This generally excellent collection of essays presents a multi-faceted examination of the complex works of Christine de Pizan. Nearly all the contributors offer careful and insightful readings of several texts, tracing one or two main themes each in Christine's work. The introduction raises several key questions, ranging from the context of her writing to her originality to her impact on contemporaries and present-day readers (xii). The collection aims to "contribute to a re- evaluation of the importance of medieval political theorists prior to Machiavelli, and of the misleading view that all political theory is masculine" (xx). Set against the rich background of recent scholarship on Christine's work, these essays succeed in extending and enriching understanding of their subject. They expand our understanding not only of Christine and her unique contributions, but of many of her predecessors and contemporaries as well. A brief bibliography for the work as a whole offers the opportunity to pursue particular references (245-254).
Barry Collette leads off with "The Three Mirrors of Christine de Pizan." Drawing on a concept suggested in Piers Plowman, Giles of Rome, and the Rule of St. Benedict, Christine developed a third aspect of good governance; in addition to offering moral and practical advice, Christine portrays the dynamics of successful, self-contained communities. His conclusion emphasize three points: that praising political and administrative competence does not necessarily signify a transition from pious morality to realistic secularism; that Christine's third mirror emphasizes the competence, contribution and dedication of the individual; and that the statutes of many corporate bodies reflected an awareness of community dynamics in relation to good governance.
This concept of the well-integrated, smoothly functioning whole continues in Cary J. Nederman's essay on "The Living Body Politic." Beginning with a critical reassessment of the metaphor of the body politic, he argues that Nicholas Oresme and Christine both attempt "to disentangle the organic metaphor from many of its hierocratic overtones." (21) Throughout the Corps de policie, Christine emphasizes the need for "an inclusive, reciprocal, and interdependent conception of community." (27) While Oresme focuses more on advice to the head, or prince, Christine, by contrast, is "more self-consciously inclusive, demonstrating a genuine sympathy...for the condition of the lowest and least members of society" and presenting the head in "a secondary role in determining the substance of the common good...: the head is more a traffic cop than a physician." (32-33) Beyond its implications for readings of Christine de Pizan, Nederman also highlights the flexibility of the metaphor of the body politic, reminding us that it did not express "a single monotonous point about hierarchy and subordination." (32)
The muddled contribution of Susan J. Dudash is by far the weakest in the collection. In attempting to tie together "Christianian Politics, the Tavern, and Urban Revolt in Late Medieval France," she uses evidence from the twelfth and thirteenth centuries (38) and from across the Channel (44, 48), though neither necessarily applies to late fourteenth-century France. Most astoundingly, she somehow concludes that Christine's assertions regarding the urban vagrancy, sloth and gluttony associated with the tavern are supported by Claude Gauvard's research showing that "the greatest proportion of crimes (45%) were committed in medieval French cities and towns, broadly construed." (49) First, what Christine criticizes are largely sins, not crimes, and though Dudash's footnote states cities were the home of taverns, the inn at the crossroads or along a well-traveled road was also a commonplace. Though Dudash wants to argue that the tavern appears in Christine's writings as a site for potential rebellion, the texts simply do not support her position. Dudash is correct in stating "each time that the rebellious nature of the 'menu peuple' is invoked in the Livre de paix, it is, without exception, preceded by some example of injustice or misrule on the part of princes that could have or already has, inspired it"; but claiming that "Christine uses the tavern and its potential for rebellion as a focal point for laying out one of her strategies for achieving peace: to prevent internal strife from above..." (59), distorts the role of both tavern and the menu peuple in Christine's works.
Several essays complement one another beautifully, first, Constant J. Mews's fine essay on "Latin Learning in Christine de Pizan's Livre de paix," and Karen Green's "On Translating Christine as a Philosopher." Both authors display marvelous sensitivity and painstaking research in tracing sources and exploring the boundaries of Christine's erudition. Mews manages to make the often dry task of untangling sources clear and intriguing, and argues persuasively that Christine had quite a good grasp of Latin and of various Latin works. He further concludes that her selections reflect her goal "to share the insights of practical wisdom from both scriptural and classical traditions for a very immediate end, the pursuit of peace." (74) Mews most helpfully includes a list of all Latin quotations in the Livre de paix, inviting others to view the original and compare with Christine's use of each. Green provides much the same elegant treatment for Christine's use of the word "prudence," again carefully and clearly examining the term in both Christine's sources and her own works. She articulates the different connotations prudentia, prudence and phronesis carried in different authors, and suggests that our own tendency to associate "prudence" with intelligent self-interest, often in contrast to morality, may stray considerably from Christine's associations with prudence. The prince's prudence serves "his interest as an intelligent moral being, whose historic mission is the pursuit of the public good, and who will at some time have to account for his mistakes to his maker." (137)
Another pair of essays attempts to distinguish various threads in Christine's texts. Michael Richarz addresses "Prudence and Wisdom in Christine de Pizan's Livre des fais et bonnes meurs du sage roy Charles V, and Glynnic M. Cropp explores "Philosophy, the Liberal Arts, and Theology in Li livre de la mutacion de Fortune and Le livre de l'advision Cristine." While each offers specific insights, neither succeeds completely in distinguishing its objects or in showing the relations between them. For Richarz, prudence turns out to be but one of three constitutive qualities of nobility of heart (100), which Richarz identifies as "the pivot of Christine's theory of the ideal prince." (99) Yet it seems in the catalogue of virtues prudence and wisdom hold first place: "these two dominate over the other virtues," and are in fact "the mother and guide of all the other virtues, ..." (101). The essay emphasizes the importance of the prince's intelligence and the need for him to act for the material and spiritual well-being of his people, but many of the specific points are as puzzling as the disappearance of nobility of heart from the essay after its first early appearance. Cropp's contribution is even more dense; in attempting to distinguish philosophy from theology, particularly with regard to the liberal arts, she reveals the confusion in Christine's sources and slippage in Christine's works themselves. The essay leaves some issues unresolved, but coheres once the author turns to the relation between Boethius's Consolatio and L'Advision Cristine. Cropp resolves the central question by stating, "It is Philosophie as Theologie, embodying truth, wisdom, and felicity (lines 30-34), which Christine has chosen as her way." (156)
Two other authors view selected works from the perspectives of law and of architecture respectively. Earl Jeffrey Richards presents a richly suggestive interpretation of the Livre de paix by viewing Bartolo da Sassaferrato as a possible source for the text, while Julia Simms Holderness helps us to "see" both the Castle of Fortune and the City of Ladies as real structures whose features instruct "The Prince as Conceptual Artist." Richards weaves together the timing of the appearance in French of several of Bartolo's works, Jean Gerson's condemnation of Jean Petit, and Christine's emphasis on the people to examine the nature of tyranny. Holderness's elegant exposition shows both the architecture of two of Christine's famous constructions and the relation of architecture to memory and, ultimately, to prudence. She ends with the intriguing suggestion that the prudent prince might ultimately help to build the City of Ladies and even enter therein, an idea deserving of further exploration.
