JEANNE D'ARC
In northern France the river Meuse runs through broad meadowlands,
where the sun shines dimly for many months each year, and cold, rolling
mists sweep down upon the earth in winter, coating each twig with
silver. There, in the little village of Domremy, in the year 1412, was
born a girl named Jeanne d'Arc, whose father, Jacques d'Arc, was a
simple peasant.
When Jeanne d'Arc was born life was hard and dangerous in Domremy. The
villagers were hard put to it to protect themselves against fierce
knights and noblemen who rode at the head of marauding bands to steal
and plunder at will. The peasants had to look on sadly, with no hope of
redress, when brutal men at arms drove off their sheep, or tossed the
torch into their cottages--and as there was little to choose between
friend and foe, the villagers stood guard in the tower of a nearby
monastery, and gave the alarm when any soldiers approached the town.
Domremy, however, was no worse off in these respects than other towns
and villages in that far time. And it must not be thought that the
village folk were wholly without pleasures. Roses grew along the walls
of their cottages, wine flowed from their vineyards, and there were
village festivals and dances in which they loved to take part. Although
they could not read or write, their priests instructed them in the
history of the Church and its mighty power, and in the lives of the
Saints and Martyrs and their teachings--how those that obeyed the
Church and its priests were blessed, while those that broke its laws
must surely enter the dismal fires of Hell. There were also bands of
players who acted the religious stories taught by the priests in so
vivid a manner that the peasants were thrilled and delighted; and while
their cottages were bare and poor, their church was glorious with gold,
rich with embroidery and bright with candle light that gleamed upon the
carven, painted figures of the Saints that they adored.
It had been prophesied in France that from a forest near Domremy there
would come a maid who would deliver the country from the perils that
beset it--and when Jeanne d'Arc was a little girl the times seemed ripe
indeed for the appearance of such deliverer. A great war had been
raging between France and England; the English had captured many French
towns and laid claim to the crown itself; the French King, Charles the
Sixth, was quite mad; his Queen had leagued herself with the enemies of
France, and her son, Prince Charles, who was called the Dauphin, had
been compelled to flee to escape the English and the Burgundians.
Perhaps Jeanne d'Arc had heard the prophesy about the maid,--certainly
she had listened to many beautiful tales about the lives of the Saints.
In those days the Saints were believed to take sides in war with the
countries that were dearest to them. The English believed in St.
George, who slew the dragon; but the patron Saint of France was the
Archangel Michael. He was portrayed in the churches as a knight in
shining armor with a crown above his helmet, and sometimes he bore
scales in which he weighed the souls of men. Jeanne had listened to
many stories about him, and to tales of other Saints as well--legends
of St. Margaret, whose soul escaped from her persecutors in the shape
of a white dove, and stories of the gracious St. Catherine, who died by
the sword because she was a Christian.
These tales made a great impression upon her--all the more because she
did not know one letter of the alphabet from another. She was a serious
child, with something about her that marked her as being different from
the other children of the village, and as she grew older she grew apart
from them and did not share their games and dances. Often, when her
father believed her to be tending his sheep, she was kneeling at
prayer. Her girl friends, Mengette and Hauviette, urged her to share
their pleasures and to give less heed to the dreams that seemed to hold
her in their spell, but Jeanne persisted in her way of life, and gained
a reputation for piety that passed beyond her village into the
neighboring countryside.
When a mere child, something happened to Jeanne that was destined to
shake the entire Kingdom of France. When she listened to the church
bells as they rang out over the meadows, she believed that she heard
heavenly voices calling her name. She was only thirteen years old when
she began hearing them and they seemed to come from the direction of
the church that was near her cottage. The first time was at noon and a
bright light appeared to her, while a grave, sweet voice said, "I come
from Heaven to help you to lead a pure and holy life. Be good,
Jeannette, and God will aid you." Badly frightened, she ran into the
cottage and said nothing of what had happened; but a few days later the
same voice called out to her again. In amazement she knew it to be the
voice of an angel--and then--Saint Michael himself appeared to her in
the light!
