Dante. An essay. To which is added a translation of De Monarchia.
Dante Alighieri · en
The intellectual phenomenon is a strange one. It would be less strange
if Dante were arguing in the schools, or pleading for a party. But
even Henry of Luxemburg cared little for such a throne as the poet
wanted him to fill, much less Can Grande and the Visconti. The idea,
the theory, and the argument, are of the writer's own solitary
meditation. We may wonder. But there are few things more strange than
the history of argument. How often has a cause or an idea turned out,
in the eyes of posterity, so much better than its arguments. How
often have we seen argument getting as it were into a groove, and
unable to extricate itself, so as to do itself justice. The everyday
cases of private experience, of men defending right conclusions on
wrong or conventional grounds, or in a confused form, entangled with
conclusions of a like yet different nature;--of arguments, theories,
solutions, which once satisfied, satisfying us no longer on a question
about which we hold the same belief--of one party unable to comprehend
the arguments of another--of one section of the same side smiling at
the defence of their common cause by another--are all reproduced on a
grander scale in the history of society. There too, one age cannot
comprehend another; there too it takes time to disengage, subordinate,
eliminate. Truth of this sort is not the elaboration of one keen or
strong mind, but of the secret experience of many; "_nihil sine ætate
est, omnia tempus expectant_." But a counterpart to the _De Monarchia_
is not wanting in our own day; theory has not ceased to be mighty. In
warmth and earnestness, in sense of historic grandeur, in its support
of a great cause and a great idea, not less than in the thought of its
motto, [Greek: heis koiranos estô], De Maistre's volume _Du Pape_,
recalls the antagonist _De Monarchia_; but it recalls it not less in
its bold dealing with facts, and its bold assumption of principles,
though the knowledge and debates of five more busy centuries, and the
experience of modern courts and revolutions, might have guarded the
Piedmontese nobleman from the mistakes of the old Florentine.