The volume concludes strongly with one more complementary pair of essays and a triumphal exit. Tracy Adams and Louise D'Arcens examine mediation and mediators. Adams proposes a revisionist reading of Christine's use of Queen Isabeau and the dauphin, Louis. Because Isabeau is already mediating between warring parties when Christine asks her to do so, Adams suggests that Christine's texts should be viewed as "cultural performances," inviting members of her society to recognize and comprehend on an emotional level what they are doing to themselves in allying themselves with the violent factions." (182) Exploring issues of liminality and the queen's peculiar position of being close to formal power while possessing none herself, Adams argues that Isabeau can serve as a rallying point for French society. Louis too is liminal and without real power but, unlike his mother, will not always be so. In the Livre de paix, Christine holds up to Louis the exempla of his grandfather and the importance of the ritualistic nature of kingship. Ultimately, and stunningly, Adams claims Christine had no faith in mediation as a real solution to the woes of France. Only the interested, armed parties can bring peace, which their own interests preclude. The most Christine can do in this situation it to set up "the aggregation of the people, led by royal representatives, in moral opposition to the warring princes." (200)
Louis D'Arcens "Petit estat vesval: Christine de Pizan's Grieving Body Politic" examines the ways in which Christine turned her own potential liminality, as a widow, into an authoritative voice by establishing parallels between herself and the image of the mater dolorosa. Like Mary, Christine is widowed, and expressly draws attention to her widowhood and to her tears. They symbolize her widowed chastity and rescue her from the motif of the unchaste, easily consoled widow so popular in medieval French literature (217-218). Tears can also be political actions in themselves, as in the Prison de vie humaine and Lamentacion sur les maux de la guerre civile. D'Arcens argues that Christine's tears make her, not Isabeau, the national mater dolorosa (we would like to hear Adams's response to this observation). Yet Christine recognizes tears can also block action and even writing; she stems them "so that they will not jeopardize her offer of consolation." (225) Ultimately, however, just as the Virgin cried out even in the midst of her grief to commend her dead son to his heavenly Father, Christine believes "in the coalescence of divine salvation and national recovery, and in the efficacy of hopeful tears" (226), which indeed seems to come about with Joan of Arc.
Joan figures prominently in the final essay, "Christine de Pizan and the Body Politic," by Tsae Lan Lee Dow. As a fitting conclusion, Lee Dow teases out the "feminine" body politic hinted at in much of Christine's writing. Then, using the model of an equitable and respectful marriage, she argues for the inclusive nature of the healthy community, one in which men and women of varying ranks can make ethical and strategic decisions. In the Ditie de Jehanne d'Arc, Christine could again represent conditions in the France of her day, now at last rejoicing in the symbolic two crowns of Charles VII and Joan, the embodiments of Lee Dow's "masculine" and "feminine" bodies politic. If the Ditie reflects several themes in Christine's thought, from the importance of female contribution to the idea of a harmonious society and united France, so too does Lee Dow's essay reflect several major themes of the collection.
Two final comments: the overall excellence of the volume is not well served by the editors. It would require another full page to list the numerous and irritating errors that appear throughout. The text contains, for example: a reference to the late fifteenth century instead of the fourteenth (6); typographical errors ("swadling" clothes, 12; "to" for "too," 16; the menu people, 43; Cassidorus on 86 and 87, but Cassiodorus elsewhere; random spelling of Christine as Cristine throughout Cropp's essay, e.g. on 150, 152, 154, and 155); and strange punctuation, or lack thereof ("which James Yonge an Anglo-Irish writer translated," 8; grounded in scholastic theology especially Aquinas," 10; "self interest wealth, power or control," 16). Only the fine and subtle arguments that distinguish most of these essays encourage the reader to persist even while waiting for the next error to appear. Finally, if the true mark of excellence for a critical work lies in its ability to make us return to the original sources, this collection of essays excels indeed. The insights and perspectives of Healing the Body Politic will lead many to reread Christine de Pizan with a new appreciation for her original and subtle mind.