New Insights into the Secret Language of Dante
When speaking previously of the two editions of Luigi Valli's last book, we mentioned a work along similar lines by Gaetano Scarlata devoted to Dante's treatise De vulgari eloquentia, or rather, as Scarlata prefers to call it (for the title has never been exactly fixed), De vulgaris eloquentiae doctrina, following the expression Dante himself employed at the outset when defining its subject matter in order to make evident his intentions as to the doctrinal content of poetry in the common [vulgar] tongue.[1] Indeed, those whom Dante calls poeti vulgari are those whose writings had, as he says, verace intendimento, that is, contained a hidden meaning in conformity with the symbolism of the Fedeli d'Amore, since he opposes them to the litterali (not the incorrect litterati, as one sometimes reads) or those who wrote with only a literal meaning. For Dante, the first are true poets, whom he also calls trilingues doctores, which can be understood in an outward sense since such poetry existed in Italian, Provençal (not 'French', as Scarlata incorrectly states) and Spanish; but in reality, since no poet ever actually wrote in all three languages, the term signifies that the poetry should be interpreted according to a threefold meaning; and on the subject of these trilingues doctores, Dante says maxime conveniunt in hoc vocabulo quod est Amor [they most agree in that name which is Love],
which is a rather obvious allusion to the doctrine of the Fedeli d'Amore. [2]
On the subject of these latter, Scarlata makes the very appropriate observation that they must never have constituted an association following rigorously defined forms, more or less similar to those of modern Masonry for example, with a central authority establishing 'branches' in various localities; and we might add in support of this view that in Masonry itself no such organization existed until the Grand Lodge was established in England in 1717. Moreover, it does not seem that Scarlata has grasped the full import of this fact, which he believes must be attributed simply to circumstances unfavorable to the stable outward existence of such an institution. In reality, as we have already often said, a truly initiatic organization cannot be a 'society' in the modern sense of the word, with all the external formalism that this implies: when statutes, written rules, and other things of that nature appear, it is certain that some degeneration is present, imparting to the organization a 'semi-profane' character, if one may use such an expression. But as concerns what belongs to a properly initiatic order, Scarlata has not gone to the heart of the matter and seems not even to have gotten as far as Valli. He sees above all the political aspect, which is on the whole accessory, and speaks constantly of 'sects', a point upon which we explained ourselves amply in the preceding chapter. In his treatment of the subject he draws but few consequences from the affirmation of the doctrine (esoteric, not heretical) of the amor sapientiae, which, however, is absolutely essential, the rest depending solely on historical contingencies. It is possible, moreover, that the subject of this study has lent itself quite readily to what appears to us an error of perspective: the De vulgaris eloquentiae doctrina has a direct link to the De Monarchia, and is consequently associated with that part of Dante's work where social applications occupy the most important place. But can these applications themselves be properly understood
if one does not constantly refer them to their principle? What is most regrettable is that when he turns to general historical considerations Scarlata permits himself to be drawn into interpretations that are more than questionable: does he not go so far as to portray Dante and the Fedeli d'Amore as adversaries of the spirit of the Middle Ages and precursors of modern ideas, animated by a 'secular' and 'democratic' spirit that would in reality be the most 'antiinitiatic' thing conceivable? This second part of his book, although it contains some interesting bits of information, particularly on the Eastern influences at the court of Frederick II and in the Franciscan movement, would be worth taking up on a basis more in conformity with traditional interpretations. It is true, however, that the book is only presented as a 'first attempt at historical reconstruction,' and who knows but that the author may not be led by his subsequent research to rectify it himself?
