Joan: The Mysterious Life of the Heretic Who Became a Saint (11 page)

Next came the entourage of the royal sword, brought from the abbey of Saint-Denis, near Paris—but secretly because the region was still controlled by Anglo-Burgundian captains. The blade was engraved with fleur-de-lis from hilt to point, and the sword was held aloft in procession to the altar by the favorite nephew of Georges de la Trémoïlle.

Following that was the procession of six peers who (imitating the ritual of Clovis) were to hold the crown above Charles’s head before the actual coronation. The men for the task that day were Alençon; the counts of Clermont, Vendôme and Laval; Raoul de Gaucourt (captain of Orléans); and Georges de la Trémoïlle. This procession also included six bishops, but three had to be replaced because they were fiercely anti-Valois and hence were absent. One of those three was Pierre Cauchon.

In the tradition of the anointing of the ancient kings of Israel (especially David), Charles was anointed on his chest, shoulders, elbows, and wrists by the archbishop of Reims, his body thus consecrated to the service of God and the people. The king was the lieutenant of God in matters temporal; more than anyone, he was the servant and leader of the French people, as much chosen by God as Israel of old had been. Charles swore to honor “justice and the law” and to defend Church and people, especially the poor and disenfranchised, from all enemies.

The archbishop then escorted Charles to the main altar, where his head was anointed and a ring was slipped onto his right index finger, symbol of the union between the king and his people. To the accompaniment of the blast of trumpets and the cheers of everyone in the cathedral, the crown was then lowered onto Charles’s head. At last he was no longer the dauphin but Charles VII, the consecrated, true, and legitimate king of France.

Wearing armor and bearing her banner, Joan stood nearby throughout the ceremony. Why did she bring her personal standard? “It had endured very much,” she said later, “and it was only fair that it should share in the honor.”
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Her presence must have impressed everyone in the cathedral, for the coronation vindicated a woman, who would normally have been held suspect in the male world of court, army and clergy. Perhaps most among the worshippers, the honor was shared by five people who stood near Joan and whose pride we may only imagine—her parents, who had come from Domrémy; her brothers Jean and Pierre; and Durand Laxart, her first advocate and helper. The financial records of Reims testify to their attendance, adding that the city paid for their lodging at an inn across the cathedral square.

Her family’s presence may well have inspired Joan when the king asked if she wished a favor on this great occasion. She begged nothing for herself, she replied, but she requested that the people of Domrémy and of neighboring Greux might henceforth have the privilege of tax-free status. This the king gladly bestowed two weeks later, as a surviving document reveals. Beside the royal decree, written in Charles’s own hand, is a simple explanation of the exemption: “
Rien—la Pucelle:
Nothing [in taxes], [it was for] the Maid.”

O
N CORONATION DAY
Joan dictated a letter to Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, still an enemy of the king:

Most high and noble prince, the Maid summons you—by my sovereign Lord the King of Heaven—to make a lasting peace with the king of France. Each of you must pardon the other fully and sincerely, as loyal Christians should. If it pleases you to make war, go and do so against the Saracens.
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Prince of Burgundy, I beg you: make no more war on France. Withdraw at once your men who do so. As for my gentle king of France, he is ready to make peace with you…. You will win no more battles against loyal Frenchmen, and all who do so are warring against King Jesus, King of Heaven and earth. I pray you, with my hands joined, not to seek battle or war…. I wrote to you, inviting you to the coronation—but I have had no reply, nor have I heard any news of the herald whom I sent to you with that message. I commend you to God…and I pray God that He will establish a good peace.

The letter, as one historian has written, “evokes the grandeur of Joan’s Christian, martial, and chivalric mentality at the same time that it [indicates] the increasing irrelevance of these qualities to her world and moment.” The letter also reveals Joan’s poignant unawareness of the political machinations then driving powerful men among the English, their Burgundian allies, and the French. Not long after, a two-week truce was declared between the king and the duke. Philip said he would turn Paris over to the king after that period, but of course he intended no such thing; instead, he used the time to shore up his defense of the capital.

