The Convivio of Dante Alighieri

Contents

PAGE

The First Treatise ..... i

Ode I. . 61

CHAPTER I ZSSgztT* to come and share °fS

As saith the Philosopher in the beginning of the tu First Plnlosophy, < Ail men k„ „,f j • The know' - tho AJ1 men by nature desire to natural

Know , the reason whereof may be, that each love of h ng, lmpeIIed by its own natural foresight inclines to ,ts own perfection; wherefore fn ^ asmuch as knowledge is the disiSgu Sh ng" perfection of our soul, wherein consists Z distinguishing [IO] blessedness, all of us are naturally subject to the longing' for it Yet o f this most noble perfection many are bereft f^ divers causes; which, inside of the man and

Ch.

How outside of him, keep him from acquiring the baffled habit of knowledge.

Inside of the man there may be two defects and impediments ; the one from the side of the body, the other from the side of the soul. From the side of the body is it, when the parts [20] are unduly disposed, so that it can receive nought; as with the deaf and the dumb, and their likes. From the side of the soul is it when vice hath such supremacy in her that she giveth herself to pursuing vicious delights, wherein she is deluded to such a point that for their sake she holds all things cheap.

Outside of the man, likewise, two causes may be detected, one of which brings about compulsion, [30] the other indolence. The former is that family and civic care which rightly engages to itself the greater number of men, so that they may not abide in leisure of speculation. The latter is the defect of the place where the person is born and nurtured, which may chance to be not only void of all provision for study, but remote from studious folk.

The two first of these causes, to wit the [40] first from the inner side and the first from the outer side, are not to be blamed, but to be excused, and deserve to be pardoned. The two others (though one of them more than the other) deserve to be blamed and abominated. Manifestly then may he perceive who rightly considers, that few be left who may reach to that habit which is desired by all ; and well-nigh beyond number are they which be hindered and which [50] live all their lives famished foi this universal food. Oh blessed those few wh( h THE FIRST TREATISE sit at the table where the bread of angels is consumed, and wretched they who share the food of sheep ! But inasmuch as every man is ' naturally friendly to every man, and every friend is grieved by the defect of his friend, they who are fed at so lofty a table are not without compassion towards [60] those whom they see browsing round on grass and acorns in the pasture of brutes ; and inasmuch as compassion is the mother of benefaction, they who know ever proffer freely of their good wealth to those poor indeed, and are as a living spring at whose waters the natural thirst above spoken of is refreshed. -.And I, therefore, who sit not at the blessed Jtable, but, having fled the pasture of the common "iierd, gather, at the feet [70] of them who sit at meat, of J&at which falls from them ; and who, by reason of the sweetness which I experience in thaVwhich by little I gather, recognise the wretched ll!$|Btehose whom I have left behind me ; moveoV^F compassion, though not forgetting myself, have reserved somewhat for the wretched ; which somewhat, already some time agone, I have displayed to their eyes, and thereby have made them the more eager. Wherefore, desiring now to make provision for them, [80] I purpose to make a general banquet of that which I have already displayed to them and of the bread which is needful for suchlike viand, without which , they might not eat it at this banquet ; such bread, to wit, as is worthy of the viand which I well understand to have been offered them in vain.

And therefore I would not have any take his seat who is ill-disposed as to his organs, inas-

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The much as he has neither tooth nor tongue nor

Vtion Pa'ate ' nor any ac*dicted to Ylce> inasmuch as his stomach is full of poisonous and contrary humours, so that it would not retain my viands. But let come whosoever, because of family and civil care, hath been kept in human hunger, and let him seat himself at the same table with others impeded in like manner. And at their feet let all those place themselves who have been excluded by their sloth, for they are not worthy to sit more high. And let these and those [100] take my viand, together with the bread which will enable them both to taste and to digest it.

