We come now to an interesting siege, one connected with many stirring
associations for both French and English readers. The miserable
condition into which France had fallen at the period of the unjust
invasion of our Henry V., can scarcely be conceived. An insane king,
ambitious grasping princes, bold, poor, and selfish nobles, all
conspired to oppress a sunken and degraded people. With us, Henry
V. has a false amiability thrown round his character; except in
his bravery and shrewd sense, the historical Henry V. has not much
resemblance to the heroic, gay, dissipated but good-natured, Hal of
Shakespeare. He and his English rendered themselves hateful to the
French, whom they treated as a conquered nation. The early death of
Henry made matters still worse. His brother Bedford, with Talbot,
Salisbury, and other eminent leaders, upheld the English cause in
France for many years, and with occasional success; but the one great
directing will and power was gone; where there are many, however able
they may be, disunions will take place, and even a good cause will
fail. For Englishmen who are proud of the valour and ability of their
heroes of all ages, the page now before us is a melancholy one to turn
over. Better knights never laid lance in rest; wiser and more prudent
men never met in council, than some of the leaders in these ill-starred
wars; and yet all seem to be striving against fate, and that fate was
that their cause was unjust.
At the period of this siege, the two great actors in the late events,
Henry V. of England and Charles VI. of France, were dead. Henry’s son
was an infant; Charles’s was still worse: the infant was under the good
tutelage of his brave and good uncles, whilst Charles’s son, for a long
time called only the dauphin, was a weak, dissipated, indolent youth,
a willing prey to mistresses and favourites. By the treaty of Troyes,
signed by Henry V. and Charles VI., the crown belonged to Henry VI.;
but the bulk of the French nation deemed such a compulsory engagement
binding upon no one, and all eagerly waited the opportunity for
throwing off the odious foreign yoke.
For a long time the council of the king of England, to assist in
ruining the party of Charles VII., disinherited, as they said, by the
treaty of Troyes, had fixed their eyes upon Orleans; but numberless
considerations had retarded the siege of that city. At length, on the
8th of October, 1428, ten thousand English approached to reconnoitre
the environs of the place, after having rapidly conquered Château-Neuf,
Rambouillet, Bétancourt, Rochefort, and all the neighbouring places.
Gaucourt, the governor of the city, made a vigorous sortie, and
repulsed the enemy. They went and sacked some more places, and on
the 12th of the same month reappeared before Orleans, on the side of
the Sologne. The garrison was weak, but it had as leaders intrepid
warriors, the Gaucourts, the Dunois, the Lahires, the Xaintrailles,
a crowd of noblesse of that name and that merit, who all inspired
the lowest soldiers with the heroic valour which animated them. The
inhabitants even, resolved to bury themselves under the ruins of their
city rather than submit to a foreign yoke, had become so many heroes.
The women partook of this martial ardour, and devoted themselves
enthusiastically to the service of their country.
The _tête du pont_, on the side of the Sologne, was defended by a
fortress called _Les Tourelles_, in front of which a bulwark had been
commenced. It was by this intrenchment the earl of Salisbury, the
general of the English army, made his first attacks. The faubourgs, set
fire to on the approach of the enemy, were not yet entirely consumed.
