One of the most memorable stories on record is that of Joan of Arc,
commonly called the Maid of Orleans. Henry the Fifth of England won
the decisive battle of Agincourt in the year 1415, and some time after
concluded a treaty with the reigning king of France, by which he was
recognised, in case of that king's death, as heir to the throne.
Henry V died in the year 1422, and Charles VI of France in less than
two months after. Henry VI was only nine months old at the time of his
father's death; but such was the deplorable state of France, that he
was in the same year proclaimed king in Paris, and for some years
seemed to have every prospect of a fortunate reign. John duke of
Bedford, the king's uncle, was declared regent of France: the son of
Charles VI was reduced to the last extremity; Orleans was the last
strong town in the heart of the kingdom which held out in his favour;
and that place seemed on the point to surrender to the conqueror.
In this fearful crisis appeared Joan of Arc, and in the most incredible
manner turned the whole tide of affairs. She was a servant in a poor
inn at Domremi, and was accustomed to perform the coarsest offices,
and in particular to ride the horses to a neighbouring stream to water.
Of course the situation of France and her hereditary king formed the
universal subject of conversation; and Joan became deeply impressed
with the lamentable state of her country and the misfortunes of her
king. By dint of perpetual meditation, and feeling in her breast the
promptings of energy and enterprise, she conceived the idea that she
was destined by heaven to be the deliverer of France. Agreeably to the
state of intellectual knowledge at that period, she persuaded herself
that she saw visions, and held communication with the saints. She had
conversations with St. Margaret, and St. Catherine of Fierbois. They
told her that she was commissioned by God to raise the siege of
Orleans, and to conduct Charles VII to his coronation at Rheims. St.
Catherine commanded her to demand a sword which was in her church at
Fierbois, which the Maid described by particular tokens, though she
had never seen it. She then presented herself to Baudricourt, governor
of the neighbouring town of Vaucouleurs, telling him her commission,
and requiring him to send her to the king at Chinon. Baudricourt at
first made light of her application; but her importunity and the
ardour she expressed at length excited him. He put on her a man's
attire, gave her arms, and sent her under an escort of two gentlemen
and their attendants to Chinon. Here she immediately addressed the
king in person, who had purposely hid himself behind his courtiers
that she might not know him. She then delivered her message, and
offered in the name of the Most High to raise the siege of Orleans,
and conduct king Charles to Rheims to be anointed. As a further
confirmation she is said to have revealed to the king before a few
select friends, a secret, which nothing but divine inspiration could
have discovered to her.
Desperate as was then the state of affairs, Charles and his ministers
immediately resolved to seize the occasion that offered, and put
forward Joan as an instrument to revive the prostrate courage of his
subjects. He had no sooner determined on this, than he pretended to
submit the truth of her mission to the most rigorous trial. He called
together an assembly of theologians and doctors, who rigorously
examined Joan, and pronounced in her favour. He referred the question
to the parliament of Poitiers; and they, who met persuaded that she
was an impostor, became convinced of her inspiration. She was mounted
on a high-bred steed, furnished with a consecrated banner, and marched,
escorted by a body of five thousand men, to the relief of Orleans. The
French, strongly convinced by so plain an interposition of heaven,
resumed the courage to which they had long been strangers. Such a
phenomenon was exactly suited to the superstition and credulity of the
age. The English were staggered with the rumours that every where went
before her, and struck with a degree of apprehension and terror that
they could not shake off. The garrison, informed of her approach, made
a sally on the other side of the town; and Joan and her convoy entered
without opposition. She displayed her standard in the market-place,
and was received as a celestial deliverer.
She appears to have been endowed with a prudence, not inferior to her
courage and spirit of enterprise. With great docility she caught the
hints of the commanders by whom she was surrounded; and, convinced of
her own want of experience and skill, delivered them to the forces as
the dictates of heaven. Thus the knowledge and discernment of the
generals were brought into play, at the same time that their
suggestions acquired new weight, when falling from the lips of the
heaven-instructed heroine. A second convoy arrived; the waggons and
troops passed between the redoubts of the English; while a dead
silence and astonishment reigned among the forces, so lately
enterprising and resistless. Joan now called on the garrison no longer
to stand upon the defensive, but boldly to attack the army of the
besiegers. She took one redoubt and then another. The English,
overwhelmed with amazement, scarcely dared to lift a hand against her.
Their veteran generals became spell-bound and powerless; and their
soldiers were driven before the prophetess like a flock of sheep. The
siege was raised.