As these intrigues were taking shape, Joan was being celebrated in a long poem by Christine de Pisan, a prolific author who wrote courtly love poems, a life of Charles V and books about heroic women. Her last work, almost certainly written during the week of July 23–31, was “Le Ditié de Jehanne d’Arc” (The Story of Joan of Arc), an extended lyric in praise of the Maid’s achievements.

     It is a fact well worth remembering that God has wished to bestow such great blessings on France through a young virgin…. And you, Charles, King of France, see your honor exalted by the Maid who has laid low your enemies…. And all this has been brought about by the intelligence of the Maid who, God be thanked, has played her part in this matter…. And you, blessed Maid, you untied the rope which held France so tightly bound….

     Blessed be He who created you, Joan, Maiden sent from God…. Moses miraculously and indefatigably led God’s people out of Egypt. In the same way, blessed Maid, you have led us out of evil…. And the prowess of all the great men of the past cannot be compared to this woman’s, whose concern it is to cast out our enemies. This is God’s doing: it is He who guides her and who has given her a heart greater than that of any man….

     I have heard of Esther, Judith, and Deborah, women of great worth, through whom God delivered His people from oppression, and I have heard of many other women as well, champions every one of them, through whom He performed many miracles—but He has accomplished more through this Maid. Her achievement is no illusion, for she was carefully put to the test in council and well examined. But she was destined to accomplish her mission. Whatever she does, she always has her eyes fixed on God; nowhere does her devotion ever falter. What honor for the female sex, that the kingdom is now recovered and made safe by a woman—something that five thousand men could not have done…. This is God’s doing: it is He who leads her. Before all the brave men of the past, this woman must wear the crown—and she has not yet accomplished her whole mission! But destroying the English race is not her main concern—it is rather to ensure the survival of the faith….

“Her main concern is to ensure the survival of the faith.” This was not merely the poetic hyperbole of Christine de Pisan; it was implicit in everything Joan of Arc did. To modern ears that might seem quite a leap: how can the expulsion of the English and the survival of France be identified with preserving faith?

At this point it is crucial to keep in mind that Joan’s goal of saving France was, she claimed, God’s own will. Referring constantly to divine guidance, she insisted that she did nothing but what was directed. If her spiritual experience may be trusted as valid, then she was right in her assertion that France was a sacred nation that had to be saved.

As Siobhan Nash-Marshall has suggested in an important scholarly article, more than physical or psychological causes must be found if one is to challenge her claim and explore the notion of sacred nations. Some critics have insisted that Ménière’s disease (a condition affecting the ear or ears) or a neoplasm of the brain or frank psychosis was the cause of her voices and visions. But people with Ménière’s disease, with its attendant vertigo, impaired hearing and imbalance, cannot ride horses for days, nor can they leap into battle, climb ladders, and otherwise lead extremely active lives without interruption.

As for a benign or malignant brain tumor, such a condition becomes progressively worse and brings with it alarming and debilitating symptoms, such as violent vomiting, loss of sight, irrational behavior, blindness, incapacitating headaches, and partial paralysis. Joan experienced none of these frightful signs, and her physical activity was interrupted only briefly by war wounds, not by any organic illness.

Similarly, schizophrenia or other forms of grave mental illness simply do not appear in the life of this unlettered girl whose manner, convictions and logic were enough to convince a king to assign her to a critical job with soldiers. Had she seemed unbalanced, no responsible royal or noble would have allowed her to advise and to lead the very fighters, mercenaries and volunteers on whom they depended for their kingdom; nor would worldly men like Metz, Poulengy, Alençon, Dunois, La Hire and the rest have so readily trusted and attached themselves to her. Men liked and admired her; they did not hold her in suspicion.

Nor did Joan give any indications of being a disturbed girl: she spoke calmly, with logic and unshakable faith. She argued with educated councilors and learned churchmen, and her responses showed only a natural cleverness, a quick and rational mind, a healthy self-confidence, a keen sense of humor and a strong sense of the realities of what had happened, was happening and might happen. Her actions with others, in other words, reveal a young woman who did not live in a world of fantasy or illusion.

