VICTORY OVER DOUBTING HEARTS
"_Yet the true Poetry--herself, like thee,
Childlike; herself, like thee, a shepherd maid--
Gives thee her birthright of Divinity,
And lifts unto the stars thy starry shade.
Thy brows receive the aureole of her sky;
The Heart created thee--thou canst not die._"
SCHILLER, "_The Maid of Orleans._"
Jeanne stayed at her uncle's house with Aveline until the latter was
quite well. Then, there being nothing further to hinder, she asked
Lassois to take her to Vaucouleurs.
"Jacques won't like it, Jeanne," feebly remonstrated Durand, knowing full
well that notwithstanding the fact he would do as his niece wished. "He
didn't before, you know; and neither did Isabeau."
"I must go, Uncle Durand. Though I had a hundred fathers, or a hundred
mothers, though I were the daughter of a King, I still should go. It is
commanded."
Durand made no further objection, though he knew that both Jacques and
Isabeau would censure him for yielding to her. He saw that Jeanne was not
to be turned from her purpose, so made ready for the journey. Perhaps,
like Jacques, he relied on the common sense of the Sire Robert to send
the girl home, for he was cheerful enough when presently they were on
their way to Vaucouleurs.
"You will return with me, Jeanne? This visit is for the day only, is it
not?"
"No, uncle. I shall stay in Vaucouleurs until the Sire Captain gives me
men-at-arms to take me to the Dauphin."
"And if he does not? What then?"
"He will in time, Uncle Durand. My Voices have said so," responded the
maiden confidently.
Lassois sat for a time without speaking. There was as much awe as
affection in the regard he bore his young kinswoman, and when she wore a
look of exaltation as on this morning he felt as he did at the ringing of
the angelus. But there was a practical side to the affair to be looked
after as well as a spiritual, and he wished to be able to put the best
face possible on the matter before Jacques; so after a little he
queried:
"And where shall you bide at Vaucouleurs? Have you thought of that?"
"Why, yes, uncle. Mother has a friend, one Catherine le Royer, who lives
in the town. I shall go to her. I am sure that she will give me welcome
for mother's sake."
"Now that is well," spoke Lassois in relieved tones. "I know Catherine,
and her husband also. Henri le Royer, the wheelwright, he is. Good people
they are, and pious."
By this time they had reached the little walled town nestling among the
low hills of the valley, and again Jeanne passed up the steep slopes of
the hill upon which the castle stood.
As before when she had gone to him Robert de Baudricourt sat at meat with
his captains. There was no smile on his face this time, however, when, in
answer to the request that they might speak with him Jeanne and her uncle
were ushered into the great dining hall. No smile, though Lassois was
awkward and ill at ease, and Jeanne still wore the red homespun dress,
and the village coif of the peasant. There was not the least flicker of
amusement in his countenance as he said:
"Well, my little maid, what brings thee here this time?"
Jeanne courtesied low before she replied:
"My Lord Captain, know that God has commanded me many times to go to the
gentle Dauphin, who must be and who is the true King of France, that he
shall grant me men-at-arms with whom I shall raise the siege at Orleans,
and take him to his anointing at Reims. And you, Sire Captain, must send
or take me to him. It is commanded."
For a long time Robert de Baudricourt sat silent, regarding the maiden
with a troubled look. She was so earnest, was evidently so sincere in her
demand, that he was perplexed. Was she inspired, or possessed? That was
what his expression said as he gazed at her. If inspired her aid was not
to be despised. If possessed she ought to be dealt with forthwith. In
truth he knew not what to say to her. His own situation was far from
pleasant. When Antoine de Vergy had raged through the valley the previous
Summer he had infested the town of Vaucouleurs, and de Baudricourt had
been obliged to yield it to him, though he had not yet given possession.
