Sailing to Byzantium

Christine de Pizan’s Vision of Constantinople
in Le Livre du chemin de lonc estude

Over half a millennium before William Butler Yeats1, Christine de Pizan (1365-ca.1430) also figuratively sailed through the heavens on a visionary voyage to Byzantium, which, like Yeats, she portrays as the cradle of civilization. Although at first glance the two passages on Constantinople that she includes in her Livre du chemin de lonc estude of 1402-1403 might appear to be inconsequential, they prove critical to an understanding of her text2. In the Chemin the protagonist, named Christine, like the author, accompanies the Cumean sibyl on a visionary journey that ends in the heavenly sphere, where the protagonist transcribes the proceedings of a debate about the character traits incumbent upon a world leader. The author here refers to prophecies concerning the exemplary universal monarch destined to reign over Christendom during the Last Days3. One such prophecy was evoked by Dante, whom 118Christine pointedly names as her forerunner on the “path of long study4”. The poet of the Divine Comedy refers to this prophecy in his description of Emperor Henry VII, in whom he “saw the promise of that ideal emperor by whom the civil government of the world might be established on a secure and peaceful basis5”. Dante has Beatrice describe the vacant throne in the empyrean awaiting Henry with these words:

And in that great seat which draws your eyes

for the crown already set above it,

before you shall dine at this wedding feast,

shall sit the soul of noble Henry,

who on earth, as emperor, shall attempt

to set things straight for Italy before she is prepared.

Par. 30:133-1386

Dante’s reference to prophecies concerning the coming of a salvific world leader would have reminded Christine of more recent developments in France. Her patron Louis d’Orléans, King Charles VI’s younger brother by three years, was being considered for the position of Holy Roman Emperor right around the time when she began work on the Chemin7. This fact, 119especially when coupled with her wish, subsequently expressed, that King Charles VII be made emperor and that he recovers the Holy Land, suggests that as early as her Chemin Christine was promoting French imperial ambitions. She appears to have had her sights set on a French leader better equipped to prepare for the Last Days than Emperor Henry VII, who had failed to realize Dante’s expectations of him8. My overarching argument is that Christine makes reference to sites in Constantinople in support of France’s political ambitions to be recognized as the transcendent example of a contemporary Christian empire, a status attained by Byzantium in earlier days.

France’s ambitions had been baldly stated in the Grandes Chroniques de France, the official history of the royal house. These vernacular chronicles were a major source not only for the Chemin, but also for two other of her texts of the same period, her biography of King Charles V of 1404 (hereafter Charles V9) and her Livre de la cité des dames of 1405. The Grandes Chroniques had been commissioned around 1250 from the monks at the royal abbey of Saint Denis, most probably by no less a figure than the future Saint Louis himself. By the early fifteenth century, the libraries of all of Christine’s major patrons boasted copies of them. As shown by Anne D. Hedeman, King Charles V, the patron responsible for Christine’s family’s migration from Italy to Paris, did a major revamping of the chronicles10. As opposed to the official copies of the Grandes Chroniques that were otherwise produced, Hedeman considers many of Christine’s texts to be successors to Charles V’s political program11. I have argued that by writing her Charles V Christine was attempting to circumvent the instability of Charles VI’s government 120by focusing on and even embellishing his father’s more successful reign12. After considering the Chemin’s portrayal of the military general Jean de Châteaumorant, we shall better understand how Christine designed her biography so as to inspire future leaders to follow Charles V’s sterling example13.

In the prologue to the Grandes Chroniques the first chronicler, a monk of Saint Denis named Primat, sets forth France’s idea of its divinely sanctioned role as Christianity’s foremost monarchy. He reformulates for the French the theme known as translatio studii et imperii, the progressive displacement of the locus of empire and culture from one country to another, as the result of a country’s failings. Primat holds that the favored site of empire and culture has moved from Greece to Rome and then to France, where, God willing, it will remain14. This line of reasoning applies not only to the ancient world, but even more pertinently to the westward shift from Constantine’s Byzantium to Charlemagne’s Holy Roman Empire and finally to Saint Louis’s “most Christian” monarchy15. But Primat introduces a note of caution. France will retain its superiority over other nations only so long as it acts in accordance with Christian principles. The French monarchy was bolstered by its support of the Church, seen most clearly in the leadership given by the faculty of theology of the University of Paris. The idea was that competent leadership had to be based upon moral worthiness and sound Christian doctrine.

