Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Joan of Arc #5: According to Shakespeare, et al.

Mark Twain’s depiction of Joan of Arc in Personal Recollections is clearly that of a saint. While his view prevails in the Church, it is by no means universally accepted. In fact, it has been hotly debated ever since Joan emerged as a public figure and leader in the Hundred Years War (1337-1453).

Her French patriots, like Christine de Pizan, celebrated Joan as a heroine sent by God. Meanwhile, Joan’s English enemies, including William Shakespeare, set about demonizing her. Though centuries have passed, modern characterizations of Joan are no less disparate. Few today are outright hostile, but many are quick to write Joan off as a lunatic or an impostor. 

What is clear, is that Joan of Arc continues to capture the imagination of generations of people. Her story, though set in the Middle Ages, tugs at the heartstrings of society and plays on the moral conscience of Christians and non-Christians alike.

In order to draw my students deeper into an investigation of Joan’s life, we take a look at a handful of contending views.

A Glowing Contemporaneous View

Christine de Pizan’s poem The Song of Joan of Arc, written in 1429 while Joan was in the height of defeating the English in battle, offers a glowing view of her. As a fellow country(wo)man, it is no wonder de Pizan embraces Joan’s image as the Maid of Heaven. Totaling 61 stanzas in all, it offers seemingly endless praise of Joan while following a chronology of her life in the public eye.

A Hostile Contemporaneous View

William Shakespeare’s Henry VI: Part I (1591) presents a very interesting albeit factually inaccurate characterization of Joan. It represents a view of her from the English side, little over a century after her death. Naturally, the English preferred to think of Joan as a religious fraud; otherwise, it would seem that God was their enemy in the Hundred Years War.

Shakespeare’s depiction of Joan fits this viewpoint, calling her a “witch” and even a “whore” at different points in the play. When Joan first arises on the scene, she is a dynamic figure, full of strength and charisma at the head of the French military. As the play progresses to her trial, Joan falters to such an extent that she uses the pretext of being pregnant as a last resort to save her from being put to death.

Shakespeare presents this highly falsified image to discredit Joan’s persona as the “Virgin Maid.” By the end of the play, he has completely stripped Joan of her dignity and justified her condemnation and death.

An Inspiring Modern View

Sierra Pictures’ movie Joan of Arc (1949), starring Ingrid Bergman, offers another favorable view of Joan. It begins with her accepting a divine calling from God to save the French from the cruel hands of the English, then shows her triumphal leadership in battle, and concludes with her unjust condemnation and cruel death at the fiery stake. There is no question this film depicts Joan as a saint truly called by God.

A Neutral Modern View

Alliance Film’s movie Joan of Arc (1999) is the most modern view of Joan that I look at with students. While it shows her religious devotion, it stops short of presenting her as a saint. Instead, it hedges between characterizing her as a selfless servant of God on the one hand versus a prideful religious fanatic on the other.

The movie follows the typical order, beginning with Joan’s religious calling back in her hometown of Domremy, transitioning into her military command, and concluding with her trial and condemnation. It is a well done movie that provokes many questions not only about who Joan really was but also about modern society’s growing secularization. 

Take Away for Students

Just as there is no consensus in the world about who Joan of Arc really was, there never ends up being a consensus in my classroom. That is not because they don’t generally all agree she was saint. Rather, their disagreement has more to do with subtle nuances related to her personality and character.

Was she always gentle-natured? Or did she have a temper? Was she a model of humility? Or did her ego flare up from time to time?

Much less concerned do they end up being about the precise words she uttered when, say, she raised the siege of Orleans or spoke to the Dauphin at his coronation. These details, they realize, are distant background in the picture of what makes Joan a saint.

In the next post, I am going to describe a number of reading, writing, and rhetorical exercises I do with the class that help them wrestle with the many questions that arise in the course of our study. 

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Joan of Arc #4: According to SLC

Samuel Langhorne Clemens, hereafter Mark Twain, tells a captivating, historically accurate version of Joan of Arc’s life in his Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc. As a storyteller first and historian second, he plays with fact and fiction in all sorts of ways to entertain the reader and guide him through an investigation into the Truth of Joan’s life, something my class calls construction of memoir.

He does this primarily through his narrator, Sieur Louis de Conte, and two other characters. Each represent distinct historical renderings who Joan was.

Sieur Louis de Conte – Sincere Historian

The fictitious character of Sieur Louis de Conte is Joan’s lifelong friend and confidante. His unique relationship with Joan allows him to narrate the story from the perspective of an eyewitness. For example, Twain places Sieur Louis off in the shadows during one of Joan’s heavenly visions. He appoints Sieur Louis to the position of page and secretary when Joan assumes military command of the French army. Finally, he even gives Sieur Louis a front row seat as a scribe during her trial and condemnation in an ecclesiastical court controlled by the English.

His presence at these key periods makes him the perfect person to describe the “real” Joan. Indeed, Sieur Louis’s narration continually reminds the reader that he was there to see things with his own eyes. He even goes so far as to swear under oath that he is truthfully testifying to Joan’s life just as it was.

Behind this feigned presence, however, Twain masterfully tells another story, a story about the construction of memoir in all its possibilities and limitations. He offers subtle clues throughout the text that he believes Joan was really called by God. Yet, he continually admonishes the reader to make their own determination and to be skeptical of even first-hand accounts such as Sieur Louis’s. In fact, Twain cleverly warns the reader there is more to Sieur Louis than what meets the eye. Not only is he Joan’s confidante, but he is also Twain’s alter-ego.