[Illustration: THERE WAS NO SMILE ON HIS FACE]
It was one of those capitulations, common in those days, by which the
Commander of a garrison promised to surrender his fortress by the end
of a given time. This promise, however, ceased to be valid should the
fortress be relieved before the day fixed for its surrender. So Sire
Robert's own condition was acute, and if the Dauphin were not in a
position to come to his relief he himself would be caught in the coils
of the enemy. Any promise of deliverance, however humble, was not to
be treated lightly. Therefore, if he did not believe in Jeanne's
announcement he at least listened to it readily. At length he said:
"This matter should be given some thought, my little maid. Where do you
bide? I would speak with you further concerning this."
There was a stir of surprise among his men, for they noted with amazement
that the Captain addressed the maiden as an equal.
"With Catherine le Royer, the wheelwright's wife, messire," answered
Jeanne.
"I will speak with you again," repeated Sire Robert. And Jeanne and
Lassois, understanding that the interview was over for this time,
withdrew.
Catherine and Henri le Royer were folk of Jeanne's own humble station.
The good dame welcomed the girl warmly, at first for her mother's sake
and then for her own. Jeanne had ever a way with women and girls, and but
few days had elapsed ere she had completely won the heart of her hostess
by her gentle ways, her skill in sewing and spinning, and her earnest
faith. Together they attended mass at the parish church, spun, sewed, or
busied themselves about the house. Sometimes Jeanne climbed the hill to
the royal chapel which adjoined the Governor's castle, for there was a
wonderful image of the Virgin in the crypt of Saint Mary's before which
she loved to pray.
News of her mission, the tidings that a young girl was come, who was
appointed by God to save France spread through the town and surrounding
country. The people flocked to see her, and those who came believed, won
by her earnestness and simple sincerity. They were in no uncertainty at
all as to her mission. A little mob hung about the cottage door to see
her come and go, chiefly to church. The saying, "France lost by a woman
shall be restored by a maid from the Marches of Lorraine," was on every
lip. And the excitement grew.
Again and again Jeanne sought the Governor, saying:
"I must to the gentle Dauphin. It is the will of Messire, the King of
Heaven, that I should wend to the gentle Dauphin. I am sent by the King
of Heaven. I must go even if I go on my knees. My Lord Captain, in God's
name, send me to the gentle Dauphin."
But Sire Robert,--though he listened to her readily enough, and,
impressed in spite of himself by her intense fervour, perceived a certain
seriousness in the business,--remained deaf to her pleadings. He could
not believe. What, a young girl fair and lovely as was this peasant maid
to deliver France? The thing was absurd; and yet--he dared not send her
home lest after all there might be truth in what she claimed. And so the
matter rested.
The days dawned and waned, and still the men-at-arms were not provided.
Jeanne shed bitter tears over the delay. She believed so implicitly in
her Voices that she could not understand why others did not have the same
faith. And the fame of her grew and spread, going out into the country
even beyond the valley.
One day, as she was on her way to mass, a young man-at-arms pushed his
way through the crowd which had gathered to see her to have a word with
the wonderful peasant maid.
"Well, ma mie," he said banteringly, "what are you doing here? Must the
King be driven from his Kingdom, and we all turn English?"
"I came hither to the King's territory, messire, to speak with Sire
Robert that he may take me, or cause me to be taken to the Dauphin; but
he heeds neither me nor my words. Notwithstanding, ere mid-Lent I must be
before the Dauphin, were I in going to wear my legs to my knees."
The reply was given with such intent seriousness that the young knight
was impressed, and he spoke more gently:
"Know you not, maiden, that Louis, the little son of Charles, hath just
been betrothed to the infant daughter of the King of Scotland? King James
is to send Madame Margaret to France with an army of six thousand men
before Whitsunday, which, as you know, is in May. What need, therefore,
is there for you, a young girl, to go to the Dauphin?"
"I must go to the Dauphin, messire; for no one in the world, no king or
duke or daughter of the King of Scotland[6] can restore the realm of
France. In me alone is help, albeit for my part, I would far rather be
spinning by my poor mother's side, for this life is not to my liking. But
I must go, and so I will, for it is Messire's command that I should go."