The viands of this banquet will be served in fourteen fashions, that is to say fourteen odes, treating as well of love as of virtue, which without the present bread had the shadow of a certain obscurity, so that to many their beauty was more in favour than their excellence. But this bread, to wit the present exposition, will be the light which £i'io] shall make apparent every hue of their significance. And if in the present work (which is entitled, and which I wish to be, the Banquet) the handling be more virile than in the New Life, I do not intend thereby to throw a slight in any respect upon the i latter, but rather to strengthen that by this ; seeing that it conforms to reason that that should be fervid and impassioned, this temperate and virile. For a different thing is comely to say and to do at [120] one age than at another ; wherefore certain ways are suitable and laudable at one age which are foul and blameworthy at another, as will be shown on its own account further on, in the fourth treatise of this book.

I. THE FIRST TREATISE

And in that I spoke before entrance on the Conviyio prime of manhood, and in this when I had ^d vita already passed the same. And inasmuch as my uova true purport was other than the aforesaid odes outwardly [130] display, I intend to set them forth by allegorical exposition after having discussed the literal story. So that the one account and the other will supply a relish to those who are invited to this feast ; whom I pray, one and all, that if the banquet be not so magnificent as consorts with the proclamation thereof, they shall impute every defect not to my will but to my power ; because what my will herein aims at is a full and [140] hearty liberality.

Prefixed to each chapter is a summary of its contents, the object of which is partly to serve as an index in helping the reader to find any passages he may want, partly to set the details of the work in their true proportion and perspective, and partly to indicate the actual meaning that underlies the sometimes fantastic imagery of the author. These requirements, one and all, vary so greatly in different portions of the Convivio that it would be unwise to adopt any rigid system in these summaries, and the reader must therefore look for no formal consistency in them.

A system of marginal notes has been adopted which it is hoped will give the student material help in grasping the articulation of the work as he reads it, and in finding passages he may wish to recover subsequently. See the 'Analytical Note' on pp* 383 fT.

The notes appended to each chapter will for the most part have no other object than (within the narrow limits natural in a popular edition) to make the text intelligible,by explaining what Dante is talking about and what he says. The many fascinating questions as to his methods of work and sources of information which the study of the Coti'vi'vio raises will seldom be touched upon for their own sake. And in like manner, references to the Comedy , or to Dante's other works, are only given when a comparison

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of two or more passages is likely to throw essential light upon one or other of them, and even in such cases the student will often be left to his own resources. The mere occurrence of the same name or the same idea in some other work of Dante's will not as a rule be noticed.

The numbers inserted in the text in square brackets, used for reference in the notes and elsewhere, are those of the lines in Dr. Moore1 s Oxford Dante.

The Title. The proper title of this work is IlConvwio \ (Latin, comjivium), ^and so it was called in the four earliest editions. But in 1826 it was edited by Trevulzio under the title of 77 Con-vito (Latin, convictus), which it has retained ever since. Dr. Witte {Essays on Dante,1 pp. 368-373) has shown that the manuscript authority is overwhelmingly in favour of Con<vi<vio, and perhaps an attempt should be made to restore it, though it may be doubted whether the erroneous form is not now too familiarly established to be dislodged.

1. The Philosopher = Aristotle.

2. The First Philosophy = The Metaphysics.

4-1 1. For the reason Dante assigns for our love of knowledge compare Paradiso, I. 103 fT., together with the arguments and notes in the < Temple Classics ' Dante. Distinguishing perfection, in the original, ultima perfe-zione. For this use of ultimo,, compare De Monarckia, I. 3 : 30-65. If, for example, we divide beings into corporeal and incorporeal, corporeal beings into animate and inanimate, animate corporeal beings into those that can feel and those that cannot, sensitive animals into rational and irrational, tfren the qualification « rational ' is the 'ultimate '"or Mast' distinction. The differentia of man, therefore, being the exercise of reason* is the 'conclusive,' ' differentiating,' 4 specific ' or < distinguishing' excellence or perfection of man.

