Joan: The Mysterious Life of the Heretic Who Became a Saint Read online

  This is not to speak of necromancy or bogus spiritualism; it is to affirm that everything in the world belongs to God, who manifests Himself in and through creation but is neither defined nor limited by it. “Voices and spirits often come to Christians who do not see them.” That is a wise indictment of spiritual torpor, a failure to “hear” and to “see” the truth that, as Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote, “The world is charged with the grandeur of God.”

  Ninth Session: Monday Afternoon, March 12

  At the following session Cauchon was absent, likely meeting with Le Maître on the formal articles of condemnation. Hence Beaupère came to Joan’s cell with four clerics, who conducted repetitious interrogations concerning Joan’s obedience to her parents and her use of male garb.

  Tenth Session: Tuesday, March 13

  The following day, asked about the vision of the crown of the king of France, which she had said was brought to Charles by an angel when she was at Chinon, she gave an elaborate account—highly stylized, as if from a storybook. Typical of the language of her time, Joan’s description was a kind of parable about the dramatic divine intervention that came to Charles with her arrival, and the fulfillment of her mission when he was crowned at Reims.

  Eleventh Session: Wednesday Morning, March 14

  Questioner: Why did you leap from the tower at Beaurevoir?

  Joan: I heard that the people of Compiègne were to be put to death, and I would rather have died than live after such a catastrophe. Another reason was that I knew I had been sold to the English, and death was preferable than falling into their hands.

  Questioner: Did your voices advise you to jump?

  Joan: Saint Catherine told me almost every day not to do it, and that God would help both me and the people of Compiègne. And I told Saint Catherine that since God was going to help those people, I wanted to be there. She told me to take all this in good grace, that I would not be freed until I saw the English king. I replied that I did not wish to see him and that I would rather die than fall into the hands of the English.

  Questioner: Did you intend to kill yourself?

  Joan: No, but when I did it, I put myself in God’s hands and really thought that if I jumped I would escape and avoid being turned over to the English.

  Questioner: According to your earlier remarks, after your recovery from the fall you denied and cursed God and His saints.

  Joan: I never denied or cursed God or His saints—then or at any other time…. I have asked only three things of my voices: that I should be freed; that God would help the French and safeguard the towns in their jurisdiction; and that I would save my own soul…. I do not know if I will be delivered from prison or not, but my voices have told me, “Take it all in a good spirit, and do not despair on account of your martyrdom, for you will finally come to the kingdom of heaven.” My voices told me this firmly and simply. And I knew that my martyrdom is the pain and suffering I am undergoing here in prison. I do not know if there will be more to suffer, but I put all my faith in Our Lord.

  Questioner: Do you mean to claim that you are certain of salvation and that you will not be damned?

  Joan: I firmly believe what my voices have told me—that I will be saved—and I know it as firmly as if I were already there. Questioner: Well, then, do you believe that you cannot commit serious sin?

  Joan: I know nothing of that, but I commit myself in all things to God.

  “In her manner, she was very simple and straightforward,” recalled Friar Martin Ladvenu, “but her answers were full of common sense and insight.”

  Twelfth Session: Wednesday Afternoon, March 14

  That afternoon Joan asked to clarify her final response of the morning:

  Joan: I know that I cannot commit sin if I keep the vow and promise I made to Our Lord, that I will keep my virginity of body and soul.

  Questioner: Since you are so certain of being saved, do you think you must confess serious sin?

  Joan: I do not know that I have committed any serious sin, but I believe that Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret would abandon me if I did.

  Questioner: Do you not believe that taking a man prisoner, keeping him for ransom, and then executing him is a mortal sin?

  Joan: I have never done anything like that.

  Questioner: What about the man Franquet d’Arras [a notorious war criminal]?

  Joan: He was a murderer, a thief, and a traitor, and I agreed with the sentence of execution, But his trial lasted two weeks…and I sought to have him exchanged for the Seigneur de l’Ours in Paris. When I learned that he was dead, I said that Franquet d’Arras should be dealt with as justice required….

  Then a list of charges was read: that she had attacked Paris on a religious holiday; that she had stolen a bishop’s horse; that she had thrown herself down from the tower at Beaurevoir; that she had worn and was still wearing male garb; that she agreed to the death of d’Arras. Taken together:

  Questioner: Do you not believe yourself to be in a state of grave sin?

  Joan: I do not believe so—and if I am, it is for God to know it, and for the priest who hears me in confession.

  DESPITE HER INTENSE, unremitting suffering and the psychological strain placed on her, nineteen-year-old Joan of Arc remained remarkably poised and unwavering in the conviction of the state of her soul and the reality of the consolation she received from God.

  At this point it is tempting to imagine that spiritual solace must have canceled her emotional struggle and diminished the effects of her physical agony, but this was not the case. The literature on the topic, from autobiographical accounts to careful studies of lives ancient and modern, reveals that, however we understand it and however intense it may be, a relationship with God does not remove the mystery of suffering. One has only to consider a few obvious examples—the suffering of Jeremiah, the agony of Jesus, the struggles of Buddha, the dark nights of the saints: an experience of God’s nearness does not mean an avoidance of pain; it does, however, provide a path through which suffering may be endured.

