Stefan's Florilegium

Joan-of-Arc-art

Joan-of-Arc-art - 8/2/99

"Joan of Arc (1412 to 1430): Girl power in the 15th century" by Jan van Seist.

NOTE: See also the files: Isabella-art, Lamoral-art, War-o-t-Roses-art,
Margaret-art, Charlemagne-art, Robin-Hood-msg, Martin-Guerre-art.

************************************************************************
NOTICE -

This article was submitted to me by the author for inclusion in this set
of files, called Stefan's Florilegium.

These files are available on the Internet at:
http://lg_photo.home.texas.net/florilegium/index.html

Copyright to the contents of this file remains with the author.

While the author will likely give permission for this work to be
reprinted in SCA type publications, please check with the author first
or check for any permissions granted at the end of this file.

Thank you,
Mark S. Harris
AKA: Stefan li Rous
stefan@texas.net
RSVE60@risc.sps.mot.com
************************************************************************

Joan of Arc (1412 to 1430): Girl power in the 15th century
By Jan van Seist

Historical background:

Back in the dim dark days of the late 14th century (around about the half-
way mark of the Hundred Years War) Henry V, King of England and John the Double-
Dealing Treacherous Swine, Duke of Burgundy decided to gang up on Charles VI,
King of France. The dynamic duo proved too much for the aged king and he was
forced to sue for peace. Like the war, the case didnıt go his way. Henry took
Bordeaux, Champagne and Catherine (the dotardıs daughter), the Duke of Burgundy
(1) gained contrôle of his own appellation and poor old Charles was left with a
France that was definitely not premier grand cru(2).

The allies threw a big party to celebrate the end of the Fifty Years War
and, just to make absolutely certain that the war was over, they made Charles
declare Catherineıs first-born son his heir. This united the crowns of England
and France and thoroughly miffed the French kingıs eldest son (another Charles).
Charles junior immediately declared himself the Dolphin of France (3) and
gathered to himself the Friends of the French Earth. However, his Save the
Dauphin campaign was no match for the allied armies and it was only the timely
deaths of both Henry V and Charles VI that saved Charles from complete
annihilation. It was at this point, with France at its lowest ebb, that Joan
came to the rescue.

* * *

In many respects, Joan of Arc was your average 15th century teenager. Her
boring formative years were spent in the boring village of Do Remi (4) in boring
Lorraine (5). Her boring father was a boring farmer who no doubt planned a long
and, you guessed it, boring life for her as a farmerıs wife. Unlike your
average teenager though, Joan was able to escape from a fate worse than middle
age (which, incidentally, she also avoided), thanks to two small eccentricities:
one, she preferred chainmail to lace and two, she had direct access to God via
her special friend, St. Binker (6).

The commander of the local garrison, Sir Robert de Baudricourt, was a
loyal, if not particularly active, Dolphinista. Like most of Charles'
commanders, Sir Robertıs successful defence of the utterly insignificant fort
with which he was entrusted was due entirely to his cunning stratagem of keeping
very very quiet and avoiding the English like the plague. He was not impressed
at all when Joan stormed into his office and told him that it was her divine
duty to drive the English into the sea. However, when he finally realised that
all she wanted from him was an old suit of armour and a free ticket to the
dolphinarium, he was happy to oblige and forwarded her to Charles.

The Dolphin was also somewhat surprised by her arrival and (once he had
finally worked out that she was serious and not just a rather odd form of strip-
a-gram) asked her what she wanted. Joan promptly informed him that St. Binker
had told her to liberate Orleans, crown him Charles VII and expel the English
from France. When he stopped laughing, Charles, never one to look a gift saint
in the mouth, presented her with a marshalıs baton (7) and sent her off to renew
Orleans.

The Delphinium forces had been pretending to lay siege to Orleans for
several months by this stage (8). When the commander, Dunois, was informed that
a young girl with the social graces of a puritan fishwife had arrived with
orders to risk his entire army in a suicidal attack on a well-fortified castle,
he ventured the opinion that his lord and masterıs rather tenuous grip on
reality had loosened substantially. However, like the trueborn gentleman he
wasnıt, the Bastard of Orleans hid his chagrin and listened to the lady with
grace, courtesy and more than a little condescension. To his immense surprise
she (or rather, St. Binker) had some damn good ideas.

At this point, it is worth remembering that every single officer in all
three contending armies came from a cavalry background. They had some skill at
wastefully expending infantry soldiers but none whatsoever in the employment of
field artillery. As far as your average 15th century kuh-niggett was
concerned, cannons were big things that went boom and frightened horses.
However, St Binkerıs background was somewhat different (to put it mildly) and
the good saint ordered Dunois to:

- Change the infantryıs war cry, (9)
- Use the artillery to destroy the enemy defences,
- Throw faggots across the moat (10), and
- Use the infantry to storm the castle.

Dunois thought these ideas rather odd but as none of his own had worked
and as Joan (quite rightly) refused to alter St. Binkerıs divine instructions,
he reluctantly decided to give them a go. It was at this point that the war
turned. The commandant of Orleans watched in fascinated horror as his walls
fell down, the surly and incompetent French infantry metamorphosed into a bunch
of bloodthirsty nationalists and his own forces cracked. The garrison, stunned
by the novelty of a genuine assault, surrendered en masse and the commandant was
forced to yield his sword to a psychopathic teenager with an unnerving and
thoroughly unladylike fondness for small axes.

Joan returned to Charles' court to inform him of his first victory and
order him off to Rheims to be crowned(11). The less than enthusiastic Dolphin
objected on the grounds that the whole of Champagne was in enemy hands but St.
Binker insisted, so off he went and, after a few adventures along the way, Joan
managed to get Charles upgraded to King at the Rheims registry office.