From that time on the visions and the voices came more frequently. And
it seemed to Jeanne that not only St. Michael came, but St. Margaret
and St. Catherine appeared to her also, coming with a bright light, and
speaking with sweet and musical words. And they were so real that she
believed she had actually touched their garments and tasted the sweet
scents their robes emitted.
They began to urge her to take a strange course of action far removed
from her birth and station and marvelous to think of, telling her that
she must alter her way of life, put on armor and become a captain in
the wars, for she was chosen by the King of Heaven to save France from
its enemies. And they called her "Daughter of God." But Jeanne was
filled with fear and grave misgiving, for how was she, a poor,
unlettered girl and the daughter of peasants, to lead armies and wield
the sword of war?
In the meantime the mad Charles the Sixth died and left his throne to
be fought for by the Dauphin, who was destined to be Charles the
Seventh--but this prince found his dominions so harried by war, so
divided against themselves, and his path beset by so many enemies that
he was unable to go to the city of Rheims, where all French kings must
be anointed with sacred oil before they could be considered as the
rightful sovereigns of France. His failure to do this gave added power
to the English and better reason for them to claim the French crown for
their young King, Henry the Sixth, whose armies had joined the Duke of
Burgundy. And it became more plain each day that France would be ruled
by whichever king was the first to be crowned at Rheims.
In the meantime the heavenly voices that spoke to Jeanne grew more and
more insistent, telling her that she must go forth to the wars and lead
the Dauphin Charles to the Cathedral at Rheims to be crowned and
anointed. And at last she could no longer disobey, but prepared to
fulfil the strange destiny that they pointed out to her.
Clad in her poor best dress, Jeanne visited a garrison of French
soldiers, and told their captain that Heaven had called on her to lead
the French to victory and see that the Dauphin Charles was duly crowned
at Rheims. For a week she remained, imploring the captain to listen to
her, but gaining nothing but insults and mockery that drove her at last
to return to her home. But the Archangel Michael and Saint Catherine
and Saint Margaret continued to appear to her, and she had no choice
except to listen to their words.
Again she went to the French stronghold and told the captain, whose
name was Robert de Baudricourt, that if the Dauphin Charles would give
her men at arms she would deliver the city of Orleans, which was being
besieged by the English, and drive the English enemy from their
strongholds in all France. And this time the captain gave heed to her
and wrote to the French Court, telling the Dauphin of what she had
said; and after many days of weary waiting he received a reply ordering
that Jeanne be taken to Chinon where the Dauphin was awaiting her.
This was not accomplished all at once, and Jeanne had to answer many
tedious and wearisome questions; for wise men and clergymen from all
over the land desired to know if she were inspired by angels or devils,
and they feared that the visions she had seen might be the work of
Satan himself. But they decided at last that there was great virtue in
what she had beheld and that perhaps after all she was to be the
deliverer of France that prophets had told of. And they decided that,
as travel was dangerous and there were many rough characters on the
road, Jeanne should go to the French Court dressed as a boy, and a
jerkin, a doublet, hose and gaiters were given to her.
Attired in these garments and accompanied by men at arms Jeanne set
forth on her journey, and traveled for more than seventy leagues
through a hostile country with enemies on every hand. At length she
came to Chinon and sent the Dauphin a letter, telling him that she was
sent by God to crown him as King of France.
Charles was suspicious of Jeanne and desired to see for himself if she
was inspired by angels; and when he summoned her to the Court he
prepared a trick to deceive her. He had one of his courtiers wear the
royal robes and seat himself on the throne, while the Dauphin,
disguised in humble garments, stood quietly in the group of courtiers
and servants that crowded the room.
When Jeanne entered she stopped for a minute and glanced about her.
Then, instead of going to the throne where the supposed Prince was
sitting, she went straight to Charles where he stood among his
courtiers, and falling on her knees before him she told him that the
King of Heaven had called upon her to deliver the city of Orleans from
the hands of the English and to take him to Rheims to be crowned.
