H. P. GRICE E J. L. SPERANZA: LA CONVERSAZIONE -- I VERBALI: MAZZINI

 G.: You’re off somewhere, I see—coat on, notes in hand. S.: Spied at once—yes, I’m bound out. G.: Where to? S.: The Old Mortality Club—weekly sitting. G.: Old Mortality? Undergraduate only, I take it. S.: Rigidly so—keeps the beaks and the dons at bay. G.: A rare contrivance. And what airs does it breathe? S.: Deeply impregnated with Mazzini. G.: Ah—then it must be earnest to the point of contagion. S.: Contagion gladly caught—there are a few pro‑Italian republicans among us. G.: And you discourse on the re‑publica, I suppose. S.: On what’s so wrong with it—and what’s been wronged. G.: I confess I incline to Cromwell’s commonwealth. S.: You would—though ours is nearer Hegel’s unitary state. G.: A philosophical republic, then? S.: Or a Mazzini impregnation, if you like it plainer. G.: I see—ethic before mechanism. S.: Precisely—duty before franchise. G.: And Italy stands as your specimen? S.: Italy—Regno d’Italia once, Repubblica Italiana in hope. G.: You speak as though dates were already settled. S.: We rehearse them as editorial notes—anticipations. G.: Foreseeing a future where the kingdom is no more? S.: Just so—where the regno yields to the republic. G.: You credit Mazzini with such inevitabilities. S.: What Mazzini wants, Mazzini gets—eventually. G.: A bold canonization. S.: Green loved him—so did Toynbee. G.: Then Oxford has been quietly enlisted. S.: Quietly, but thoroughly—the air is altered. G.: And the Club—alive and kicking, you say? S.: Vigorously—though only while we remain undergraduates. G.: After the B.A. Lit. Hum., we are cast out? S.: Quite—no graduates admitted. G.: A paradox: immortality confined to youth. S.: Hence Shropshire’s name—“Old Mortality.” G.: To avoid deciding between Society and club? S.: Exactly—he skirts the institutional word. G.: Tell me—what’s old about mortality? S.: The jest is borrowed—from Scott’s tale, the man who keeps memory alive. G.: So you preserve the dead by disputation? S.: We renew them—Mazzini among the foremost. G.: Lovingly anachronistic. S.: Deliberately so—the immortality of Mazzini requires tending. G.: And where do you meet—your headquarters? S.: That, my dear G., is not published. G.: Secret, then? S.: By invitation only. G.: You could take me. S.: I could—but you must earn it. G.: You say they keep minutes?  S.: Reluctantly, and only so that posterity may misinterpret us.  G.: Posterity being chiefly dons who were excluded.  S.: Precisely; the minutes are our revenge.  G.: And the topic tonight is Mazzini again?  S.: Always Mazzini; the club is, as you say, impregnated.  G.: A most persistent impregnation.  S.: It has lasted longer than the Regno d’Italia.  G.: Which, editorially, we are permitted to regard as temporary.  S.: Entirely; the Republic waits in the wings like a conscientious understudy.  G.: 1861 for the kingdom.  S.: Yes, and some future date for the republic, which we, with prophetic modesty, anticipate.  G.: And Mazzini, though defeated, is treated as victorious.  S.: In Oxford, moral victories are the only kind worth having.  G.: Green would agree.  S.: Green adored him, or at least appropriated him.  G.: And Toynbee?  S.: Toynbee admired the moral fervour, though he preferred statistics to slogans.  G.: A pity; slogans are more portable.  S.: And more inflammable.  G.: So what is said against the republic tonight?  S.: That it is either Cromwellian chaos or Hegelian unity.  G.: I prefer the Commonwealth.  S.: You would; it allows you to be both austere and superior.  G.: Whereas Hegel’s state is too tidy.  S.: Too German, perhaps.  G.: And Mazzini?  S.: Mazzini is neither tidy nor austere; he is exhortatory.  G.: A republic of exhortations.  S.: Precisely; a nation built on imperatives.  G.: “Doveri dell’uomo,” and so on.  S.: You will have to recite that, by the way.  G.: In Italian?  S.: Naturally; the club insists on a certain foreignness.  G.: To keep Corpus at bay.  S.: To keep England at bay.  G.: And what of Cavour?  S.: Second in Marriott, and second in our esteem.  G.: The man of compromise.  S.: Which is why we distrust him.  G.: And Garibaldi?  S.: Third, and adored only in anecdote.  G.: Such as Speranza Street.  S.: Exactly; Hope Street rebaptised because a hero passed through.  G.: Oxford prefers names that never quite happened.  S.: And causes that never quite succeeded.  