1 1 . Subject. Compare Purgatorio, XVI, 79-8 1, and note.

15. Habit. This is a technical word, with the full significance of which the reader will become gradually familiar. It means the possession of an acquired capacity, as distinct from the exercise of it. A man who can

1 Translated by Lawrence and Wicksteed. Duckworth & Co., 1898.

I. THE FIRST TREATISE read Latin has the 'habit* of Latin, a man who can write has the 'habit' of writing. The acquisition of this capacity is itself the actualisation of a potentiality which was dormant until trained, but it is itself only a potentiality with reference to the act of writing. The acquired 'habit' or power is therefore sometimes called the 'first actualising ' of the potentiality, the exercise of that acquired capacity being the second or complete actualising thereof. Compare II. 14 : 26, note (p. 121).

27-39. The claims of family and civic life are recognised as laying a man under the necessity of giving the greater part of his available energy to his practical business. Compare Ecclesiasticus, xxxvii. 24-34, and also Convi'vioy I. 1 1 : 40-46. Whereas the absence of help and companionship in study only furnishes an excuse to the mental indolence it begets. Provision for study. The Italian is studio, the regular word for a university or organised institution for the higher education.

55, 56. Dante regards love of self, love of others and love of God as natural to man. Compare the notes on the classification of sins at the end of the Inferno and Purgatorio volumes of the * Temple Classics.' Convi'vio, III. 1 : 34-36; IV. 4 : 1-44. PurgatorioyXVlI. 106- 111. Paradisoy XXVI. 16-36, and many other passages.

74, 75. ' Not forgetting myself ' compare I. 13 :

76. Which somezuhat. This is an obvious reference to the odes, and we may perhaps infer that the 14 odes on which the Convivio was to comment already formed a recognised collection. There can be little doubt as to the order in which they were to stand. . After the three odes actually dealt with by Dante in this work, the other eleven followed in the order in which they are given on pp. 388-416 of this volume. The 15th ode ' Amor, dacche convien pur c/iio mi doglia1 (XI. in Moore's edition), was probably written subsequently and was not included in the scheme of the Convtvio. What has become of the ode referred to in the De Vulgari Eloquentia,\l. 11 : 22, beginning ' Traggemi della mente amor la stivaj remains a mystery.

Mr Edmund Gardner supplies me with the following note on the order of Dante's Canzoni or Odes : —

' The majority of the existing MSS. of Dante's Canzoni

THE CONVIVIO Ch.

give these 15 odes as a single and complete work, in a definite and constant order, frequently with a rubric prefixed to each, giving the number and subject of each poem. The order is the same as that adopted here, but with one notable difference — the canzone of the "aspro parlare" (cost nel mio parlar voglio esser aspro) stands not 6th, but 1st. The earliest known MS. of this type belongs to quite the latter part of the 14th century. The few MSS. of the canzoni that can with certainty be assigned to an earlier date than this are seldom complete, do not present these poems as a whole or collection, and each MS. has a different order. But in one of the earliest and most authoritative of them there is evidence of an original arrangement of the canzoni in which this canzone of the aspro parlare stood 6th, immediately after the five poems of philosophic love. If we take the arrangement given us by the MSS. just mentioned, but transfer this canzone to this 6th place, the whole collection falls at once into an order which is precisely that required by the indications given in the Convivio itself as to the subjects to be treated in three of the unwritten books.'

Treatise VII. (Ode VI.) is referred to in IV. 26: 66 f., and probably in III. 10 : 41 ; treatise XIV. {Ode XIII.) in I. 12 : 87 f., II. 1 : 35 f., IV. 27 : 100 ff. ; treatise XV. (Ode XIV.) in I. 8 : 128-132, III. 15: 140-145.

86, 87, / well understand, etc. See note on I. 2 s 1 1 1- 130.