All who beheld this were amazed, for Jeanne had never seen Charles
before,--nor had she so much as looked upon his portrait--and Charles
and his noblemen believed that this was indeed a sign that Jeanne was
guided by heavenly powers.
Before they went any further, however, they put her to further tests
and she was questioned again by learned doctors and ministers.
Messengers were even sent to the village of Domremy to learn about her
early life. They asked her to give signs and to perform miracles--but
Jeanne told them that it was not in her power to do these things. Her
deeds, she declared, should answer for themselves and before the walls
of Orleans all should receive the sign that they required in the rout
of the English army. And she begged them to make haste and let her go
there, for the English were battering at the walls and the besieged
garrison was suffering.
In Tours Jeanne was fitted out with plain white armor and received a
sword that was believed to have belonged to the great Charles Martel,
who had saved France and all Christendom from the invader several
hundred years before her time. She also had a banner painted for her,
snowy white, with fleur de lis upon it and a picture of God holding up
the world, with angels on each side. And then, in company with skilled
captains and men of war, and with her two brothers, Jean and Pierre,
riding behind her, Jeanne went to the city of Blois, where the army to
relieve Orleans was awaiting her arrival.
With priests marching at the head of the column, chanting in Latin,
accompanied by captains decked in all the panoply of war, and followed
by men at arms, Jeanne left Blois for Orleans. She was in command of a
convoy of supplies and provisions and the larger part of her army was
to come up later. There were two roads to Orleans, which was built on
the margin of the river Loire--one road leading directly past the
English camp, the other running down to the river, where entrance to
the town was to be gained only by bridges and boats.
Jeanne had desired to march directly past the English, and so strike
fear into their hearts, but her captains deemed that the other road was
the safer and without her knowledge guided her upon it, so that when
she beheld Orleans the river was between. And she spoke bitterly to the
captains for deceiving her.
"In God's name," she cried in anger, "you deceive yourselves, not me,
for I bring you more certain aid than ever before was brought to a town
or city. It is the aid of the King of Heaven," and in truth the way
that the captains had chosen in their timidity was more dangerous and
uncertain than the one that Jeanne had chosen.
The English, however, were so negligent, that they allowed the entire
army to enter the city in safety, and the people of Orleans rejoiced
beyond words when Jeanne in her shining armor appeared within the
ramparts of the beleaguered town. They beat upon the door of the house
where she was lodged and clamored to see her, and they crowded so
closely about her as she rode through the streets that a torch set fire
to her white standard, and the Maid, wheeling her horse, was obliged to
put it out with her own hands.
On the following day Jeanne sent two heralds with a letter to the
English leaders, bidding them to depart and save their lives while
there was time, for otherwise the French would fall upon them and slay
them all--but the English laughed greatly at the letter pretending to
scorn it and really believing it to be the work of a witch who was led
by evil spirits; and they answered her with vile taunts and insults,
and one of their captains named Glasdale shook his fist in her
direction and shouted in a voice that reached her ears: "Witch, if ever
we lay our hands upon you, you shall be burned alive."
None the less the English were more frightened by the sight of this
young girl in white armor than they cared to admit, for they believed
they were now fighting the powers of darkness; and in this way Jeanne's
presence did the French army more good than the thousands of soldiers
she brought with her.
It came to pass that soon after Jeanne's arrival in the city, although
she was now considered the real leader of the French rather than the
captains, an attack was made by the French against one of the English
forts that rose without the city walls. And things went badly for the
French, for the English repulsed them with great slaughter.
Jeanne had not been told of the attack and was asleep at the time it
took place, but the Saints that watched over her appeared to her in a
dream and told her that she must rise instantly and go forth against
the English; and when she rose she heard the hearty shouts of the
English soldiers and the screams of the French who were being
slaughtered.