"Who is Messire?" asked he.
"He is God," she answered.
The young man was moved. He stretched out his hands suddenly as though he
believed in spite of himself, and laid his hands between hers.
"There!" said he. "I, Jean de Novelonpont, commonly called Jean de Metz,
pledge you my word, knightly fashion, my hands in your hands in token of
fealty, that God helping me I will take you to the King."
"You will, messire?" cried Jeanne joyfully.
"On my word of honour I promise it. When will you set forth?"
"This hour is better than to-morrow; to-morrow is better than after
to-morrow," she told him, her face illumined with smiles. It was the
first gleam of hope that had lightened the weary days of waiting.
"I will make preparations at once," he said, moved by her zeal and by her
strong sense of the necessity of immediate operations. Then as he started
to leave her, he turned.
"Would you travel in that garb, pucelle?"[7] he asked hesitatingly.
Jeanne smiled, divining the difficulties he foresaw were she to retain
her woman's garb in travelling. She had already given the matter
thought, and perceived that if she were to live among soldiers she must
change the dress she wore. So she answered promptly:
"I will willingly dress as a man. In truth, it would be more seemly."
De Metz nodded approval, and went his way. After this, because joys like
sorrows come not singly, one after another began to believe in her. In a
few days another man-at-arms came to her. He was an older man than de
Metz and a graver. At his salutation Jeanne looked at him intently.
"Have I not seen you somewhere, messire?" she asked.
"I think not," he answered lightly. "Methinks I should not have forgotten
it had we ever met. Yet stay!" bending a keen glance upon her. "Are not
you the little maid who dressed my wounded arm at your father's house in
Domremy?"
"It may be, messire."
"It is," he affirmed. "The wound healed quickly, for the treatment was
good. So you are that little maid? And now you have come here with a
mission? Tell me of it, pucelle. Can you in very truth do as you say:
raise the siege of Orleans, and bring the King to his anointing?"
"Not I, messire; but my Lord, the King of Heaven, will do it through me.
I am but his humble instrument."
"Tell me of it," he said again. "I have talked with Jean de Metz, but I
would hear of it from you."
There was no need for reserve concerning her mission, so Jeanne talked of
it freely to him. Indeed she did so to whomsoever wished to hear about
it. And when she had made an end of the telling Bertrand de Poulengy
placed his hands in hers as de Metz had done, and pledged her fealty,
knightly fashion.
But though the men-at-arms were willing to set forth at once there was
still delay; for, being in service with Sire Robert, they could not leave
without his consent. Jeanne became impatient, knowing that Orleans could
not hold out forever. She was cast down, not through want of faith in her
divine mission, but because of the obstacles which unbelieving men like
Baudricourt were putting in her way.
"In God's name, gentle Robert," she cried one day, meeting him at the
foot of the hill where his castle stood, "you are too slow about sending
me. This day hath a great disaster happened to the Dauphin. Send me
quickly lest a worse befall him."
"A disaster hath befallen the Dauphin?" exclaimed Sire Robert. "How could
you know that a disaster hath befallen him to-day?"
"My Voices have told me," she made answer. "A battle hath been lost near
Orleans. Sire Robert, I must be sent to him."
"I will see, I will see," he said, looking troubled. "If this be true, as
you have said, then shall you go to him. But is it by evil or by good
spirits that you speak?"
Without waiting for a reply he left her abruptly. As Jeanne sat spinning
with Catherine le Royer the next morning she was greatly surprised when
the door opened suddenly, and the Governor himself, accompanied by Jean
Fournier, the parish priest, entered. At a sign from Sire Robert,
Catherine quitted the room, and Jeanne was left with the two men. The
priest immediately put on his stole, and pronounced some Latin words:
"If thou be evil, away with thee; if thou be good, draw nigh." With this
he sprinkled holy water about the room, and upon her.
