The epic so brief, so exciting, so full of wonder had now reached its
climax. Whatever we may think on the question as to whether Jeanne had
now reached the limit of her commission, it is at least evident that she
had reached the highest point of her triumph, and that her short day of
glory and success came to an end in the great act which she had always
spoken of as her chief object. She had crowned her King; she had
recovered for him one of the richest of his provinces, and established a
strong base for further action on his part. She had taught Frenchmen how
not to fly before the English, and she had filled those stout-hearted
English, who for a time had the Frenchmen in their powerful steel-clad
grip, with terror and panic, and taught them how to fly in their turn.
This was, from the first, what she had said she was appointed to do,
and not one of her promises had been broken. Her career had been a short
one, begun in April, ending in July, one brief continuous course of
glory. But this triumphant career had come to its conclusion. The
messenger of God had done her work; the servant must not desire to be
greater than his Lord. There have been heroes in this world whose career
has continued a glorious and a happy one to the end. Our hearts follow
them in their noble career, but when the strain and pain are over they
come into their kingdom and reap their reward the interest fails. We
are glad, very glad, that they should live happy ever after, but their
happiness does not attract us like their struggle.
It is different with those whose work and whose motives are not those of
this world. When they step out of the brilliant lights of triumph into
sorrow and suffering, all that is most human in us rises to follow the
bleeding feet, our hearts swell with indignation, with sorrow and love,
and that instinctive admiration for the noble and pure, which proves
that our birthright too is of Heaven, however we may tarnish or even
deny that highest pedigree. The chivalrous romance of that age would
have made of Jeanne d'Arc the heroine of human story. She would have had
a noble lover, say our young Guy de Laval, or some other generous and
brilliant Seigneur of France, and after her achievements she would have
laid by her sword, and clothed herself with the beautiful garments of
the age, and would have grown to be a noble lady in some half regal
chateau, to which her name would have given new lustre. The young reader
will probably long that it should be so; he will feel it an injustice, a
wrong to humanity that so generous a soul should have no reward; it will
seem to him almost a personal injury that there should not be a noble
chevalier at hand to snatch that devoted Maid out of the danger that
threatened her, out of the horrible fate that befell her; and we can
imagine a generous boy, and enthusiastic girl, ready to gnash their
teeth at the terrible and dishonouring thought that it was by English
hands that this noble creature was tied to the stake and perished in
the flames. For the last it becomes us(1) to repent, for it was to our
everlasting shame; but not more to us than to France who condemned her,
who lifted no finger to help her, who raised not even a cry, a protest,
against the cruelty and wrong. But for her fate in itself let us not
mourn over-much. Had the Maid become a great and honoured lady should
not we all have said as Satan says in the Book of Job: Did Jeanne serve
God for nought? We should say: See what she made by it. Honour and fame
and love and happiness. She did nobly, but nobly has she been rewarded.
But that is not God's way. The highest saint is born to martyrdom. To
serve God for nought is the greatest distinction which He reserves
for His chosen. And this was the fate to which the Maid of France was
consecrated from the moment she set out upon her mission. She had the
supreme glory of accomplishing that which she believed herself to be
sent to do, and which I also believe she was sent to do, miraculously,
by means undreamed of, and in which no one beforehand could have
believed. But when that was done a higher consecration awaited her. She
had to drink of the cup of which our Lord drank, and to be baptised with
the baptism with which He was baptised. It was involved in every step
of the progress that it should be so. And she was herself aware of it,
vaguely, at heart, as soon as the object of her mission was attained.
What else could have put the thought of dying into the mind of a girl of
eighteen in the midst of the adoring crowd, to whom to see her, to touch
her, was a benediction? When she went forth from those gates she was
going to her execution, though the end was not to be yet. There was
still a long struggle before her, lingering and slow, more bitter than
death, the preface of discouragement, of disappointment, of failure when
she had most hoped to succeed.
