aware of the disadvantages of theocracy, and he feels
confi dent in attributing the origins of Italy’s troubles
to intrusions by the papacy in the affairs of the empire.
The result, which he deplores again and again, is that the
empire is frustrated, and also that the papacy is tainted
by its own worldly interests. The victims of this confu-
sion of roles are the people of Italy, who have no social
order, since the arm of the state is unable to impose such
order and the church cannot inspire them to follow the
teachings of Christ. On the other hand, neither is secu-
larism the answer. Dante argues that somehow there is
a connection between the vision of the earthly city and
that of the heavenly city, and an emperor must have
some vision of the heavenly city. Dante’s problem is, of
course, that he is trying to present a theoretical solution
for what is a highly nuanced and delicate relationship.
He is at his best when he cites historical examples of
what cannot be theoretically ascertained; thus he refers
to Charlemagne’s goodwill toward the church, and to
the fact that Justinian could not codify Roman law until
he had been disabused by Pope Agapetus of a theologi-
cal error. It was a sore disappointment for Dante when
young Henry VII died before being able to complete
what had seemed to be a divinely appointed mission.
In the lofty circles of paradise, however, Dante reveals
his own philosophical vision: he sees a seat reserved for
the “great Harry” (alto Arrigo) who, tragically, came to
save Italy before Italy itself was ready to be saved. In
all of his divine comedy, Dante sadly and judiciously
records such historical tragedies.
As we try to locate Dante in relation to late medieval
Italian culture, we can see that he led the way to creativ-
ity in several critical areas. A fundamental area is his
lifelong defense of the Italian vernacular as an effective
language for literary and philosophical expression. This
concern fi rst appears in Vita nuova, where Dante informs
the reader that what drew him and Guido Cavalcanti
together was their agreement that this work would be
written entirely in the vernacular. Dante’s interest in the
vernacular grew into one of its fi rst great defenses—in
Convivio, which was also written in Italian; and in De
vulgari eloquentia. He also developed a corollary:
that the poetic powers of the vernacular needed to be
enhanced through imitation of the ancients. These mo-
tives and arguments would be echoed in the literary
renascence of France and England.
Dante’s defense of the vernacular is a confi dent and
forthright defense of the validity of his own culture and
experience. In particular, Dante disputes the poetasters
who try to excuse their own defi ciencies by denigrat-
ing their native language and holding up the Provencal
langue d’oc as its poetic superior. Dante invokes a
parallel situation, Latin versus Greek literature, argu-
ing that if the Romans had acquiesced in the purported
natural superiority of Greek, there would never have
been a Latin literature. The analysis is remarkable, as
is its conclusion—Dante’s quite accurate prophecy of
an entirely new literary culture. Dante predicts that the
Italian vernacular:... shall be the new light, the new sun, which shall arise
when the worn-out one shall set, and shall give light to
them who are in darkness because of the old sun, which
does not enlighten them.
The sociological implications of this statement are no
less astonishing than its literary implications. The Italian
language will be used to bring learning and lessons in
virtue to people who have until now enjoyed no such
benefi ts. Dante is describing a revolution: the twilight of
Latin culture and the emergence of an uban lay culture.
Through Dante’s promotion of the vernacular, and his
own example, Italian was soon to become the leading
literary language of Europe, a position it would continue
to hold for more than 300 years.
Still, this defense of the Italian vernacular did not
satisfy Dante’s purposes: his real, abiding aim was
to enhance it. Thus De vulgari eloquentia is a natural
complement to the arguments in Book 1 of Convivio,
the one defending the vernacular and the other showing
how the vernacular can become a vehicle for superior
literary expression. Although the formulations here are
quite specifi c, it should be remembered that this impulse
to elevate poetic practice beyond the local and the mu-
nicipal had already been present in Vita nuova. Dante’s
own ambitions aspired to the level of the classics. The
lesson he devises in De vulgari eloquentia is clear, and
it would be repeated by all the ambitious writers of the
Renaissance. To become true poets, Dante insists, those
who write in the vernacular must abandon chance and
acquire doctrine: that is, they must themselves adopt a
conscious poetics. The best way to achieve this higher
skill is by imitating the ancients; the more closely we
imitate them, the better poets we will become (quantum
illos proximius imitemur, tantum rectius poetemur). Thus
when Virgil returns in Inferno 1, he brings with him the
larger poetic vision and practice of the classical world as
well as its moral wisdom. In an even more memorable
reunion in Inferno 4, Dante himself joins the circle of
fi ve classical poets, bridging the gap between them and
becoming the sixth of their company (sesto tra cotanto
senno, 102).
These astonishing changes in society, in language,
and in poetics that Dante announces require a new
personage: the philosopher as mediator, the lay phi-
losopher—someone who might today be called an intel-
lectual. This person moves with skill and understanding
between the technical philosophers in the schools and
the newly enfranchised lay readership. Dante casts a new
role for himself, a role he has inherited by adhering to
the civic humanism of Brunetto Latini. But Dante wentDANTE ALIGHIERI