126. Prime of manhood. In Italian, gioventute. Dante defines it in IV. 24 : 22-29 as extending from the twenty-fifth to the forty-fifth year. The bearing of this passage on the dates of the Vita Nuo-va and the Conn)icvio is discussed in the Appendix, p. 420.

123, 124. See chapters 23-28 of the fourth treatise.

105, 106. That their beauty should be felt without their meaning was bad ; but perhaps not so bad as that their sense should be understood without their beauty. Compare I. 7 : 88-91 ; also the ode of the second treatise, line 31, and the commentary in II. 12 : 21-27, $2-67.

II. THE FIRST TREATISE

Chapter II

[(I.) The author must apologise (a) for speaking of himself, and (b) for speaking darkly, (a) How, in speaking of any man, we either praise or blame him, and why a man's friends (of whom he himself is closest) should not be rebuked nor praised in public save for good cause. But as there are occasions when we may rebuke or laud others to their face, so there are occasions on which we may speak of ourselves, and amongst them are (a) self-defence from infamous charges, and (jS) the opportunity of doing great service to others, both of which apply to the author's case ; for his explanations will clear him of the charge of unrestrained passion suggested by the odes, and will enable him to explain the principles of allegorical poetry.]

At the beginning of every well-ordered banquet Cleansing the servants are wont to take the bread that is set tne bread out and cleanse it from every blemish. Where- I. fore I, who in this present writing am taking their place, purpose at the outset to cleanse this exposition, which counts for the bread in my repast, from two blemishes. The one is, that for a, b. anyone to speak of himself seems [10] unjustifiable, and the other, that for an expounder himself to discourse too profoundly seems unreasonable ; and this appearance of what is unjustifiable and unreasonable the knife of my judgment cleanses away in the fashion that follows.

Rhetoricians forbid a man to speak of a. himself, except on needful occasion. And from this a man is prohibited, because it is impossible to speak of any without the speaker

IO

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On self- either praising or blaming him [20] of whom

Praiblame ^e sPealcs' ^n<^ there is a want °^ urbanity in either of these kinds of discourse finding a place on a man's own proper lips. And to solve a doubt which rises here, I say that it is worse to blame than to praise, though neither the one nor the other should be done. The reason is, that what is directly blameworthy is fouler than what is incidentally so.

To dispraise one's self is directly blameworthy, because a man should tell his friend of [30] a fault in secret, and there is no closer friend to a man than himself ; wherefore it is in the chamber of his own thoughts that he should take himself to task and bewail his faults, not openly. Again, for lacking the power or the knowledge to conduct himself rightly a man for the most part is not blamed ; but for lacking the will he always is, for it is by willing and not willing that our badness and goodness is judged. And so he who blames £40]] himself, by showing that he knows his fault, exposes his lack of goodness. And, therefore, a man must refrain, on its own account, from speaking in blame of himself.

Self-praise is to be avoided as evil by implication, inasmuch as such praise cannot be given without its turning to yet greater blame. It is praise on the surface of the words, it is blame if we search into their entrails ; for words are produced to demonstrate what is not

known. Wherefore, whosoever praises himself shows that he does not believe himself to be well thought of, which will not happen unless he has an evil conscience, which in his self-praise is revealed, and when revealed is blamed.

II. THE FIRST TREATISE

And further, self-praise and self-blame are to On the be shunned for one common reason, as the bear- illusion ing of false witness ; for there is no man who is {^^^" a true and just measurer of himself, so does our kindness [60] to ourselves deceive us. Whence it happens that every one hath in his judgment the measures of the unjust trader who sells with one and buys with another ; and each one takes stock of his evil-doing with a large measure and takes stock of his good with a little one, so that the number and quantity and weight of the good seems to him greater than if it were assayed with a just measure, and that of the evil less. Wherefore, when speaking of himself in praise or the contrary, either he speaks [70] falsely with respect to the thing of which he speaks, or he speaks falsely with respect to his own belief ; and the one and the other is falsity. And this is why (inasmuch as assenting to an opinion is a way of professing it) he is guilty of v discourtesy who praises or blames another to his face ; because he who is thus estimated can neither assent nor protest without falling into the error of praising or blaming himself. Save, be it understood, in the way of due rebuke, which cannot be without blame of the

fault which is to be corrected ; and save in the way of due honouring and magnifying, which cannot come about without mention, made of the virtuous deeds or of the dignities virtuously acquired.