She was on the threshold of this second period when she rode out of
Rheims all brilliant in the summer weather, her banner faded now,
but glorious, her shining armour bearing signs of warfare, her end
achieved--yet all the while her heart troubled, uncertain, and full of
unrest. And it is impossible not to note that from this time her plans
were less defined than before. Up to the coronation she had known
exactly what she meant to do, and in spite of all obstructions had done
it, keeping her genial humour and her patience, steering her simple way
through all the intrigues of the Court, without bitterness and without
fear. But now a vague mist seems to fall about the path which was so
open and so clear. Paris! Yes, the best policy, the true generalship
would have been to march straight upon Paris, to lose no time, to leave
as little leisure as possible to the intriguers to resume their old
plots. So the generals thought as well as Jeanne: but the courtiers were
not of that mind. The weak and foolish notion of falling back upon what
they had gained, and of contenting themselves with that, was all they
thought of; and the un-French, unpatriotic temper of Paris which wanted
no native king, but was content with the foreigner, gave them a certain
excuse. We could not even imagine London as being ever, at any time,
contented with an alien rule. But Paris evidently was so, and was ready
to defend itself to the death against its lawful sovereign. Jeanne had
never before been brought face to face with such a complication. It had
been a straightforward struggle, each man for his own side, up to this
time. But now other things had to be taken into consideration. Here
was no faithful Orleans holding out eager arms to its deliverer, but a
crafty, self-seeking city, deaf to patriotism, indifferent to freedom,
calculating which was most to its profit--and deciding that the
stranger, with Philip of Burgundy at his back, was the safer guide. This
was enough of itself to make a simple mind pause in astonishment and
dismay.
There is no evidence that the supernatural leaders who had shaped the
course of the Maid failed her now. She still heard her "voices." She
still held communion with the three saints who, she believed devoutly,
came out of Heaven to aid her. The whole question of this supernatural
guidance is one which is of course open to discussion. There are many
in these days who do not believe in it at all, who believe in the
exaltation of Jeanne's brain, in the excitement of her nerves, in some
strange complication of bodily conditions, which made her believe she
saw and heard what she did not really see or hear. For our part, we
confess frankly that these explanations are no explanation at all so far
as we are concerned; we are far more inclined to believe that the
Maid spoke truth, she who never told a lie, she who fulfilled all the
promises she made in the name of her guides, than that those people are
right who tell us on their own authority that such interpositions of
Heaven are impossible. Nobody in Jeanne's day doubted that Heaven did
interpose directly in human affairs. The only question was, Was it
Heaven in this instance? Was it not rather the evil one? Was it sorcery
and witchcraft, or was it the agency of God? The English believed firmly
that it was witchcraft; they could not imagine that it was God, the God
of battles, who had always been on their side, who now took the courage
out of their hearts and taught their feet to fly for the first time. It
was the devil, and the Maid herself was a wicked witch. Neither one side
nor the other believed that it was from Jeanne's excited nerves that
these great things came. There were plenty of women with excited nerves
in France, nerves much more excited than those of Jeanne, who was always
reasonable at the height of her inspiration; but to none of them did it
happen to mount the breach, to take the city, to drive the enemy--up to
that moment invincible,--flying from the field.
But it would seem as if these celestial visitants had no longer a clear
and definite message for the Maid. Their words, which she quotes, were
now promises of support, vague warnings of trouble to come. "Fear not,
for God will stand by you." She thought they meant that she would be
delivered in safety as she had been hitherto, her wounds healing, her
sacred person preserved from any profane touch. But yet such promises
have always something enigmatical in them, and it might be, as proved to
be the case, that they meant rather consolation and strength to endure
than deliverance. For the first time the Maid was often sad; she feared
nothing, but the shadow was heavy on her heart. Orleans and Rheims had
been clear as daylight, her "voices" had said to her "Do this" and she
had done it. Now there was no definite direction. She had to judge for
herself what was best, and to walk in darkness, hoping that what she did
was what she was meant to do, but with no longer any certainty. This of
itself was a great change, and one which no doubt she felt to her heart.