This barrier stopped them at first, but they soon elevated a bastille
upon the ruins of the convent of the Augustines, and erected batteries,
which kept up a constant discharge against the walls of the city, the
Tourelles, and the boulevard, of which they wished to make themselves
masters. The cannon made a large breach, and it was resolved to mount
it sword in hand. On the 21st of October, the trumpets sounded the
signal, and, as if by one motion, the warriors planted their ladders at
the foot of the ramparts. They sprang up with incredible intrepidity;
but they were received with a firmness equal to it, and both sides
fought with the same fury. National hatred and a desire for vengeance
added to the natural desire to conquer. Whilst the besieged hurled
their foes into the fosses, launched fire-pots, rolled stones of an
enormous size upon them, encircled them with rings of red-hot iron,
poured torrents of boiling oil, and burning ashes, the women of the
city, not less active, in the words of a chronicler, “brought them
everything that could assist in the defence; and to refresh their great
labour, bread, wine, meats, fruits, and vinegar, with white towels to
wipe them. Some were seen, during the assault, repulsing the English
with lance-thrusts from the entrance to the boulevard, and beating
them down into the fosses.” Such a furious resistance disconcerted
Salisbury; he sounded a retreat, and ordered a mine to be instantly
commenced. It was soon finished, and they were preparing to spring
it. The besieged perceived it, and despairing of maintaining a post
threatened on all sides, they set fire to it, in the sight of the
English, and retired into the fortress of the Tourelles. To defend
this for a short time, they raised a new boulevard on the bridge even,
of which they destroyed two arches. Notwithstanding all this, they
could not long withstand the multiplied efforts of the English. The
fort of the Tourelles was carried, and that advantageous post offered
the besiegers a commodious and redoubtable position. The Orléannais
then directed all their batteries against that part of their city for
which they had so boldly fought. The enemy, on their side, neglected no
means to maintain it, and both exhausted, in attack or defence, all the
resources the most heroic valour could furnish.
It was then the middle of autumn. Salisbury foreseeing that the siege
would be long, resolved to encircle the place with a belt of many
forts, which, placed at regular distances, would render the entrance of
succours or convoys next to impossible. To draw up his plan according
to the situation of the city, he repaired to the Tourelles, from
whence a view could be obtained of the whole environs of Orleans. He
was earnestly employed on this examination, when a cannon-ball carried
away one of his eyes and half of his face. After having exhorted the
principal officers to continue the siege according to the plan he had
traced for them, he was transported to Meun, where he soon after died.
The earl of Suffolk, the lord Pole his brother, Talbot, Glansdale, and
other leaders, were clothed with his authority; and these captains,
full of respect for their general, continued their operations according
to the instructions he had given them.
Every day the besiegers and the besieged received reinforcements. The
garrison, which at first scarcely amounted to twelve hundred men, was
now composed of three thousand combatants; and the English army, which
at the commencement only reckoned ten thousand warriors, was increased
to twenty-three thousand soldiers, who thought themselves invincible.
The city, which had been attacked on the side of the Sologne alone,
was now invested almost entirely on that of the Beauce. Opposite to
the principal avenues of Orleans were erected six large bastilles,
which communicated with each other by sixty less considerable redoubts,
constructed in the intervals. It was impossible to enter the place
without passing under the artillery of the forts. More than once the
French leaders forced the quarters of the enemy’s army to introduce
convoys. The rigour of the season did not at all interrupt the works.
Only on Christmas-day the English proposed a suspension of arms,
and begged the besieged to send them some musicians, to celebrate
that great festival with proper solemnity. The generals made each
other presents. The earl of Suffolk sent the bastard of Orleans some
refreshments in exchange for a plush robe which he had given him.
Up to the beginning of Lent, nothing remarkable took place. Having
desolated the country round, the English began to be in want of
provisions. In the early part of February, the duke of Bedford sent a
convoy, escorted by two thousand five hundred men, under the conduct
of the brave Fastolfe. The count de Clermont having collected nearly
three thousand soldiers, to whom he added a detachment of the garrison
of Orleans, resolved to carry off this convoy. He came up with the
English at Rouvray, a village of the Beauce. Fastolfe[9] halted, made
an intrenchment of the waggons which contained the provisions, and only
left two issues, at one of which he placed his archers. The French
army, more courageous than prudent, wished that same night to force
this intrenchment, with an impetuosity that has often proved fatal
to their countrymen. The French insisted upon fighting on horseback;
the Scots would only fight on foot. This deficiency of discipline
produced the effect that might have been expected. After an obstinate
conflict, the English were conquerors. A hundred and twenty nobles of
high rank were left dead upon the field; and the other leaders returned
to the city, quite crest-fallen, with scarcely five hundred followers.
This battle was called “La journée des harengs,” because the convoy
conducted by Fastolfe consisted principally of barrels filled with
this fish, which, being broken by the French artillery, their savoury
contents were strewed over the field of battle.
