also did her utmost to defend her sex from the indiscriminate censure
which had been heaped upon it, for the evil spoken seemed to her far
to outweigh the good. A century before, Dante had also idealised
woman--even if, as some think, he personified some abstract
quality--and placed her in heaven beside the Deity. Chivalry had also
idealised woman, but in an exotic, exaggerated manner, which was bound
to reach its zenith, and bound also to have its darker side. So we
find that to speak good or ill of womankind became a conventionalism
in the Middle Ages. Black or white was the tone chosen by the artist
in words. There was no blending, no shading. Women were either
deified, or held to be evil incarnate. The material side of life men
understood, and could depict with some exactness, but to grasp in any
way its subtler aspects required an education which could be attained
only by slow degrees, since it meant the gradual modification of the
long-cherished illusion that brute force is the world's only weapon. A
want of capacity to discern is often responsible for a depreciatory
opinion, and we can but ascribe this strangely narrow-minded and
superficial attitude towards woman to some such want. Christine set
herself the task of trying to remedy this evil, not by shouting in the
market-place, but by studying men and women as God made them and as
she found them. Before she began her work, a new day seemed to be
dawning. Just as, when classicism was in full decadence, Plutarch
wrote _De mulierum virtutibus_ (of the virtue of women), so, in the
fourteenth century, Boccaccio gave to the world _De claris mulieribus_
(of right-renowned women). We do not expect to find woman treated on
a very high plane by Boccaccio, but we recognise that, in a way, this
work forms a fresh starting-point in the eternal controversy. Perhaps
we should not have had this curious collection of stories of women,
virtuous and vicious, mythological and historical--stories which are
certainly very inferior as art to those of the _Decameron_--had not a
crisis occurred in Boccaccio's life. One day a Carthusian monk came to
him with a warning message from the dead, and, much troubled in mind,
he resolved to try to begin life afresh. But he was a better
story-teller than a moraliser. He would fain save his soul, but he
liked and courted popularity, and knew well the deeper meaning of the
proverb, "A terreno dolce, vanga di legno." And so he mingles virtue
and vice, hoping, as he says, that "some utility and profit shall come
of the same." To us of to-day, the chief interest of this work is that
Boccaccio's fame perhaps gave a definite impetus to the discussion of
the sex, instead of wholesale assertion, and also that it probably
suggested to Chaucer the idea for his _Legend of Good Women_. How
refreshing to find ourselves in the atmosphere of the kindly Chaucer!
Let us pause for a moment, and recall what he says of women, he who
was not only a knightly Court-poet, but also a popular singer, well
versed in the practical wisdom of life. In the prologue we read, "Let
be the chaf, and wryt wel of the corn," and in allusion to his
library of sixty books, old and new, of history and love-stories, he
says that for every bad woman, mention was duly made of a hundred good
ones. Time and experience in no way dull this appreciation, for when,
later, _The Canterbury Tales_ appear, his estimate has risen ten-fold,
since in the prologue to "The Miller's Tale" we read, "and ever a
thousand gode ageyn one badde." From this time onwards, literature on
the subject increases almost _ad infinitum_. Treatises and imaginary
debates seem to vie with each other for popularity. All these make
intensely interesting reading, for these fanciful discussions, which
are supposed to take place, sometimes between a man and a woman,
sometimes between a mixed company in a garden or villa or some bath
resort where many are gathered together, are really a record of the
intellectual amusements of the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance.
"Que devez-vous préférer, du plaisir qui va vous échapper bientôt, ou
d'une espérance toujours vive, quoique toujours trompée?" "Which sex
loves the more easily or can do the better without love?" "It is not
enough to know how to win love, but one must also know how to keep
such love when it has been won." Such-like were the subtle problems
which on these occasions folk set themselves to solve.
