The Book of the Mutability of Fortune by Christine de Pizan (review)

Italian-born French writer Christine de Pizan (c. 1364–1430) is renowned not only for her extensive and varied corpus but for the autobiographical passages that, scattered throughout several of her works, encourage readers to feel a special closeness to her. Most of the works containing these autobiographical treasures—The Book of the City of Ladies, The Book of the Three Virtues, Christine’s Vision—exist in English translation. However, until Geri L. Smith’s much-anticipated translation, the Livre de la mutacion de Fortune, or, as Smith renders it, The Book of the Mutability of Fortune, which boasts some of the most intriguing autobiographical passages, was available only in Suzanne Solente’s Middle French edition (Paris: A. & J. Picard, 1959). Smith was required to abridge the nearly 24,000-line long narrative poem; however, she expertly summarizes what she excises and offers notes that bring obscure references to light. The result is a faithful and readable version of this wonderful poem, which will now ‘live on in a new way’ (p. 27). The Mutability contains one of the most iconic of all of Christine’s autobiographical episodes. ‘Now I would like to tell of an occurrence which many may find impossible to believe’, Christine begins her long narrative. ‘Even though some will disbelieve, it is proven truth, evident and fully experienced, and it happened to me personally’ (p. 29). What is this occurrence? It is her transformation from a woman into a ‘complete, natural man’ (p. 31), when, during a journey by ship to the land of Fortune, her husband, the ship’s master, is knocked overboard by waves, leaving Christine alone and grieving. Fortune, earlier so favourable to Christine, has turned on her. But, though discombobulated, Christine returns the ship safely to port in the court of Fortune, where she begins to notice how her adversity has fortified her. She is able to ‘observe [the land of Fortune’s] nature and what could exist there much more keenly’ than in her youth (p. 48). The rest of her story recounts just how mutable Fortune is and always has been, across time and space. Christine tells her story through the image of the bizarre Castle of Fortune, suspended by four chains and turning in the wind. After describing the inhabitants of the castle, who include all the people of the world, she moves on to an ekphrastic description of the history of the world, describing it as painted on the castle walls. This history sets out how the mighty fall, again and again. At the very end of the long narrative Christine arrives in France’s sad present day and the reign of mad Charles VI, who ‘would surely have finished as a prince in all grace if Fortune, turning a blind eye to that, had not burdened him with an illness’ (pp. 242–43). But Christine’s own story of tragedy and transformation on the high seas offers a framework for world history and therefore hope to the people of France, who themselves suffer the outrages of Fortune. This tale of overcoming adversity, recounted through strange and fascinating images (one such image shows two bickering popes crowded into one chair to represent the Schism, 81), will continue to move and entertain, thanks to Smith’s smooth and natural translation.