She put on her armor as quickly as possible and galloped to the scene
of the fight with her white standard in her hand. The French were in
full flight when she appeared, but their courage returned when they saw
her and they ran to gather around her banner. She cried out to them
that they must return to the charge and take the English fort, and
although the English hurled great stones upon them and fired with
crossbows and cannon, the French soldiers swarmed over the English
ramparts and gained the victory. And through the fight the Maid stood
unmoved beneath the hail of missiles that the English showered down
upon her followers, and she led the attack in person when the French
climbed over the walls.
This was only the commencement of the fighting, for the French with
Jeanne to lead them, now commenced a determined series of attacks
against the English forts that lay about the city. And everywhere
Jeanne and her white standard were in the front rank of the battle, and
she risked her life a thousand times each day.
At last the French attacked one of the strongest of all the English
forts, the bastille of Les Tourelles. Before the fight began Jeanne
told the men-at-arms who were detailed to accompany her on the field to
stay particularly close to her that day--"For," said she, "I have much
work to do, and blood will flow from my body--above the breast."
As the French approached the stronghold they were met with showers of
stones and arrows. The English crossbowmen did deadly work and the
English cannon fired stone balls into the ranks of the French soldiers.
The French brought scaling ladders to mount the walls, but above them
the English stood ready with boiling pitch and melted lead to hurl into
the faces of those who succeeded in mounting.
In spite of all these dangers Jeanne was constantly close to the
English walls and her white standard always rose where the fighting was
hottest. When a scaling ladder was placed against the wall she was the
first to mount and was half way to the top when an English crossbowman,
taking careful aim, fired an arrow with such force that it pierced
right through her steel coat of mail and stood out behind her shoulder.
Her grip relaxed from the ladder and she fell.
A mighty cheer went up from the English who believed that in drawing
the blood of the witch they had drawn her power too. And for a time it
seemed as if this really were so, for Jeanne's wound was very painful
and she seemed no longer a warrior, but a pitiful little girl, overcome
with tears and faintness. At last, however, when her steel shirt had
been removed, she grasped the arrow with her own hands and drew it from
the wound. And after this she rose and insisted on donning her armor
once more.
The French had seen her fall and their courage had left them, and they
were in full retreat when Jeanne returned to the battle.
"In God's name," she cried, riding toward them, "forward once more. Do
not fly when the place is almost ours. One more brave charge and I
promise you shall succeed."
The English were still rejoicing at what they had accomplished when to
their dismay the French trumpets blew the charge again and they beheld
the Maid with her white standard directly beneath their walls. And they
considered that her return to the fight was nothing less than magical
and fear gripped their hearts. Then the French swarmed up the scaling
ladders like monkeys, leaped over the ramparts, and a horrible din
arose from the interior of the fort, where, amid oaths and outcries and
the clangor and crash of axes and meeting shields, the English were
savagely slaughtered.
Glasdale, the same leader who had threatened Jeanne from the English
camp, was guarding the retreat of his men as they ran across a bridge
over the Loire, but the French brought up and set fire to an old barge
piled high with straw, tar, sulphur and all kinds of inflammable
material, and the only escape for the English lay directly through the
flames.
Jeanne, on seeing this, was smitten with great pity for her enemies.
"Yield, Glasdale, yield!" she cried. "Thou hast called me witch, thou
hast basely insulted me, but I have great pity on your soul."
But the brave English captain refused to give in and continued to guard
the escape of his comrades. When all had passed through the smoke and
flame he tried himself to rush across--but the planks were now eaten
through with fire and would not hold him. With a crash of breaking
timbers he plunged into the river beneath, where the weight of his
armor pulled him down and he was drowned.
With the capture of this English stronghold the siege of Orleans came
to an end. The English saw that they were beaten and that their months
of fighting to gain the city had availed them nothing. On the following
day the French beheld them marching away in good order, and Jeanne
cried out for joy.
"Let them go," she said to her captains who wished to pursue them. "It
is Sunday and God does not will that you shall fight to-day, but you
shall have them another time." And the French held a solemn mass in
thanksgiving for their victory.