Joan followed the English garrison to a fortified town which they
fixed on as their place of retreat. The siege lasted ten days; the
place was taken; and all the English within it made prisoners. The
late victorious forces now concentred themselves at Patay in the
Orleanois; Joan advanced to meet them. The battle lasted not a moment;
it was rather a flight than a combat; Fastolfe, one of the bravest of
our commanders, threw down his arms, and ran for his life; Talbot and
Scales, the other generals, were made prisoners. The siege of Orleans
was raised on the eighth of May, 1429; the battle of Patay was fought
on the tenth of the following month. Joan was at this time twenty-two
years of age.
This extraordinary turn having been given to the affairs of the
kingdom, Joan next insisted that the king should march to Rheims, in
order to his being crowned. Rheims lay in a direction expressly
through the midst of the enemies' garrisons. But every thing yielded
to the marvellous fortune that attended upon the heroine. Troyes
opened its gates; Chalons followed the example; Rheims sent a
deputation with the keys of the city, which met Charles on his march.
The proposed solemnity took place amidst the extacies and enthusiastic
shouts of his people. It was no sooner over, than Joan stept forward.
She said, she had now performed the whole of what God had commissioned
her to do; she was satisfied; she intreated the king to dismiss her to
the obscurity from which she had sprung.
The ministers and generals of France however found Joan too useful an
instrument, to be willing to part with her thus early; and she yielded
to their earnest expostulations. Under her guidance they assailed Laon,
Soissons, Chateau Thierry, Provins, and many other places, and took
them one after another. She threw herself into Compiegne, which was
besieged by the Duke of Burgundy in conjunction with certain English
commanders. The day after her arrival she headed a sally against the
enemy; twice she repelled them; but, finding their numbers increase
every moment with fresh reinforcements, she directed a retreat. Twice
she returned upon her pursuers, and made them recoil, the third time
she was less fortunate. She found herself alone, surrounded with the
enemy; and after having enacted prodigies of valour, she was compelled
to surrender a prisoner. This happened on the twenty-fifth of May,
1430.
It remained to be determined what should be the fate of this admirable
woman. Both friends and enemies agreed that her career had been
attended with a supernatural power. The French, who were so infinitely
indebted to her achievements, and who owed the sudden and glorious
reverse of their affairs to her alone, were convinced that she was
immediately commissioned by God, and vied with each other in reciting
the miraculous phenomena which marked every step in her progress. The
English, who saw all the victorious acquisitions of Henry V crumbling
from their grasp, were equally impressed with the manifest miracle,
but imputed all her good-fortune to a league with the prince of
darkness. They said that her boasted visions were so many delusions of
the devil. They determined to bring her to trial for the tremendous
crimes of sorcery and witchcraft. They believed that, if she were once
convicted and led out to execution, the prowess and valour which had
hitherto marked their progress would return to them, and that they
should obtain the same superiority over their disheartened foes. The
devil, who had hitherto been her constant ally, terrified at the
spectacle of the flames that consumed her, would instantly return to
the infernal regions, and leave the field open to English enterprise
and energy, and to the interposition of God and his saints.
An accusation was prepared against her, and all the solemnities of a
public trial were observed. But the proofs were so weak and
unsatisfactory, and Joan, though oppressed and treated with the utmost
severity, displayed so much acuteness and presence of mind, that the
court, not venturing to proceed to the last extremity, contented
themselves with sentencing her to perpetual imprisonment, and to be
allowed no other nourishment than bread and water for life. Before
they yielded to this mitigation of punishment, they caused her to sign
with her mark a recantation of her offences. She acknowledged that the
enthusiasm that had guided her was an illusion, and promised never
more to listen to its suggestions.
The hatred of her enemies however was not yet appeased. They
determined in some way to entrap her. They had clothed her in a female
garb; they insidiously laid in her way the habiliments of a man. The
fire smothered in the bosom of the maid, revived at the sight; she was
alone; she caught up the garments, and one by one adjusted them to her
person. Spies were set upon her to watch for this event; they burst
into the apartment. What she had done was construed into no less
offence than that of a relapsed heretic; there was no more pardon for
such confirmed delinquency; she was brought out to be burned alive in
the market-place of Rouen, and she died, embracing a crucifix, and in
her last moments calling upon the name of Jesus. A few days more than
twelve months, had elapsed between the period of her first captivity
and her execution.