It is no coincidence that Twain’s real name, Samuel Langhorne Clemens, carries the same initials as Sieur Louis de Conte. Nor is it accidental that “conte” means “story” in French, thereby symbolizing Twain’s ultimate hand in the writing of Joan’s memoir. In this way, Twain readily acknowledges the inevitable insertion of the author into the construction of memoir, something most memoirs often ignore in an attempt to sound objective even when they could not possibly be so.

Twain’s voice through the character of Sieur Louis seems to whisper between the lines, “Believe in Joan’s spiritual calling because you have sincerely questioned it, not because you believe my sincerity in describing it.”

Edmond Aubrey, “The Paladin” – Misguided Historian

Edmond Aubrey, whom Twain ironically nicknames “The Paladin,” is also a fictitious character. He, too, knew Joan during her childhood and joined her military campaign, eventually becoming her standard bearer.

Aubrey delights in his nickname because it likens him to one of Charlemagne’s legendary knights. Thanks to his large ego, however, he is unable to see his sublime inferiority to them. Back in Domremy, he boasts to Joan and others of wanting to join the French war effort but must later be forcibly dragged off to do so. Once enlisted, he tells stories of his fearless magnificence in battle when, in reality, he continually seeks retreat. He even tells of being present at major events in Joan’s life, such as her first audience with King Charles, simply to give himself greater status.     

Like Sieur Louis, the Paladin weaves his story into that of Joan’s. Unlike Sieur Louis, though, the Paladin wants some of her glory and unabashedly lies to attain it. His distortions, however, are given playfully and without the intent of wounding Joan’s image. For him, lying is a type of innocent compulsion. He simply cares more for himself than her—at least at first.

The Paladin eventually undergoes a dramatic character transformation because of Joan. She tells him, “Of old you were a fantastic talker, but there is a man in you, and I will bring it out” (97). At last, he gains the courage he so long talked of and even dies in battle trying to protect Joan.

The Paladin is much like any of Joan’s historians who rejected her religious calling at first. Their conversion requires sincere, personal reflection alongside serious historical analysis. Like the Paladin, those historians were simply misguided at first and unable to place their faith in anyone or anything but themselves.

Pierre Cauchon – False Historian

Pierre Cauchon, Bishop of Beauvais, stands alone in Twain’s three representations of historians in that he is the only one who really existed. His corrupt leadership role in Joan’s trial of condemnation is well-documented as is his designation as a heretic in her posthumous trial of rehabilitation some twenty years later.

Cauchon’s singular goal was to find Joan guilty of heresy. He spent day after day of her five-month-long trial twisting her words, fabricating information, and altering court proceedings to suit his designs.

Twain clearly disrespected Cauchon and the false construction of Joan he proliferated. Through the voice of Sieur Louis, Twain calls him various insulting epithets such as “pig” and “bastard of Satan” (284, 224).  He even condemns Cauchon to Hell countless times.

There is little doubt Twain was disgusted by hypocritical men like Cauchon who feigned to represent Truth. Instead, Cauchon served his own self-interest and unremorsefully sentenced an innocent girl to death. Through Personal Recollections, Twain reminds the reader that even though men like Cauchon will always exist, men like Sieur Louis and the Paladin will nonetheless rise up to challenge them as well.

We’ll look at some of the types of historical constructions Twain was symbolically referencing in the next post.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Joan of Arc #3: According to Mark Twain

Joan of Arc’s story has been told and retold a seemingly endless number of times. Since the dramatic highlights differ in each telling and even the facts of her life tend to vary, it is hard to single out one story above the rest, that is—until you read Mark Twain’s Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc. In order to understand what makes his version so special, we have to start with background on his interest in Joan’s life.

Mark and Joan — Unlikely “Friends”

Samuel Langhorne Clemens, more commonly known as Mark Twain, developed an interest in Joan of Arc by what he would have us think was a type of divine intervention. In 1849, during his early days working as a printer in Hannibal, Missouri, he claims to have grabbed a sheet of paper blowing in the wind while he was walking about the streets one day.

His curiosity piqued as he began reading about a French country maiden unjustly imprisoned in Rouen. The page, as it turned out, was from a history of Joan of Arc, someone whom Clemens alleges he previously had never heard of. Thus began his lifelong interest in learning as much about Joan’s history as possible. His biographer, Albert Bigelow Paine, refers to this episode as a “turning point” in Clemens’s life after which he gained an ever increasing appetite to learn about History.

Portrait of Mark Twain
by Mathew Brady,
February 1871

Clemens dedicated twelve years of research plus two years of writing to Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, though this did not ensue until much later in his career after he had already made a name for himself publishing such works as Huckleberry Finn. By that point, he was world-renowned for his unique “brand” of writing, and his general dislike of religious organizations—despite having been raised a Presbyterian—was well-known.

His decision to publish a historical biography on a Catholic saint would defy expectations and possibly hinder the success of his work. Recognizing this and fearful his work would not be reviewed on its own merits, he initially published the work as a year-long serial in Harper’s Magazine under the alias of “Sieur Louis de Conte.” This nom de plume, however, fooled very few, and Clemens’s concerns played out just as he had worried.

