No CrossRef data available.
Published online by Cambridge University Press: 09 January 2004
Kate Langdon Forhan has written an elucidating and thought-provoking book that explores the political relevance of the writings of Christine de Pizan, a fifteenth-century French writer. She clearly establishes the purpose of the book: “My goal is to outline in a systematic and comprehensive way the political theory of Christine de Pizan, in part to address the puzzle of her thought [and] to situate her ideas within the history of political ideas in general” (p. vi). She remains true to this goal throughout the work. Forhan cogently explains why Christine de Pizan's literary accomplishments should be appreciated beyond the disciplines of women's studies and French literature and, in particular, why her work needs additional attention from political theorists. In doing so, she presents sufficient historical details to set a proper stage against which Christine de Pizan's political theory may be understood, without burying the reader in minutiae and details that not only rob an academic tome of any literary vibrancy but also hinder the reader's ability or desire to follow an author's argument.
For example, Forhan provides an excellent overview of the “mirror for princes” genre, a popular form of medieval literature that explicitly sought to impart moral, political, and spiritual lessons to medieval readers, and especially to those who wielded monarchial power. She deftly moves the reader through the development of the genre and provides numerous explanations of how it was used to influence political and public policies of the day.
Similarly, Forhan offers a helpful summary of the body politic metaphor, in which she explains the potency and popularity of the image within the tradition of Western political thought. In this chapter, she also provides a succinct analysis of the manner in which Christine de Pizan both revised and augmented the metaphor. For instance, she, like other scholars of Christine de Pizan's prolific writings, appreciates the latter's particular skill at undermining “the tradition of misogyny in literature by her clever manipulation of it” (p. 56).
There are, however, some aspects of The Political Theory of Christine de Pizan that are not as thoroughly developed as one might like. For example, the chapter on peace and just-war theory lacks the depth of analysis Forhan more aptly applies in other chapters. This unevenness likely stems from her effort to present the reader with some sense of the complexities embedded within just-war theories in order to push on to her discussion concerning what she asserts is “the single most prominent recurring theme in Christine de Pizan's political thought … the importance of peace” (p. 141). On this point, Forhan does provide insight into the way in which Christine de Pizan refracts the virtue of prudence, the virtue she deemed so crucial to the maintenance of a salubrious kingdom, through her reinterpretation of the chivalric tradition.
Yet Forhan draws a troubling comparison between Christine de Pizan's notion of prudence and Machiavelli's depiction of virtú. The analogy is problematic for at least two reasons. First, Forhan does not explore another virtue important to Christine de Pizan that bears a resemblance to prudence and is particularly useful to women trying to survive in a misogynistic, war-torn society—chastity. Second, Forhan spends insufficient time unfolding the multifarious meanings and traditions Machiavelli rolls into his concept of virtú.
For Christine de Pizan, chastity is not merely biological intactness. Chastity is a form of spiritual discipline as well as bodily control, the practice of which can provide for women and men alike a place of deep autonomy from which energy may be derived to thwart the worst forms of human brutality. A chaste and prudent human being is potentially “fit for all tasks,” as Christine de Pizan suggests in her book entitled The Book of the City of Ladies.
Forhan's comparison of Christine de Pizan's prudence to Machiavelli's virtú is particularly troubling if one finds Hanna Fenichel Pitkin's analysis of Machiavelli's portrayal of the ancient figure of Fortune persuasive (Pitkin, Fortune is a Woman 1984). Tracing carefully the mythical evolution of the ancient goddess Fortuna and the etymological development of the term virtus Pitkin demonstrates how Machiavelli strips the figure of fortune of her benevolence and placability. She suggests that Machiavelli is the first writer “to use that methaphor [virtú] as a way of suggesting the sexual conquest of fortune, introducing into the realm of politics and history concerns about manliness, effeminacy, and sexual prowess (p. 144). Pitkin argues that Machiavelli leaves sufficient evidence to suggest that he felt beleaguered by a figure who represents “female power … in the world” (p. 165). Unlike Machiaveilli's virtú—the sexualized struggle to forcibly control the inexorable forces he felt swirling about him—Christine de Pizan's writings reveal a woman who lived with the reality of patriarchal power structures and yet counseled prudent behavior toward the attainment of peaceful goals.
While it is not Forhan's primary purpose to extract from Christine de Pizan's writings lessons that might be followed by contemporary political theorists, she leaves no doubt that political theorists and citizens alike may discern pertinent lessons from the latter's writings. Forhan argues that despite the extraordinary odds working against her—gender, single parenthood, and the vicissitudes associated with war and social upheaval—Christine de Pizan found the moral and political courage to speak out against injustice and advise those who would listen to seek peace. Our world leaders would do well to heed such advice. Additionally, in our climate of lukewarm civic engagement, we all might try to follow Christine de Pizan's example and become more involved citizens who care as much for the common good as for our own self-interests.