In proportion with the triumph of the English in this little battle
was the depression of the feeble and voluptuous Charles, then lying
encamped at Chinon. Despairing of his fortunes, the timid monarch
deliberated whether he had not better seek refuge in Dauphiny. It was
his own opinion, and his servile counsellors concurred in it. He was
already about to carry this resolution into effect, when two heroines
roused the courage of the prince from its effeminate slumbers. The
queen, a princess above her sex and her rank, and the fair Agnes[10]
Sorel, employed the influence their charms had over him to detain the
king, who could but blush to think he had less magnanimity than his
wife or his mistress.
In the mean time Orleans seemed daily sinking into the last extremity.
The besieged could no longer look for relief to a prince who was in
no condition to assist them, and who, indeed, scarcely preserved a
shadow of royalty. There only remained one chance of saving the city,
and that was to place it in sequestration in the hands of the duke of
Burgundy. The envoys, among whom was Xaintrailles, went at once to the
duke, who agreed to the proposal, and came with them to Paris, with the
design of persuading the duke of Bedford to accept it. But the regent
replied that he would only treat with the city upon the condition of
its surrender to the English. This intelligence roused the indignation
and revived the courage of the Orléannais; they resolved to defend
themselves to the last breath.
Whilst terrified France looked for nothing but the blow which was to
consummate its ruin, that Invincible Power which sometimes seems to
attach the greatest events to the most apparently weak causes, prepared
her an avenger. A girl, of about seventeen years of age, was strongly
persuaded that God destined her to be the preserver of her country. Our
readers will please to observe we speak of La Pucelle according to the
opinion entertained of her by the French of her own day, because it
was that opinion which produced the revolution which astonishes us: if
the majority of the French nation had not had faith in the mission of
Joan of Arc, the miracle would not have been effected. Born near the
banks of the Meuse, at Dom-Remy, a village of Lorraine, her poor but
honest parents had given her an education conformable to the simplicity
of her situation. Jeanne d’Arc, or, as we call her, Joan of Arc, had
from her childhood been brought up with a horror for the English; she
constantly made it the subject of her prayers that the monarchy should
be delivered from the eternal enemies who tyrannized over it. Her zeal
becoming more ardent with her years, at thirteen she had trances, in
which she declared she had conversed with St. Michael, St. Marguerite,
and St. Catherine, who told her that God had appointed her to drive
out the English and bring about the coronation of the dauphin. With
this enthusiasm she possessed all the virtues of which a simple mind is
susceptible: innocence, piety, candour, generosity, and courage. Her
rustic life had strengthened her naturally robust frame; she had the
exterior, and even the natural graces of her sex, without experiencing
the infirmities which characterize the weakness of it.
After several years of revelations, Joan, urged more and more by
that inward voice which excited her to arm for her country, formed
the resolution of presenting herself to Baudricourt, governor of
Vaucouleurs, a small city of the neighbourhood:--“Master captain,”
said she, “know that God has for some time past often given me to
know, and has commanded me to go to the _gentil dauphin_, who ought,
it is true, to be king of France, and that he should place under me
men-at-arms, and that I should raise the siege of Orleans, and lead
him to be crowned at Reims.” The astonished Baudricourt supposed her
to be mad, and wanted to have her exorcised by the curé of the place.
Joan continued to urge him for six months, and at length the governor,
subdued by her importunities, armed her at all points, gave her in
charge to two gentlemen with their servants, and dismissed her, saying,
“Go, come of it what may!” Towards the end of February she arrived at
Chinon, where the dauphin then was. It was precisely the moment when
the vacillating Charles appeared to be sinking under the weight of his
ill fortune.[11] She announced herself at the court of the monarch.
During two days it was deliberated whether she should be heard or
not; but at length curiosity prevailed, and she was admitted. The
king, without any mark of superior dignity, mingled with the crowd of
courtiers, on purpose to prove her. Joan distinguished him, pointed him
out, and in spite of the cries “You are mistaken! you are mistaken!”
continued to exclaim, “_That is he! that is he!_” They all admire her
noble boldness; they surround her, and gaze on her with astonished
looks. Charles himself cannot explain what passes in his heart at
the aspect of this unknown girl: “Gentil dauphin,” said the heroine,
without being the least disconcerted, “my name is _Jeanne la Pucelle_.
