"The hearts of kings are in His hand," says Holy Scripture, and it is of
necessity to be believed that the hearts of kings, in an especial sense,
are wisely governed. Yet, the blindness of our sinful souls, we often
may not see, nor by deep consideration find out, the causes wherefore
kings often act otherwise, and, as we might deem, less worthily than
common men. For it is a truth and must be told, that neither before he
was anointed with the blessed oil from the holy vessel, or ampulla, which
the angel brought to St. Remigius, nor even after that anointing (which
is more strange), did Charles VII., King of France, bear him kingly as
regards the Maiden. Nay, I have many a time thought with sorrow that if
Xaintrailles, or La Hire, ay, or any the meanest esquire in all our army,
had been born Dauphin, in three months after the Maid's victories in June
Paris would have been ours, and not an Englishman left to breathe the air
of France. For it needed but that the King should obey the Maid, ride
straight to Reims, and thence on Paris town, and every city would have
opened its gates to him, as the walls of Jericho fell at the mere sound
of the trumpets of Israel.
This is no foolish fancy of an old man dreaming in a cloister about what
might have been. For the Regent of the English, brother of their King
Harry the Fifth, and himself a wise man, and brave, if cruel, was of this
same mind. First, he left Paris and shut himself up in the strong castle
of Vincennes, dreading an uproar among the people; and next, he wholly
withdrew himself to Rouen, for he had now no force of men to guard the
walls of Paris. Our Dauphin had but to mount and ride, and all would
have been his at one blow, ay, or without a blow. The Maid, as we daily
heard, kept praying him, even with tears, to do no more than this; and
from every side came in men free and noble, ready to serve at their own
charges. The poorest gentlemen who had lost all in the troubles, and
might not even keep a horse to ride, were of goodwill to march as common
foot-soldiers.
But, while all France called on her King, he was dwelling at Sully, in
the castle of La Tremouille, a man who had a foot in either camp, so that
neither English nor Burgundians had ever raided on his rich lands, when
these lay in their power. So, what with the self-seeking, and sloth, and
jealousy of La Tremouille; what with the worldly policy of the Archbishop
of Reims, crying Peace, where there was no peace, the Maid and the
captains were not listened to, or, if they were heard, their plans were
wrought out with a faint heart, so that, at last, if it is lawful to say
so, the will of men prevailed over the will of Heaven.
Never, I pray, may any prince of my own country be so bestead, and so ill-
served, that, when he has won battles and gained cities two or three, and
needs but to ride forward and win all his kingdom, he shall be turned
back by the little faith of his counsellors! Never may such a thing
befall a prince of Scotland! Concerning these matters of State, as may
be believed, we devised much at Tours, while messengers were coming and
going, and long, weary councils were being held at Sully and at Gien.
D'Alencon, we got news, was all for striking a blow yet more bold than
the march to Reims, and would have attacked the English where they were
strongest, and nearest their own shores, namely, at Rouen. The
counsellors of the peaceful sort were inclined to waste time in besieging
La Charite, and other little towns on Loire-side. But her Voices had
bidden the Maid, from the first, to carry the Dauphin to Reims, that
there he might be anointed, and known to France for the very King. So at
last, finding that time was sorely wasted, whereas all hope lay in a
swift stroke, ere the English could muster men, and bring over the army
lately raised by the Cardinal of Winchester to go crusading against the
miscreants of Bohemia--the Maid rode out of Gien, with her own company,
on June the twenty-seventh, and lodged in the fields, some four leagues
away, on the road to Auxerre. And next day the King and the Court
followed her perforce, with a great army of twelve thousand men.
Thenceforth there came news to us every day in Tours, and all the news
was good. Town after town opened its gates at the summons of the Maid,
and notably Troyes and Chalons, in despite of the English garrisons.
We were all right glad, and could scarce sleep for joy, above all when a
messenger rode in, one Thomas Scott, whom I had encountered before, as I
have written, bidding my master come straightway to Reims, to join the
King, and exercise his craft in designing a great picture of the
coronation. So with much ado he bestowed his canvases, brushes, paints,
and all other gear of his trade in wallets, and, commending his daughter
to his old kinswoman, to obey her in all things, he set off on horseback
with Thomas Scott. But for myself, I was to lodge, while he was at
Reims, with a worthy woman of Tours, for the avoiding of evil tongues,
and very tardily the time passed with me, for that I might not be, as
before, always in the company of Elliot.
As for my lady, she was, during most of these days, on her knees at the
altar in the great minster, praying to the saints for the Dauphin, and
the Maid, and for her father, that he might come and go safely on his
journey. Nor did she pray in vain, for, no more than two days after the
first tidings had arrived that the sacring was done, and that all had
gone well, my master rode to his own door, weary, but glad at heart, and
hobbled into his house. One was sent running to bring me this good news,
and I myself ran, for now I was able, and found him seated at his meat,
as well as he could eat it for Elliot, that often stopped his mouth with
kisses.
He held forth his hand to me, saying, "All is as well as heart could
desire, and the Maid bids you follow her, if you may, to the taking of
Paris, for there she says will be your one chance to win your spurs. And
now let me eat and drink, for the heat is great, the ways dusty, and I
half famished. Thereafter ask me what you will, and you, Elliot, come
not between a hungry man and his meat."
So he spoke, sitting at his table with his tankard in his hand, and his
wallets lying about him on the floor. Elliot was therefore fain not to
be embracing him, but rather to carve for him, and serve in the best
manner, that he might sup the quicker and tell us all his tale. This he
did at last, Elliot sitting on his knee, with her arm about his neck.
