Shavian Romance in Saint Joan: Satire as Antitragedy

"No eggs! No eggs!! … what does [Shaw] mean by no eggs?"

Saint Joan (1923), considered by many to be Shaw's masterpiece—indeed Thomas Mann called it "the most fervent thing Shaw ever wrote"— continues to challenge readers, a challenge that often yields intricate new meanings.¹ The subtitle, A Chronicle Play in Six Scenes and an Epilogue, offers little to clarify our generic expectations, especially when Shaw's traditionally lengthy preface begins with a section (one of forty-one!) titled "Joan the Original and Presumptuous." This declaration of "presumption" courts further scrutiny, especially as it becomes a focus in the play and underscores Shaw's ironic craft. Shaw writes, "[Joan] went to the stake without a stain on her character except the overweening presumption, the superbity as they called it, that led her thither" (7). What I propose to explore is how Shaw takes the reader's presumptions and exploits them in order to effect his satire or antitragedy by crafting his own romantic vision of Joan in the hope of rescuing what he considers her tarnished reputation as a result of her canonization by the Catholic Church in 1920. He takes what he thinks we presume and leads us to further presumptions, only to give the rug a firm yank just when we feel we understand him. He does this by playing with the "facts" of the Joan "myth" as handed down by Raphael Holinshed and Jules Michelet in their historical chronicles. Besides the overarching discussion of generic conventions, key elements to explore, eventually, that support reading the play as Shavian romance or satiric antitragedy include: the discussion of Joan's beauty (Shaw argues that she was not beautiful), her anachronistic positions as both a "Protestant" and champion of French "Nationalism," Joan's "maidenhood," and finally, an overlooked moment in the play that is pregnant with meaning— the opening scene and the problem with the egg shortage, especially as it may relate to Joan's apparent historically absent menses. If we read these instances closely, we might better determine that this play is every bit as satirical as Shaw's other work, especially as it defies the tragic framework that the reader is baited to consider while Shaw reworks romantic notions. In an attempt to challenge the Catholic Church's belated gathering up of Joan in its universal embrace (nearly five hundred years after her death), the play serves as a kind of anti-canonization of Joan even as Shaw ultimately presents her saintly status as linked to a miracle.

First, we must define "presumption." From the Latin, prœsumere, "presume," defined in the OED, means "to take for granted, anticipate." What does Joan take for granted or anticipate? What does she presume? In the course of the play, she presumes that others will believe in her and her Voices; that they will trust her as an agent of God. She presumes that men (as they are her primary concern in matters of war and politics in the life she pursues) are reasonable beings who will act rationally, even when presented with the supernatural. Because she is sensible, she expects others to be so, too. She expects to be taken seriously, not for herself but for "the King of Heaven" (Shaw 69), whom she serves as an obvious matter of course. "The originality of the Pucelle," Michelet tells us, "the secret of her success, was not her courage or her visions, but her good sense" (9).² Although Michelet makes the case for women in battle—"It was by no means rare to see women take up arms … [and women] often fought in sieges: witness the eighty women wounded at Amiens; witness Jeanne Hachette" (10)—Joan presumes to enter the male sphere more fully, to remain among men, living with them, fighting with them, leading them. For a mere girl of eighteen, educated or not, this would indeed be presumptuous, whether we find her living in 1429 or 2029. Perhaps this notion leads Joley Wood, in the Introduction to the play, to conclude, "[W]ere Joan alive today, she would still be persecuted." Furthermore...