M. Fabre tells (alone among the biographers of Jeanne) that there were
symptoms of danger to her sound and steady mind, in her words and ways
during the moment of triumph. Her chaplain Pasquerel wrote a letter
in her name to the Hussites, against whom the Pope was then sending
crusades, in which "I, the Maid," threatened, if they were not
converted, to come against them and give them the alternative of death
or amendment. Quicherat says that to the Count d'Armagnac who had
written to her, whether in good faith or bad, to ask which of the three
then existent Popes was the real one, she is reported to have answered
that she would tell him as soon as the English left her free to do so.
But this is a perverted account of what she really did say, and M. Fabre
seems to be, like the rest of us, a little confused in his dates: and
the documents themselves on which he builds are not of unquestioned
authority. These, however, would be but small speck upon the sunshine
of her perfect humility and sobriety; if indeed they are to be depended
upon as authentic at all.
The day of Jeanne, her time of glory and success, was but a short
one--Orleans was delivered on the 8th of May, the coronation of Charles
took place on the 17th of July; before the earliest of these dates
she had spent nearly two months in an anxious yet hopeful struggle of
preparation, before she was permitted to enter upon her career. The time
of her discouragement was longer. It was ten months from the day when
she rode out of Rheims, the 25th of July, 1429, till the 23d of May,
1430, when she was taken. She had said after the deliverance of Orleans
that she had but a year in which to accomplish her work, and at a later
period, Easter, 1430, her "voices" told her that "before the St. Jean"
she would be in the power of her enemies. Both these statements came
true. She rose quickly but fell more slowly, struggling along upon the
downward course, unable to carry out what she would, hampered on every
hand, and not apparently followed with the same fervour as of old. It is
true that the principal cause of all seems to have been the schemes of
the Court and the indolence of Charles; but all these hindrances had
existed before, and the King and his treacherous advisers had been
unwillingly dragged every mile of the way, though every step made had
been to Charles's advantage. But now though the course is still one of
victory the Maid no longer seems to be either the chief cause or the
immediate leader. Perhaps this may be partly due to the fact that little
fighting was necessary, town after town yielding to the King, which
reduced the part of Jeanne to that of a spectator; but there is a
change of atmosphere and tone which seems to point to something more
fundamental than this. The historians are very unwilling to acknowledge,
except Michelet who does so without hesitation, that she had herself
fixed the term of her commission as ending at Rheims; it is certain
that she said many things which bear this meaning, and every fact of
her after career seems to us to prove it: but it is also true that her
conviction wavered, and other sayings indicate a different belief or
hope. She did no wrong in following the profession of arms in which she
had made so glorious a beginning; she had many gifts and aptitudes for
it of which she was not herself at first aware: but she was no longer
the Envoy of God. Enough had been done to arouse the old spirit of
France, to break the spell of the English supremacy; it was right and
fitting that France should do the rest for herself. Perhaps Jeanne was
not herself very clear on this point, and after her first statement of
it, became less assured. It is not necessary that the servant should
know the designs of the master. It did not after all affect her. Her
business was to serve God to the best of her power, not to take the
management out of His hands.
The army went forth joyously upon its way, directing itself towards
Paris. There was a pilgrimage to make, such as the Kings of France
were in the habit of making after their coronation; there were pleasant
incidents, the submission of a village, the faint resistance, instantly
overcome, of a small town, to make the early days pleasant. Laon and
Soissons both surrendered. Senlis and Beauvais received the King's
envoys with joy. The independent captains of the army made little
circles about, like parties of pleasure, bringing in another and another
little stronghold to the allegiance of the King. When he turned aside,
taking as he passed through, without as yet any serious deflection, the
road rather to the Loire than to Paris, success still attended him. At
Château-Thierry resistance was expected to give zest to the movement
of the forces, but that too yielded at once as the others had done.