But whilst love problems could be treated as a pastime, they also had
their serious side. Of this there is an example in Christine's story
of _The Duke of True Lovers_. Although much in its narration is
evidently the mere invention of the poetess, it is quite possible,
nay even probable, that it has some historical basis. Christine begins
her story by saying that it had been confided to her by a young prince
who did not wish his name to be divulged, and who desired only to be
known as "The Duke of True Lovers." It has been suggested, with much
likelihood, that this is in truth the love-story of Jean, Duc de
Bourbon, and of Marie, Duchesse de Berri, daughter of the famous Jean,
Duc de Berri, and the inheritor of his MSS. When the story opens, the
heroine of it, whoever she may have been, is already wedded. Hence all
the difficulties of the hero, and indeed of both. Christine, with her
womanly sympathy and psychological insight, makes all so intensely
real that we are quite carried away in imagination to the courtly life
of the fifteenth century. We read of the first meeting; of the Duke's
love at first sight; of Castle daily life; of a three days' tournament
given in honour of the lady; of devices for secret meetings and the
interchange of letters; of the inevitable scandal-monger; of a letter
from a former _gouvernante_--whose aid as go-between had been
sought--containing a most comprehensive and remarkable treatise on
feminine morality, the dangers of illicit love, and the satisfaction
of simple wifely duty; of the separation which the position of the
lady, and the gallantry of her lover, alike demanded; of meetings at
intervals; of the mutual solace of short love-poems; and then the
story, perhaps to evade identification, ends vaguely. But as we finish
the story, we cannot help feeling that even if Christine's setting is
fiction, she yet gives us a glance of real life.
[Illustration: _Photo. Macbeth._
LADY IN HORSE-LITTER, RETURNING FROM TOURNAMENT.
Harl. MS. 4431, Brit. Mus.
_To face page 132._]
When Christine turned to her serious work in the cause of womankind,
she began by attacking two books, Ovid's _Art of Love_, and _The
Romance of the Rose_, both of which, in the Middle Ages, it was deemed
wellnigh sacrilegious to decry. Her challenge, _L'Epistre au Dieu
d'Amours_, took the form of an address to the God of Love, professing
to come from women of all conditions, imploring Cupid's aid against
disloyal and deceitful lovers, whose base behaviour she largely
attributes to the false teaching of these two books. This argument
appeared in 1399, and she soon discovered that she had stirred up a
hornet's nest. But she had attacked advisedly and fearlessly, and was
quite prepared for any counter onslaught. Her position was
considerably strengthened by the alliance and co-operation of her
staunch friend Gerson, the Chancellor, who himself, in the name of the
clergy, took up arms against the flagrant scurrility to be found in
the portion of _The Romance of the Rose_ contributed by Jean de Meun.
Other powerful allies joined the cause, and, to help to crystallise
their efforts, species of "Courts of Love" were instituted, not alone
for discourse on love, as heretofore, but also in the defence of
women. All who united in this meritorious fellowship undertook to wear
a distinctive badge, and thus proclaim their confession of faith.
Among these Orders one was styled "L'Escu vert à la dame blanche,"
another, "L'Ordre de la Rose," and so on, suggestive of their purport.
The first-named was founded by the brave soldier Jean le Meingre,
Maréchal de Boucicaut, whose portrait may be seen in his superb Book
of Hours, painted between 1399 and 1407, now in the Musée
Jacquemart-André, Paris.[33] Its membership was restricted to thirteen
knights, who swore to defend the honour of women against all
detractors. To distinguish them from others less gallantly disposed,
they wore on the sleeve an ornament in the shape of a small shield,
enamelled green on the outside, and with the representation, on the
underside, of a woman, enamelled in white.
... Vous portez la dame en verde targe
Pour démonstrer que de hardi visage
Vous vous voulez pour les dames tenir
Contre ceulz qui leur porteront dommage!
[33] "Le Musée Jacquemart-André," _Gazette des Beaux-Arts_,
August 1912.