The speech of Christine’s character Avis, or Good Counsel, echoes the Grandes Chroniques. He appears on the scene in the Chemin at the summing up of the debate by Lady Wisdom, to recommend that a transcript of the debate be transmitted to the French princes, a task that the Christine character is designated to perform. As a University-trained doctor, dressed in lawyer’s robes (v. 6229), Avis explains and enforces laws consonant with Christian doctrine. He is the quintessential representative of clergie, or of the expertise obtained in the schools of learning. Avis echoes the Grandes Chroniques prologue in recounting how clergie has passed from Athens to Rome:

Jadis en Grece et a Athenes

Fu la fleur des choses certenes

Que clergie apprent et recorde.

A Romme aprés, bien m’en recorde,

Usoient les Rommains de droit,

Mais tout est failli orendroit. (v. 6213-6218)

The last line is significant: “Mais tout est failli orendroit” (‘But all is over and done with now’). The question then becomes which country will be the rightful heir of ancient and contemporary Greece and Rome. The answer desired by the author Christine, the answer that she learned from reading the Grandes Chroniques, is obviously “France16”. Avis advises sending a transcription of the debate back to the earth to be decided by members of the French court, which is composed above all by the King and many of Christine’s other patrons. The author thereby intimates that members of the royal family are obliged to realize that French exceptionalism depends upon their actions and those of their French subjects whom they command and advise. Implicit in Avis’s words is a criticism of current French mores. This becomes clear when Christine’s lawyerly spokesman recounts the story of the Judgment of Paris. As the “excellant berger de Troye” (v. 6188-6189), Paris is the epitome of the French prince, as he was depicted in the Grandes Chroniques and elsewhere. But he was also the man who made an intemperate choice, by selecting Venus, and a bad Venus rather than a good one, over Minerva, 122thus luxure over wisdom. Christine seeks to dissuade the French princes from making a similar mistake.

My foregoing analysis provides the framework for viewing Christine’s two references to Constantinople, which are much more important than they would initially appear to be. The city is the first stop on the 787-verse world tour17 that Christine undertakes under the guidance of Dante’s Cumean Sibyl. Rather than the grand world tour that we would go on today, it is a visionary voyage made possible by her extensive readings and by firsthand reports of travellers18. Christine presents the “great and noble city” of Constantinople (v. 1193-1194) as the gateway to the Holy Land, the high point of her journey. She mentions the city by name twice in the first passage, which extends from vv. 1193 to 1234. The Sibyl indicates to her charge the marvels of the city, pointing out that it was formerly the head of Greece (v. 1195). Among the city’s many edifices, monuments, and art works, Christine’s tour guide mentions only one by name, Hagia Sophia, referring to it as “l’Eglise Sainte Sophie”, v. 1210.

Hagia Sophia is praised, in these very same terms, in the Grandes Chroniques. Primat recounts how after victories over many nations, the Emperor Justinian constructed a temple in Constantinople called the church of Sainte Sophie, meaning “Holy Wisdom”, in honor of Jesus Christ, who, in Primat’s words, “est divine sophie et divine sapience de Dieu le pere”19. Three points are noteworthy. First, Christine connects Hagia Sophia and the city it symbolizes with the universal prince, the world leader who incarnates all good qualities. When she reports what the major authorities have said about the properties of Wisdom, she cites the Policratique, the translation 123of John of Salisbury’s Policraticus20, to explain that the “noble pagans” who first conceived of the concept adored the wise prince above all others. And their “god of gods” was Sapïence, whose statue held an “ecrit” that says:

Les Grigois qui de moy parlerent

Sophie en leurs dis m’appellerent;