The dates are very vague and it seems difficult to find any mode of
reconciling them. Almost all the historians while accusing the King of
foolish dilatoriness and confusion of plans give us a description of the
undefended state of Paris at the moment, which a sudden stroke on the
part of Charles might have carried with little difficulty, during the
absence of all the chiefs from the city and the great terror of the
inhabitants; but a comparison of dates shows that the Duke of Bedford
re-entered Paris with strong reinforcements on the very day on which
Charles left Rheims three days only after his coronation, so that he
scarcely seems so much to blame as appears. But the general delay,
inefficiency, and hesitation existing at headquarters, naturally lead to
mistakes of this kind.
The great point was that Paris itself was by no means disposed to
receive the King. Strange as it seems to say so Paris was bitterly,
fiercely English at that extraordinary moment, a fact which ought to be
taken into account as the most important in the whole matter. There was
no answering enthusiasm in the capital of France to form an auxiliary
force behind its ramparts and encourage the besiegers outside. The
populace perhaps might be indifferent: at the best it had no feeling on
the subject; but there was no welcome awaiting the King. During the time
of Bedford's absence the city felt itself to have "no lord"--_ceux de
Paris avoit grand peur car nul seigneur n' y avoit_. It was believed
that Charles would put all the inhabitants to the sword, and their
desperation of feeling was rather that which leads to a wild and
hopeless defence than to submission. The Duke of Bedford, governing in
the name of the infant Henry VI. Of England, was their seigneur, instead
of their natural sovereign. It is a fact which to us seems scarcely
credible, but it was certainly true. There seems to have been no feeling
even, on the subject, no general shame as of a national betrayal;
nothing of the kind. Paris was English, holding by the English kings who
had never lost a certain hold on France, and thinking no shame of its
party. It was a hostile town, the chief of the English possessions.
In the _Journal du Bourgeois de Paris_--who was no _bourgeois_ but a
distinguished member of that university which held the Maid and all her
ways in horror--Jeanne the deliverer, the incarnation of patriotism
and of France is spoken of as "a creature in the form of a woman." How
extraordinary is this evidence of a state of affairs in which it is
almost impossible to believe! Paris is France nowadays to many people,
though no doubt this is but a superficial judgment; but in the
early part of the fifteenth century, she was frankly English, not
by compulsion even, but by habit and policy. Perhaps the delays, the
hesitation, the terrors of Charles and his counsellors are thus rendered
more excusable than by any other explanation.
In the meantime it is almost impossible to follow the wanderings of
this vacillating army without a map. If the reader should trace its
movements, he would see what a stumbling and devious course it took as
of a man blundering in the dark. From Rheims to Soissons the way was
clear; then there came a sudden move southward to Château-Thierry from
which indeed there was still a straight line to Paris but which still
more clearly indicated the highroad leading to the Orleannais, the
faithful districts of the Loire. This retrograde movement was not made
without a great outcry from the generals. Their opinion was that the
King ought to press on to conquer everything while the English forces
were still depressed and discouraged. In their mind this deflection
towards the south was an abandonment at once of honour and safety. An
unimportant check on the way, however, gave an argument to the leaders
of the army, and Charles permitted himself to be dragged back. They then
made their way by La Ferté-Milon, Crépy, and Daumartin, and on this
road the English troops which had been led out from Paris by Bedford to
intercept them came twice within fighting distance of the French army.
The English, as all the French historians are eager to inform us,
invariably entrenched themselves in their positions, surrounding their
lines with sharp-pointed posts by which the equally invariable rush of
the French could be broken. But the French on these occasions were too
wise to repeat the impetuous charge which had ruined them at Crécy and
Agincourt, and the consequence was that the two forces remained within
sight of each other, with a few skirmishes going on at the flanks, but
without any serious encounter.
It will be more satisfactory, however, to copy the following
_itineraire_ of Charles's movements from the Chronicle of Perceval
de Cagny who was a member of the household of the Duc d'Alençon, and
probably present, certainly at all events bound to have the best and
most correct information. He informs us that the King left Rheims on
Thursday the 21st of July, and dined, supped, and lay at the Abbey of
St. Nanuol that night, where were brought to him the keys of the city of
Laon. He then set out on _le voyage à venir devant Paris_.
