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- Subscribe - Contact Us - Rate Card - Place an Ad Archives Revels Classifieds Real Estate Menu Guide Wedding Weather Subscribe Contact Us July 23, 2005 The Age of Embellishment Scott Dalgarno It was the fifteenth century. The world had never seen such a fashion for headdresses. Hats were huge, heavy, and reached such a height that doorways needed to be enlarged in order to accommodate them. But it was the fashion for shoes that the age was most noted for. Called poulaines, the points on them were so long and narrow, stuffed as they were with moss (no extra charge) that people commonly tripped over them. Some came equipped with chains the wearers held like reins to protect life and limb (if your hat didn’t take you down your shoes probably would). Both came in every color. A quick tour of Ashland’s downtown shows that our age isn’t all that much different. Long and pointy seems to be in. Kendra, the manager of Village Shoes, agrees, but adds quickly that this summer “anything goes.” To prove her “point” she held up something with a medium high heal that combined what looked to me like a sports shoe and decoupage (art deco-upage?). I speak here of fashion not for its own sake but to provide a vivid backdrop to the life of the fifteenth century’s most remarkable individual: Joan (Jehean) of Arc. All most people know of the maid of Orleans is that she wore armor and heard voices. In this age it’s easy to dismiss her as schizophrenic. Playgoers will remember that Shakespeare, towing the Elizabethan political line, deemed her a witch (”Henry VI,” part one). Johan Huizinga left her out of his fine (it’s often been called elegant) “The Waining Of The Middle Ages” for fear that she would overwhelm everyone and everything else in the book. He dismisses the claim of madness as too easy. To hear heavenly voices was odd in her day but not bizarre, “no more odd than a twentieth century person speaking of her unconscious or of outer space or relativity.” (”Joan of Arc,” Mary Gordon). Perhaps there is an equal and opposite reaction to the spirit of every age. If so, Joan would serve well as the antidote to her century’s unwieldy excess, she who wore men’s clothes to war because they were practical. At a time when rank and fashion were everything Joan herself brooked no nonsense. In the first campaign an English captain (Suffolk) was captured by a French squire. Unwilling to be taken prisoner by a man of lower rank Suffolk asked if the man were a gentleman. Yes, he replied, he was. “Then, are you a knight?” No, he was not. Suffolk promptly knighted him and surrendered. Such a grand illusion. Perhaps the most important thing about her was that she knew herself absolutely. And she was as sure of her mission in life as she was of herself. It was to defeat the English on French soil (many thought the Brits invincible) and to see Charles VII crowned king. She made both happen and all when she was barely 17. Not content to be a mere icon, she participated fully in the battle of Orleans. In the thick of it Joan had her foot on the first rung of a scaling ladder when a winging arrow plunged through her shoulder, close to her neck. Her knights carried her from the field and cut the iron tip off the arrow. Joan tugged the shaft out of her flesh herself, climbed up on her horse, and rode back to victory. No wonder they followed her in awe. No wonder some of the English trembled seeing her in armor, banner in hand. Joan had few illusions. Her voices, she said, told her she would have little more than a year to accomplish the task for which she was born. Her hope was to see Charles crowned and to go home to Domremy and resume her life as a shepherdess. History lets few truly great ones off so easily. Charles convinced her that she was as vital to him after his coronation as before, and then abandoned her completely to the English once she was captured (to his perpetual discredit). Transcripts of her trial for heresy are among the most fascinating documents from the age. Her naked honesty humbled nearly all around her. She was totally candid about her fear of being burned at the stake. On the morning of her execution she said she would rather be beheaded seven times than endure incineration, but she died with the same resolve with which she fought. Jean Tressard, Secretary to the King of England, was seen returning from the execution exclaiming in great agitation, “We are all ruined, for a good and holy person was burned.” Over the centuries her story has charmed millions, among them, amazingly, the confirmed atheist, Mark Twain who (few remember) wrote her biography. A testament confirming her unique winsomeness, it closes with the following words: “I have finished my story of Joan of Arc, that wonderful child, that sublime personality, that spirit which in one regard has had no peer and will have none: its purity from all alloy of self-seeking, self-interest, personal ambition. In it no trace of these motives can be found, search as you may, and this cannot be said of any other person whose name appears in profane history.” What saint may be toddling about today, I wonder, in our own age of embellishment? Scott Dalgarno is pastor of Ashland’s First Presbyterian Church DailyTidings.com Home Page Archives | Revels | Classifieds | Real Estate Guide | Weather | Subscribe | Contact Us Copyright 2005 Ashland Daily Tidings and Ottaway Newspapers All Rights Reserved Deep Muscle Stimulator Ceramic Piggy Banks FREE Entertainment Guide Women's & Men's Slippers Accelerate Weightloss Products Backpacks Generic Viagra Vegas Travel Guide Search Engine Optimization Sportsbook Absinthe Supply Student Loans Hotel & Airline Reservations African Safari Hammocks Helzberg Diamonds Online Casinos Community Bonus Casino King of Spirits ink cartridges Mortgage Calculator Security Systems Mailing Lists Click Here Advertisement .:Advertisements:. Site Search: RESOURCES - Mail Tribune News - ODOT Road Cams