Reviews were harsh. The Boston Literary World criticized Twain for using modern, American idioms in a story set in fifteenth century France. Similarly, the Brooklyn Eagle said Joan’s characterization was that of “a nice little American girl of the mid-nineteenth century.” The New York Bachelor of Arts took its criticism a step further, saying Clemens turned “into a prosy, goody-goody writer of Sunday-school tales in his old age.” The criticisms got more personal from there, with one reviewer lamenting, “Mark Twain as a historical novelist is not at his best.”

Clemens was sorely disappointed. He had hoped readers would glean a better, more accurate understanding of the historical icon whom he had come to revere. Instead, he had become the focus.  

Nevertheless, Clemens felt Personal Recollections was the best of his works. It seems his feelings are shared by the masses who have purchased and read his work in the hundred-and-some-odd years since its initial publication. Such is often the case with classics. Time is the only real critic that matters in the end.

Conclusion

So why did Clemens dedicate so much time to learning about Joan of Arc and risk his career in the telling of her life? Of course the reasons are many, so we need only state the obvious. He not only liked her but also believed in her story at some level. What’s more, he felt it important to share Joan’s story with the world.

Although his critics saw Personal Recollections as a departure from his other works like Huckleberry Finn, I beg to differ. Joan, albeit a saint in her afterlife, was a firestorm in life much like Huck. Both defied social conventions and suffered great injustices for the sake of others. Moreover, just as Huck unwittingly fought against the tyranny of slavery, Joan unwittingly fought against the tyranny of a corrupted Church and State alliance.

In both works, Clemens tugs at the moral conscience of society. He challenges his readers to question the world they live in and make their own judgements about right and wrong, good and evil, justice and injustice, truth and falsehood. And that is precisely why Personal Recollections is such a powerful story for students and why it works for so well as the foundation for an investigation into Joan’s life.

We’ll take a closer look Clemens’s perspective, given through the eyes of his narrator Sieur Louis de Conte in the next post.  

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Joan of Arc #2: A Basic History

To call this a “basic” history of Joan of Arc is a misnomer as there is nothing basic about her life. I thought about calling it an “objective” history, but that would be misleading as well because my bias in her favor certainly creeps in.

In any event, the point I am trying to get across in this post is that there are some generally accepted ideas about Joan that can serve as the starting point for trying to get to know who she really was. I have composed my own short biography of her, which draws these together. 

I share it with students at the beginning of our study unit. It’s kind of a spoiler, but since Joan is a historical figure as well as a literary character, I prefer to have everyone on the same page about what is going to happen and to point out aspects of her life that remain in question. 

The “Basics”  –  With Some Bias

Joan of Arc (1412-1431) was born in the small French village of Domremy. She was called Jehanne among her people and only later called Jehanette as she became a public figure. Like the other girls from her village, Joan tended sheep, sewed, spun,and was illiterate. She likely would have married and raised a family had her life not taken a dramatic turn at the age of thirteen.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel (Joan of Arc Series: I), c. 1907-early 1909

According to Joan, a voice from God came to her cloaked in a great light. She was terrified at first but opened her heart to its message. The voice, which she learned was that of Saint Michael, instructed Joan in how to govern her life according to God’s will. He told Joan that Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret would guide her through a special mission, a mission to save France from its English enemies in what would later be called the Hundred Years War (1337-1453).

As predicted, Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret appeared to Joan two or three times a week. They instructed her in what was necessary for her mission and urged her to begin.

Joan was reluctant to leave her simple life, but she dutifully obeyed. At the age of sixteen, she set out to meet Robert de Baudricourt, the military leader at nearby Vaucouleurs. Despite his grave misgivings about Joan’s calling, de Baudricourt provided her with military escort to the uncrowned king of France, just as her saintly mentors had foretold.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel, (Joan of Arc Series: II), Her Appeal to the Dauphin, 1906

Joan thus set off for Chinon in February 1429 where she gained an audience with the dubious King Charles VII. After some playful foolery at Joan’s expense, she sufficiently authenticated her divine mission by allegedly revealing knowledge of a secret between the king and God. Charles was captivated.

As a precaution, he then had Joan examined by Church officials who maintained she was of sound mind and soul. With that additional assurance, Charles made Joan the supreme commander of the French military.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel, The Maid in Armor on Horseback (Joan of Arc series: III), c. 1908-late 1909

It is unclear whether Charles truly believed in Joan’s calling or instead hoped to capitalize on it by gaining a type of religious mascot for the war. Moreover,the extent of her true military leadership is also debated, but tradition holds that Joan did in fact gain significant prestige in the royal court and at least some authority in war councils and on the battlefield.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel, The Turmoil of Conflict (Joan of Arc series: IV), c. late 1909-early 1913

In any event, Joan’s military tenure was brief but glorious. She raised the siege of Orleans in just nine days and had several other swift victories against the English that paved the way for the politically important coronation of Charles in Rheims.

