The following digital storytelling concerns the story of "La primavera hitleriana", a poem composed by Eugenio Montale (Genoa, 1896 – Milan, 1981) between 1939 and 1946. The poem was later included in the collection "La Bufera e altro", published in its first edition in 1956 in Venice by the editor Neri Pozza.
The poem focuses on the visit of Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini to the city of Florence, a political event of exceptional importance. The two of them reached the Tuscan capital on 9 May 1938: in that date a public holiday was proclaimed, in order to allow the citizens to celebrate and show their political support.
Eugenio Montale was in Florence at the time. He had arrived there in 1927, after a period of employment and economic instability. During that year, in fact, Montale had been hired as an editor by the publishing house Bemporad & Figlio. Two years later, an even more important work opportunity occurred to the poet: from 1929, he worked as the director of the Scientific-Literary Cabinet G.P. Vieusseux, taking the place of his predecessor Bonaventura Tecchi.
On 15 July 1933, an American Italianist of Jewish origin called Irma Brandeis knocked on the door of the Vieusseux Cabinet. She wanted to meet the Italian author of "Ossi di Seppia" because she was deeply fascinated by his work. So, Eugenio Montale and Irma began to pursue a friendship, which later developed into a romantic relationship. However, their bond was hindered both by distance (Irma often travelled back to the United States of America) and by Montale's relationship with his companion and future wife Drusilla Tanzi, from whom the poet never wanted to be separated.
Their story went on until the summer of 1938, when Montale and Irma met for the last time. It was during this last year that another wall was raised in front of their relationship, which later proved to be insurmountable. On 5 September 1938, the racial laws imposed by the Fascist regime were promulgated in Italy, forbidding Jewish foreigners like Irma to remain in the country. Despite her proposal to leave together for the United States, Montale remained in Florence.
The following year, in 1939, Montale was dismissed from his position as director of the Cabinet Vieusseux for never having joined the National Fascist Party. Montale's political views on Fascism had also found a manifestation years earlier, in 1925, when he signed the Manifesto of Anti-Fascist Intellectuals drafted by Benedetto Croce and published on May 1 of the same year in the magazines "Il Mondo" and "Il Popolo". In general, Montale's anti-fascist attitude is a very important aspect to outline: in this regard, the poem of "La primavera hitleriana" is fundamental to be analysed. In fact, it enables the reader to frame the historical-political context of 9 May 1938 and the feelings that it provoked to the poet, which are then reflected in his compelling and fascinating verses.
Folta la nuvola bianca delle falene impazzite
turbina intorno agli scialbi fanali e sulle spallette,
stende a terra una coltre su cui scricchia
come su zucchero il piede; l'estate imminente sprigiona
ora il gelo notturno che capiva
nelle cave segrete della stagione morta,
negli orti che da Maiano scavalcano a questi renai.
Da poco sul corso è passato a volo un messo infernale
tra un alalà di scherani, un golfo mistico acceso
e pavesato di croci a uncino l'ha preso e inghiottito,
si sono chiuse le vetrine, povere
e inoffensive benché armate anch'esse
di cannoni e giocattoli di guerra,
ha sprangato il beccaio che infiorava
di bacche il muso dei capretti uccisi,
la sagra dei miti carnefici che ancora ignorano il sangue
s'è tramutata in un sozzo trescone d'ali schiantate,
di larve sulle golene, e l'acqua séguita a rodere
le sponde e più nessuno è incolpevole.
Tutto per nulla, dunque? – e le candele
romane, a San Giovanni, che sbiancavano lente
l'orizzonte, ed i pegni e i lunghi addii
forti come un battesimo nella lugubre attesa
dell'orda (ma una gemma rigò l'aria stillando
sui ghiacci e le riviere dei tuoi lidi
gli angeli di Tobia, i sette, la semina
dell'avvenire) e gli eliotropi nati
dalle tue mani – tutto arso e succhiato
da un polline che stride come il fuoco
e ha punte di sinibbio....
Oh la piagata
primavera è pur festa se raggela
in morte questa morte! Guarda ancora
in alto, Clizia, è la tua sorte, tu
che il non mutato amor mutata serbi,
fino a che il cieco sole che in te porti
si abbàcini nell'Altro e si distrugga
in Lui, per tutti. Forse le sirene, i rintocchi
che salutano i mostri nella sera
della loro tregenda, si confondono già
col suono che slegato dal cielo, scende, vince -
col respiro di un'alba che domani per tutti
si riaffacci, bianca ma senz'ali
di raccapriccio, ai greti arsi del sud...