The King of Heaven has sent me to succour you; if you will please to
give me men of war, by divine grace and force of arms I will raise the
siege of Orleans, and will lead you to Reims to be crowned, in spite
of all your enemies. This is what the King of Heaven has ordered me to
tell you, and it is His will that the English should return to their
own country, and leave you peaceful in yours, as being the only true
and legitimate heir of it; that if you make this offering to God, He
will make you much greater and more flourishing than your predecessors
have ever been; and He will take it ill of the English if they do not
retire.”
Thus spoke La Pucelle; the fire of her words, the _naïveté_ of her
manner, her simple but precise replies, everything convinced. The
king caused her to be examined by matrons, by theologians, and by
his parliament. Yoland of Arragon, queen of Sicily, accompanied by
the ladies De Gaucourt, De Tiénes, and several others of the first
distinction, visited Joan, and pronounced her to be as pure as she had
described herself. The theologians, after many interrogations, decided
that she was inspired. The parliament of Poitiers, after the most
scrupulous observations, required that she should manifest the truth
of her revelations by some prodigy. “I did not come to Poitiers,” she
haughtily replied, “to perform miracles; but conduct me to Orleans,
and I will give you certain signs of my mission.” This firm reply so
astonished her judges, that all with one voice declared that this
heavenly instrument which the All-Powerful had sent to their country
ought to be instantly employed. Charles ordered a splendid and complete
suit of armour to be made for her, gave her a standard, squires,
pages, an intendant, a chaplain, and a train becoming the state of a
great warlike leader. The new Amazon placed herself at the head of a
considerable convoy destined for Orleans; and her warriors soon felt
themselves inspired with her enthusiasm. She set out, followed by
Marshal De Boussac, Gilles de Rais, the admiral De Couland, Ambroise
de Loté, and Lahire, and arrived on the 29th of April within sight of
the place. Dunois came to meet her; he begged her to satisfy the desire
the inhabitants had to behold their liberator: she yielded to his
entreaties, and she entered the city as if in triumph. A thousand cries
of joy were heard; at that moment the Orléannais believed themselves
invincible, and in fact were so. Everything was changed; the English,
to that day conquerors, trembled at the name of Joan of Arc; they as
firmly believed her to be a sorceress as the French believed her to
be celestially inspired. “English,” wrote the heroine to them, “you
who have no right to this kingdom of France, God commands you by me,
Jeanne la Pucelle, to abandon your forts and to retire.” The couriers
were arrested, and no reply was made to this awful summons but insults.
Joan, outraged but dreaded, now prepared to prove her mission. On
Wednesday, the 4th of May, she selected a body of troops, and, filled
with an ardour more than human, she precipitated herself upon the
enemy’s forts, and carried them after an assault of four hours. She
then thought of gaining possession of the boulevard and fort of the
Tourelles, where the _élite_ of the English were cantoned, under the
orders of the celebrated Glansdale. After having made her dispositions
during the night, she gave the signal as the first rays of day
appeared. The ready troops follow her, mount with her to the breach,
fight with ardour, press, pierce through, and overthrow the English,
who, nevertheless, defend themselves with great courage. The French
were on the point of carrying all before them, when Joan, wounded in
the neck, was obliged to retire to put a dressing to her wound. Her
absence extinguished the courage of the assailants; the soldiers missed
the warlike illusion which rendered them victorious. Each began to
desire to place himself in safety: even Dunois judged it most prudent
to do so. All at once La Pucelle reappears! She rushes to the foot of
the fort, and there plants her standard. Her intrepidity passes into
all hearts; the efforts of her followers are redoubled, their fatigues
and fears are forgotten, the English fly, the boulevard is carried!