Jeanne was hurt when she heard the words, for it was the formula used for
exorcism. It was believed that if the village maiden were possessed of
evil spirits they would be driven away. Having recited the formula and
sprinkled holy water the priest expected, if the girl were possessed, to
see her struggle and writhe in the effort to take flight. But there was
nothing suspicious in Jeanne's attitude. There was no wild agitation or
frenzy. She had fallen on her knees when the priest put on his stole, and
now anxiously, entreatingly, she dragged herself to him. Messire Jean
Fournier stretched forth his hand in benediction over her.
"Whatever be the spirit with which she is filled, it is naught of evil,"
he said to Robert de Baudricourt.
With this the two men left the cottage as abruptly as they had entered
it. Jeanne burst into tears, and so Catherine found her.
"Messire Jean should not have used me so," sobbed the maiden as she
related the happening to her hostess. "I have confessed to him daily
since I came to Vaucouleurs, and he should have known what manner of girl
I was."
"There, there, little one," soothed Catherine, tenderly. "He but did it
to please the Sire Captain. Perchance now that the gentle Robert knows
that evil spirits do not possess thee, he will give thee aid."
The exorcism did in truth help Jeanne's cause with the Governor. If the
young girl were not possessed of evil it followed naturally that the
power in her must be good; therefore he was at last willing to aid her.
Secretly he had already sent a messenger to the King telling of the
maiden, her mission, her saintly way of living, and asking that he might
send her to him. He but waited the consent of Charles before starting
Jeanne on her journey. This she did not learn until later.
Meantime she was restless. She longed to be about her work, and there
seemed naught but hindrances. She felt that she must start, for she must
be with the Dauphin by mid-Lent, and the time was short. One day Lassois
came to see how she was, and also to bring news of her parents; for
Jeanne had sent them a letter praying for their forgiveness and blessing.
As she could neither read nor write the Cure had written it for her, and
he had added details of the life she was living, her good deeds, her
saintly ways, and aught else that he thought would set their minds at
rest concerning her. Now she listened eagerly as Durand told her how the
letter had been received.
"Jacques has heard a great deal about you from the people, Jeanne. Know
you not that the whole countryside is talking of you? He has known all
along how you were living, and what you were doing. He is still not
reconciled to your leaving home, but he said that so long as you lived a
good life you had his blessing and forgiveness. Isabeau wept when she
heard the letter, but she sends love, and prays you to make short work
of the matter that you may soon be home again."
"Would that I might, Uncle Durand," groaned the girl. "But there seems
naught but hindrance and delay. I should like to be at home with mother;
if my work were done I could be. The time is so short. I can not, I must
not wait longer." She bowed her head and wept. Presently she dashed away
the tears and turned to Durand as though an idea had come to her: "Uncle
Durand," she cried, "Will you take me into France?"
"You mean to walk there, Jeanne?" he asked amazed. "'Tis said to be all
of a hundred and fifty leagues to where the Dauphin bides at Chinon."
"Even so, I must go. If Sire Robert will not give me men-at-arms I must
go without them. Will you go with me?"
"Yes," he assented readily. Had Jeanne not been so preoccupied she would
have seen the smile that lurked in his eyes. Lassois was a hard-headed,
practical man, and he knew that the plan was not feasible. He hoped that
his niece would see it too, so he added: "I will get Alain to go with us.
'Tis a dangerous journey even with men-at-arms for escort. When do we
start?"
"At once," cried the maiden eagerly. "The sooner the better. When the
siege is raised, and the Dauphin crowned, I can go back home. And I will
not leave them again. Go! get Alain, and let us start."
Lassois left her, and Jeanne made her preparations quickly. Procuring a
man's jerkin, hose and doublet, she arrayed herself in them, and when
Lassois returned with Alain, a friend of his who lived in Vaucouleurs,
the three set forth. They had proceeded a league on the road to France
when they came to the shrine of Saint Nicholas, and this Jeanne entered
as was her wont, and prostrated herself in prayer. When she arose the
impatience, the restlessness were gone. She faced her companions with
contrition.
