The Secret Language of Dante and the Fedeli d'Amore ~ II
We devoted the preceding chapter to Luigi Valli's important work of the same title published in 1928; in 1931 we learned of the sudden and premature death of the author, from whom we were hoping for other studies no less worthy of interest; we then received a second volume, bearing the same title as the first and containing responses to objections that had been made to its thesis and some complementary notes. [1]
Nearly all the objections, which attest to an incomprehension that is no cause for surprise, may be subsumed, as was moreover easy to foresee, under one of two headings: those from 'literary critics' wellimbued with scholarly and academic prejudices, and those from Catholic circles, where none want to admit that Dante belonged to an initiatic organization; all concur however, albeit for different reasons, in denying the existence of esoterism, even where it is most strikingly evident. The author seems to attach more importance to the first, which he discusses at far greater length than he does the second; we for our part would be tempted to do just the opposite, seeing in the latter a much graver symptom of the deformation of the modern mentality; but this difference in perspective is to be explained by Valli's chosen point of view, which is exclusively that of
a 'researcher' and historian. This all too exterior point of view gives rise to a certain number of deficiencies and linguistic inaccuracies, which we have had occasion to point out in the previous chapter. Valli acknowledges in connection with just this point that 'he has never had contact with initiatic traditions of any kind,' and that 'his mental training is of a critical nature'; it is all the more remarkable then that he should have arrived at conclusions so far removed from those of ordinary 'criticism', conclusions that are even quite astonishing coming from someone who affirms his wish to be 'a man of the twentieth century'. It is no less regrettable that as a result of prejudice he does not allow himself to understand the notion of traditional orthodoxy; that he persists in applying the disagreeable term 'sect' to organizations of an initiatic, and not religious, character; and that he denies having confused the 'mystical' and the 'initiatic' whereas in fact he does this again throughout this second book. But these shortcomings must not prevent us from recognizing Valli's great merit, 'profane' though he may be and wished to remain, for having glimpsed a great part of the truth despite all the obstacles that his education was naturally bound to put in his way, and for having stated that truth without regard for the opposition he was bound to elicit from all those who have some interest in its remaining unknown.
We shall mention only two or three examples typical of the incomprehension of academic 'critics'. Some have gone so far as to contend that beautiful poetry cannot be symbolic; it seems that for them a work of art cannot be admired unless it has no meaning, and that the existence of a deeper meaning destroys its artistic value! Here we see expressed as clearly as possible that 'profane' conception of art in general and poetry in particular which we have recently had several occasions to describe as a modern degeneration wholly contrary to the character that both arts and sciences possessed originally, and that they have always had in any traditional civilization. Let us note in this regard a rather interesting formulation cited by Valli: in all medieval (as opposed to modern) art, 'what is at stake is the incarnation of an idea, not the idealization of a reality'; we would rather have said 'a reality of a sensible order', for an idea is
also a reality, and even one of a superior order, this 'incarnation of an idea' in a particular form being nothing but symbolism itself.
Others have put forward a truly comical objection: they contend that it would be 'vile' to write in 'jargon', that is to say in a language of conventions, evidently regarding this only as a sort of cowardice and dissimulation. To tell the truth, Valli may perhaps have insisted too exclusively, as we have already noted, on the desire of the Fedeli d'Amore to conceal themselves for motives of prudence; it is incontestable that this was indeed the case-it was a necessity imposed on them by circumstances-but this is only the most outward and the least of the reasons justifying their use of a language that was not only conventional but also and above all symbolic. Analogous examples might be found in quite different circumstances, where there would have been no danger in speaking openly, were such a thing possible; and even then one could say that there is an advantage in excluding those not 'qualified', a policy arising from concerns other than simple prudence; but what must be emphasized above all is that truths of a certain order can, by their very nature, only be expressed symbolically.