But, returning to the main purport, I say, as indicated above, that speaking of himself is permitted on needful occasions ; and amongst other needful [90] occasions two are most manifest.

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On what The one is when it is impossible without speakoccasion a jng 0f himself to quash great infamy and peril ; ^peak^f anc^ t^ien 11 1S a^owe<i by reason that taking the himself lea^t evil path of two is in a way taking a good a> ^ one. And this necessity moved Boethius to

a speak of himself, so that under cover of consola- ' tion he might ward off che perpetual infamy of his exile, showing that it [ioo] was unjust ; since no other arose to ward it off. The other

j8. is when by a man discoursing of himself the highest advantage, in the way of instruction, follows therefrom to others ; and this reason moved Augustine, in the Confessions, to speak of himself ; for by the progress of his life, which was from bad to good, and from good to better, and from better to best, he gave example and instruction which could not have been received otherwise on such [no] sure testimony.

Wherefore, if the one and the other of these occasions excuses me, the bread of my leavening is purged from its first blemishes. I am moved by the fear of infamy, and I am moved by the desire to give instruction which in very truth no other can give. I fear the infamy of having pursued so great a passion as he who reads the above-named odes conceives to have had [120] dominion over me. Which infamy is entirely quenched by this present discourse concerning myself, which shows that not passion but virtue was the moving cause. I purpose also to reveal the true meaning of the said odes, which none may perceive unless I relate it, because it is hidden under figure of allegory. And this will not only give fair delight to hear, but subtle instruction, both in discoursing after this fashion

II. THE FIRST TREATISE 13 and in [130] understanding after this fashion The the writings of others.

16. Necessarla cag'ione. Compare Purgatorio, XXX. 55> 62, 63.

96. Boethius (c. 475-525 a.d.) a scholar and statesman under Theodoric. His studies were principally philosophical and scientific, and he translated many of Aristotle's logical works. See note on II. 14 : 105. He was associated with the most eminent Christian scholars of the day, professed Christianity, and wrote two theological tracts, one on the doctrine of the Trinity and the other on the two natures and one person of Christ. His interest in these questions was philosophical rather than religious, and he shows small knowledge either of the Scriptures or of other Christian writings. When condemned to death by Theodoric, on the charge of treasonable practices, he wrote his celebrated Consolation of Philosophy , which is in effect a book of lofty Pagan religion and philosophy, from which it is evident that the author's spiritual life had been fed from Pagan and not Christian sources. The work, however, became a great favourite in Christian circles, and was one of the most popular books in the Middle Ages, Christian readers probably finding unconscious support in the fact that it supplemented the specifically Christian writings on their weak side, by attempting to show that, apart from any consideration of future rewards and punishments, and apart from any guidance furnished by revealed truth, the good man, judged merely by the results in this life and by the canons of reason, had made a better and happier choice than the wicked man. It is' probable, however, that other readers besides Dante (compare Paradisoy X. 124-126) read into the text of Boethius a touch of i other worldliness' that is not really there. One early commentator, however, noted that it contained 1 certain things contrary to the Catholic faith.' N.B. — The note in the 'Temple Classics' Paradiso on Canto X. 124-129 (up to and including the 4th ed.) must be corrected by this note.