"And on Saturday the 23d of the same month the King dined, supped and
lay at Soissons, and was there received the most honourably that the
churchmen, burghers and other people of the town were capable of: for
they had all great fear because of the destruction of the town which had
been taken by the Burgundians and made to rebel against the King.
"Friday the 29th day of July the King and his company were all day
before Château-Thierry in order of battle, hoping that the Duke of
Bedford would appear to fight. The place surrendered at the hour of
vespers, and the King lodged there till Monday the first of August. On
that day the King lay at Monmirail in Brie.
"Tuesday the 2d of August he passed the night in the town of Provins,
and had the best possible reception there, and remained till the Friday
following, the 5th August. Sunday the 7th the King lay at the town
of Coulommièrs in Brie. Wednesday the 10th he lay at La Ferté- Milon,
Thursday at Crespy in Valois--Friday at Laigny-le-Sec. The following
Saturday the 13th the King held the field near Dammartin-en-Gouelle, for
the whole day looking out for the English: but they came not.
"On Sunday the 14th August the Maid, the Duc d'Alençon, the Count de
Vendosme, the Marshals and other captains accompanied by six or seven
thousand combatants were at the hour of vespers lodged in the fields
near Montépilloy, nearly two leagues from the town of Senlis--The
Duke of Bedford and other English captains with between eight and ten
thousand English lying half a league from Senlis between our people and
the said city on a little stream, in a village called Notre Dame de la
Victoire. That evening our people skirmished with the English near to
their camp and in this skirmish were people taken on each side, and of
the English Captain d'Orbec and ten or twelve others, and people wounded
on both sides: when night fell each retired to their own quarters."
The same writer records an appeal in the true tone of chivalry addressed
to the English by Jeanne and Alençon desiring them to come out from
their entrenchments and fight: and promising to withdraw to a sufficient
distance to permit the enemy to place himself in the open field. The
French troops had first "put themselves in the best state of conscience
that could possibly be, hearing mass at an early hour and then to
horse." But the English would not come out. Jeanne, with her standard in
her hand rode up to the English entrenchments, and some one says (not de
Cagny) struck the posts with her banner, challenging the force within
to come out and fight; while they on their side waved at the French in
defiance, a standard copied from that of Jeanne, on which was depicted
a distaff and spindle. But neither host approached any nearer. Finally,
Charles made his way to Compiègne.
At Château-Thierry there was concluded an arrangement with Philip of
Burgundy for a truce of fifteen days, before the end of which time the
Duke undertook to deliver Paris peaceably to the French. That this was
simply to gain time and that no idea of giving up Paris had ever been
entertained is evident; perhaps Charles was not even deceived. He, no
more than Philip, had any desire to encounter the dangers of such a
siege. But he was able at least to silence the clamours of the army and
the representations of the persistent Maid by this truce. To wait for
fifteen days and receive the prize without a blow struck, would not that
be best? The counsellors of the King held thus a strong position, though
the delay made the hearts of the warriors sick.
The figure of Jeanne appears during these marchings and
counter-marchings like that of any other general, pursuing a skilful but
not unusual plan of campaign. That she did well and bravely there can be
no doubt, and there is a characteristic touch which we recognise, in the
fact that she and all of her company "put themselves in the best
state of conscience that could be," before they took to horse; but the
skirmishes and repulses are such as Alençon himself might have made.
"She made much diligence," the same chronicler tells us, "to reduce and
place many towns in the obedience of the King," but so did many others
with like success. We hear no more her vigorous knock at the door of the
council chamber if the discussion there was too long or the proceedings
too secret. Her appearances are those of a general among many other
generals, no longer with any special certainty in her movements as of a
person inspired. We are reminded of a story told of a previous period,
after the fight at Patay, when blazing forth in the indignation of her
youthful purity at the sight of one of the camp followers, a degraded
woman with some soldiers, she struck the wanton with the flat of
her sword, driving her forth from the camp, where was no longer that
chastened army of awed and reverent soldiers making their confession on
the eve of every battle, whom she had led to Orleans. The sword she used
on this occasion, was, it is said, the miraculous sword which had been
found under the high altar of St. Catharine at Fierbois; but at the
touch of the unclean the maiden brand broke in two. If this was an
allegory(2) to show that the work of that weapon was over, and the
common sword of the soldier enough for the warfare that remained, it
could not be more clearly realised than in the history of this campaign.