With these victories, Joan’s status surpassed that of Charles himself. France was on fire for “the Maid,” and England was beside itself at how to combat her momentum. She was a polarizing figure. On the French side, Joan was viewed as God’s handmaiden. On the English, she was seen as a heretic and a witch.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel, The Crowning at Rheims of the Dauphin (Joan of Arc series: V), 1907

After his coronation, Charles made an unexpected truce with the Duke of Burgundy, an ally of the English, to obtain Paris peacefully. Though Joan cautioned against this truce, Charles moved forward with it anyway believing it more politically expedient than sending Joan to take the city by force. His decision effectively removed Joan’s military power at the height of its strength and momentum, and much of her army disbanded.

Joan was caught in a precarious situation. She was too valuable to be allowed to return home but reduced to little more than a puppet in court. Charles still permitted Joan to fight in small skirmishes, but those lacked any major strategic objective.

With Joan’s army diminished, the Duke of Burgundy slyly built up forces in Paris and betrayed the truce. On May 23, 1430, Joan’s small army was overpowered by his forces at Compiegne. She was captured in battle, taken prisoner, and sold to the English. For reasons that remain unclear, Charles made no effort to pay her ransom.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel, The Trial of Joan of Arc (Joan of Arc series: VI), c. late 1909-early 1910

Joan was put on trial before an English-backed ecclesiastical court at Rouen, Normandy, run by the corrupt Bishop of Beauvais, Pierre Cauchon. There was little chance Joan would have a fair trial. From the beginning, it was obvious the court’s soul intention was to find Joan guilty of heresy. Her trial began on January 9, 1431; she was found guilty of heresy on May 24; and she was burned at the stake on May 30. She was nineteen years old.

Her trial did not end there, however. In 1452, Pope Callixtus III reopened Joan’s trial at the request of her mother in what has become known as Joan’s trial of rehabilitation or nullification. Its goal was to reexamine the authenticity of Joan’s calling. On July 7, 1456, the court reversed the earlier ruling and found Joan was innocent of all charges and had therefore died a martyr. Pierre Cauchon was named a heretic instead for leading a sham trial.

Joan’s spiritual calling was thereby authenticated once and for all, and popular tradition held she was a saint. On May 16, 1920, Joan was formally canonized as such by the Catholic Church.

Conclusion

The Church’s opinion is what prevails in my classroom, but it is not necessarily what prevails in the world. There are many conflicting views of who Joan was, and I am very upfront with my students that they are free to come to their own conclusions. To advance that objective, we begin with a very in-depth study of Mark Twain’s Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, which is the focus of the next two posts.

Images Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art, Washington

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Joan of Arc #1: Introduction

My grandmother gave my brothers and sisters and I many saints books when we were little. I loved to flip through them. I would read the stories and gaze at the pictures, always wondering how much was true. Did Saint Francis really talk to animals? Did God really give Saint Lucy a new pair of eyes when hers were plucked out?

Now as a teacher, I find my students asking the same questions, and the truth is that I really don’t know any better today than I did when I was little girl. It is extremely hard to draw the line between fact and fiction, legend and history when it comes to the saints. To deny a single aspect of their story can feel tantamount to a loss of faith. Likewise, to accept it all can feel absurdly naïve.

So, how does one reconcile these extremes? The short answer is—we can’t. We have to accept our own limitations and make room for any apparent contradictions in reality. After all, that’s what faith is all about. 

The trouble is, that answer is terribly unsatisfactory, especially for a child. For that reason, I have tried to develop a framework for students to decide for themselves what they can and want to legitimately believe.

In this series, I am going to show how I use that framework for my class’s study of Saint Joan of Arc, a peasant-turned-soldier who played a critical role in the French victory over the English during the Hundred Years War and ultimately died a brutal martyr’s death at the fiery stake.

Like so many saints, questions abound as to who Joan really was: a devout Catholic, a crazed lunatic, or something else entirely. Perhaps the world will never know, but we can certainly try to find out by comparing and questioning the myriad of stories about her.

Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington
Luc Olivier Merson, Joan of Arc Hearing the Voices (1895)

My class does this by drawing together the history of the Hundred Years War, Mark Twain’s Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, along with several other great literary works and spiritual reflections. Thus, this study cuts across Religion, History, and Literature.

As pointed out in the last post, saints like Joan of Arc make for illuminating case studies across disciplines. Joan, fascinating in her own right, reveals so much more than the life of a single individual. She is also a model of the time in which she lived as well as a leader for countless future generations. 

In subsequent posts, I will present a basic summary of the life of Joan of Arc, followed by a breakdown of Mark Twain’s depiction both as an author and a narrator. Then, I will summarize several other popular stories about Joan that have arisen over the years. Finally, I will share the methods I use to help students make sense of these various characterizations of her.

By the end, I hope you will feel like you really know Joan of Arc and the world she lived in, even if aspects of her life remain a mystery.

Image courtesy of the National Gallery of Art, Washington.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Studying Our Saints: The All-Star Team

The lives of the saints offer some of my favorite teaching material, and not just for Religion class. They also figure prominently in History, and we read their biographies in Literature. As my good friend and former colleague, Mary Pat Donoghue explains below, the saints are integral to Catholic education and should be studied across the curriculum. What follows are her words.

If it is true to its tradition and nature, Catholic education is marked by a natural integration across all disciplines. This is not a trendy approach but one that finds its roots in Him whom John’s Gospel calls the Logos—all things were created through Him; all things were created for Him; in Him all things cohere.

This integration demands that our approach to knowledge include a broad array of elements from a diverse set of sources. When we seek to form our children in their Catholic faith, we wish to immerse them in a fullness of tradition, encompassed by the Communion of Saints. There are a few reasons why this is so.