Des Latins la sage emparlee

Sapïence suis appellee. (v. 5403-5406)

Second, in speaking of Lady Wisdom, as she does in the above quotation, Christine echoes the foregrounding of Wisdom by Primat, Saint Louis’s chronicler. This emphasis was then extended by King Charles V, her family’s patron, whom Christine celebrates for his wise decision to commission numerous translations of Latin texts deemed essential for the proper functioning of the monarchy21. These include the text cited by Christine, the Policratique. The third thing to note is Hagia Sophia’s overweening significance for the French. Barbara Newman points out that Alcuin’s palace chapel in Soissons was dedicated to Holy Wisdom, “after the example of Saint Sophia in Byzantium.”22 In sum, Christine begins her imaginary journey at Hagia Sophia because the French of her time believed it to be greater in beauty and goodness than all other churches of the world. It was as an essential source of France’s self-conception as a Christian empire.

But Christine’s initial praise of Constantinople’s past glories soon gives way to lamentations on its present state23. In her first passage on the city, 124the poet also bemoans its many ruins, resulting from the long war in which the inhabitants have been engaged with their close neighbors, the Sarrasins. Constantinople, formerly rich and full of inhabitants, is now largely depopulated. At the end of the passage, Christine, however, interjects a note of hope: the city’s fields have recently been cultivated anew and are feeding the populace (v. 1231). The subject of the second passage on Constantinople (v. 4503-4570) is the city’s revitalization, which was largely brought about through the efforts of Jean de Châteaumorant (1352-1429), the leader of the city24. He is lieutenant to Marshall Boucicaut25, the head of the French army. Both men had escaped from imprisonment following the disastrous French defeat by the Turks at Nicopolis in 1396. King Charles VI expedited Jean to defend Constantinople after Boucicaut had secured it in 139926. Christine describes Jean in the highest of terms: his goodness, valor, and patience make him eminently worthy of renown (v. 4512-4519). He exemplifies the perfect marriage of chivalric prowess and virtue (v. 4568-4569). For Christine, Jean is a fitting model for modern times.

Christine strategically precedes Jean’s story with that of his Roman prototype, Scipio the African (v. 4481-4502). Scipio, having acquired 125Spain for the Romans, was offered for his pleasure a beautiful young female prisoner. But, as says Christine, “Sa char vainqui par fort courage” (v. 4495), giving her instead in marriage to a noble baron, together with generous gifts27. The author then segues to Jean de Châteaumorant by suggesting that even more worthy examples of military leaders exist in the present time28. Her telling, which is an obvious recasting of Scipio’s story, has some outstanding features. Most importantly, Christine connects Jean’s virtue of continence with how his exercise of Christian charity informs all his actions29. Not only does he assure Constantinople’s populace of having sufficient foodstuffs, but he also tries to alleviate the famine raging in the neighboring Muslim territories. His profoundly Christian attitude toward conquered peoples is evident in his treatment of the beautiful Muslim prisoner and her mother. Jean’s acts of generosity are motivated by the immediate compassion he feels for the mother wailing in anguish before him. As Christine explains it, he realizes that her desperate concern is to save her entire family from starvation30. Jean responds by helping out the young woman’s mother as well as he could31, thus rescuing the family from death by starvation as well as from dishonor (v. 4565-4566). Christine equally emphasizes that he did not insult his female prisoner in word or in deed (v. 4558-4560). Besides his sensitivity to his enemies’ human needs, Jean thus shows his high regard for women. Christine demonstrates that Jean’s policies are part of the mission that he has received from the French 126king32. She thereby sets the standard for the way rulers should govern conquered peoples. They have to earn their right to rule by showing that their moral system is preferable to that of their subjects33. The French moral system, as illustrated by Jean’s sterling behavior, is characterized by Christian charity as well as by respect for women, the latter being one of the major leitmotifs of Christine’s career.