But, as touches the sacring, how it was done, though many of the peers of
France were not there to see, and how noble were the manners of the King
and the Maid, who stood there with her banner, and of the only reward
which she would take, namely, that her townsfolk should live free of tax
and corvee, all this is known and written of in Chronicles. Nor did I
see it myself, so I pass by. But, next to actual beholding of that
glorious rite, the best thing was to hear my master tell of it, taking
out his books, wherein he had drawn the King, and the Maid in her
harness, and many of the great lords. From these pictures a tapestry was
afterwards wrought, and hung in Reims Cathedral, where it is to this day:
the Maid on horseback beckoning the King onward, the Scots archers beside
him in the most honourable place, as was their lawful due, and, behind
all, the father of the Maid entering Reims by another road. By great
good fortune, and by virtue of being a fellow-traveller with Thomas
Scott, the rider of the King's stable, my master found lodgings easily
enough. So crowded was the town that, the weather being warm, in mid
July, many lay in tabernacles of boughs, in the great place of Reims, and
there was more singing that night than sleeping. But my master had lain
at the hostelry called L'Asne Roye, in the parvise, opposite to the
cathedral, where also lay Jean d'Arc, the father of the Maid. Thither
she herself came to visit him, and she gave gifts to such of the people
of her own countryside as were gathered at Reims.
"And, Jeannot, do you fear nothing?" one of them asked her, who had known
her from a child.
"I fear nothing but treason," my master heard her reply, a word that we
had afterwards too good cause to remember.
"And is she proud now that she is so great?" asked Elliot.
"She proud! No pride has she, but sat at meat, and spoke friendly with
all these manants, and it was 'tu' and 'toy,' and 'How is this one? and
that one?' till verily, I think, she had asked for every man, woman,
child, and dog in Domremy. And that puts me in mind--"
"In mind of what?"
"Of nought. Faith, I remember not what I was going to say, for I am well
weary."
"But Paris?" I asked. "When march we on Paris?" My master's face
clouded. "They should have set forth for Paris the very day after the
sacring, which was the seventeenth of July. But envoys had come in from
the Duke of Burgundy, and there were parleys with them as touching peace.
Now, peace will never be won save at the point of the lance. But a truce
of a fortnight has been made with Burgundy, and then he is to give up
Paris to the King. Yet, ere a fortnight has passed, the new troops from
England will have come over to fight us, and not against the heretics of
Bohemia, though they have taken the cross and the vow. And the King has
gone to Saint Marcoul, forsooth, seeing that, unless he goes there to do
his devotions, he may not touch the sick and heal the crewels. {29}
Faith, they that have the crewels might even wait till the King has come
to his own again; they have waited long enough to learn patience while he
was Dauphin. It should be Paris first, and Saint Marcoul and the crewels
afterwards, but anything to waste time and keep out of the brunt of the
battle." Here he struck his hand on the table so that the vessels
leaped. "I fear what may come of it," he said. "For every day that
passes is great loss to us and much gain to our enemies of England, who
will anon garrison Paris."
"Faint-heart," cried Elliot, plucking his beard. "You will never believe
in the Maid, who has never yet failed to help us, by the aid of the
saints."
"The saints help them that help themselves," he answered. "And Paris
town has walls so strong, that once the fresh English are entered in,
even the saints may find it a hard bargain. But you, Elliot, run up and
see if my chamber be ready, for I am well weary." She ran forth, and my
master, turning to me, said in a low voice, "I have something for your
own ear, but I feared to grieve her. In a booth at Reims I saw her
jackanapes doing his tricks, and when he came round questing with his
bowl the little beast knew me and jumped up into my arms, and wailed as
if he had been a Christian. Then I was for keeping him, but I was set on
by three or four stout knaves, and, I being alone, and the crowd taking
their part, I thought it not well to draw sword, and so break the King's
peace that had just then begun to be King. But my heart was sore for the
poor creature, and, in very truth, I bring back no light heart, save to
see you twain again, for I fear me that the worst of the darg {30} is
still to do. But here comes Elliot, so no word of the jackanapes."
Therewith he went off to his chamber, and I to mine, with less pleasure
than I had looked for. Still, the thought came into my heart that, the
longer the delay of the onslaught on Paris, the better chance I had to
take part therein; and the harder the work, the greater the glory.
The boding words of my master proved over true. The King was sacred on
July the sixteenth, and Paris then stood empty of English soldiers, being
garrisoned by Burgundians only. But, so soon as he was anointed, the
King began to parley with Burgundy, and thus they spun out the time,
till, on July the twenty-fifth, a strong army of Englishmen had entered
Paris. Whether their hearts were high may not be known, but on their
banner they had hung a distaff, and had painted the flag with the words--
"Ores viegne la Belle,"
meaning, "Let the fair Maid come, and we shall give her wool to spin."
Next we heard, and were loth to believe it, that a new truce of fifteen
days more had been made with Burgundy. The Maid, indeed, said openly
that she loved not the truce, and that she kept it only for the honour of
the King, which was dearer to her than her life, as she proved in the
end.
Then came marchings, this way and that, all about the Isle of France,
Bedford leaving Paris to fight the King, and then refusing battle, though
the Maid rode up to the English palisades, and smote them with her sword,
defying the English to come out, if they were men. So the English betook
them back to Paris, after certain light skirmishes only. Meanwhile some
of his good towns that had been in the hands of the English yielded to
the King, or rather to the Maid. Among these the most notable was
Compiegne, a city as great as Orleans. Many a time it had been taken and
retaken in the wars, but now the burgesses swore that they would rather
all die, with their wives and children, than open their gates again to
the English. And this oath they kept well, as shall be seen in the end.