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Wedding Night

by Christine de Pisan (1364–c. 1430)
translated by Margaret Coats

A sweet supremacy marks marriage;
I prove it from experience.
I have a husband good and sage,
Bestowed through God’s great providence;
Praised be His saving diligence!
This holy state serves to excel
All treasures of benevolence,
For sure, my sweet one loves me well.

That night, the very first of marriage,
I could have given evidence:
He did me no ignoble outrage,
Nor caused me anguish or offense,
But at the morning’s imminence
A hundred kisses gave to tell
His pleasure in my ravishments,
For sure, my sweet one loves me well.

What’s more, he said, in such sweet language,
“God placed you in my power, whence,
Sweet friend, as you are mine for usage,
I have a cheerful confidence
That He my worthiness augments.”
All night I never ceased to dwell
In sweet dreams of his excellence,
For sure, my sweet one loves me well.

Princes, love swayed my every sense
When he said, “I am yours, my belle.”
Sweetness it was with vehemence,
For sure, my sweet one loves me well.

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Princes: It is conventional to address the optional envoi of a ballade to a “prince.” The word courteously addresses the highest-ranking person or persons present when a poem is read aloud. Christine de Pisan, a court poet, had both royal and noble patrons.

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French Original

Doulce chose est que marriage;
Je le puis bien par moy prouver,
Voire a qui mary bon et sage
A, comme Dieu m’ai fait trouver.
Louez en soit il qui sauver
Le me veuille, car son grant bien
De fait je puis bien esprouver,
Et certes le doulz m’aime bien.

La premiere nuit du marriage
Très lors poz je bien esprouver
Son grant bien, car oncques oultrage
Ne me fist, dont me deust grever,
Mais ains qu’il fust temps de lever,
Cent fois baisa, si com je tien,
Sanz villenie autre rouver,
Et certes le doulz m’aime bien.

Et disoit, par si doulz langage,
“Dieux m’a fait a vous arriver,
Doulce amie, et pour vostre usage
Je croy qu’il me fist eslever.”
Ainsi ne fina de resver
Toute nuit en si fait maintien,
Sanz autrement soy desriver,
Et certes le doulz m’aime bien.

Princes, d’amour me fait desver
Quant il me dit qu’il et tout mien;
De doulçour me fera crever,
Et certes le doulz m’aime bien.

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Margaret Coats lives in California.  She holds a Ph.D. in English and American Literature and Language from Harvard University.  She has retired from a career of teaching literature, languages, and writing that included considerable work in homeschooling for her own family and others.

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20 Responses

  1. Roy Eugene Peterson

    What a precious tribute to a newlywed husband who I hoped basked in her public praise of his private prowess. Of course, they would be French. Your masterful translation is beautifully composed.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, Roy. The fine young husband’s name is Estienne [Stephen] de Castel. He and Christine were happy for ten years, but then he fell victim to an epidemic, and she began writing to support three children. I too hope he heard this poem of praise, which is certainly in the present tense.

      Reply
  2. Paul A. Freeman

    So interesting to see a poem on such a subject written by a woman. Both the love and trust between the newlyweds comes out, even though the bride recognises the power dynamics of Middle Ages marriage. This poem gives a whole new perspective.

    As they would say these days, ‘He’s a keeper’.

    Thanks for the read.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you for the most perceptive comment, Paul! The whole new (medieval) perspective on power dynamics in marriage is foreign and shocking, and offensive to many today. And worst of all is that the happily submissive woman considers it natural–and loves it. It was worth translating only to convey her rarely expressed point of view within a context of genuine affection. And as you notice, the husband, despite all that dominance talk his poet bride attributes to him, is a keeper! Glad you liked reading the piece.

      Reply
  3. Cynthia L Erlandson

    So lovely, Margaret, and a worthy, happy theme! I think it’s very impressive that you were able to use so many -age rhymes (as did the original) as well as so many -ence rhymes.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Yes, thank you, Cynthia! To best convey Christine’s worthy joy, I needed her very “-age” words, that translate easily into English, though they aren’t perfect rhymes as in French. I’m very glad you find the translation lovely.

      Reply
  4. Joseph S. Salemi

    Writing a formal ballade like this is a labor of love — translating one with careful attention to both meaning and rhyme scheme is a labor of Hercules. Margaret shows herself to be a highly gifted expert in these matters.

    Margaret, one question from a non-expert. You translate the original French “Princes” as an English plural. In medieval French, isn’t a final /s/ in the subjective case of a noun a mark of the singular, as it frequently is in Provencal? Or did you translate it as a plural for some other reason? I ask because it seems to me that the envoi is always addressed to a single person.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, Joseph, for the high compliment on expertise in this kind of translation.

      To begin with the final part of your question, the envoi to a ballade is by no means always addressed to a single person. I can think of examples by Christine de Pisan, and by Eustache Deschamps and Alain Chartier and Jean Le Seneschal and Louis d’Orleans where two or more persons are addressed, sometimes by name, sometimes as a group, sometimes by a title other than “prince.” “Prince” is most applicable when the poem is presented at a “puy” or competition. There the judge, whoever he may be, is “prince” for the occasion. I get the feeling that many poems never intended for competition were nonetheless directed to a supposed “prince,” perhaps to claim they are worthy to be considered for the “crown” of a prize. Puys went on at varied locations right up to the Revolution, and I wish I knew more about them. Also, the envoi to a ballade may address no one at all, but simply be used as a concluding stanza.