The author’s portrayal of Jean’s outdoing of his model Scipio has to be seen against the backdrop of the latter’s frequent representation as an exemplary leader. In “Dante and the Empire”, Charles Till Davis explains that for Dante, Scipio was forerunner to a world emperor:

So, presumably, the imperium, won by republican heroes like Scipio and perfected by Augustus, will be restored by a future emperor. Perhaps he will also prepare the world for the second coming of Christ, just as Augustus prepared it for his first coming34.

As per Davis’s formulation, we have seen how Christine portrays Jean de Châteaumorant as a latter-day Scipio who prepares the world for the Last Days. As the country that best realizes classical ideals of chevalerie and clergie, France, in her eyes, would be the cradle of a new world emperor. Christine’s implicit message to the French princes is the following: in order for the country to realize its divinely sanctioned destiny to be the leader of the Christian world, which would be fulfilled if a French prince were to become Holy Roman Emperor, it has to correct its past failings.

Christine would have been acutely conscious of the fact that Christian crusaders were responsible for the weakened state of Constantinople from which the city still suffered in her time. She suggests as much when she says that the city’s walls were destroyed “par meschef”, as well as by the long war that the inhabitants had been waging with the Sarrasins (v. 1223-1225). The meaning of “meschef” in Middle French is “a distressing event, bad fortune, misadventure, or calamity35. The term “meschef” is significantly composed of “mes”, meaning “poor”, and “chef”, meaning “head”. With her choice of term, Christine implies that the forces that put the city to ruin were poorly headed. This, I believe, is Christine’s diplomatically couched nod to those events in Constantinople’s history unflattering to the French.

What was the most distressing of those past events? Beyond doubt, it was the sacking of Constantinople two centuries earlier. The limited victory of the Christian princes in the Third Crusade (1189-1192), led by France’s Philip Augustus, England’s Richard I and the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick I Barbarossa36, was reversed in a particularly ugly incident of the short-lived Fourth Crusade of 1202–1204. Pope Innocent III had initiated that particular crusade by calling together a group of Europeans to retake Muslim-controlled Jerusalem. But the crusaders, the majority of whom were French, diverged from their appointed path, deciding instead to invade Constantinople, whose troops, although numerous, were not united under a forceful leader. The crusaders sacked the city in record time, embarking on a three-day rampage of looting, plundering, and raping, and moreover doing it during Easter Week, 1204. In a Latin letter addressed to the papal legate, Innocent III excoriated the offenders in the strongest of terms:

As for those who were supposed to be seeking the ends of Jesus Christ, not their own ends, who made their swords, which they were supposed to use against the pagans, drip with Christian blood, they have spared neither religion, nor age, nor sex. They have committed incest, adultery, and fornication before the eyes of men. They have exposed both matrons and virgins, even those dedicated to God, to the sordid lusts of boys37.

In the words of a historian paraphrasing this same letter, the crusaders “smashed the silver iconostasis, the icons and the holy books of Hagia Sophia, and seated upon the patriarchal throne a whore who sang coarse songs as they drank wine from the Church’s holy vessels38”. In typical medieval fashion, the Pope saw the crusaders’ inordinate sexual desires, their luxure, to be at the root of their inability to competently rule the Holy Land. He lodged a mordant criticism of crusaders who act more ignobly than the infidels they were sent to conquer and convert. Christine presents the sexually continent Jean de Châteaumorant as a counter to irresponsible leaders who would allow disgraceful acts such as these to take place.

For the visionary pilgrim Christine, the Holy Land is and should remain a sacred place. She lingers over it, savoring the sight of the sites of Christ’s birth and death. She takes and preserves the measures of the savior’s tomb (v. 1267-1268), implying that those who view the site, whether in real life or in their text – or image – inspired visions, will possess the Heavenly Jerusalem, the true city of God, conceived first by the psalmist, and later by Saint Augustine, as a place of peace and justice for all39. But first they must deserve the right to own the land where Christ had lived and died. Christine proposes Jean as a model of continence and charity in order to show that the French deserve to continue their rule in Constantinople and thus maintain their jurisdiction over the Holy Land that the city’s location commands. Jean has shown how the French can correct past mistakes. But will they continue to rule justly? This depends upon the strength, both military and moral, of French leaders.