Historical Witness

The lives of the saints offer us a window into historical events and the time and culture in which they took place. One cannot fully understand, say, the split from the Catholic Church caused by King Henry VIII’s refusal to submit to Church doctrine without the brave example of St. Thomas More who went to his death “The King’s good servant, but God’s first.”

In the New World, the lives and experiences of St. Juan Diego in Mexico and St. Kateri Tekakwitha in the Canadian wilderness shed light on the brutal conditions at the time and the courageous witness of those whose faith pointed to a deeper reality.

Guiding Lights

Children understand this better as they are instinctively drawn to people, characters, and figures that populate their favorite worlds. Kids don’t just love baseball; they have favorite players whose stats they memorize and whose cards they collect. Their love will transcend time, including today’s stars like Bryce Harper, Mike Trout, and Miguel Cabrera, but also the legends like Jackie Robinson, Babe Ruth, and Mickey Mantle.

Unlike baseball legends whose talents most of us will never match, the saints reveal a path through this world to the next—a way that we call “holiness.” As there are myriad saints, there are myriad ways to sojourn through this world.

Cultivators of the Moral Imagination

It’s important to encourage children to become friends with the saints. Perhaps their imagination will be captured by St. Sebastian’s brave martyrdom, St. Clare’s radical flight from a life of comfort to holy poverty, or the simple faith of St. Bernadette Soubirous. Some will find comfort in the mental struggles of St. Benedict Labre and the physical weakness that marked the life of St. Therese of Lisieux.

The lives of the saints—including their failures and successes—can be a critical component in forming the moral imagination of our children. This, in turn, is a critical step in forming our children for lives structured around moral and ethical principles.

The lives of the saints are part of the treasure box that is the Catholic tradition. We must share these treasures with our students, not just because they are innately good, but because they are the birthright of our children.

Mary Pat Donoghue currently serves as the Executive Director of the Secretariat of Catholic Education at the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. Previously, Mary Pat was the Director of School Programs for the Institute for Catholic Liberal Education, where she traveled the country consulting with schools, parishes, and dioceses on deepening the Catholic tradition in their programs. Her years in Catholic education began at St. Jerome Academy in Hyattsville, MD, where she served as teacher, vice principal, and then principal, leading the school from near-closure to stability and growth through the implementation of Catholic liberal arts curriculum.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Chaucer on Marriage #5: The Role of Obedience

If the word obedience conjures images of a slave-driving taskmaster or a yardstick-wielding nun, you’re in good company. That’s what most of us picture. My students, who still have their child-like respect for age and authority, immediately see obedience as a sign of servitude in an unequal relationship. So used are they to taking orders, it takes some time to unpack what obedience is really all about and how Chaucer wants us to understand it in his “Marriage Set.”

We begin by looking at a definition offered by the Venerable Fulton Sheen in his book, The World’s First Love (Ignatius Press, 2010).

Venerable Fulton Sheen

Obedience does not mean the execution of orders by a drill sergeant. It springs, rather, from the love of an order, and love of Him who gave it. The merit of obedience is less in the act than in the love; the submission, the devotion, and the service that obedience implies are not born of servitude but are rather effects that spring from and are unified by love. Obedience is servility only to those who have not understood the spontaneity of love” (103).

My class spends about half a period annotating the passage and practicing copia with it. Once we’ve gained a basic understanding of what Sheen is saying, then we test his definition first against the Bible stories described in the last post and then against Chaucer’s “Marriage Set.”

We do this as a discourse, which is another word for Socratic discussion. Though I write out scripted questions for each story, we often stray from them considerably. Our only real rule is that we have to talk about the stories themselves and not personal anecdotes or hypothetical scenarios. Otherwise, we would jump all over the place and not really accomplish much. I use the following script as a starting point.

Bible Story Discourse Questions

Adam and Eve—Breakdown of Obedience

Were Adam and Eve slaves to God? If not slaves, then what were they? How does free will factor into their relationship with Him? What definition of obedience did the Devil trick them into believing? How does this definition lead them (and us) astray?

Mary and Joseph—Restoration of Obedience

How about Mary and Joseph? Did God “order” them to mother and father His Son? Or did He will it, and were they freely in agreement? Do you think Joseph and Mary “bossed” Jesus around? How else might they have wielded their authority over Him? What do you think their family life looked like?

The Wedding at Cana—Fulfillment of Obedience

Do you think Mary loved having her Son perform His first miracle at the Wedding at Cana? What must have been hard for her? What must have made her will it so? How is this connected to Sheen’s definition of obedience?

“Marriage Set” Discourse Questions

The Wife of Bath’s Tale—Distortion of Obedience

What kind of relationship do her characters, the Knight and the Old Hag, demonstrate throughout the story? Is it one based on love? Is it based on something else—like what? Should the Knight have “obeyed” the Old Hag? What is his “obedience” based on? What definition of obedience emerges from the story? How is it similar to and different than Sheen’s?

The Clerk’s Tale—Distortion of Obedience

What kind of relationship do his characters, the Marquis and Griselda, demonstrate throughout the story? Is it one based on love? Is it based on something else—like what? Should Griselda have “obeyed” the Marquis? What is her “obedience” based on? What definition of obedience emerges from the story? How is it similar to and different than Sheen’s?

