his affection is ever absolutely fixed upon God; and such perfection is not possible on the way to heaven, but will be realized on our arrival in our heavenly home. There is a third perfection that is neither total as regards the object loved nor total on the part of the person loving. It does not involve a continual actual yearning after God, but only an exclusion of whatever is inconsistent with the motion of love toward God. So Augustine says: "The poison of charity is cupidity; and perfection is the absence of all cupidity." And such perfection can be had in this life, and that in two ways; in one way to the extent of excluding from the heart all that is contrary to charity, as is mortal sin; and without such perfection charity cannot be consequently this perfection is of necessity to salvation. The other way goes to the extent of excluding from the heart, not only all that is contrary to charity, but also all that hinders the entire concentration of the heart upon God. Charity can exist without this perfection, as it exists in beginners and in proficients.

X

BEATRICE 1

THAT Folco Portinari's daughter who married Simone dei Bardi was called Beatrice we are not prepared to deny; but the fact only concerns us in so far as it suggests an origin for the myth. Dante's love was certainly not called Beatrice. The poet no doubt called her so; but poets of all ages and of all countries have been in the habit of calling their ladies, not by their baptismal names, but by names of their own selection. Thus if Beatrice had been the real name of the love of Dante's youth, that he should call her by it would have been an exception to the rule. Indeed he indicates as much himself. No doubt there is still controversy as to the meaning of the words at the opening of the Vita Nuova, "La quale fu chiamata da molti Beatrice, i quali non sapeano che si chiamare; but no controversy could have arisen but for the assumption that Beatrice was really her name. All artificialities set aside, the words mean, "Who was called Beatrice by many who did not know how to call her," that is, did not know her real name. But whatever be the meaning of the sentence, there can be no doubt of the poet's statement that many called her Beatrice. if it was her real name, why not all? And if those

But

1 A Companion to Dante. Scartazzini, translated by A. J. Butler. Macmillan & Co. (An argument to show that she was not Beatrice Portinari. Against the view here given, vide pp. 77 ff., 185 ff.)

who "non sapeano che si chiamare " called her Beatrice, what did they call her who "sapean che si chiamare"? Clearly the poet wants to make it plain at the outset that Beatrice was not his lady's baptismal name.

This is corroborated by another fact. The poet relates at length the trouble which he took to prevent the secret of his love from escaping. How then could he have brought himself both in the lifetime of his lady and immediately after her death to trumpet forth his secret? Only by admitting such irrational conduct can we escape from admitting that Beatrice was only a fictitious and assumed name, and that the name which she bore in real life may have been any but this.

Folco Portinari was a neighbor of Dante's parents; their houses were fifty paces apart. One would expect that the children, being of about the same age, would have seen each other frequently. Yet Dante says expressly that he never saw Beatrice until the end of his ninth year. Boccaccio feels this difficulty and gets out of it by remarking, "I do not think it can really have been the first time, but for the first time after she was capable of kindling the flame of love." Boccaccio may, of course, believe if he pleases that a child of eight years old is capable of kindling such a flame, but we prefer to take Dante's words in their literal sense, inferring from them that the girl whom Dante saw cannot have been his neighbor Beatrice Portinari.

With still greater preciseness he further assures us that he heard the voice of his Beatrice for the first time when as a maiden of about eighteen years she first saluted him. Therewith Boccaccio's whole idyl appears

to collapse, unless we are to assume that Beatrice was dumb or Dante deaf until that date.

It must be admitted further that she was still unmarried when she refused her greeting to the poet, for it could not concern a married woman if he did pay his court to a maiden. One may further allow that neither in the Vita Nuova nor elsewhere in Dante's writings is any indication to be found that his Beatrice was married. No doubt some have wished to see a suggestion of this in Vita Nuova, § 14. But up to the present no proof has been produced that maidens were not allowed to join the wedding. On the other hand, we have in § 41 a very distinct intimation that Beatrice died unmarried. To every unprejudiced mind the sentence, "Where this most noble lady was born, lived, and died," implied that she had never left her parents' house. Folco Portinari's will, dated January 15, 1288, in which his daughter is described as wife of the Master Simone dei Bardi, would seem to show that she is older than the lady of Dante's love, for the latter would at that time have been only in the twentyfirst year of her life. If, moreover, she had been a married woman, Dante's remark in § 29, that among other reasons for not speaking of the departure of his Beatrice he could not do it without praising himself, would seem out of place. The inspiration which he derived from her would in that case have been a ground for self-reproach rather than self-praise.

Folco Portinari died December 31, 1289, Dante's Beatrice some five or six months later. Her death is related in § 29, her father's in § 22; now if her father had been Folco, all that is recorded in the intervening sections must have taken place in the five months of

mourning. We should be curious to know if any one is hardy enough to defend such a theory.

On the news of Beatrice's death Dante takes up his pen in order to write a letter of lamentation to the most eminent men of the city. The letter can scarcely have been finished, it is almost impossible that it can have been sent, but that the thought of it can have arisen in his soul is significant. Unless he were beside himself he can never have dreamt of writing a letter about the death of Simone dei Bardi's wife and publishing it throughout Florence, perhaps even beyond.

The nearest relation of the lady, her brother as has been universally assumed, entreats him to write a poem on her death. This would be conceivable if she died unmarried, always supposing that this nearest relation had been admitted to the secret of his love. But how the nearest relation of another man's deceased wife could have asked her adorer for a poem, conceive who may! The invitation would probably have taken another form.

Again, according to his own story, Dante mourned the death of his Beatrice for a long time, and that not in privacy but, as from his description it is impossible to doubt, in the full sight of man. Was he more likely to have done this for another man's wife or for one who would have been his if death had not torn her away. Further, the episode of the "noble lady" (Vita Nuova, §§ 36-40) remains, on the hypothesis that Dante's Beatrice was a married woman, an unsolved riddle. What would have been the meaning of all his self-accusations if all that he had to reproach himself with was disloyalty to another man's wife, and even the composition and publication of the Vita Nuova