The only touch of our real Maid in her own distinct person comes to
us in a letter written in a field on that same wavering road to Paris,
dated as early as the 5th of August and addressed to the good people of
Rheims, some of whom had evidently written to her to ask what was the
meaning of the delay, and whether she had given up the cause of
the country. There is a terse determination in its brief, indignant
sentences which is a relief to the reader weary of the wavering and
purposeless campaign:
"Dear and good friends, good and loyal Frenchmen of the town of Rheims.
Jeanne, the Maid, sends you news of her. It is true that the King has
made a truce of fifteen days with the Duke of Burgundy, who promises
to render peaceably the city of Paris in that time. Do not, however, be
surprised if I enter there sooner, for I like not truces so made, and
know not whether I will keep them, but if I keep them, it will be only
because of the honour of the King."
While Jeanne and her army thus played with the unmoving English,
advancing and retiring, attempting every means of drawing them out, the
enemy took advantage of one of these seeming withdrawals to march out
of their camp suddenly and return to Paris, which all this time had
been lying comparatively defenceless, had the French made their attack
sooner. At the same time Charles moved on to Compiègne where he gave
himself up to fresh intrigues with Philip of Burgundy, this time for a
truce to last till Christmas. The Maid was grievously troubled by this
step, _moult marrie_, and by the new period of delay and negotiation on
which the Court had entered. Paris was not given up, nor was there any
appearance that it ever would be, and to all the generals as well as to
the Maid it was very evident that this was the next step to be taken.
Some of the leaders wearied with inaction had pushed on to Normandy
where four great fortresses--greatest of all the immense and mysterious
stronghold on the high cliffs of the Seine, that imposing Château
Gaillard which Richard Cur-de-lion had built, the ruins of which, white
and mystic, still dominate, like some Titanic ghost, above the course of
the river--had yielded to them. So great was the danger of Normandy, the
most securely English of all French provinces, that Bedford had again
been drawn out of Paris to defend it. Here then was another opportunity
to seize the capital. But Charles could not be induced to move. He found
many ways of amusing himself at Compiègne, and the new treaty was being
hatched with Burgundy which gave an excuse for doing nothing. The pause
which wearied them all out, both captains and soldiers, at last became
more than flesh and blood could bear.
Jeanne once more was driven to take the initiative. Already on one
occasion she had forced the hand of the lingering Court, and resumed
the campaign of her own accord, an impatient movement which had been
perfectly successful. No doubt again the army itself was becoming
demoralised, and showing symptoms of falling to pieces. One day she sent
for Alençon in haste during the absence of the ambassadors at Arras.
"_Beau duc_," she cried, "prepare your troops and the other captains.
_En mon Dieu, par mon martin_,(3) I will see Paris nearer than I have
yet seen it." She had seen the towers from afar as she wandered over the
country in Charles's lingering train. Her sudden resolution struck like
fire upon the impatient band. They set out at once, Alençon and the Maid
at the head of their division of the army, and all rejoiced to get to
horse again, to push their way through every obstacle. They started on
the 23d August, nearly a month after the departure from Rheims, a month
entirely lost, though full of events, lost without remedy so far as
Paris was concerned. At Senlis they made a pause, perhaps to await the
King, who, it was hoped, would have been constrained to follow; then
carrying with them all the forces that could be spared from that town,
they spurred on to St. Denis where they arrived on the 27th: St. Denis,
the other sacred town of France, the place of the tomb, as Rheims was
the place of the crown.