G.: Hence Mazzini.  S.: Hence the Old Mortality.  G.: And why “Old”?  S.: Because it remembers the dead as if they were merely absent.  G.: And “Mortality”?  S.: From Scott; a man who inscribed the names of the forgotten.  G.: So you inscribe Mazzini.  S.: Weekly.  G.: Where do you meet?  S.: Headquarters.  G.: Which is where?  S.: Confidential.  G.: You are intolerable.  S.: It is a condition of membership.  G.: And invitation?  S.: By whisper, never by letter.  G.: Then how am I to be smuggled in?  S.: By allegiance.  G.: To the Republic.  S.: In the true Mazzinian voice.  G.: I foresee embarrassment.  S.: You should; it is part of the initiation.  G.: And after our B.A.?  S.: We are expelled into maturity.  G.: No graduates allowed?  S.: None; mortality is reserved for the young.  G.: A curious inversion.  S.: Oxford specialises in those.  G.: And the dons?  S.: The beaks remain outside, peering in.  G.: Like Tacitus at a barbarian rite.  S.: Or like Cavour at a republican meeting.  G.: Then tonight I must be Italian.  S.: Briefly and intensely.  G.: “Italia una, libera, repubblicana.”  S.: Better; you may yet pass.  G.: And if I fail?  S.: You return to Corpus and Hegel.  G.: A fate worse than monarchy.  S.: Not quite; monarchy at least has uniforms.  G.: And the republic?  S.: Only convictions.  G.: Then let us go; I should like to acquire one.  S.: Borrow mine; it is serviceable.  G.: No, I prefer my own, even if provisional.  S.: That is the most Mazzinian thing you have said.  G.: Then I am ready.  S.: Almost; you must also believe it.  G.: For how long?  S.: Until the meeting ends.  G.: Oxford sincerity.  S.: The finest kind; limited and well-expressed.  G.: Lead on to Headquarters.  S.: Very well, but remember: what Mazzini wants—  G.: —Mazzini gets.  S.: Eventually.  G.: Which in Oxford means never, but always discussed.  S.: Precisely why the club endures.  G.: Immortal in its mortality.  S.: And old in its youth.  G.: A perfect paradox.  S.: An Oxford one. G.: You still have not told me why it is called Old Mortality. S.: Because the founder had a taste for epitaphs and for Scott. G.: Scott the novelist? S.: Precisely; Old Mortality goes about copying inscriptions from the dead. G.: Then the club is antiquarian rather than republican. S.: Not at all; it collects the dead in order to instruct the living. G.: A Mazzinian ambition, if you like—resurrecting nations from inscriptions. S.: You see the connection; Italy is a long epitaph waiting to be read aloud. G.: And then rewritten as a republic. S.: Or as a kingdom first, which is where the trouble begins. G.: Regno d’Italia is a compromise, not a conclusion. S.: Mazzini would say it is a betrayal. G.: He would say many things in capitals. S.: And in exclamation marks; the man writes as if addressing eternity. G.: Which is why the Old Mortality receives him so warmly. S.: Exactly; he sounds as if he had already died for the cause. G.: And therefore cannot be contradicted. S.: Green admired that tone, though he softened it for Oxford digestion. G.: Green prefers a state that reasons rather than proclaims. S.: Whereas Mazzini proclaims in order to make reasoning possible. G.: That is very nearly Hegel. S.: It is Hegel translated into Italian fervour. G.: And then back into English sermons. S.: Toynbee heard those sermons and decided to reform the world. G.: A dangerous undergraduate habit. S.: Encouraged by clubs that exclude dons. G.: Which is their chief merit. S.: And their chief limitation. G.: Tell me, where do they meet? S.: I told you—headquarters. G.: Which is nowhere in particular. S.: And therefore everywhere in Oxford. G.: A metaphysical location. S.: No, a practical one; usually someone’s rooms, but never the same twice. G.: So the republic is itinerant. S.: As Mazzini was. G.: Exile as method. S.: And secrecy as etiquette. G.: Then your invitation is conditional. S.: Entirely; you must declare yourself. G.: In Italian? S.: With sufficient accent to alarm the English. G.: I shall say, Viva la Repubblica, and hope for the best. S.: Not enough; you must mean it. G.: Meaning is always inferred. S.: Not in the Old Mortality; there they require explicit commitment. G.: Then it is less Gricean than I had hoped. S.: On the contrary; the implicature is that one must be sincere. G.: A most un-Oxonian requirement. S.: Which is why it is confined to undergraduates.