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Each of the four texts under study has rudiments from the chronicles of the life of Joan of Arc. Yet not all aspects from the official historical record are retold as they were presented in the Trial. Moreover, the way in which some incidents are performed in these fictional accounts deftly bends the reader’s perception to new directions. Following is Joan’s own account of her first visitation.
Significant in this account is the sensory focus on the intangible feeling. In the Trial transcripts Joan often commented on the sublime sensation she felt when her voices were manifest and on the yawning sadness when they departed. Interesting to note then is how this first transcendental vision is portrayed in fictional accounts. In Boutet de Monvel’s tale the Archangel Michael immediately appeared out of a dazzling light. Michael Morpurgo’s ‘voice’ declared itself with obvious alacrity:
Fadiman was a little wilier; he foregrounded the identity of the voice by placing Joan at Mass on the morning of her first visitation. During the service the statue of the archangel Michael smiles at Joan ‘quite naturally, as though it [was] a normal and friendly thing to do’ (p.23), Joan was left with an extraordinary and expectant feeling. Later that day Joan,
She asked, Who are you? The voice was silent. (pp.42-43) The reader could not doubt ‘the voice’ that first speaks to Joan is none other than the archangel Michael. All three texts leave us with an account of Joan not quite in line with her own explanation. However, if we shift subject positions we may be able to perceive an equal but different reality to the one defined by Joan. What these examples of historical fiction tap into is the story of Joan constructed by the Trial judges. Through their questioning the clerics exposed their belief that truth of divinity is made manifest in what can be seen, not through what is felt. In the initial days of the Trial Joan refused to give her voices a tangible form; perhaps the more detailed descriptions of their bodily shape provided in the later days was an effort to mollify her judges. This aside, what can be understood is that each text is indeed presenting an understanding of reality – but it is that belonging to the interrogators. The subtle re-positioning of the reader in these texts is problematic. Each text has positioned the reader to see the tale unfold from Joan’s point of view; however, there are fissions in each story that when compared to the official historical record are from the point of view of her judges and executioners. Surely this creates an ambiguous reality. Does it therefore challenge the truth value of the text? I want to leave that question hang a little longer and turn now to the dilemma of the entirely fictional element of historical fiction. Fadiman’s The Feast Day makes clever strategic use of religious schemata. In his story, Joan was holding a stone in each hand during the first visitation. Afterwards,
Fadiman adroitly employs easily recognized schemata to convey the sanctity of the impending heroine. In this way the message of the story of Saint Joan is communicated concisely and effectively but it does not rest well. Such an event exists nowhere in the official historical record and indeed, if it did belong to reality it would have been lauded and amply documented for it was just the type of sign that the people of Joan’s day were looking for. This leaves the reader then, with an uncomfortable retelling of the past. The historical line has been crossed, with no evidence of the seam that holds together the fictional and the real. Fadiman has written about a real historical figure, providing an afterword which furnishes the reader with an historical (not fictional) account of the eventual fate of Joan. He is claiming from the reader their assumption of the intrinsic reality of historical fiction but includes fabricated detail. A less sophisticated reader would not perceive the subtlety between events actual and events schemata.
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