"I was wrong," she said with deep humility. "It is not meet that I go to
the Dauphin in this manner. We must go back."
Durand's countenance expanded into a broad grin.
"Said I not so, Alain?" he cried, nudging his friend. "I said that she
would soon see that it was not fitting that she should go thus. I said
that soon we would turn back."
Alain laughed also as Jeanne gazed at her uncle in astonishment.
"How did you know, uncle?"
"Why see, ma mie; the King would not receive you should you go to him
thus humbly; but if you come from the Sire Captain with proper escort
'twill be easy to get his ear."
"I see," sighed Jeanne. "I was wrong. We will go back."
She waited with more grace after this, and presently there came a day
when her patience was rewarded. The messenger from the King rode into
Vaucouleurs bearing a letter to the Governor which gave consent to send
the young prophetess to him. Sire Robert sent at once for the maiden.
"You were right," he said. "There was a disaster as you said near
Orleans. The Battle of Herrings was lost at Rouvray. Colet de Vienne, the
King's messenger, tells me that Charles will receive you. Therefore, get
you ready, for now you shall start for Chinon in a few days."
Overjoyed Jeanne hastened back to her friends to tell the glad news. The
impossible had happened. That which the peasant maid had demanded was
granted. She was to be taken to the King, and in the time fixed by
herself.
The sweetness, the simplicity, the sturdy purpose of the maiden had won
all hearts in the little walled town. Knowledge of her mission had
deepened the interest felt in her, so now, as she was in very truth to
begin her journey, they took upon themselves the expense of her outfit. A
complete suit of masculine apparel was bought, a jerkin, a cloth doublet,
hose laced to the coat, gaiters, spurs, a whole equipment of war, while
Sire Robert gave her a horse. And Jeanne, with one girlish sigh at the
sacrifice, took off her coif, let down her long dark locks, and gave a
last look at them; then Catherine cut them round, page fashion, the
maiden set on a cap, and was ready.
Jean de Metz and Bertrand de Poulengy were to accompany her, as well as
the King's messenger, Colet de Vienne, and the bowman, Richard, with two
lancers, servants of the men-at-arms. These men proposed further waiting,
as certain soldiers of Lorraine were infesting the country, but the
maiden was not afraid, and said:
"In God's name, take me to the gentle Dauphin, and fear not any hindrance
or trouble we may meet. There hath been too much delay."
At length, however, everything was in readiness, and on the twenty-third
of February, the little company assembled before the gate, La Porte de
France, with friends to watch the departure. Among them were the kind
Lassois, Catherine and Henri le Royer, Jean Colin, canon of Saint
Nicholas, to whom Jeanne had confessed at times.
The women trembled and wept as they looked at the girl, so fair in her
young loveliness, and feared for her the perils of the journey. One of
them cried:
"How can you set forth on such a journey when there are men-at-arms on
every hand?"
But Jeanne turned a happy face toward them, and answered out of the
serene peace of her heart:
"I do not fear men-at-arms. My way has been made plain before me. If
there be men-at-arms my Lord God will make a way for me to go to my Lord
Dauphin. For this I was born."
Sire Robert also was present, and as he gazed at the bright face of the
maiden his grim old heart was touched.
"Swear," he said, making Jean de Metz kneel before him. "Swear that you
will deliver this maiden whom I have confided to your care safely and
surely to the King."
And De Metz answered solemnly:
"I swear."
And so from each and every man the Governor took the oath. Then belting
his own sword about the girl's slender waist, he said:
"Go! and come of it what may."
And off into the mists that enveloped the meadows of the Meuse rode the
little company down the road into France.
------
[6] "Madame Margaret did not come to France until seven years
later. The six thousand men never did come. Jeanne did."--Andrew
Lang.
[7] Pucelle--virgin, maid.