Of the Order of the Rose and its foundation, Christine, in one of her
poems, gives most picturesque and interesting particulars, interesting
because they are evidently taken from an actual scene, though
Christine, in her rôle as poetess, feels it necessary to add touches
suggestive of fairyland rather than of real life. A numerous assembly,
with goodwill at heart, has met together in the magnificent dwelling
of Louis, Duke of Orleans, the King's brother, Christine being one of
the number. Suddenly there comes into their midst one personifying the
Goddess Venus, surrounded by maidens garlanded with roses and carrying
golden bowls filled with them. The bowls placed on the table, the
Goddess proceeds to announce the rules of the Order, above all
enjoining those present to avoid envy, and in no way to perjure
themselves, since this would be a most heinous and hateful sin. The
badge chosen is a fresh rose, but if any member of the Order should
happen to be in a country where such is not attainable, or when the
season is unpropitious, then a rose fashioned in gold or silver, or
one embroidered in silk, will suffice. With pledges of loyalty,
A bonne amour je fais veu et promesse
Et à la fleur qui est rose clamée,
A la vaillant de Loyauté deesse,
Par qui nous est ceste chose informée,
Qu'à tous jours mais la bonne renommée
Je garderay de dame en toute chose
Ne par moy ja femme n'yert diffamée:
Et pour ce prens je L'Ordre de la Rose,[34]
[34] "Le Dit de la Rose," 197-204, _OEuvres poétiques de
Christine de Pisan_, t. ii., pub. par Maurice Roy, 1891.
all the company deck themselves with roses. The charter is given by
the Goddess into the safe-keeping of Christine, who describes it as
written on fine parchment in letters of azure, and fastened with a
silken cord of the same colour. From this cord hangs a rare gem, on
one side of which their patroness, the Goddess of Love, and on the
other Cupid, with his feet on a leopard, are depicted. This moral and
literary contest is perhaps the most brilliant of the many discussions
that took place in the Middle Ages in honour of women. The highest and
the wisest in the land joined in it, but all the honour must be given
to Christine for having, by her brave and reasonable attitude, caused
the problem, which henceforth was to evolve like truth itself, to be
treated on a rational basis. "Toute la foy remaint en une femme," says
Christine. Were not her words, nearly 500 years later, echoed by Renan
when he says, "Après Jésus, c'est Marie de Magdale qui a le plus fait
pour la fondation du Christianisme"?
_L'Epistre au Dieu d'Amours_ is an extraordinary product of worldly
wisdom and common sense, seasoned with satire. One of the complaints
against disloyal suitors, and one which strikes a singularly modern
note, is that they make protests of love, and false promises, which
must be either paid for dearly, or rejected with scorn. Then the hero,
if he has won the day, proclaims his victory in taverns and other
places of resort, and even in mixed company. Or if, as is more often
the case, he has lost it, he still tries, by suggestive hints, to
appear to his fellows a successful gallant. Surely the worldling of
to-day does not seem to differ very essentially from his brother of
the fifteenth century, or to have progressed any farther along the
path of loyalty!
Christine's line of argument is that the many must not be condemned
for the shortcomings of the few, and that even when God made the
angels, some were bad. To the charge that books are full of the
condemnation of women, she replies with the simple remark that books
were not written by women. Where is the shade of the worthy Christine
to-day? Does it walk the earth with a flag of triumph or a laurel
wreath whilst its sisters in the flesh are writing on every subject in
heaven and earth and sea? "De nos jours, le monde est aux femmes."
Is it marvellous, asks Christine, that a woman--"une chose simplète,
une ignorante petite femmellette," as she expresses it--should be
betrayed by man, when even the great city of Troy was, and when all
the books and romances are full of the betrayal of kings and kingdoms?
And if a woman is not constant by nature, why should Jean de Meun, in
_The Romance of the Rose_, devise so many tricks to deceive her,
seeing that it is not necessary to make a great assault upon a feeble
place? Then she deftly turns the tables on the other sex, reminding
each that he is the son of his mother, and that
Se mauvaise est il ne peut valor rien,
Car nul bon fruit de mal arbre ne vient.
