Who She Is
Constance is the light to the right of Piccarda Donati, kindled with all the brilliance of the sphere of the Moon, and she says of herself what Piccarda said of herself: she too was a sister, and the shade of the sacred veil was also taken from her head. She does not speak: her companion speaks for her. What the poem affirms is the essential: she was torn from the cloister against her will and against good custom, and she never came loose from the veil of her heart. She is the great Constance who, from the second wind of Swabia, bore the third and last power, and there the poem leaves the identification to tradition, which reads her as the mother of Emperor Frederick II. The legend that the empress had been a nun belongs to the commentators, not to the verse. Constance's interest in the poem is not dynastic but logical: she is the case that forces Beatrice to distinguish two forms of willing. Piccarda said that Constance kept the affection of the veil, and this seems to contradict the reason why the two occupy the lowest rung, the neglect of their vows. Canto IV unties the knot with the distinction between absolute will and will that yields out of fear of a greater evil.
Trajectory
In canto III of Paradise the light appears as the one the companion points to on the right, and Dante sees it burning with all the brilliance of the sphere. What she is, says Piccarda, is also true of her, and the poem lets her be named at the same moment she is presented: she is the great Constance. The cause of the place of the two is stated in the sentence in which Piccarda speaks in the plural:
E questa sorte che par giù cotanto, / però n’è data, perché fuor negletti / li nostri voti, e vòti in alcun canto, and this lot, which seems so low, was given us because our vows were neglected and empty in some respect.
In canto IV Beatrice takes up the objection that the poem itself placed in Dante's mouth: Constance kept the affection of the veil, and still she occupies the lowest rung. The answer brings the example of Alcmaeon, who, at his father's request, killed his own mother and, so as not to fail in piety, became pitiless, and then the general rule:
Voglia assoluta non consente al danno; / ma consentevi in tanto in quanto teme, / se si ritrae, cadere in più affanno, absolute will does not consent to harm; but it consents to it insofar as it fears that, if it draws back, it will fall into greater distress.
The case of Constance is, therefore, that of one who consents to harm out of fear of falling into greater distress, and the poem does not excuse her: force mixes with will, and the offenses are not excused. The distinction also says that the veil of the heart is not a false memory: she kept it, and heaven recognizes it.
Themes Embodied
Constance embodies Faith that survives violence, and the limit of what violence excuses. What she keeps, the veil of the heart, is the proof that absolute will never consented, and what the poem asks of her is relative consent, that of someone who yielded out of fear. Her measure is that of canto IV: the will that does not will is not extinguished, but it can yield, and yielding has its place on the scale.
The text sustains two readings. In the first, Constance is the proof that the lowest rung is not a punishment: she is happy there, as Piccarda is, and heaven honors her with the same brilliance. In the second, she is the proof that the measure of firm will is high, because tradition speaks of a powerful empress and the poem places her among those who yielded. The two hold together, and the poem does not decide between them.
Relationships
- Piccarda Donati: the companion who speaks for her and names her.
- Beatrice: who resolves, in canto IV, the objection that Constance's case raises.
- Dante: the living man who asks, and to whom Piccarda responds.