Catherine, Called Birdy

Birdy’s sense of what constitutes justice is again challenged in these chapters. The Jews are all finally expelled from England, and Birdy wonders why the king ordered such a thing. She thinks, “I find it hard to believe that the old lady and the little soft-eyed girl who stayed in our hall could be a danger to England” (50-51). She feels compelled to ask God to protect the Jews, even if she just whispers it.

Birdy also recalls the grief that the king exhibits for his dead wife, Eleanor, and wonders how the mothers of the young boys who are hanged for stealing are feeling. The juxtaposition between the grief of the king over his wife and the imagined grief of the mothers whose sons were unjustly hanged is striking. Birdy’s growing understanding of the dynamics of power unsettles her sense that the world is fair: The king may grieve for his wife, but he also sentences young men to death and expels an entire group of people for their religious beliefs. This is part of the process of her coming of age, as she develops the maturity to parse out the complexities in seemingly simple events. These acts—praying to protect the Jews, questioning the king’s decisions—can be read as acts of civil disobedience, albeit quiet ones.

In addition, the death of the young man after the brutal festivities of Saint Dorothy’s feast bothers Birdy. This is one of many instances when the revelries of life are contrasted to the vagaries of fate; death is often random and sudden, emphasizing the fragility of life. Her mother’s pregnancy—a life-threatening condition during this time in history—gives her cause for real fear. The birth and survival of the young lambs serve as a hopeful metaphor for her mother’s pregnancy.

Birdy’s focus on the saints and their various deeds and days further reveals how she sees herself and her place in the world. While the saints are revered and their days celebrated, the narrator is no saint. She admits, “I do not think I have it in me to be a saint” (54). Birdy finds comfort and amusement in her “little book of saints,” saying that it “never disappoints me” (56). She uses the backdrop of the saints and their alleged deeds to understand herself. For example, reflecting on the rowdy feast that followed mass on Saint Dorothy’s day, she writes, “If I become a saint, I would like my day to be celebrated in just such fashion” (76). The descriptions of the saint’s actions also lead Birdy to speculate on love and marriage. Her take on Saint Agnes, for instance, reveals her naiveté, here merging sense of how identities are formed, and her sense of humor: “Another virgin martyred rather than marry a heathen. I wonder what is so bad about heathens. They couldn’t be worse than Robert” (69). The heathens, like the Jews, are another category of non-Christians who are simply defined as “others. ”Birdy questions the fairness of painting all members of a group with one broad brush.

Her most persistent thoughts regarding fairness involve the unequal ways in which men and women are treated. She laments how “ladies” are trained to suppress their feelings: “Ladies, it seems, seldom have strong feelings and, if they do, never let them show. God’s thumbs! I always have strong feelings and they are quite painful until I let them out, like a cow who needs to give milk and bellows with the pain in her teats”(53-54). Again, this sets her apart from most young women of her time; she is both more educated and more headstrong. Birdy’s way of thinking is contrasted to that of her brother Robert, who claims “that every man needs a horse, a sword, and a woman, but he should love only the first two” (58).To him, women should be yielding and circumspect, while men should be brash fighters.

The glaring gulf that separates what men and women are allowed to do and be is further illustrated when Birdy isn’t allowed out with the servant boys to go ice skating. In her anger, she makes a list of “all the things girls are not allowed to do,” including joining the crusades, becoming monks, cutting their long hair, being by themselves, and “marry[ing] whom they will” (66). Menand boys clearly have more freedom than women and girls, and Birdy points out this hypocrisy.

This also leads Birdy to muse about love, marriage, mating, and longing. When she considers Uncle George’s dour mood after he loses Aelis, she thinks that “love is like mildew, growing gray and musty on things, spoiling them, and smelling bad” (56).To Birdy, love ruins beautiful things. In addition, she finds mating rituals silly—in birds as in people. On Saint Valentine’s Day, as she waits for her birds to pick their mates for the season, she notices the same mating impulses amongst the people of the manor, as well. Birdy claims that she would outlaw mating rules if she were king.

Birds are again important symbols for revealing Birdy’s predicament and her still evolving sense of self. When Joana, the cousin of the king, tells Birdy’s fortune, the woman also admonishes her: “You are lucky, Little Bird, for you have wings. But you must learn to master them. Look at the baron’s hawk there on her perch. Just because she doesn’t flap her wings all the time doesn’t mean she can’t fly’”(83). Joana’s fortune indicates that Birdy has room, within the confines of her gender and class, to soar.