Jeanne had made good her word and Orleans was saved. And now the Maid
returned to Tours to meet the Dauphin, who had been so faint hearted
that he stayed out of harm's way while a girl had gone forth and fought
his battles for him. But he was very glad to see the Maid and he gave
her a royal welcome and Jeanne told him that no time was to be lost but
that he must come to Rheims and be crowned.
At last the tardy prince yielded to her request, and Jeanne with the
army set forth once more to capture the towns that still were held by
the English--and with the Maid at the head of the French army the towns
of Jargeau, Meuny and Beaugency were soon taken. The English were so
frightened by the marvelous feats performed by Jeanne that it was not
long before their entire army was in full retreat toward the city of
Paris. But Jeanne pursued them and defeated them in the battle of
Pathay, where the mighty English leader, Talbot, was taken prisoner.
And then Jeanne took matters into her own hands, for Charles continued
to delay. She issued a proclamation to the people to come to Rheims to
the King's Coronation, and she left the Court again to join the army,
where Charles was compelled to follow her. And at last through the
efforts of this simple peasant girl, the sluggard Charles was crowned
with divine pomp and glory in the Rheims cathedral, and Jeanne in her
white armor and with her white banner floating over her stood beside
him all through the ceremony. The holy oil was poured on his head and
all the people shouted in rejoicing, because they now had a king.
Among the spectators was Jeanne's father who had journeyed to Rheims to
see his famous daughter. All the old man's expenses were paid by the
King, and when it was time for him to depart he was given a horse to
carry him back to his native village.
Jeanne now desired to besiege and capture Paris which was held by
Charles' enemies, but since he had been crowned he was reluctant to
make any further effort to secure his kingdom. Paris was besieged, to
be sure, but only half-heartedly, for the King did not send up the
necessary reinforcements, and the siege was unsuccessful.
Then came months when Jeanne was forced to wait at Court, where the
laggard King did nothing whatever, quite content with what had already
been accomplished in his behalf. It is true that he gave Jeanne many
presents, among other things a mantle of cloth of gold; and that many
sick persons believed her to be a saint and came to touch her, in order
to be cured of illness and suffering. But when Jeanne was asked to lay
her hands upon some sufferer and cure him, she replied that his own
touch would be as healing as her own, for that no extraordinary power
lay in her.
The English and the Burgundians sought to retrieve their fortunes by
capturing Compiegne, a town that was important in its relation to Paris
and as large and strong as Orleans itself. Word of this was brought to
Jeanne, and she learned also that her enemies had already appeared
before the city walls.
With her usual swift decision she went to help the beleaguered
garrison. She arrived before the city by secret forest paths and
succeeded in gaining an entrance to it. And one morning with about five
hundred followers she rode through the city gates to do battle with the
besiegers. Her force drove the Burgundians before them like chaff, and
the attack would have been wholly successful if a company of English
men at arms had not come up at the gallop and attacked the French from
the flank and from the rear.
All of the French fled except a small band in the immediate vicinity of
the Maid. They were driven back into the town with the English and
Burgundians so close on their heels that the archers on the walls of
the town could not shoot for fear of wounding their own comrades. Then
the drawbridge was raised to keep the English from forcing an
entrance--and Jeanne and her few followers were surrounded by the
enemy. The Maid was dressed in a scarlet and gold cloak which covered
her armor, and more attention was drawn to her than usual on account of
the richness of her apparel. A Burgundian archer laid hands on her and
dragged her from her horse. She was a prisoner.
A great shout of triumph went up from the Burgundians when they saw
that it was indeed Jeanne the Maid whom they had taken, and she was
brought before the Duke of Burgundy, who, with great joy, sent many
letters abroad informing the heads of the Church and the English of his
good fortune.
The English were determined to get Jeanne in their power, for they had
planned a cruel death for her. The Holy Inquisition likewise demanded
her "to receive justice at the hands of the Church."