104. Augustine (354-"*43^ a.d.). Augustine more than any one theologian, perhaps more than all of them to-

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gether, must be regarded as the fountain head of the theology of the Western Church. His Confessions carry the story of his life up to his conversion and baptism in his thirty-third year. In Book X. 3, 4 he explains how he hopes that his self-revelation may be justified by its effect upon others.

m-130. It is impossible to think that Dante really believed that any conceivable interpretation or misinterpretation of the ode that stands at the head of the second treatise could have brought i infamy ' upon him. But if we look at Ode VI. (that would have stood at the head of the seventh treatise) we shall very well understand the grounds of Dante's uneasiness, and why he wished to dissociate himself from the moral implications of his poetic record. See Appendix, p. 430 ff.

Chapter III

[(b) A commentary so dark as itself to need a commentary seems futile ; but the difficulty of the present work has a deliberate purpose, for which the author would to God there had been no cause ; for it is founded on his wanderings as an exile, and the contempt which his forlorn appearance has everywhere brought upon him ; inasmuch as (a) fame magnifies but ((3) familiar presence depreciates a man's qualities. (a) Men magnify report, good or evil, partly from emotional sympathy with the subject (which is innocent), and partly from self-importance (which is culpable).]

On Worthy of much blame is the thing which, obscure Dejng appointed to remove some special defect, Varies lts^ induces that same ; as if one should be 3, appointed to part a strife, and before he had

III. THE FIRST TREATISE 15 parted it had set another on foot. And now The that my bread has been purged on one side, it author'; behoves me to purge it on the other, that I may j^nf|h_ escape this latter blame; for my present writing, ment which may be called a kind of [10] commentary, while commissioned to remove the defect of the aforesaid odes, may perhaps in certain places be a little difficult itself. Which difficulty is here designed to avoid a greater defect, and not in ignorance. Oh that it had pleased the dis-L poser of the universe that the occasion of my excuse had never been ! For then neither would others have sinned against me, nor should I have unjustly suffered penalty, the penalty [20] I mean of exile and of poverty. Since it was the pleasure of the citizens of the most beauteous and the most famous daughter of Rome, Florence, to cast me forth from her most sweet bosom (wherein I was born, and nurtured until the culmination of my life, wherein with their good leave I long with all my heart to repose my wearied mind and end the time which is granted me), through well-nigh all the regions whereto this tongue extends [30], a wanderer, almost a beggar, have 1 paced, revealing, against my will, the wound of fortune, which is often wont to be unjustly imputed to him who is wounded. Verily have I been a ship without sail and without helm, drifted upon divers ports and straits and shores by the dry wind that grievous poverty exhales. And I have seemed cheap in the eyes of many who perchance had conceived of me in other guise by some certain fame; [40] in the .sight of whom not only has my person been cheapened, but every work of mine, already i6

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On the accomplished or yet to do, has become of lower

offameprice'

The reason why this comes to pass (not only

a> in me but in all) it is my pleasure here briefly to touch upon; and first, why a man's reputation dilates things more than truth demands ; and then, why, more than truth demands, his a. presence makes them shrink. Good report, begotten at the beginning [50] in the mind of a friend by a good action, is first brought to birth by this mind; for the mind of an enemy, even though it receive the seed, doth not conceive. This mind which first gives it birth, further to adorn its present and also for love of the friend who receives it, does not restrain itself within the limits of the truth, but passes beyond them. And when it passes beyond them in order to adorn its utterances, it speaks against conscience ; when it is the illusion [6o~] of love that makes it pass beyond them, it does not speak against it. The second mind, which receives it thus, is not contented to abide by the dilating of the first mind, but sets about to adorn its own report (as being its own proper effect in the matter), and so, both for the sake of so adorning it, and also by means of the illusion which it receives from the love begotten in it, it makes the dilation more ample than it was when it came to it ; and this in concord and in discord with conscience, as before. And the like doth [70] the third receiving mind, and the fourth ; and so to infinity it dilates. And in like manner, reversing the aforesaid causes, we may see the reason why infamy is magnified in like fashion. Wherefore Virgil saith in the fourth of the JEneid 'that