The Franklin’s Tale—Restoration of Obedience

What kind of relationship do his characters, Dorigen, Aurelius, and Arviragus, demonstrate throughout the story? Is it one based on love? Is it based on something else—like what? What constitutes a real promise? Should all promises be “obeyed” equally? What definition of obedience emerges from the story? How is it similar to and different than Sheen’s?

Conclusion

By the end of our discourse, the students have a very different understanding of obedience than what they started with. They generally believe Sheen’s definition is correct—true obedience is born of love for God and His will.

Children are called to obey their parents because their parents are called to obey God. Likewise, husbands and wives are called to obey one another because they are each called to obey God. As long as each individual is following God’s will, they will have a spiritual equality, even if their earthly status is disparate and their respective roles are different.

Thus, the challenge is to accept God’s will with love, just as Mary did. That is hard when it seems to conflict with what we want. For that reason, children and parents, husbands and wives mess up from time to time and fall into disharmony. But that does not mean we should become the caricatures of the Wife of Bath or the Clerk. We are called to something higher, something more akin to the Franklin but higher still. We are called to be part of the Holy Family.

And that’s the hidden wisdom of Chaucer’s “Marriage Set.” While his jokes and needling seem anything but theological, they are actually grounded in beautiful Church teachings.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Chaucer on Marriage #4: Discourse through Time

The picture of an ideal marriage that emerges from The Canterbury Tales is one based on mutual love and respect between husband and wife. My students are initially inclined to think that view the most progressive. After all, it was heralded by the Franklin, who stands out as a “modern” man. Likewise, it seems to correspond with contemporary views of equality between men and women.

But, a careful reading of Biblical marriage stories reveals this view to be ageless. Of course that does not mean it has always been practiced, but that is a different matter.

Adam and Eve

Our first Bible story about marriage comes from Adam and Eve. In Genesis 2:18-25, we learn that a husband and wife become “one flesh” when they get married, meaning they are united in a common purpose, and that purpose is to know, love, and obey God.

Herein lies a central point, God is the third Person in a marriage. This might make more sense if we conceptualize marriage as a triangle with God on the top and the husband and wife on the protruding angles. As the husband and wife grow closer to God, so too do they grow closer to one another. Likewise, the husband and wife are bound to one another as they are bound to God. If a husband must obey God, then he also must obey his wife. If a wife must obey God, then she must also obey her husband.

Adam and Eve, like so many of us, struggle on this front. As soon as they disobey God and eat of the forbidden fruit, they experience separation not only from God but from one another. Sure, their marriage union continues, but it is no longer perfect. In a sense, we have them to thank for the Wife of Bath’s tale and the Clerk’s tale, which depict such unequal marriage partnerships.

Mary and Joseph

Thank goodness for Mary and Joseph! They renew the meaning of marriage and reveal what it and, by extension, a model family should look like. In a word, it is all about obedience. Mary shows complete obedience to God’s will by accepting Christ as her Son. Likewise, Joseph shows complete obedience to God’s will by accepting Christ as his foster-son.

In their unique family, we can picture God Incarnate, who is Christ, at the top of the triangle with Mary and Joseph on either side. Here, husband and wife grow closer to Him and to one another in perfect harmony. Yet amazingly, Christ humbles Himself and shows obedience to his mother and foster-father. Certainly, if a child ever lived who did not need to obey his parents, it would be Jesus. After all, He is omnipotent and omniscient and thus not bound to obey anyone. Nevertheless, Christ made Himself a model of obedience to show us how to behave. This is one of the key take-aways for my students.

Thanks to the pure union of Mary and Joseph, we also have a model family with Christ as its Master and Servant. Thus, we learn that God wants marriages and family life to be based on serving one another, which comes from obedience first and foremost to God. Only in that way can any family member exercise authority.

Wedding at Cana

The Wedding at Cana (John 2:1-12) is perhaps the most famous wedding in the world. Its storyline is well known. Mary and Jesus attend a wedding together. Mary notices the wine is running low and does not want the host to suffer embarrassment. She asks Jesus to do something.

He hesitates, not because He is unsure of His power or contemplating disobeying his Mother. Rather, He wants to make sure Mary knows that she is asking Him to begin His public ministry which will result in His crucifixion. Mary knows, and out of love for all Humanity consents once again to the suffering tied to being the Mother of God. Jesus then turns water into wine and thereby performs His first miracle.

Hence we see Mary and Jesus serving the wedding party and its guests, even at great cost to themselves. Why do they do this? Of course it is out of love, but it is also out of obedience to God’s will. God asks them to take up the Cross, and they willingly obey.

Comparative Views

So while the “Marriage Set” focuses on the idea of who should rule, the Bible stories emphasize who should obey. In many regards, these ideas are two sides of the same coin, which we will look at more closely in the next post. For now, the quick answer is that husband and wife should rule together in obedience to one another. Maybe that sounds modern; maybe that sounds archaic. By the end of our study, the class generally agrees it sounds eternal.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Chaucer on Marriage #3: Characters and Caricatures

Imagine going on a long journey with complete strangers. If you’re lucky, you’ll make a few friends along the way and manage to put up with everyone else. It’s likely that some number of your companions would get under your skin and perhaps even try to goad you into talking about sensitive subjects like religion and politics. Perhaps your self-control and courtesy would prevail, and you would manage to avoid getting drawn into anything too contentious.