Charity Cannon Willard connects Christine’s promotion of Jean with France’s desire to increase its closeness to the Holy Roman Empire. She describes how Marshall Boucicaut and Jean de Châteaumorant encouraged the Byzantine emperor, Manuel II Palaeologus, to come to Europe to solicit the aid of the Christian princes in keeping control of the Holy Land40. When the Emperor arrived in Paris in June 1400, 129King Charles VI received him with great ceremony and promised him help. In September 1402 Jean de Châteaumorant arrived in Paris to second Manuel II’s quest for French aid, after which he conducted the Emperor back to Constantinople41. Willard points out that the date on which Christine began to compose her Chemin, October 5, 1402, was only two weeks after the Byzantine Emperor had left Paris with empty hands, despite Charles VI’s promises42. According to Willard, Christine’s message was that the French princes were too preoccupied with their own ambitions to be interested in such far away events. By staging her celestial debate, Christine reminds her audience of the good work Jean is doing in Constantinople, with the suggestion that the French princes should continue to support his efforts. For Willard, Christine’s implicit message is that they had a responsibility toward the Emperor and the world that extended beyond their borders and their personal ambitions43. To my mind, Christine even more profoundly implies that France’s “manifest destiny”, to use an anachronistic term, was intimately tied to the country’s character as a “holy Christian empire”. This notion, which had been initially formulated by Alcuin and Charlemagne as readers of Augustine’s City of God44, was subsequently taken over and developed by French kings, in particular by Louis IX (the future Saint Louis) and Charles V45. Christine’s praise of French leaders comes with a warning 130similar to the one issued by Saint Louis’s chronicler, Primat. In order for France to maintain her right to rule over Constantinople and the Holy Land, she must govern in accordance with Christian principles.

Events, however, did not transpire according to Christine’s wishes. For one thing, Louis d’Orléans failed to become Emperor. But more dramatically, on November 23, 1407 he was mercilessly cut down on the street by henchmen of his first cousin, Jean sans Peur. In direct retribution for his part in Louis’s murder, on September 10, 1419 the duke of Burgundy himself fell to an assassin’s blows. Soon thereafter France’s ongoing civil conflicts ushered in almost a quarter century of English occupation46. In her last and final text, her Ditié de Jehanne d’Arc (Poem of Joan of Arc) of 1429, Christine breaks an eleven-year silence, spent, as she puts it, “wailing in a walled abbey”47, to celebrate Charles VII’s recent coronation48. Her poem depicts Charles ending his days re-conquering the Holy Land with the aid of Joan of Arc. An important point for my argument is that in Stanza XVI Christine specifically predicts that Charles VII will become emperor:

Car ung roy de France doit estre

Charles, filz de Charles, nommé,

Qui sur tous rois sera grand maistre. […]

Et en fin dois estre empereur49.

For Christine, Charles’s enterprise also entails conquering the Holy Land with Joan’s help50. These references support my claim that as early as in her Chemin Christine hoped, and perhaps worked to garner support for, a French prince who would ascend the imperial throne and win back the Holy Land.

Unfortunately for Christine, Charles VII never did become Holy Roman Emperor, nor did he ever undertake a crusade. And we all know how things turned out for Joan of Arc. Christine’s high hopes for Constantinople would, moreover, be dashed when the city fell to the Turks in 145351. It would remain under Ottoman control until 1922. The fall of Constantinople would necessitate a rethinking of France’s idea of itself as a player on the world stage, which had been a function, in large part, of the country’s ability to keep the Holy Land under Christian dominion. If, in her Livre du chemin de lonc estude, Christine shares Yeats’s glowing vision of Constantinople as the cradle of civilization, then events such as the assassination of Louis d’Orléans in 1407 and the ensuing civil unrest would dim her optimism. Such texts as her 1410 Lamentation52 instead sound the apocalyptic strains of Yeats’s “Second Coming”53. Along with him, she might have asked: “And what rough beast, its hour come round at last/Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”

Lori J. Walters

Florida State University