And so on to the end, all is argument and banter. The repute of her
letter must have travelled quickly, for whilst Christine was still
combating with dissentients, an epitomised rendering of it appeared
(1402) in English from the pen of Hoccleve, the pupil of Chaucer,
entitled _The Lettre of Cupide, God of Love_.
[Illustration: _Bib. Royale, Munich._
LA CITÉ DES DAMES.
_To face page 138._]
Later, Christine, with Boccaccio's _De claris mulieribus_ before her,
writes _La Cité des Dames_, an account of the building of an imaginary
city which is to shelter within its strong ramparts the women of all
times and all countries who have distinguished themselves by good and
heroic deeds. This has been aptly called "The Golden Book of
Heroines." It may certainly be considered her masterpiece on her
favourite subject. She urges that philosophers and poets, with one
accord, have defamed women, and she appeals to God, asking why such a
thing should be, seeing that He Himself made them and gave them such
inclinations as seemed good to Him, and that in no way could He err.
She maintains that God created the soul, and made it as good in woman
as in man, and that it is not the sex, but the perfection of virtue,
that is material. Combating the suggestion that women are not fit to
plead in Court because they have not sufficient intelligence to apply
the law when they have learnt it, she refers to history to prove that
women who have had the management of affairs have shown that, far from
lacking intelligence and judgment, they have possessed both in large
measure. At the same time, whilst defending their capability when
necessity arises, she does not think it necessary for women to
interfere in matters which seem essentially man's business. Her
remarks on the subject of marriage are certainly practical, and at the
same time disclose a strange unloveliness in contemporary manners. She
is not of St. Paul's opinion that it is better not to marry, but all
the same she suggests that, unless without means, that woman is
happier who does not marry a second time, seeing that the life of a
married woman is often worse than if she were in the hands of the
Saracens--the terror of the Middle Ages,--and that frequently after
her husband has been out enjoying himself, her only supper, on his
return, is a beating. She counsels the education of women, and
condemns those who suggest that this will conduce to unseemly ways. In
truth, her wonderful sense of justice, and her enlightened opinions
generally, make it a marvellous résumé of statesmanship as far as it
goes. It is a real Utopia. Perhaps to Christine it was a glimpse of
the Promised Land! As we read her views on the education of boys and
girls together, in this happy city, we feel that she might be
discussing with us the problems of to-day. She says that if boys and
girls are taught the same subjects, girls can, as a rule, learn just
as well, and just as intelligently, as boys, and so on. In this
conclusion she forestalls the learned Cornelius Agrippa, a doctor and
philosopher of the sixteenth century, and one of the most original and
remarkable men of his time, who boldly asserts that sex is merely
physical, and does not extend to soul or rational power. She sums up
by strongly advocating study and learning, both for self-improvement
and as a consolation and possession for all time.
[Illustration: _Photo. Macbeth._
SETTING OUT FOR POISSY.
Harl. MS. 4431, Brit. Mus.
_To face page 140._]
Of her poetical writings on love and the sexes, perhaps the most
enchanting is _Le Livre du Dit de Poissy_. In it she takes us, on a
bright spring morning, with a joyous company, from Paris to the royal
convent of Poissy, where her child is at school. She describes all the
beauties of the country, the fields gay with flowers, the warbling of
the birds, the shepherdesses with their flocks, the willow-shaded
river bank along which they ride, the magic of the forest of St.
Germain, a little world apart of greenery and shade, filled with the
song of the nightingales. Laughing and singing by the way, they reach
the convent gate. Then follows a description of the beautiful carved
cloisters, the chapter-house, the nuns' dress and their dormitory, the
garden scented with lavender and roses, with one part, where small
animals are allowed to run wild, left uncultivated, and the ponds well
stocked with fish. As the day wanes, they bid farewell to the nuns,
who offer them gifts of purses and girdles embroidered in silk and
gold, worked by their own hands. They return to the inn where they are
to spend the night, and after supper wander forth to listen to the
nightingales, then dance a carole, and so to bed. The ride back to
Paris in the morning, during which a discussion on love matters is
introduced, is painted with the same impressionist touch, and it is
with real regret that we take leave of these happy folk as they alight
in Paris city from their stout nags.
