The year 1912 and the months around it mark a very important date in the cultural history of our island. It was an earthquake in the linguistic field of the nation, when the language we speak so freely today saw the light of day as the language of the people.

It marked the beginning of a long battle between it and the Italian language. Up to this date, Maltese was considered as a kitchen vehicle of expression, to be used by the uneducated classes exclusively. Society considered Italian as a class language.

The year started with a battle for supremacy which was long and arduous and it is a well-known fact that the greatest contributor in the ascent toward linguistic supremacy was Dun Karm, a humble priest from Żebbuġ, then living in Valletta.

1912 marks the year when the poet abandoned Italian and transferred his love to the vernacular. A superb level of expression was then to be reached. Dun Karm wrote his first poem in Maltese and made many enemies for doing so. But it was well worth it at national level.

Maltese, as it is spoken today, had no one man for its evolution. No one made it, for it grew as the national expression of the people across the years.

In 1912, the poet was 41 years of age, roughly in the middle of his poetic innings, and at that propitious moment Aquilina was born, 40 years his junior; and in the hands of these two pillars, by the greatest chance of our linguistic history, our language was not only recognised as a matter of national importance, but it became militant and finally triumphant, ousting Italian and all else in the process.

So let us remember this important milestone which surfaced a hundred years ago – lest we forget – culminating in Dun Karm being called our National Poet.

Malta had a poet of more than local importance. His art and his message must reach the world, to which they truly belonged. This was an assessment which the poet was to carry with him to eternity at the end of the road that started a hundred years ago this year.

So bid him good cheer. Tell him that the divine fire he left behind will burn forever.

■ J. Zammit Tabona

St Julian’s