And now must be recorded the black and shameful fact that Charles made
no effort to ransom Jeanne or do anything to relieve her misfortune, as
might well have been possible, for the French held important English
prisoners. And not content with leaving her to die, he proceeded to
slight the name of the girl that had won him his throne. For in
official accounts of how he had been crowned he made no reference to
Jeanne at all. Orleans was won "by the grace of God." His enemies were
routed "by the will of Providence." Of Jeanne and her efforts in his
behalf he said not one single word.
Jeanne was sent from castle to castle and confined in one prison after
another. On one occasion she was jailed in a high tower and she tried
to escape by leaping from a window more than sixty feet above the
ground, only to be picked up insensible and bleeding as she lay at the
foot of the castle wall.
Then her worst enemy appeared before her. This was Pierre Cauchon, the
Bishop of Beauvais. He persuaded the English to buy her from her
captors so that they might try her and punish her, and the sum of six
thousand francs was paid by them as blood money.
Jeanne was then taken to the town of Rouen and imprisoned in a grim and
ancient castle, which was already centuries old. Not content with
lodging her in a damp cell, the English placed fetters on her leg and
chained her to a great log so that she must needs drag the chain about
whenever she moved. And instead of allowing her women to be her
attendants, her only jailers were rough men at arms, who were
constantly with her.
To try this simple girl came the greatest dignitaries of the realm--men
aged in experience and the law, grave doctors and wise bishops, all
with the single purpose of accomplishing her death. With every
advantage on their side they did not even allow a counsel for their
prisoner, and when they saw that in spite of this she might be able
skilfully to defend herself, they had her answers set aside as being of
no importance and having no bearing on the trial. And they were right,
for nothing that Jeanne said could possibly affect an issue where the
stake and the executioner were already decided upon. And when some of
the spectators showed signs of pity for her youth and innocence they
had the trial continued secretly in her cell.
They played with her as a cat plays with a mouse and tortured her in
mind as well as in body. And under the guise of compassion they
pretended to spare her life, only in the end to tell her that the stake
had been made ready and that she must come at once to the market place
to be burned.
On the thirtieth of May, 1431, Jeanne was taken from her cell by two
priests and escorted by men at arms to the market place of Rouen, where
three scaffolds had been prepared. On one sat the priests who had been
her judges, on another Jeanne must stand and hear a sermon before she
died, and on the third was a grim stake with fagots piled high for her
burning, and at the top of the stake was nailed a placard that bore
these words:
"_Jeanne, who hath caused herself to be called the maid, a liar,
pernicious, deceiver of the people, soothsayer, superstitious, a
blasphemer against God, presumptuous, miscreant, boaster, idolatress,
cruel, dissolute, an invoker of devils, apostate, schismatic and
heretic._"
Then, with the learned doctors and churchmen drinking in the words, a
sermon was read for the benefit of her soul. After it was ended the
Bishop of Beauvais read the sentence which concluded by abandoning her
to the arm of the law, for the Church itself could not pronounce
sentence of death, but must leave that to the civil magistrates.
Neither could the clergymen behold the infliction of the sentence, and
they all came down from their seats and left the market place. What
followed was supposed to be too dreadful for them to see.
So Jeanne was burned, and even in her death there took place something
approaching a miracle, for when the fire was extinguished her brave
heart was found intact among the embers, and the frightened English
threw it into the river.
But the end did not come here. The enemies of Jeanne were so afraid of
her power that they followed her with persecution after she was dead
and made various attempts to darken her reputation, and give her memory
an evil name. But they defeated their own ends, for twenty-five years
later another trial was held in which the Maid was pronounced to be
innocent. And nearly five hundred years later, in 1909, Pope Leo the
Thirteenth took the first step toward making her a Saint by pronouncing
her "venerable." Her canonization followed in 1920.
The marvels wrought by Jeanne still continue,--for without her there
might be a different France from that which we know to-day. In Domremy
the house of Jacques d'Arc still stands, much the same, in many ways,
as it was when she beheld her visions there. In addition a splendid
church has been built to her memory not far from the village she loved.
And her name and fame grow greater as time passes.