Another similar discourse, _Le Débat de deux amants_, has for setting
a gala entertainment, taking place, like the founding of the "Order of
the Rose," under the auspices of Louis, Duke of Orleans, who ever
extended a princely protection to Christine. Louis had married
Valentine Visconti, daughter of Gian Galleazo Visconti, founder of the
Certosa, near Pavia, a princess well versed in art and letters, and
withal in pomp and splendour. It is on a day in May, the garden gay
with gallants and fair ladies. We hear the minstrels play, and watch
some of the company, decked with garlands, dancing under the trees. In
the palace there is music and singing. Christine is seated in a
tapestried hall with one or two esquires who prefer to discourse of
love to joining in the jollity. After a time the talk turns on fickle
men, and Christine brings forth from her vast storehouse of knowledge
classical and mediæval examples. As she mentions Theseus, and recalls
his baseness to Ariadne, she points to the tapestry on the wall before
them, where the story is woven. This little touch makes the scene very
real to us, for the record of the purchase of this tapestry, with the
price of twelve hundred francs paid for it, may still be found amongst
the royal inventories.
There is such a volume and variety of works from Christine's pen that
it is no easy task to make a fair selection. One of the most
significant, since it deals with a subject which permeated mediæval
thought, and on which she was wont to dwell, is _La Mutation de
fortune_, "Fortune more inconstant than the moon," says Christine. In
it she writes with her heart in her hand, as it were, telling first of
the sore havoc Fortune has wrought amongst those most dear to her. Yet
though her own heart has been torn on the Wheel of Fortune, she stands
before her fellow sufferers like some figure of Hope pointing upward,
where, she says, wrong is surely righted. And thus she turns to the
world in general, not in the spirit of the pessimist, but rather in
that of the philosopher. She well knows that Fortune is no blindfolded
goddess turning writhing humanity on a wheel, but a something rooted
in ourselves, and she has pity for "la povre fragilité humaine."
Though so independent and advanced in thought, she is still found
clinging in her writings to mediæval forms. As a setting for her
thoughts on Fortune's changes, she makes use of the favourite simile
of a castle--here the Castle of Fortune--as representing the world,
wherein the rich and the poor, the strong and the weak, jostle one
another. She criticises all men, from the prince to the pauper, but
not women, since these have been sufficiently criticised and decried.
It is like the prelude to a _Dance of Death_. Then she tells of the
paintings on the walls of this imaginary castle, and uses this
mediæval fancy, itself borrowed from the classics (_Met._ ii. 5. 770),
to give what is really a history of the world as she knew it, written
to demonstrate the instability of all earthly conditions.
Once again, with her versatile gifts, she turns from philosophy to a
treatise on military tactics and justice, _Le Livre des faits d'armes
et de chevalerie_. However devoid of interest, except as a landmark in
the history of military strategy and customs, this work may be to-day,
it was thought of sufficient importance in the reign of our Henry the
Seventh for the king to command Caxton to translate and print it
(1489) with the title of _The Book of Faytes of Arms_, a book still
sought after by our bibliophiles. It was further honoured by being
quoted as an authority in the reign of Henry the Eighth. Considering
the nature of its contents, this seems quite an extraordinary tribute
to the judgment and ability of the writer.
But the misery of France is ever increasing. Ceaseless civil war and
foreign invasion impoverish the people, and make desolate the land.
