Joan of Arc Part 1

Joan of Arc is one of the favorite female subjects in all Western art, particularly in the theater and its offspring the cinema, where Cleopatra has been about her only consistent competitor over the last 500 years. An Internet search turns up a great number of people living in places like Sacramento and New Zealand who identify fiercely with the story of this maid, who indeed devote a good portion of their life's energies to taking inspiration from her, studying her legend, collecting pictures of her, dressing like her at festivals, perhaps eating Joan of Arc brand brie, and the like. Morrissey even claims an affinity. She is, or has been at one time or another, claimed as a heroine by individuals desiring to represent Roman Catholics, anti-Roman Catholics, homosexuals, French nationalists, Romantics, anti-authoritarians, feminists and loyalists to the house of Valois, as well as innumerable artists and authors.

"Et Jehanne, la bonne lorraine/Qu'englois brulerent a Rouen..."

To the early 21st century mind--mine anyway--the obvious question that presents itself, there being no easy economic explanation for the most spectacular elements of the story, is 'What really happened?' or perhaps a little less prosaically 'What should I believe?' or 'What is important within that portion that I should believe?' It also occurs to me to ask, 'If I were myself to write a play or make a film or paint a picture about these events, what form would it take and what would I emphasize?' though I don't have any immediate sense of that inquiry's illuminating anything.

The story is evocative and spectacular from almost every angle. A teenage heroine...an endless war that has resulted in the occupation of the heroine's country by a foreign army...a dispossessed, listless prince (whose mistress, at least, is renowned as the greatest beauty of her age)...the rustic teen becomes convinced she must seek the prince, procure a horse and a suit of armor and lead an army to raise the seige of Orleans...she persuades every male authority she encounters, including the Dauphin and the Archbishop of Reims, to acquiesce to her plans...she wins the intial battle...the Dauphin is crowned in the ancient ritual and hallowed cathedral of his forbears...the heroine is given up to the enemy, tried for heresy and witchcraft, acquits herself with brilliant and rational cogency before a formidable ecclesiastical court, and burned at the stake at the age of 19. This is a biblical-caliber career, partaking variously of qualities found in the lives of Jesus, Socrates, and Julius Caesar, often at the same time. It certainly makes the exploits of such modern icons of youth as James Dean and Jim Morrison look rather pitiful. It is generally acknowledged now that Joan was not by current international standards at all physically attractive apart from having remarkable eyes, the remarkableness of which appear to have been more otherworldly and mystical than sexy in nature. As well, despite the rampant speculation about her sex life during certain periods of historical inquiry, the present among them, there seems to be little concrete evidence that she was not as disinterested in the acts of bodily love, or even as virginal, as the traditional legend makes her out to be. Accepting even this has been a stumbling block to many, however.

Since the mindset of the Middle Ages began to erode from the active consciousnesses of thinking people, artists have sensed that the story of Joan possessed in it something central to the spirit of European civilization while being at the same time increasingly difficult to comprehend as "true" in any modern, scientific understanding of the idea of truth. The Joan character as remembered is among the foremost figures of history in three areas thought by the general public as well as by some serious minds, to be contradictory: war, religion, and rational elocution with regard to each. She is indeed such a singular figure in each of these areas, and her actions and movements within and between them so seamless and inexplicably and seemingly almost effortlessly correct, as to strongly suggest genius-like qualities, the possibility of which, if it frightens the mass of men and their leaders and causes them to seek the death or destruction of the possessor, also excites in them an irresistible fascination, such that the murder of such figures usually produces a sense of deep regret right away, though the sort of charismatic genius of great military and religious leaders is always meteoric in nature and never able to be recalled or captured perfectly.

I must admit, I have at this point in my life lost any sense, which I do think I possessed at one time, of what medieval Western European man understood, or experienced, by the invocation of the idea of God and saints and angels--the Church triumphant--quite distinct from the Church militant which one knew matter-of-factly as the primary institution of society, which makes it quite difficult to write anything pertinent about this story, or the age in which it took place, though even Shakespeare, as Shaw observed in his preface about Joan, could not shed himself of the mindset of a Renaissance English Protestant in this instance either. This is partly why I set myself these exercises however, tedious though my audience, if I ever acquire one, may find them. It is very rare for me to be able to read any book or episode of history long accorded veneration or importance and pronounce it rubbish on the spot, in the manner of Nietzsche or Ezra Pound, yet I want to be honest about what really appeals to me in it. Superior qualities and abilities--daring, vigorous energy, a clarity of intelligence and will that extends to and uplifts others outside one's self--the very definition of heroism--always appeals to sentient humans; but here it is combined with the very strong and almost necessary insistence that these abilities were only exercised under the submission to and direction of a superhuman agent, God or his saints in this instance. This is obviously a deeply appealing and reassuring idea to most people even today, that the great events and conditions of their lives are not being directed by ruthless egomaniacs answerable to nothing but the gratification of their own wills and intellects, but by some greater force--even if a dark force, I think--before whom all men, the powerful and the crushed in spirit alike, are the same, and who can therefore at any time be raised or inspired with abilities or motivations that had previously been inaccessible to them. This is also a purpose and effect of the highest classical art, music and literature of course, which is doubtless why for the likes of me they have come to be as a kind of substitute for religion. In this way I can reconcile Joan of Arc too as having existence both as legend and reason suggest her to to me. The legend, especially over time, always becomes more important than the literal truth, indeed becomes the de facto truth; at least, as far as art and history go, the real truth is never more than partially successful in destroying the legend, if the legend is important enough.