I am sorry to say that Joan's achievements did not endear her to her noble
sisters. The ladies of the French court tended to the opinion that dressing up
in armour and disembowelling the English, while admittedly very worthy, was
something best left to the gentlemen(12). Furthermore, the uplifting and highly
personal moral advice, that Joan (at St. Binker's command) distributed freely
and publicly to the ladies she met - irrespective of age or social status ­ was,
regrettably, not always well received by the recipients.

Even more outraged by Joanıs behaviour were the regents of the "rightful"
King of France. As soon as he heard the corks popping in Rheims, the Duke of
Bedford grabbed the nearest Archbishop and made him crown the lad, King Henry VI
(England) and II part I (France) at Paris cathedral. Alas, it was too little
too late. In the coronation stakes it's always been first come best crowned
(especially when king number two can still count his age on his fingers(13)).

Meanwhile, Joan and Charlesı run of success continued and town after town
fell to their forces until, on one fatal day, St. Binker ordered an attack on
Paris. Shortly before the attack, Joan was horrified to discover that she was
not the only "lady" with Bohemian tendencies hanging around the camp. Joan may
have been a Hussite but she had no time for hussies. She personally removed the
baggages from the baggage train and, in the process, broke her sword on a hard-
arsed whore. Now, this wasnıt any old sword. This was Joan's lucky sword: the
one God had left lying behind an altar for her special use. Joan was forced to
lead the assault armed only with her favourite little hatchet, Groin splitter,
and when the attack failed her superstitious royal comrade was not slow to
apportion blame.

Things went from bad to worse. A depressed Joan attempted to butcher a
nearby Burgundian encampment to cheer herself up. The mercenary scum, who knew
a valuable prisoner when they saw one, captured her at great risk to life, limb
and other bits and sold her to the Earl of Warwick.

The Earl (one of the more charming chaps in English history) was faced
with a dilemma. Should he string Joan up from the nearest tree or should he
drag her name through the mud first and then string her up. He eventually
decided on the latter approach and handed her over to his friends in the
Inquisition. Charles VII briefly considered trying to rescue her. However,
when his councillors eloquently compared the advantages of being reunited with
Joan and her rather bossy saint (minus her lucky sword and unbeaten record) with
the disadvantages of having an offended church on the opposition side, he
decided that he had better things to do.

A lot of mean and nasty things have been written about the Inquisition
over the years and it is only fair to point out that in this case they played it
by the book. The inquisitors asked Joan for an explanation of her behaviour and
she told them all about St. Binker. They asked if she could prove this and she
pointed out that just like the legendary St. Snophalophagous (14) he was visible
only to her. This presented a few difficulties for the inquisitors but once it
became clear that Joan was patently guilty of giving direct commands from God a
higher priority than those of his bishops they handed her over to the Earl of
Warwick who tossed her on the braai.

Franceıs most famous briquette did not die in vain. By introducing the
French to the joys of rabid nationalism and field artillery she had levelled the
playing fields(15). When the allies unallied in 1430 (16), the English forces
collapsed, and the Hundred Years War ended in complete victory for the French
(HUZZAH!). Charles VII was the undisputed king of all the bits of France that
the Burgundians hadnıt pinched and Henry VI but no longer IIa was left holding
the English rose (red in his case, white for his cousins). With the war over,
Charles made the conveniently dead Joan a national hero and everyone lived
happily ever after.

1 Johnıs son Philip (sometimes referred to as "the Good" by those who
didnıt have to deal with him). John had been murdered the preceding year by the
good folk of Armagnac who had surprised him plotting with Charles VI's eldest
son Charles. Although nominally loyal to the King of France, the Armagnacs
approved of the recent changes in French geography, as they felt that the loss
of the wine regions would introduce a nobler spirit to the French people.

2 More motley crue to be brutally honest. A very ordinaire kingdom.

3 He believed, with some justification, that he was the most noble, elegant
and highly endangered royal personage in France. One out of three ainıt bad for
a prince.

4 An appalling little town where Viennese nuns roamed the streets forcing
stray children to sing cheerful ditties about warm woollen mittens and brown
paper packages.

5 Contrary to the opinion of the ladies of the harem of the court of his
Cetaceousness, Joan was not an Alsatian bitch.

6 For more information on this rather unusual saint see The Lives of the
Saints by A. A. Milne.

7 Rouge, I believe. Specially jazzed up in deference to her sex.

8 Dunois' views on strategy at this time were similar to Sir Robert's.

9 from: "fight valiantly but donıt hurt the noblemen because the boss wants
their ransoms" to: "kill the English scum and #$@% the consequences".

10 This step seems a little queer but given the success of the attack we can
only assume that the saint knew what he was doing.

11 Joan had been told that you couldnıt have a coronation without champagne
and, not being familiar with court functions, she had made an endearing and
entirely typical mistake.

11 For some reason, Joanıs attempt to prove her femininity by challenging the
royal court to a knitting contest only made things worse.

12 Or, in the less than intellectual Henryıs case, have his age counted for
him on his fingers.

13 The patron saint of the large yellow phoenix that dwells in the street of
the sesame sellers.

14 Among other things.

15 Enabling Philip the Extra Sneaky, Duke of Burgundy to retain his earlier
winnings and to grab a few extra bits from the English.

---
Copyright 1998 by Dr. Ian van Tets
Zoology department,
University of Cape Town,
Rondebosch, 7701
Republic of South Africa

Permission granted for republication in SCA-related publications, provided the
author is credited and receives a copy.

If this article is reprinted in a publication, I would appreciate a notice in
the publication that you found this article in the Florilegium. I would also
appreciate an email to myself, so that I can track which articles are being
reprinted. Thanks. -editor.

<the end>