Finally, there are some who find the existence of symbolic poetry among the Fedeli d'Amore unlikely because it would constitute a 'unique case', whereas Valli was determined to show that the same thing also existed in the East, and at precisely the same time, notably in Persian poetry. One could even add that this symbolism of love has sometimes been used in India as well; and, to confine ourselves to the Islamic world, it is rather singular that one almost always speaks solely of Persian poetry in this regard, whereas similar examples of a no less esoteric nature can readily be found in Arabic poetry, for instance in the work of Omar ibn al-Fārid. And we may add that many other 'veils' were also used in the poetic expressions of Sufism, including that of scepticism, for which one could cite as examples Omar al-Khayyām and Abu'l-Alā al-Ma'arri. Regarding the latter in particular, there are very few who know that he was an initiate of high rank; and another curious fact of particular relevance to the subject that occupies us at present (and that so far we have not found noted anywhere else) is that his Risālat al-Ghufrān
could be regarded as one of the principal Islamic 'sources' of the Divine Comedy. [2]
As for the obligation imposed upon all members of an initiatic order to write in verse, it is in perfect accord with the character of 'sacred language' which poetry formerly possessed; and as Valli quite justly says, something quite other is involved than merely 'creating literature'. Such was never the aim of Dante and his contemporaries, who, adds Valli ironically, 'were at fault in not having read the books of modern criticism.' Even in very recent times each member of certain Islamic esoteric confraternities was still obliged, on the occasion of the Shaykh's annual mulid, to compose a poem in which he would strive, even at the expense of the perfection of form, to incorporate a more or less profound doctrinal meaning.
Regarding Valli's latest remarks, some of which open the way for further research, we shall mention one concerning the relationship of Joachim de Fiore to the Fedeli d'Amore: Fiore, taken as a synonym of Rosa, is one of the symbols most widely used in the latter's poetry; and under the title of Fiore an Italian adaptation of the Romance of the Rose was written by a Florentine named Durante, who was almost certainly Dante himself. [3] Moreover, the name of the convent of San Giovanni in Fiore, from which Giocchino di Fiore took his name, does not appear before his time. Was it he who named it? And if so, why did he choose this name? What is remarkable is that in his writings Joachim de Fiore speaks of a symbolic 'widow', as do also Francesco da Barberino and Boccaccio, both of whom belonged to the Fedeli d'Amore; and we should add that even today this 'widow' is still well-known in Masonic symbolism. In this regard it is regrettable that political preoccupations seem to have prevented Valli from noticing certain striking correspondences; he
is undoubtedly right to say that the initiatic organizations under discussion are not Masonic, but between the Masons and the Fedeli d'Amore the link is no less certain; and is it not curious, for example, that 'wind' in the language of the Fedeli d'Amore should have exactly the same meaning as 'rain' in that of Masonry?
Another important point concerns the relationship between the Fedeli d'Amore and the alchemists. A particularly significant symbol in this regard is found in Francesco da Barberino's Documenti d'Amore. The figure in question consists of twelve personages arranged symmetrically and forming six couples which represent as many initiatic degrees, surrounding a single figure at the center; this last, who holds in his hands the symbolic rose, has two heads, one male and one female, and is manifestly identical with the Hermetic Rebis. The only notable divergence from the figures that appear in alchemical treatises is that in the latter it is the right side that is masculine and the left feminine, whereas here we find the reverse. This peculiarity seems to have escaped Valli, who nonetheless provides the explanation himself without appearing to be aware of it when he says that 'man with his passive intellect is reunited with the active intelligence, represented by woman,' whereas it is generally the masculine that symbolizes the active element and the feminine the passive. What is most remarkable is that this sort of reversal of the usual relationship is also found in the symbolism of Hindu Tantrism; this parallel compels recognition all the more strongly when we find Cecco d'Ascoli saying 'onde io son ella' [whence I am she], exactly as the Shaktas, who instead of So'ham, or 'I am He' (the Ana Huwa of Islamic esoterism), say Sa'ham, or 'I am She'. On the other hand, Valli notes that adjacent to the Rebis figure in the Rosarium Philosophorum one sees a sort of tree bearing six pairs of faces disposed symmetrically on either side of the trunk, with a single face at the summit which he considers identical with the personages depicted by Francesco da Barberino. It does indeed seem that in both cases an initiatic hierarchy of seven degrees is involved, the last degree being characterized essentially as the reconstitution of the Hermetic androgyne, that is to say, in short, the restoration of the 'primordial state'. And this in turn accords with what we have had occasion to
say about the significance of the term 'Rose-Cross' as designating the perfection of the human state. As regards the seven degrees of initiation, we have alluded to the ladder of seven rungs in our study The Esoterism of Dante. It is true that these rungs are generally related to the seven planetary heavens, which refer to supra-human states, but by reason of analogy there must be a hierarchical correspondence in an initiatic system between the 'lesser' and the 'greater' mysteries. Then again, the being reintegrated into the center of the human state is by this very fact ready to rise to the superior states and already dominates the conditions of existence in this world of which it has become master; that is why the Rebis of the Rosarium Philosophorum has the moon beneath its feet, and that of Basil Valentine a dragon. This significance was completely misunderstood by Valli, who saw therein only symbols of corrupted doctrine or 'the error that oppresses the world,' whereas in reality the moon represents the domain of forms-this symbolism being the same as that of 'walking on the waters'-and the dragon, in this context the elemental world.