One cause of Scarlata's misunderstanding is perhaps to be found in the way Dante contrasts the use of the vulgare [vernacular] to that of Latin, an ecclesiastical language, and also in the way poets use symbols, according to the verace intendimento, which he contrasts with that of the theologians (their way being rather that of simple allegory); but it was in the eyes of Dante's adversaries or (which often amounts to the same thing) of those who did not understand him that the vulgare could be no more than the sermo laicus, whereas for himself it was something altogether different; and furthermore, from the strictly traditional point of view, is not the function of initiates more truly 'sacerdotal' than that of an exoteric 'clergy' that knows only the letter and adheres to the shell of the doctrine? [3] The essential point here is to ascertain what Dante means by the expression vulgare illustre, an expression that may seem strange and even contradictory if one holds to the ordinary sense of the words, but which becomes self-evident when one understands that for him vulgare is synonymous with naturale. It is the language that man learns directly through oral transmission (just as the child, who from the initiatic point of view represents the neophyte, learns
its own mother tongue), that is, symbolically speaking, the language that serves as the vehicle for the tradition, and that may in this respect be identified with the primordial and universal language, a point touching closely on the question of the mysterious 'Syriac language' (lughat suryaniyyah) of which we have spoken in previous articles; [4] and while it is true that for Dante this 'language of revelation' seems to have been Hebrew, such an affirmation, as we were just saying, should not be taken literally, for the same thing might be said of any language that has a 'sacred' character, that is to say which serves to express a regular traditional form. [5] According to Dante, the language spoken by the first man and directly created by God was perpetuated by his descendants down to the raising of the Tower of Babel; afterward, hanc formam locutionis hereditati sunt filii Heber. . . ; hiis solis post confusionem remansit ['this form of speech was inherited by the sons of Heber. . . ; to them alone did it remain after the confusion (of tongues)']; but these 'sons of Heber', are they not all those who have kept the tradition rather than any specific people? Has not the name 'Israel' often been employed to designate the totality of initiates, whatever their ethnic origin, who in fact really constitute the 'chosen people', and who possess the universal language that enables them all to understand each other, that is, the knowledge of the one tradition that is concealed beneath all its particular forms? [6] Moreover, if Dante had really thought it was the Hebrew language that was in question, he would not have been able to say that the Church (designated by the enigmatic name Petramala) believes it speaks the language of Adam, for the Church speaks not Hebrew but Latin, for which no one yet, it seems, has claimed the quality of a primeval language; but if one understands Dante's phrase to mean that the Church believes it teaches the true
doctrine of revelation, everything becomes perfectly intelligible. What is more, even if we admit that the early Christians, who possessed this true doctrine, actually spoke Hebrew (which would be historically inexact, for Aramaic is no more Hebrew than Italian is Latin), the Fedeli d'Amore, who considered themselves their successors, never pretended to reclaim this language in order to oppose it to Latin, as they should logically have had to do if it were necessary to keep to the literal interpretation. [7]
We see then that what is at issue is far removed from the purely 'philological' significance usually attributed to Dante's treatise, and that something quite other than the Italian language is involved; and even what genuinely relates to the latter may also have, at the same time, a symbolic value. Thus, when Dante opposes such and such a city or region to another, it is never simply a question of linguistic opposition; and when he cites certain names, such as Petramala, Papienses, or Aquilegienses, there are in these choices (even without going so far as to consider geographical symbolism strictly speaking) fairly transparent intentions, as Rossetti had already noted; and naturally, in order to understand the real meaning of many apparently insignificant words, it is often necessary to refer back to the conventional terminology of the Fedeli d'Amore. Scarlata quite rightly points out that it is almost always the examples (including those that appear to have only a purely rhetorical or grammatical value) that furnish the key to the context; this was indeed an excellent means of diverting the attention of the 'profane', who could have seen in them only some commonplace phrases of no importance. It might be said that these examples play a role comparable to that of the 'myths' in the Platonic dialogues, and one need only look at what the academic critics make of these to entertain no further doubts as to the perfect efficacy of the strategy that
consists in offering as an hors d'oeuvre, so to speak, what is precisely the main course.
In short, what Dante seems to have had in mind was essentially the establishment of a language capable, by virtue of a superimposition of multiple meanings, of expressing as far as possible the esoteric doctrine; and if the codification of such a language can be qualified as 'rhetoric', it is in any case a very special kind of rhetoric, as far removed from what is understood by that word today as is the poetry of the Fedeli d'Amore from that of the moderns, whose predecessors are those 'litterali' whom Dante reproached for versifying 'foolishly' (stoltamente) and failing to put into their lines any profound meaning. [8] According to Valli's expression, which we have already quoted, Dante set himself quite a different task from 'creating literature', which amounts to saying that he was precisely the complete opposite of a modern author; his work, far from being contrary to the spirit of the Middle Ages, is one of its most perfect syntheses, in the same rank as that of the cathedral builders; and the simplest initiatic facts enable us to understand without difficulty that there are very profound reasons for this correspondence.