Perhaps most important, we must keep in mind that Joan had no training in such things as court procedures, military maneuvers, battle horsemanship, weaponry or the fine points of theological or legal disputes. That she acquitted herself so brilliantly in these areas may not be credited to Ménière’s disease, a brain tumor or an unbalanced mind.

Among the hundreds of witnesses to her achievements and the hundreds more who knew her during her lifetime, not a single person alluded to anything like physical, emotional or mental illness. The unanimous sense of those present was that she was a remarkably normal young woman who was able to achieve remarkably memorable deeds at the age of seventeen.

Joan’s claim that God had France in His care because France was sacred to Him may not be merely a medieval trope, embarrassingly old-fashioned language that today we must expunge from our vocabularies. To claim that France is sacred does not imply that
only
France is sacred. Throughout history, men and women have arisen everywhere who testify to the sacredness of nations. Perhaps today more than ever, we are aware that the identity and integrity of nations are supremely significant for the human race—that the facile invasion of a sovereign state and genocide are abhorrent.

In this regard, the entire Jewish-Christian faith tradition is based on the belief that God once summoned ordinary people and
through them
worked extraordinary deeds for His own purpose, which is to bring all peoples to Himself. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses and the prophets were but a few of those called to establish and save the nation of Israel. But Israel was brought into existence and later triumphed over its enemies not only for its own sake. This is made clear throughout the Hebrew Scriptures: God saved that nation so that
all
nations might be embraced. Israel was to be “a light to the gentiles,” as both Old and New Testaments reiterate. God chose the Israelites not to dominate or control but rather to serve others. The Christian Scriptures make the point more specific: the gentiles are not excluded from God’s embrace, for the light of Israel shines on the gentiles and shows the way into that embrace. All the peoples of the world are to be brought into the capacious light of the knowledge of God’s friendship. Nowhere is it implied that the nation of Israel, or any other nation, should cease to exist.

Because no single person or group represents everything it means to be human, it is the variety of people within a nation that gives it an irreplaceable, unique character—its “national personality.” As with individuals, so with nations: it is the diversity of peoples that furthers the process of the world. Although many nations have tried, none may set itself up as the only or the predominant nation, forcing its culture, ideology, religion or political agenda on any other nation. For Joan of Arc, this was precisely what England was trying to do through its nobles, armies and war machinery. France deserved its identity and, as a symbol of its people, the king.

F
OUR DAYS AFTER
the coronation, Charles embarked on a royal tour, presenting himself to his people and receiving their formal acts of loyalty and submission. Never a decisive man in military matters, he temporized by listening to men who disliked Joan, while she and Alençon urged him to capitalize on the recent victories as well as the prestige afforded by coronation. The English had lost both numbers and morale, and Joan and her partners insisted that now was the time to recapture Paris and reunite the French people; otherwise recent triumphs could be reduced to insignificance.

But Charles preferred to bide his time, waiting for Philip of Burgundy to turn over Paris peacefully. The coronation had no transforming effect on the king’s self-awareness, for although Paris was now his city, he was hesitant to take it. Instead of advancing on Paris, the royal entourage headed northwest to Corbeny, then south to Soissons, Château-Thierry, Monmirail and Provins.

Charles’s optimism was in vain. The truce Philip proposed was merely a pretext to seal off as much of Paris as possible so that it would not fall to the king. This Joan suspected, as she wrote in a letter dictated from Provins to the people of Reims on August 5:

My dear friends in Reims, Joan the Maid greets you and asks that you have no concerns about the good cause she pursued on behalf of the royal house. I promise that I will never abandon you as long as I live. It’s true that the king has made a fifteen-day truce with the Duke of Burgundy, who is then supposed to turn over Paris peacefully. But don’t be surprised if I don’t enter Paris so quickly. I really don’t like truces made like this, and I don’t know if I can support them—but if I do so, it will only be to protect the king’s honor. I shall maintain the king’s army so as to be ready if the Burgundians aren’t true to their word. So my dear friends, do not worry so long as I live, but keep good watch and defend [Reims], and let me know if any traitors seek to harm you. Let me have some news of you. I commend you to God—may He protect you.