Or, you might be like the Wife of Bath, the Clerk, and the Franklin from The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer. On their pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas Becket, they end up needling one another about what a good marriage looks like, and they simply can’t drop the subject. They end up telling stories to “prove” why their view is correct and the others’ are wrong. Put differently, their stories become a proxy for their argument, which ends up being pretty comical when one thinks about the characters as caricatures.

So what is a caricature in a literary sense? Much like the boardwalk picture version, it’s an exaggerated depiction of someone. But instead of making a pronounced nose downright humungous, Chaucer takes a notable character trait like bossiness and makes it tyrannical or patience and makes it pathetic. As such, his pilgrims are extreme versions of different “types” of people.

The Wife of Bath

The Wife of Bath is one of the most famous characters from the story, not least because Chaucer makes her so loud and dominating. Once we meet her, we simply can’t ignore her. She is an older lady of means and leisure, notably traveling without a male escort. Her independence of mind and spirit matches her financial independence, which was gained from having outlived five husbands. She touts her marriages as a sign of her experience and knowledge on the subject, no doubt upsetting some of the other pilgrims who feel she is really a shallow gold-digger.

Taking their sideways looks as envy rather than criticism, the Wife of Bath brazenly launches into a story entitled, “The Unknown Bride,” which unfolds as a critique of husbands and commendation of wives. We can only imagine how annoyed the other pilgrims are as she tells an absurd tale about a shameful Knight of King Arthur’s court who, in order to save himself from the death sentence, must find out what women want most in the world.

Just as the term of his search is about to expire, he meets an Old Hag who promises to tell him the answer if he will promise to grant her the first thing she asks when he is released from the death sentence. Desperate, the Knight agrees, and he learns the secret wish of all woman is to rule over their husbands. Queen Guinevere, who presides over the Knight’s case, acknowledges this to be true and therefore sets the Knight free.

But wait—the Old Hag marshals her claim on his life and demands that he marry her!

Utterly disgusted at the thought, the Knight nonetheless agrees, presumably both to keep his word and to save his life. On their wedding night, the Old Hag turns to her distraught husband and asks, “Would you rather have me old and poor and homely and come of common folk, but a faithful, loving wife; or, perchance, young and rich and handsome and of high birth, but careless of your love and maybe false to you?”

The Knight reluctantly accepts the wisdom of her words, contents himself in the match, and suddenly finds the Old Hag transformed into a fair damsel. Thus, they live happily ever after—albeit with the wife ruling over the husband.

The Wife of Bath emerges from the tale a complex caricature of many negative wifely traits that persist today. She’s a boss, a know-it-all, and a nag all in one. Though she thinks she is superior to men—even in wisdom and virtue—she is quite obviously self-centered and worldly.

The Clerk

The Clerk is among those pilgrims disgusted with the Wife of Bath. Much younger, not to mention poorer and inexperienced in love, he nonetheless feels himself her intellectual superior. After all, he is an Oxford student who would rather fill his mind with books than fill his tummy with food. Alas, he appears “as shy as a young wife” when asked to tell the next story. Really, however, he can’t wait to set the Wife of Bath straight by telling a better marriage story, one that he learned from no less than Francis Petrarch.

The Clerk’s tale is called, “The Patient Griselda,” and it directly contrasts the Wife of Bath’s tale. His leading lady, Griselda, is a humble woman who marries a powerful Marquis beloved by his people. Out of his intense devotion to their marriage, he deems it necessary to “test” Griselda’s commitment. Incidentally, the irony here is never lost on my students, and they immediately feel a healthy dose of righteous indignation.

“If he loves her, why doesn’t he trust her already?” they steam.

That feeling escalates as the cruelty of each test is revealed. In the first, he makes Griselda “prove” her love of him by handing over their newborn baby to be killed. He does the same with their second child. Next, he asks her to agree to a divorce. Finally, he invites her to prepare his castle for a new wife.

Griselda, a “true” and “devoted” wife consents to every wish of her husband and thereby “proves” her love for him. Overjoyed that he can really “trust” his wife, he reveals that he had merely been testing her all the time. Their children are really alive; there is no other woman; and they can now live happily ever after together—albeit with the wife totally submissive to the husband.

No doubt, the Clerk feels thoroughly satisfied with his story, and we can picture him smugly stealing glances at the Wife of Bath as if to say, “Griselda is an ideal wife; not the Old Hag! Women can’t be trusted! They need a man to rule over them!”

Much like the Wife of Bath, the Clerk believes himself full of wisdom and virtue. Ironically, he (and the Marquis) emerge as a caricature of a controlling and even an abusive husband. Conversely, Griselda appears a pathetic, down-trodden wife. Notably, my students are equally frustrated with her for being so complicit in her suffering. This story, though full of satire, is virtually devoid of humor when put in these stark terms.

The Franklin

Another name for the Franklin is the Country Gentleman. The former implies his freedom in society, meaning that he is self-made and no one can lay claim to his wealth. The latter connotes his social status. Though he is not a nobleman by birth, he has risen up through the ranks to gain respect. This makes him a “modern” man, so to speak. If follows, then, that his ideas are a little more progressive than the Wife of Bath’s or the Clerk’s, and he can’t resist “politely” pointing out their errors.