  The meaning of suffering for an individual and the reason for the existence of evil in the world may never be satisfactorily explained by philosophers or theologians. But faith provides, for lack of a better term, a coping mechanism: we may trust absolutely that nothing is lost to God, that He knows, embraces and ultimately transforms suffering.

  Is it more comforting to assert the ultimate meaninglessness of life? Is nihilism more consoling than clinging to God in faith, saying, “I do not know, I do not see—but I trust in You, my God”? Does denial of meaning, even when we cannot know it, bring peace and diminish agony? “No matter how deep our darkness, God is deeper still,” Corrie ten Boom wrote from the unimaginable suffering of a Nazi death camp. She was right: God does not preserve us from all suffering, but He does preserve us in all suffering.

  A century before Joan, Julian of Norwich put the matter another way: “God did not say, ‘You will not be tempted, you will not be belabored, you will not be disquieted, you will not suffer’—but He did say, ‘You shall not be overcome.’” That kind of conviction lay at the root of Joan’s faith, enabling her to withstand the gathering storm that rendered her inactive and powerless. In that regard as in others, she takes her place with the great souls whose faith, even in the deepest darkness, must leave us mute with admiration.

  JOAN WAS COMPELLED to reply to the list of charges. As for the bishop’s horse:

  Joan: It was sent back to the bishop as soon as I learned he was displeased—and in any case, the horse was useless for riding.

  About her leap from the tower:

  Joan: I did not do it out of despair but to save my life from the English and to go to the aid of the people of Compiègne. Yes, it was wrong of me to make that jump, and I confessed it later.

  Questioner: Were you given a heavy penance for your sin?

  Joan: The pain of recovery was penance enough. Questioner: Do you not think that jumping was a mortal sin?

  Joan: I do n
ot know—I place myself in Our Lord’s hands.

  And when she was asked again about her male clothes:

  Joan: I wear these clothes at the command of God and in His service, so I cannot believe that I do wrong. When it pleases Him to order me, I shall put them aside.

  Thirteenth Session: Thursday Morning, March 15

  Cauchon had devised a subtle argument by which he expected Joan to condemn herself. If she had said or done anything contrary to the faith of the Church, he asked her, would she not submit to the Church’s judgment of her and correct herself or be corrected? If Joan said she would submit, then everything—her voices and visions, her words and deeds—could be proclaimed sinful. If she would not submit, the outcome was self-evident.

  Joan: I would like my testimony to be examined and studied by priests and scholars, who will tell me if I have done anything contrary to Christian faith. Then I will consult my voices, and if there is anything against the faith, I would not uphold it but would abandon that position at once.

  This seems a contradictory response, but it makes solid sense: Joan says, essentially, “Show me what is unorthodox, and I will confer with my voices, but of course I have no wish to be a heretic.” She maintains a fine balance between intellectual humility and confidence that she has not been led astray; she maintains that there can be no contradiction between the command of God to her and the requirements of faith.

  She was then given a brief lecture on one of the favorite themes of medieval piety, the distinction between the Church Triumphant and the Church Militant. The former term refers to all those who have gone before and are in the glory of heaven with the risen Christ; the latter means the faithful here and now, struggling against sin and evil—and led, it was believed, by the wisdom and holiness of the pope, cardinals, bishops, and clergy. Joan had to submit, she was told, to the judgment of the Church Militant with regard to her claims.

  The argument must have confused her, for she simply replied, “I will not give you any answer right now.” With that, the court announced a recess.

  “They convened long hours of interrogation,” according to Jean Fabri, a bishop and scholar who was present.

  She was always articulate and prudent, no matter how they tired her out. And to everyone’s amazement, she interrupted a notary if he read something incorrect from the record. Once, Manchon went back to consult his notes and he had to admit that Joan was right. He promised he would be more accurate thereafter, and Joan playfully replied that if he made a mistake again, she would pull his ears for him!

  Fourteenth Session: Thursday Afternoon, March 15

  Questioner: Do you believe that God would permit you to escape from prison if you could?

  Joan: I would gladly try to escape from any prison. If I saw a door open, I would go, for that would mean God’s permission—“Help yourself and God will help you!”

  Questioner: You have asked to attend Mass. Don’t you think it would be more appropriate to wear a woman’s dress to Mass? What would you prefer: to wear a dress and go to Mass or keep your man’s clothing and not hear Mass?

  Joan: Promise me that I may go to Mass if I wear a dress, and I will answer you that.

  Questioner: Yes, I promise you.

  Joan: But suppose I have promised God not to take off these garments? Well, make me a long dress for Mass, and after that, I will put these clothes back on.

  Questioner: No, you must wear woman’s clothing, without condition or limitation and forever.

  Joan: I will do that to go to Mass.

  There was a brief pause, and then Joan (perhaps thinking of the danger of changing and of wearing less protective clothing) changed her mind:

  Joan: I beg you to allow me to keep the clothes I have and go to Mass

  Questioner: Will you not submit this and everything else to the judgment of the Church?

