II. Early Environment

Benedetto Croce was thirty-four years old in nineteen hundred: his

education (if it is possible to set a term to the education of

a philosopher) is therefore the work of the last quarter of the

nineteenth century. A rapid examination of the intellectual conditions

of Italy during those years will help us to see that education in its

true light, that is, as a reaction to, rather than a fruit of, the

environment.

The Risorgimento, with its fifty years of wars and revolutions

coming close on the heels of the great Napoleonic upheaval, left

Italy materially and morally exhausted. After centuries of foreign

domination, of political and spiritual servitude, all the elements

of Italian culture had been gathered by the two generations of the

Risorgimento into a new culture, which was much more an instrument

of combat, for the conquest of unity and independence, considered as

the necessary premises of national life, than the best soil for the

spiritual growth of that life after the conquest. This new culture, in

the poets who had announced and formed it, Parini, Alfieri, Foscolo,

Leopardi, Manzoni, in its philosophers, Rosmini and Gioberti, and in

its prophet and apostle, Mazzini, had forms and spirits, the value and

meaning of which by far transcended the importance of its immediate

historical purpose; but through the difficulties and labors of the

practical effort, it reached the end of the period shorn of a good deal

of what was deepest, most beautiful, nearest to the universal, in it.

Italy in 1870 was very much like the sprinter who wins the race, but

collapses at the crossing of the line.

The culture of Italy had been for centuries oscillating between

the pursuit and discovery of certain universal values, which had

gradually become part of the common European culture (the Roman

idea, the Christian idea, the main principles, æsthetic and moral,

of the Renaissance), and the development of purely local, regional

characteristics. At the end of the Risorgimento, the links that had

kept Italian culture in constant contact with the rest of Europe were

broken, and on the other hand the local cultures found themselves,

as it were, lost and submerged in the new political readjustment,

threatened in their very existence by the new claim of loyalty advanced

by a literary and abstract national ideal. The duties of Italian

culture, clearer to us now than to the men who lived in the midst of

those events, were then, on one side, to re-establish the connection

between Italian and European culture, and this time more by learning

than by teaching--and on the other side to utilize the less particular

elements of the regional cultures as a foundation for a real and

concrete and diffused cultural life in the nation.

Thus Italy becomes, at the beginning of her new, unified existence,

little more than a province of European thought. She looks around

herself and she is compelled to take notice of what had happened beyond

her frontiers during the last two or three centuries. It is interesting

to compare the characteristics of the other great nations of Europe

as they appear to Italy during and after the Risorgimento. England,

who had been a symbol of political liberty, a source of political and

economic wisdom, reappears as a model of industrial development and

at the same time as the proclaimer of a new creed to the world, the

creed of evolution, which after having infused a fresh spirit in the

natural sciences with Darwin, seems to promise a new interpretation of

human life, a new organization of science and of social thought, with

Spencer. France, the mother of revolutions, the deliverer of the spirit

of man from the shackles of divine and earthly tyranny, remains, in

a vague and hazy fashion, through the many disappointments that her

policies give to her Italian lovers during all this period, the same

kind of inspiration that she has been ever since the Encyclopédie and

the Revolutions; but contributes to the new effort little more than her

veristic fiction, in which art itself is reduced to a handmaid of the

goddess of the hour, biological and social science.

Germany had saturated with the romantic atmosphere of her poetry the

passionate struggle of the times, and she had captured a little band

of thoughtful patriots, among whom we find Croce's uncle, Bertrando

Spaventa, with the fascination of her new metaphysics, in which they

found the fulfilment of all the promises of Italian thought in the

foregoing centuries; but after her victory over France, the same cause

that makes French influence less vigorous, makes also German influence

less deep and less inspiring. A Germany who has like Faust sold her

romantic and metaphysical soul, yields only a shadow of her great

historical and philosophical culture of the eighteenth and of the

first half of the nineteenth century, though a tremendously powerful

one, and such that for a long time it overawes the academic mind not

of Italy only, but of the whole continent. A narrow and materialistic

philology, under the name of historical method, becomes the heir to

the humanistic tradition, and substitutes itself for every native

impulse, even in fields in which Italian thought had been master for

centuries, as in that of law: where it mercilessly destroys, of the

ideologies of the Risorgimento, not only that which was arbitrary and

fanciful, and therefore destined to perish, but even that which through

the subsequent course of history was to prove vital and sound. The

Italian school of international law, the new conception of the Law of

Nations, for instance, which was the fruit of the Italian juridical

tradition during the experiences of the Risorgimento, and which is

the more or less consciously accepted foundation of all the doctrines

of international relations striving for realization in our times, in

no country and in no schools was so resolutely repudiated as in the

Italian universities. And it could not have been otherwise, since the

new philology was as static and deterministic a doctrine, only more

logically and rigorously so, as the evolutionary positivism which we

had learnt from England.

The faults of Italian culture during this period are therefore the

faults of the other European cultures which Italy had to assimilate:

at a time when Italy was most in need of cultural help from without,

she found that, for reasons infinitely complex and totally different

from those which had caused her own exhaustion, the other nations of

Europe were also spiritually exhausted. And yet it cannot be said that

from these very faults Italy did not draw some useful lessons. The

so-called historical method, which completely disregarded the great

forces of history, and made of the least significant historical datum

a _Ding an sich_ in which the mind of the scholar seemed to find its

ultimate object, proved in the end to be a salutary discipline as

against the facile and enthusiastic generalizations of the historians

of the Risorgimento. Positivism, however barbarous and uncouth in

itself, was a powerful weapon for the destruction of the last remnants

of a more or less mythological metaphysics, and in that sense it

afforded an example of intellectual honesty; and at the same time it

awakened the consciousness of the continuity of natural and spiritual

life, announcing, though in a hasty and imperfect synthesis, what

every philosophy of the future will have to be. And about the middle

of the period which we are now considering, the only real contribution

of Germany to European thought in the second half of the century

became known in Italy with the advent of Marxism, in which we found

a new conception of history, in so far adequate to the true spirit

and conditions of the times, as it afforded to blind social forces,

striving for political expression, an interpretation of their needs and

a rationalized programme of action.

The analogies between this general cultural atmosphere, and the present

conditions of the intellectual world in America, are, provided we

do not stress them too hard, so striking that I cannot refrain from

calling the attention of the reader to them. I believe this will help

him to apply a good many of Croce's criticisms and ideas to tendencies

and problems with which he is thoroughly familiar. The most recent

forms of American philosophy, pragmatism, instrumentalism, realism,

are indigenous elaborations of that same English positivism and

empiricism which was dominant in Italy a generation ago: the relations

between science and philosophy are seen in the same light in America

to-day as in Italy before the beginning of this century. And the two

most significant and far-reaching directions of research, social

psychology and psychoanalysis, branching out into every ramification

of social and moral and æsthetic thought, are based on assumptions,

and lead to results, very similar to those of the Spencerian sociology

and of the Lombrosian theory of insanity and genius. Even in fiction

America is to-day trying her hand at verism, and in poetry, apart

from a few marked exceptions, she is experimenting in the same spirit

in which we began to follow, about the end of the period, the most

recent fashions of Paris in verslibrism and decadentism. In academic

circles German philology has maintained its sway for a much longer

time than in Europe, and the war has brought about more an emotional

than an intellectual consciousness of the need of a vaster and deeper

understanding of history. Finally, certain aspirations towards ancient

and totally different systems of moral and æsthetic standards, embraced

with an enthusiasm that is akin to an act of faith--the hope to

discover a refuge and a consolation from the chaos of modernity in a

restoration of classical or mediæval ideals--are American varieties

of an attitude of mind which found its satisfaction in Italy in

patterns which we drew after the models of Ruskinism and of French

traditionalism.

On the whole, Italian culture was suffering from the effects of the

same delusion which accounts for the straits in which American culture

is to-day: that European culture could be assimilated through its

representatives at one particular moment only, and as if it were at

the surface of time, rather than by the only legitimate and fruitful

method, which is that of delving beneath that surface for the truly

fundamental contributions that each nation has made to the common

mind. Not one of the nations of Europe was then, or is now, at one of

those turning points in the history of culture in which principles of

universal value are elaborated within the limits of a single national

group. The only possible exception was that of Russia, sending out to

an age-worn Europe a fresh message of human pity and Christian love in

a succession of epic masterpieces; but the quality of the message was

such as to affect the heart much more than the intellect, to produce a

new and deeper feeling rather than a sounder knowledge.

Two great individual figures, however, dominate the whole period, and

among so many contrasting currents of thought and feeling, among the

fluctuating fashions of the times, connect the new generations with

the traditional elements of Italian culture. That breadth of vision,

that sense of the perspective of history, which was totally lacking in

the prevailing cosmopolitan thought, was a conspicuous characteristic

of the work of a great critic, Francesco de Sanctis, and of a great

poet, Giosuè Carducci. And what made the secret of the strength of

the one as well as of the other, was their fidelity to the regional

traditions from which they were issued, coupled with a power to invest

them with a much broader significance than they had ever possessed.

With De Sanctis, the speculative trend of the Southern Italian mind,

with Carducci the humanism of Florence and Tuscany, for the first time

in history become real elements of a greater national consciousness.