      About that vexed final “s,” the usage is not consistent. In manuscripts, it sometimes seems to be there or not depending on the style of the scribe. I tend to ignore “princes” if the poem seems clearly addressed to one person. In fact, I have an alternative line for this particular poem, if I ever get to see a manuscript where the “s” on “princes” seems to be indistinct.

      “Prince, love enraptured every sense.”

      Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Therefore, the decision whether to say “prince” or “princes” first depends on trustworthiness of the editor of my text. Since there are ballades where he uses the singular, I have confidence that the text of this poem really reads “princes.” Then the decision depends on whether Christine as author could have meant “princes.” This particular ballade is not among her collection of one hundred, many without an envoi, but there she writes that those ballades are addressed to a select group of friends. And in her “Tale of the Rose” we have one instance where she uses “princes” and clearly means all the men among a mixed group, who are asked to take an oath to defend ladies. Take a look at that one:

      https://classicalpoets.org/2021/02/for-valentines-day-the-tale-of-the-rose-by-christine-de-pisan-1364-1431-translated-by-margaret-coats/

      Reply
  5. Julian D. Woodruff

    Courtly elegance, and with a degree of frankness that I’m guessing was out of the ordinary, at least for a woman. Pitch perfect translation, too!
    The refrain put me in mind of Mark Antony’s references to Brutus in “Friends, Romans, countrymen”; now I’m wondering if Shakespeare somehow obtained a copy of C de P’s writings.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thanks, Julian. Very much appreciate all you say. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anyone wonder if Shakespeare might have known Christine de Pisan’s works, but it is possible. He was fluent enough in French to consult French source material, and to put a little French conversation into the history play Henry V. And Christine was careful about leaving some works in a manuscript of which she herself supervised the preparation. That meant there were early printed books of hers in French, and in 1490 the English printer Caxton produced the first English translation. These didn’t include all the lyrics, but enough to show her style.

      Reply
      • Julian D. Woodruff

        Interesting to learn about C de P’s efforts to ensure her literary legacy, and of Caxton’s pubs and translations. I was going on the assumption that S could have handled her French pretty easily, and that her work might have been sufficiently prized that mss. or recent eds of her work might have been in fairly wide circulation even in Elizabeth’s England.

      • Margaret Coats

        You’ve had me wondering about what kind of appreciation Christine would receive in Elizabeth’s England. Maybe not as much as we might think. Elizabeth considered herself unique, and did not favor competition in anything from other women. And she had no fondness for the French! But that’s not to say subjects like Shakespeare always consulted the queen’s taste in their choice of material. Christine’s characteristic traditional vision of the beauty of hierarchy might appeal to many.

  6. Adam Sedia

    This is a wonderful selection, an excellent glimpse of the medieval mindset. It is highly erotic, but at the same time deeply religious, placing everything properly in the cosmic order that defined the medieval worldview. This also flies in the face of inaccurate contemporary stereotypes about Medieval womanhood and supposed prudishness. Your translation captures the spirit of the original, and throws in a few “Frenchisms” for flavor (like “sage” as an adjective). Excellent work.

    The 600-year-old French of the original is easily understandable to a reader of modern French, a good illustration of how much less drastically the romance languages evolved compared to English or German.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Yes indeed, Adam, that worldview and mindset are worth remarking because, though admirable in themselves, they are mostly strange to us today. Man and woman are God’s gifts to each other; there is a hierarchy between them; the man’s good use of the woman in marriage pleases the woman, and makes him a better man by God’s plan! To emphasize that hierarchy, Christine in the poem has her husband explain most of these things to her. This is close to the sacramental interchange Catholics understand to exist in marriage for baptized persons, yet without being expressed in those terms. Glad you enjoyed this translation, and took care to bring out its significance!

      Reply
  7. C.B. Anderson

    Though the poem is not in line with my customary predilections, I found it quite lovely, satisfying and enlightening. The narratrix, who at first seems a hopeless romantic, in the end becomes someone with uncommon common sense.

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Yes, thank you, C. B., that “uncommon common sense” is on display as both bride and poet. Christine de Pisan lived at a time when “sweet” had been commonly overused in poetry for more than a generation. It had become hardly more than a “filler” word. And here, to insist on attention to real sweetness, she deliberately overuses the word with vehemence!

      Reply
  8. Laura Deagon

    Margaret,
    Your choice of poem and the translation are very beautiful. With the perspective of the time in which it was written, it provides a foundation of what marriage should be even in contemporary time. Most people are resistant to this “balance” that makes for a successful lifetime marriage. In my opinion, it is a happy narrative.
    How do you find your subject poems for translation?

    Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      Thank you, Laura. I quite agree: it is a happy narrative especially because, from the very beginning, it features that balance of unequals making for lifetime success in marriage. I’m glad that comes through as beautiful in the translation.

      Reply
    • Margaret Coats

      I read most of the poems of authors who come to interest me. Christine de Pisan left three volumes, of great variety even in the longer ones. I’ve translated many, but I think I focus especially on those like this one, likely to be unusual today either in form or in subject or in treatment of the topic. In other words, the poems we may need to lift us pleasantly out of ourselves!

      Reply

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