The royalty of France was Jeanne's passion. I do not say the King, which
might be capable of malinterpretation, but the kings, the monarchy, the
anointed of the Lord, by whom France was represented, embodied and
made into a living thing. She had loved Rheims, its associations,
its triumphs, the rejoicing of its citizens. These had been the
accompaniments of her own highest victory. She came to St. Denis in a
different mood, her heart hot with disappointment and the thwarting of
all her plans. From whatever cause it might spring, it was clear that
she was no longer buoyed up by that certainty which only a little while
before had carried her through every danger and over every obstacle. But
to have reached St. Denis at least was something. It was a place doubly
sacred, consecrated to that royal House for which she would so willingly
have given her life. And at last she was within sight of Paris, the
greatest prize of all. Up to this time she had known in actual warfare
nothing but victory. If her heart for the first time wavered and feared,
there was still no certain reason that, _de par Dieu_, she might not win
the day again.
At St. Denis there was once more a cruel delay. Nearly a fortnight
passed and there was no news of the King. The Maid employed the time in
skirmishes and reconnoissances, but does not seem to have ventured on
an attack without the sanction of Charles, whom Alençon, finally, going
back on two several occasions, succeeded in setting in motion. Charles
had remained at Compiègne to carry out his treaty with Burgundy, and
the last thing he desired was this attack; but when he could resist
no longer he moved on reluctantly to St. Denis, where his arrival was
hailed with great delight. This was not until the 5th of September, and
the army, wrought up to a high pitch of excitement and expectation, was
eager for the fight. "There was no one of whatever condition, who did
not say, 'She will lead the King into Paris, if he will let her,'" says
the chronicler.
In the meantime the authorities in Paris were at work, strengthening its
fortifications, frightening the populace with threats of the vengeance
of Charles, persuading every citizen of the danger of submission.
The _Bourgeois_ tells us that letters came from "les Arminoz," that is,
the party of the King, sealed with the seal of the Duc d'Alençon, and
addressed to the heads of the city guilds and municipality inviting
their co-operation as Frenchmen. "But," adds the Parisian, "it was easy
to see through their meaning, and an answer was returned that they need
not throw away their paper as no attention was paid to it." There is
no sign at all that any national feeling existed to respond to such an
appeal. Paris--its courts of law, Parliaments (salaried by Bedford),
University, Church--every department, was English in the first place,
Burgundian in the second, dependent on English support and money. There
was no French party existing. The Maid was to them an evil sorceress, a
creature in the form of a woman, exercising the blackest arts. Perhaps
there was even a breath of consciousness in the air that Charles himself
had no desire for the fall of the city. He had left the Parisians
full time to make every preparation, he had held back as long as was
possible. His favour was all on the side of his enemies; for his own
forces and their leaders, and especially for the Maid, he had nothing
but discouragement, distrust, and auguries of evil.
Nevertheless, these oppositions came to an end, and Jeanne, though less
ready and eager for the assault, found herself under the walls of Paris
at last.
(1) "The English, not US," says Mr. Andrew Lang: and it is
pleasant to a Scot to know that this is true. England and
Scotland were then twain, and the Scots fought in the ranks
of our auld Ally. But for the present age the distinction
lasts no longer, and to the writer of an English book on
English soil it would be ungenerous to take the advantage.
(2) It is taken as a miraculous sign by another chronicler,
Jean Chartier, who tells us that when this fact came to the
knowledge of the King the sword was given by him to the
workmen to be re-founded--"but they could not do it, nor put
the pieces together again: which is a great proof (_grant
approbation_) that the sword came to her divinely. And it is
notorious that since the breaking of that sword, the said
Jeanne neither prospered in arms to the profit of the King
nor otherwise as she had done before."
(3) "It was her oath," adds the chronicler; no one is quite
sure what it means, but Quicherat is of opinion that it was
her _baton_, her stick or staff. Perceval de Cagny puts in
this exclamation in almost all the speeches of the Maid. It
must have struck him as a curious adjuration. Perhaps it
explains why La Hire, unable to do without something to
swear by, was permitted by Jeanne in their frank and
humorous _camaraderie_ to swear by his stick, the same
rustic oath.