The Franklin’s story, “The Promise of Dorigen,” ends up being the most appealing of the three.  At the outset, we learn of a knight named Arviragus who falls in love with a lady named Dorigen. They promise to love and serve one another, which means their relationship will be built on equality. Sadly, Arviragus is called away to war, and Dorigen is left to pine away until he returns.

Enter Aurelius, a love-sick philanderer who makes open advances at Dorigen despite her steadfast loyalty to her husband. Frustrated that he won’t leave her alone, she finally says, “Go and gaze upon those black and jagged rocks that have sent so many a good ship to her destruction and that threaten the safety of my dear husband, and know that when every one of those rocks has vanished, I will leave my Arviragus for you, and never before.”

Rather than realizing he has been soundly rejected yet again, Aurelius takes Dorigen’s words as a literal promise. He then seeks out and finds a Magician who makes the rocks disappear. Having succeeded in this venture, he expects Dorigen’s hand.

She is now caught between the promise to her husband, who has newly returned from war, and the “promise” to Aurelius. It goes without saying that one promise is true and the other is empty, but the Franklin puts them on equal terms to reveal the stupidity of the situation. What’s more, he has Arviragus release Dorigen from her marriage vows so that she can stay true to her word to Aurelius and thus retain her purity. This act is so respected by Aurelius that he in turn releases Dorigen as well. She is therefore free to return to her husband, her true love. Man and wife then live happily ever after.

What, then, of Aurelius?

He owes a large sum of money to the Magician who made the rocks disappear and is unable to pay it. The Magician, being a gentleman himself, releases Aurelius from his debt. Here the Franklin makes a subtle dig at the Clerk by referring to the Magician in his story by the synonymous name of “Clerk.” His message is clear: the Clerk pilgrim needs to pipe down, even if the Wife of Bath owes him an apology.

The Franklin’s caricature is much more likeable than the other pilgrims. He is a peacemaker in the feud between the Wife of Bath and the Clerk. Likewise, he is the level-headed representative of true love, forged on mutual love and respect between husband and wife.

Please note: My summaries are primarily based on The Chaucer Story Book by Eva March Tappan. I draw from various translations of the original text as well, but Tappan’s is what I read with my students.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Chaucer on Marriage #2: Literary Background

The Canterbury Tales is considered the most important poem written in the Middle Ages. That is not only because of its historical significance and literary genius, but also because of its timeless depiction of human nature. His characters, which we will meet in the next post, are both medieval and modern at the same time, making them profoundly human even if apparently ridiculous. Through them, Chaucer reveals countless universal Truths that apply as much today as they did back then.

Story Framework

The premise of the book—and explanation of the title—revolves around a group of travelers on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas Becket in Canterbury. At the suggestion of an amiable, profit-seeking inn-keeper they meet along the way, each traveler agrees to compete in a story-telling contest. Whoever tells the best story will win a free meal on Harry on the return trip, which is a pretty good business strategy on his part!

A “Quiet Traveler” who is already at the inn oversees and takes interest in Harry’s proposition. Though not a pilgrim, he decides to join the group and record everyone’s stories. Hence, he becomes the narrator and thereby represents Chaucer’s alter-ego.

This type of structure is called a framed narrative, which is a story within a story. On one level, The Canterbury Tales is all about the Quiet Traveler observing, critiquing, and recording everything that happens. We might call this the outside story. On another more obvious level, The Canterbury Tales is all about what the pilgrims have to say in their stories. Collectively, we might call their tales the inside story.

Through this interplay of narrative perspectives, Chaucer weaves a colorful tapestry of social dynamics. “Clicks” form among the pilgrims; arguments ensue between them; and their stories serve as the battleground for their ideas.

The “Marriage Set” reflects the divergent views of the Wife of Bath, the Clerk, and the Franklin. We’ll look at them in detail in the next post. Suffice it to say for now that each of these pilgrims is very opinionated about what constitutes an ideal marriage, and Chaucer pokes fun at each of them in turn to show the weaknesses in their respective positions.

Motifs

Another way to conceptualize the story structure is to think about the framed narrative in terms of motifs or themes.

The motif of the outside story is pilgrimage. This common purpose is what “holds” the travelers together because it’s the reason for their interaction in the first place. After all, the Wife of Bath, a wealthy older woman, would normally have nothing to do with the Clerk, a poor scholar. She may, however, begrudgingly condescend to socialize with the Franklin, a wealthy, self-made country gentleman, out of “respect” for his money.

Nonetheless, their social stations are too disparate to come together under ordinary circumstances. In the context of a religious pilgrimage, with all its “sacredness” and “brotherly love” and “humility” (note the irony), these three pilgrims are obliged to put up with each other.

The motif of the inside story varies depending on which pilgrim is being represented, but for our focus it’s marriage. Each of the aforementioned pilgrims tells stories that revolve around the question of who should “rule” in a marriage: the husband or the wife. Their stories are so full of absurdities they hardly resemble real life. To use the modern vernacular, the marriages they showcase are completely “dysfunctional.”

Chaucer contrives them not only to entertain with silliness, but also to warn against common pitfalls and push readers toward a true understanding of what marriage is all about. We’ll get to Chaucer’s views in the final post. As the “framer” of everything, it’s his view that will prevail in the end.