Harboring no doubts about Dante's links with the Templars, of which many indications exist, Valli also raises the subject of the medallion in the Vienna Museum which we mentioned in The Esoterism of Dante. When he went to inspect this medallion he discovered that its two sides had been joined together at a late date, suggesting that it must have been put together originally from two separate medallions; moreover, he recognized that this singular operation could not have been performed without some reason. As for the initials F.S.K.I.P.F.T., which figure on the medallion's reverse side, for him they represent the initials of the seven virtues, Fides, Spes, Karitas, Justitia, Prudentia, Fortitudo, Temperantia, despite their anomalous arrangement in two rows of four and three, rather than of three and four, as the distinction between the three theological virtues and the four cardinal virtues would require. Joined as they are to laurel and olive branches, 'which are the two sacred plants of initiates,' he admits that his interpretation does not necessarily exclude the existence of another, more hidden, significance; and we might add that the abnormal spelling Karitas rather than Charitas could well have been necessitated precisely by this double
meaning. Elsewhere in the same study we pointed out the initiatic role attributed to the three theological virtues, still preserved in the eighteenth degree of Scottish Freemasonry; [4] furthermore, the septenary of the virtues is composed of a higher ternary and a lower quaternary, which sufficiently indicates that it is constituted according to esoteric principles; and finally, this septenary, quite as well as that of the 'liberal arts', also divided into trivium and quadrivium, corresponds to the seven rungs to which we alluded earlier, all the more so as 'faith' (the Fede Santa) is in fact always represented on the highest rung of the 'mysterious ladder' of the Kadosch. All this therefore constitutes a far more coherent whole than superficial observers may believe.
While at the Vienna Museum Valli also discovered Dante's original medallion, the reverse side of which represents a still more strange and enigmatic figure: a heart placed at the center of a system of circles that has the appearance of (though it is not in fact) a celestial sphere, and which is not accompanied by any inscription. [5] There are three meridional circles and four latitudinal circles, which Valli again relates respectively to the three theological and the four cardinal virtues. What leads us to regard this interpretation as correct is above all the accurate application made in this arrangement of the vertical and the horizontal directions to the relationships of the contemplative and the active life, or to the respective jurisdictions of the spiritual authority and the temporal power, to which the two groups of virtues correspond. An oblique circle, completing the figure (and forming with the others the number eight-that of equilibrium), links everything in a perfect harmony under the irradiation of the 'doctrine of love'. [6]
A final point concerns the secret name that was given God by the Fedeli d'Amore: in his Tractatus Amoris Francesco da Barberino represented himself in an attitude of adoration before the letter 'I'; and in the Divine Comedy Adam says that the first name of God was 'I', [7] the one that came afterward being El. This letter 'I', which Dante calls the 'ninth figure' in accordance with its place in the Latin alphabet (and we know what symbolic importance the number nine [8] held for him), is evidently no other than the yod, although this is the tenth letter of the Hebrew alphabet; and in fact, apart from being the first letter of the tetragrammaton, the yod is itself a divine name, whether in isolation or repeated three times. [9] It is this same yod that in Masonry became the letter 'G' by assimilation with 'God' (for it was in England that this transformation took place), this without prejudice to the many other secondary meanings that came to be centered in this same letter 'G', but which it is not our intention to examine here.
Saddened as we are by Valli's passing, we hope all the more that he will have successors in his chosen field of research, which is as vast as it is yet unexplored. It does seem that this will be the case, for he himself informs us that he has already been followed by Gaetano Scarlata, who has devoted a work [10] to the special study of Dante's treatise De vulgari eloquentia. The book in question is also 'full of mysteries', as Rossetti and Aroux so well perceived, and though it seems to treat simply of the Italian language it relates in fact to a secret language. This procedure is also customary in Islamic esoterism, where, as we have pointed out on another occasion, an initiatic work may assume the appearance of a simple treatise on grammar. Many more discoveries no doubt remain to be made in the
same
order of ideas, and even if those who devote themselves to this research bring to it personally only a 'profane' mentality (provided however that it be unbiased) and see in it only the object of a sort of historical curiosity, the results obtained will be no less able, both in themselves and for those who know how to understand their true and full significance, to contribute effectively to a restoration of the traditional spirit. Do not these labors relate, however unconsciously or involuntarily, to the 'search for the Lost Word', which is the same as the 'quest for the Holy Grail'?