Neither the one nor the other was, moreover, without a knowledge of,

and a taste for, foreign cultures; but what they gained from these

were elements of more permanent value than the ones which attracted

the attention of the crowds, and they both succeeded in grafting those

foreign elements on their native dispositions in such a way and with

so little violence that they seemed to belong rightfully to them. This

is true of what De Sanctis learnt from the idealistic philosophers

of Germany, and particularly from Hegel, as well as of what Carducci

acquired from the great poets and historians of the two previous

generations in France, in England, and in Germany. Nor should we marvel

at this, since by going deep enough or high enough into any of the

European cultures, it is always possible to find a level that is common

to all of them.

Francesco de Sanctis was not a philosopher in the strict meaning

of the word; yet, among all the European critics of the nineteenth

century, he is the only one from whose works it is possible to derive

a consistent line of æsthetical thought. His education had been partly

philosophical, of old Italian and modern German philosophy; and partly

grammatical and rhetorical, in those literary doctrines of the old

school which embodied a secular experience, and in comparison with

which the modern _science_ of literature is ineffably shallow and

puerile. It was through a philosophical elaboration of those doctrines,

and through a criticism of the intellectualistic æsthetics of Hegel

and his followers, for whom art was the sensuous clothing of the

concept, that De Sanctis, guided by an unerring taste and by a unique

power for discerning the essential and vital element in poetry, came

to his conception of form as not an _a priori,_ a thing by itself and

different from the content, but something that is generated by the

content itself when active in the mind of the artist. This is the

principle which he had constantly in mind in approaching the concrete

works of poetry, and which enabled him to analyze and reproduce the

terms of the spiritual experiences of which they are an expression.

Thus his _Essays_ and his _History of Italian Literature,_ though

in a sense the purest and most genuine kind of literary criticism,

are at the same time a complete spiritual history of a people, as it

reveals itself in its literary manifestations, such as no other country

possesses. The immediate influence of his work was not as great as it

ought to have been: the generation of philologists who immediately

followed him was unable to see in him more than a brilliant exponent of

what was then contemptuously called æsthetic criticism, and could never

forgive him for his apparent lack of method, due to the circumstances

of his life as an exile and a politician. It was only unwittingly, and

through the intermediary of a German disciple of De Sanctis, Gaspary,

who wrote a standard handbook of Italian literature, that they came to

accept the greatest part of his interpretations, and followed the main

directions of his thought in their own researches.

Giosuè Carducci was a disciple of Parini and Alfieri, of Foscolo

and Leopardi, and in a sense of all that lineage of Italian poets,

beginning with Dante and Petrarch, for whom poetry was not less an

arduous discipline for the attainment of a certain standard of formal

beauty, set down once and forever by the poets of the classical

tradition, than a moral and political function in the life of the

nation. As his predecessors had been, he was not only a poet, but

also a student and historian of literature, of literature as the

only field in which that life had truly realized itself. But though

his contributions to the study of Italian literature were many and

important, and the knowledge and taste which were the instruments of

his art made of him an exquisite critic of poetry, yet what even in

his historical and critical prose attracts us most is his lyrical

imagination, his poetry. And his poetry, on the other hand, is mainly

the poetry of the history and of the historical and poetical landscape

of Italy,--of an Italy which was to him not merely one among the

nations of Europe, but the heir of Greece and of Rome, the cradle of

western civilization; not a land and a community limited in space

and in time, or not that only, but an ideal of beauty, of freedom,

of right, of a full and harmonious life, which was Italian, as it

had been Greek and Roman, because it was universally human. In his

early works, the contrast between this ideal and the actual conditions

of Italy in his times found expression in a strain of invective

and satire, from which the poet lifted but rarely his soul to the

contemplation of the great deeds and thoughts of the past; of a past

which in some cases was very recent, as some of the men of the French

Revolution and of the Risorgimento were among his favourite heroes.

But later, and especially in his _Odi Barbare,_ for which he adapted a

new technique from the metres of ancient Greece, while he added many

personal notes to his lyre, his historical inspiration became higher

and deeper and purer, and Italy had in his poetry that which she had

lacked in all the course of her literature, a true _epos,_ though in a

lyrical form, of her secular life, from the fabulous kings and priests

of Etruria to that most legendary of all her heroes, Garibaldi.

The influence of Carducci, not a purely literary, but a moral and

political one, on the generation to which Croce belongs, can hardly be

overestimated; and Croce himself calls his own generation _carducciana_

And the two other great poets that Italy has produced after him,

D'Annunzio and Pascoli, were both disciples of Carducci at the

beginning of their careers. But the formation of their personalities,

so widely divergent in their later developments, is contemporaneous

with what we have called the education of Croce, and therefore outside

the scope of this rapid review of the circumstances under which that

education took place. The growth of the erotic-heroic poetry of

D'Annunzio and that of the idyllic-humanitarian poetry of Pascoli are

no longer among those circumstances but rather products of the same

environment.

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