On the morrow the vanquished English draw up in order of battle on
the side of La Beauce; the French, still led on, still animated by
their heroine, present themselves in the same order, resolved to
fight, although inferior in numbers. But their enemies, till that
time so proud and so terrible, did not dare to stand before them;
they precipitately retreated, leaving behind them their sick, their
baggage, their provisions, their artillery, and nearly five thousand
dead. Thus, contrary to all hopes and expectations, the city of Orleans
was relieved on the 8th of May, 1419. Public gratitude exhausted
itself, so to say, to prove to Joan of Arc how deeply the greatness
of her benefits was felt; the king ennobled her, with her father, her
three brothers, and all her posterity. A statue was erected to her
on the bridge of the city she had saved, and, to eternize the memory
of this fortunate event, a festival was established, which is still
celebrated every year on the 8th of May. At this festival an eulogy
is pronounced on Joan of Arc, who, from the period of the raising of
the siege, has been styled the Maid of Orleans. During the troubles
of the Revolution, ignorant and barbarous men overthrew, in Orleans,
the statue of a heroine who had preserved their city from the yoke of
the English, and roused the spirit in France which shortly afterwards
expelled the invaders from their soil; it was, however, reinstated by
Buonaparte, during his consulship, on which occasion he did not forget
to introduce a pungent reflection upon his and Joan’s enemies, the
English.
The momentary gratitude was such as we have above described it; but
what was the conduct of the king she had saved, when she became
a captive? After she had fulfilled her mission, and effected the
consecration of the king at Reims, she wished to retire, “to be taken
back,” as she said, “to her father and mother, and keep their sheep
and tend to their cattle.” But Charles’s captains had found the
value of the enthusiasm she created, and refused to let her go. She,
however, never was again as she had been; if she had had any faith in
the divinity of her mission, with its completion it was gone. She was
wounded at the siege of Paris, and was afterwards taken prisoner. As
no Englishman can speak of her death without a blush, we will pass
over that in humbled silence; but what shall we say for her king, who
owed her so much, who heard of her imprisonment and death with the
utmost indifference, and did not make the least effort to save her, or
mitigate the horrors of her punishment? It was twenty-five years before
he bethought himself of doing her memory justice: but Charles VII. was
then a very different man from what he had been when he was so deeply
indebted to Joan of Arc.
Joan of Arc is one of those remarkable characters who have achieved
miracles by working upon the current superstitions of the times they
lived in. To what a degree they were superstitious, we may judge by
the one instance of the duchess of Gloucester, the wife of the king’s
uncle, being tried and punished to the full extent the court durst
venture, for dabbling in witchcraft. Acknowledging the immense benefit
Joan’s efforts produced, and at the same time admitting the spirit and
intelligence with which she carried out her plans, when we look at the
pretence under which she operated, we are made sceptical, as we are
in all such cases, of the first moving cause. In fact, we think it
much more probable that the keen-witted Dunois should have trained a
bold, shrewd girl to impose upon a weak young king and a superstitious
people, than for an instant to imagine there was anything supernatural
in her mission, or even that she devised a scheme entirely herself.
Shakespeare generally follows the chronicles pretty faithfully; and
the manner in which Dunois introduces her to the notice of the king is
very suspicious. We do not take Shakespeare’s view of her character,
but we are quite as much at variance with those poets who throw a veil
of perfection and sickly sentimentality over it. In our opinion, Joan
is a person who almost unwittingly effected wonders; neither she nor
Dunois contemplated the extent of the good she did for France. Had she
appeared under any banner but that of superstition, we should not have
said a word against the faith that is placed in her; but no student
of history should allow that pretence to pass without the closest
investigation. As a high-spirited, intelligent, persevering, patriotic
woman, she has much of our admiration, but as the inspired Maid of
Orleans, she has none.
Her intervention was critically timed. The nobles were beginning to be
ashamed of allowing a foreign power to dominate over the fair fields
of France; the patience of the people under an oppressive yoke was
exhausted; the English leaders, brave and wise as they were, were
many and divided, under a minor king of weak character even when a
man. In addition to these causes all beginning to operate favourably
for France, Charles VII. was becoming of an age to perceive his
legitimate course, and if he had not shaken off the trammels of sloth
and pleasure, occasionally showed some little scintillations of what
he afterwards became. When paying tribute to the memory of Joan of Arc
as the regenerator of France, the French should not forget another
remarkable woman to whom they are indebted: Agnes Sorel employed no
magic but beauty and good sense, and yet the rousing of the king to a
sense of his duty was as much due to her as the rousing of the people
was due to Joan.