  Joan: Everything I have said and done is in God’s hands, and I commit myself to Him alone. I assure you that I would not say or do anything against Christian faith.

  Questioner: Will you submit to Church law?

  Joan: I will say nothing further now. But send me a clerk this Saturday, and what I have to say will be put down in writing.

  Evidently Joan was exhausted at this point, but Cauchon, Beaupère and Le Maître badgered her with further repetitious inquiries about the appearance of the saints and angels in her visions, about the counsel they gave her in battle and about her escape attempts. Finally, she had had enough:

  Joan: I have told you all of this. Look at the record of the last days and you will have your answers.

  Fifteenth Session: Saturday Morning, March 17

  The interrogations on Saturday continued in Joan’s cell, with ever fewer judges and notaries. Cauchon was present, but the questions were asked by others, who also had to take down notes. Also present were Jean Massieu and Isambart de la Pierre.

  Questioner: Will you submit all your words and actions to the judgment of the Church?

  Joan: I love the Church and will support it with all my might for the sake of Christian faith. I refer to my God, who has sent me. I believe that the Church and Our Lord are in union—and you should not make things so difficult for me. As for a judgment on my works, I should not be forbidden to go to Mass.

  Seeing Joan’s aggravated exhaustion, the judges pursued her for several more hours with the same repeated questions about the appearances of her visions and her refusal to put off male apparel. Her answers were no different from before.

  Sixteenth Session: Saturday Afternoon, March 17

  During the final session of the preliminary interrogation, Joan referred her entire case to the pope in Rome, a request that according to the law had to be granted but was not. Instead, the bishops harassed her with questions about her childhood, about the voices, about the propriety of the names of Jesus and Mary on the ring she received from her parents, and on the standard she took into battle.

  Questioner: Why did you bring that standard into the church at

  Reims?

  Joan: It had endured all the trouble—it was only right that it shared in the honors too.

  ON SUNDAY, MARCH 18, and Thursday, March 22, Cauchon summoned Beaupère, Le Maître and other assessors to his residence to prepare the formal Articles of Indictment with which she would be charged. On March 24 Cauchon read a summary of the interrogations to Joan in her prison cell, and she agreed it was correct but for two minor points. The next day was Palm Sunday, and she was invited to attend Mass—if she would wear a dress. She said she would prefer to keep her male attire, and so Cauchon refused her the sacrament.

  The Trial

  The second phase of the trial assembled in a room adjacent to the Great Hall where proceedings had begun.

  First Deliberation: Tuesday, March 27

  About forty assessors gathered, but very few had attended the interrogations in Joan’s cell; thus they heard what she said only as it was reflected in the charges. Joan was brought from her cell and placed in the midst of all. Cauchon began:

  Questioner: The doctors gathered here are all men of the Church, educated in both human and divine law—all of us benevolent and merciful. We want to proceed with gentleness and sympathy, and we demand no punishment against you. We wish only to teach and lead you along the path of salvation.

  Because you are neither literate nor learned in such high matters, you may select one of us to advise you—and if you do not wish to make the choice, we would be happy to give you as many counselors as you wish, who will guide you in your answers.

  Joan: First, I thank you and all here present. But as for your offer of counsel and advice, I have no intention of separating myself from the counsel of God.

  Over the course of two days, March 27 and 28, the seventy Articles of Indictment were read to Joan by the chief prosecutor, Jean d’Estivet, and she was required to respond to each item. She had heard each of them before, as questions put to her during the previous weeks; now, however, they were framed with impu
tations of guilt deriving from falsehoods created by Cauchon and company. Joan’s simple statements about her childhood, for example, and the religious education she received from her mother were twisted into fabrications that she engaged in magic, sorcery and superstition—practices falsely alleged to be widespread in Domrémy, according to the articles.

  Her answers to these indictments repeated precisely what she had said earlier, and she never wavered in her convictions. Many of the seventy articles were themselves repetitious, and each had been put to her before. These are but a few examples from the formal indictment, each of them untrue according to both the facts and her claims; to each charge Joan uttered a simple, firm denial:

  She has been guilty of many wicked practices. She has allowed herself to be idolized, adored, and honored. She has summoned demons and evil spirits and has made covenants with them.

  Her mother was a witch and a sorceress.

  She went to Neufchâteau without her parents’ permission, and there she stayed in a woman’s house and led an immoral life.

  The young man to whom she was engaged refused to marry her because of her immoral life.

  She claimed that she would bear three sons—a pope, an emperor and a king.

  Her refusal to wear woman’s clothing is blasphemous, heretical and a failure in submission to the will of the Church. [This article alone was rephrased and repeated no less than eighteen times.]

  She promised to kill the enemies of the dauphin by magic.

  She discouraged the king of France from making peace and encouraged everyone to butchery and murder.

  Everything she did was achieved under the advice and with the aid of evil spirits.

  She said that God loves the king of the French and hates the English.

  She insists that her voices and her visions come from God, but she is unable to prove it. This reveals that they are demonic.

  At this point one of the assessors interrupted, asking Joan how she prayed most recently; her response has come down to us: