men, and the production of noble
thoughts was not, as was commonly the case in the North, the work of
solitude, but of society. But we must here limit ourselves to the less
serious side of social intercourse--to the side which existed only for
the sake of amusement.