The dissolute Court is extravagant and filled with discord. Christine,
fired with patriotic fervour, once more makes an effort, which proves
to be her final one, to arouse the pleasure-loving nobility to some
sense of its obligations to the nation. _Le Livre des trois vertues_,
and _Le Livre de la paix_, appear one after the other. In the former,
which she dedicates to the Dauphine, Margaret of Burgundy, she merely
adds another to the long list of discourses for the guidance of women
which, in Christian times, begins as early as the second century.[35]
This theme forms the subject of so considerable a didactic literature
that it can only be hinted at here. Whether treated from a religious
or from a social point of view, or the two combined, the sum-total of
the teaching is moral training with a view to self-restraint and
subordination. Christine addresses herself to all women, from the
highest to the lowest, but her principal theme is the influence a
princess may and should have on Court life. She further counsels not
princesses alone, but all well-born women, not to attach too much
importance to the things of this world, to be charitable, and to see
to the education of their children, and so to inform themselves that
they may be capable of filling their husbands' place when they are
obliged to be absent at war or at the Court. She adds a plea for the
country, that war should be opposed, and one for the poor, that pity
should be shown to them. Then she addresses herself to the townswoman,
advising her to see to her household, not to fear to go into the
kitchen, and to avoid all luxury; then to servants, counselling them
on no account to take bribes, adding the practical touch that as God
is everywhere, and only asks of each a good heart, it is not
necessary for them to go to Mass every day; then to the wife of the
labourer, bidding her to guard well her master's flocks and to
encourage her husband to work; and, finally, she has a word of
sympathy for the poor, holding out to them hope of recompense in
heaven for misery endured here, and exhorting them to have patience
meanwhile. From this patriotic and practical advice to women she turns
to men, and in _Le Livre de la Paix_ sets forth the duties of princes
and of those in power to the people, importuning them to exercise
clemency, liberality, and justice.
[35] A. A. Hentsch, _De la littérature du moyen âge
s'adressant spécialement aux femmes_, Cahors, 1903.
But it is too late. The sand in the hour-glass is running low.
Disaster follows disaster, until the final blow is struck at Agincourt
(1415), where the flower of the French nation is cut off, and princes
of the blood are carried away into exile. Christine, with bleeding
heart, and worn with trouble and disappointment, retires to the
convent of Poissy, "un très doux paradis," perchance to find peace and
consolation within its tranquil walls, and to implore Heaven's aid for
her sore-stricken country. For fourteen years no sound from her
reaches the outside world. Then, inspired by the glorious advent and
deeds of Joan of Arc, with all her old passion she pours forth a final
hymn of praise and thanksgiving to the woman who has at last aroused
France to patriotism, and so dies in peace at the solemn moment of
Charles the Seventh's consecration at Rheims.
O Thou! ordainèd Maid of very God!
Joanna! born in Fortune's golden hour,
On thee the Holy Spirit pours His Flood
And His high grace is given thee for dower.
Now all great gifts are thine:--O blessed be He
That lent thee life!--how word my grateful prayer?
--No prayer of thine was spoken fruitlessly,
O Maid of God! O Joan! O Virgin rare!
* * * * *
Mark me this portent! strange beyond all telling!
How this despoilèd Kingdom stricken lay,
And no man raised his hand to guard his dwelling,
Until a Woman came to show the way.
Until a Woman (since no man dare try)
Rallied the land and bade the traitors fly.
Honour to Womankind! It needs must be
That God loves Woman, since He fashioned Thee!
* * * * *
O strange! This little maid sixteen years old
On whom no harness weigheth overmuch.
So strong the little hands! enduring hold
She seemeth fed by that same armour's touch,
Nurtured on iron--as before her vanish
The enemies of her triumphal day;
And this by many men is witnessèd;
Yea, many eyes be witness of that fray!
* * * * *
Castles and towns, she wins them back for France,
And France is free again, and this her doing!
Never was power given as to her lance!
A thousand swords could do no more pursuing.
Of all staunch men and true she is the Chief,
Captain and Leader, for that she alone
Is braver than Achilles the brave Greek.
All praise be given to God who leadeth Joan!
AGNES SOREL