Free Joan: The Mysterious Life of the Heretic Who Became a Saint by Donald Spoto Page B

clergymen’s repetitious discourse. The dauphin too noticed her slight edginess: she gave the impression that she had not come all the way from Domrémy and Vaucouleurs to submit to a theological examination. But rather than taking offense at her ardor, Charles had to admire both her poise and her urgency in the presence of these robed and learned men.
    At this point something quite remarkable emerges about Joan of Arc.
    In her time, clergymen in general and bishops in particular were held in almost mystic regard by ordinary people and by kings and princes. This was not always a sign of piety or even superstition: such obvious reverence was required if one were to obtain the political support of the Church. As in the presence of secular princes, people knelt and kissed the hands and rings of bishops. In England bishops and noblemen were called “my lord,” the same address as in France, where each was “ mon seigneur. ” An attack on a priest was cause for excommunication, and the murder of any cleric brought swift execution. More to the point, the clergy often received a degree of deference that was nearly idolatrous and certainly theologically indefensible.
    Joan was no young rebel, nor did she set herself against the authority or expertise of prelates. But she knew what she knew, and no ecclesiastical orator ever bullied or overawed her. In this regard she always pointed to the unassailable truth of her voices and visions—to the primacy of her conscience, although she never would have used those modern words.
    Joan believed that God had addressed her and entrusted her with the task of liberating Orléans, and she could neither deny nor suppress that experience any more than she could read a letter or translate a document from one language to another. Even had she been able, Joan felt no compulsion to answer the convoluted questions of prelates with clever or high-toned academic replies. With the apostle Paul, she could have insisted, “I am not ashamed—I know the One in whom I believe.” Indeed, her actions spoke for her.

    T HERE REMAINED A final delay—a much longer one, as it happened, although (like her interrogators at Chinon) the questioners, all of them loyal to Charles, were neither hostile nor contemptuous. On Friday, March 11, she was sent on a thirty-mile journey south to Poitiers; there Joan was further examined by a board of theologians charged to confirm her probity and to assure that her views were congruent with (or at least not contradictory to) Church teaching. In addition, her claims to divine inspiration had to be supported by an honorable life and a miraculous sign—which of course was to be the liberation of Orléans, still a future event.
    Friar Séguin, a Dominican professor, was among the benevolent examiners. “She spoke in a most dignified manner,” he recalled, and she said “that a voice told her that God had great pity on the people of France, and that she must go to Vaucouleurs, where she would find a captain who would enable her to go to the king.” Séguin’s impression coincided with that of Albert d’Ourches, a local seigneur, who had said, “I would have been very pleased to have so good a daughter as she.”
    Something of Joan’s humor and spirit comes through in Séguin’s recollections about the examination at Poitiers that March. When he asked her what language her voices spoke, she referred to his native dialect (actually quite distinct from French) and replied, “Better than yours!” Séguin then asked if Joan believed in God: “Better than you!” was her lively riposte. Her impatience made her feisty, and the professors found her mettle refreshing. Asked for a sign—a miracle or a dramatic proof of her godliness—she replied, “In the name of God: I did not come to Poitiers to produce signs.” She paused and then stared at them gravely: “Lead me to Orléans, and I will show you the sign.” The miracle would be the liberation, which she was certain