In the petty town of Neufchateau, on the borders of Lorraine, there
lived a country girl of twenty-seven years of age, called Joan d’Arc.
She was servant in a small inn, and in that station had been accustomed
to ride the horses of the guests, without a saddle, to the
watering-place, and to perform other offices, which, in well-frequented
inns, commonly fall to the share of the men-servants. This girl was of
an irreproachable life, and had not hitherto been remarked for any
singularity. The peculiar character of Charles, so strongly inclined to
friendship, and the tender passions, naturally rendered him the hero of
that sex whose generous minds know no bounds in their affections. The
siege of Orleans, the progress of the English before that place, the
great distress of the garrison and inhabitants, the importance of saving
this city, and its brave defenders, had turned thither the public eye;
and Joan, inflamed by the general sentiment, was seized with a wild
desire of bringing relief to her sovereign in his present distresses.
Her unexperienced mind, working day and night on this favourite object,
mistook the impulses of passion for heavenly inspirations; and she
fancied that she saw visions, and heard voices, exhorting her to
reestablish the throne of France, and to expel the foreign invaders. An
uncommon intrepidity of temper, made her overlook all the dangers which
might attend her in such a path; and, thinking herself destined by
heaven to this office, she threw aside all that bashfulness and timidity
so natural to her sex, her years, and her low station. She went to
Vaucouleurs; procured admission to Baudricourt, the governor; informed
him of her inspirations and intentions; and conjured him not to neglect
the voice of God, who spoke through her, but to second those heavenly
revelations which impelled her to this glorious enterprise. Baudricourt
treated her, at first, with some neglect; but, on her frequent returns
to him, he gave her some attendants, who conducted her to the French
court, which at that time resided at Chinon.
It is pretended, that Joan, immediately on her admission, knew the king,
though she had never seen his face before, and though he purposely kept
himself in the crowd of courtiers, and had laid aside every thing in his
dress and apparel which might distinguish him: that she offered him, in
the name of the supreme Creator, to raise the siege of Orleans, and
conduct him to Rheims, to be there crowned and anointed; and, on his
expressing doubts of her mission, revealed to him, before some sworn
confidants, a secret, which was unknown to all the world beside himself,
and which nothing but a heavenly inspiration could have discovered to
her: and that she demanded, as the instrument of her future victories, a
particular sword, which was kept in the church of St. Catherine of
Fierbois, and which, though she had never seen it, she described by all
its marks, and by the place in which it had long lain neglected. This is
certain, that all these miraculous stories were spread abroad, in order
to captivate the vulgar. The more the king and his ministers were
determined to give in to the illusion, the more scruples they pretended.
An assembly of grave doctors and theologians cautiously examined Joan’s
mission, and pronounced it undoubted and supernatural. She was sent to
the parliament, then at Poictiers, who became convinced of her
inspiration. A ray of hope began to break through that despair in which
the minds of all men were before enveloped. She was armed cap-a-pee,
mounted on horseback, and shown in that martial habiliment before the
whole people.
Joan was sent to Blois, where a large convoy was prepared for the supply
of Orleans, and an army of ten thousand men, under the command of St.
Severe, assembled to escort it; she ordered all the soldiers to confess
themselves before they set out on the enterprise; and she displayed in
her hands a consecrated banner, whereon the Supreme Being was
represented, grasping the globe of earth, and surrounded with
flower-de-luces.
The English affected to speak with derision of the maid, and of her
heavenly commission; and said, that the French king was now indeed
reduced to a sorry pass, when he had recourse to such ridiculous
expedients. As the convoy approached the river, a sally was made by the
garrison on the side of Beausse, to prevent the English general from
sending any detachment to the other side: the provisions were peaceably
embarked in boats, which the inhabitants of Orleans had sent to receive
them: the maid covered with her troops the embarkation: Suffolk did not
venture to attack her; and Joan entered the city of Orleans arrayed in
her military garb, and displaying her consecrated standard. She was
received as a celestial deliverer by all the inhabitants, who now
believed themselves invincible under her influence. Victory followed
upon victory, and the spirit resulting from a long course of
uninterrupted success was on a sudden transferred from the conquerors to
the conquered. The maid called aloud, that the garrison should remain
no longer on the defensive. The generals seconded her ardour: an attack
was made on the English intrenchments, and all were put to the sword, or
taken prisoners. Nothing, after this success, seemed impossible to the
maid and her enthusiastic votaries; yet, in one attack, the French were
repulsed; the maid was left almost alone; she was obliged to retreat;
but displaying her sacred standard, she led them back to the charge, and
overpowered the English in their intrenchments. In the attack of another
fort, she was wounded in the neck with an arrow; she retreated a moment
behind the assailants; pulled out the arrow with her own hands; had the
wound quickly dressed; hastened back to head the troops; planted her
victorious banner on the ramparts of the enemy; returned triumphant over
the bridge, and was again received as the guardian angel of the city.
After performing such miracles, it was in vain even for the English
generals to oppose with their soldiers the prevailing opinion of
supernatural influence: the utmost they dared to advance was, that Joan
was not an instrument of God, but only the implement of the devil. In
the end the siege of Orleans was raised, and the English thought of
nothing but of making their retreat, as soon as possible, into a place
of safety; while the French esteemed the overtaking them equivalent to a
victory. So much had the events which passed before this city altered
every thing between the two nations! The raising of the siege of Orleans
was one part of the maid’s promise to Charles: the crowning of him at
Rheims was the other: and she now vehemently insisted that he should
forthwith set out on that enterprise. A few weeks before, such a
proposal would have appeared the most extravagant in the world. Rheims
lay in a distant quarter of the kingdom; was then in the hands of a
victorious enemy; the whole road which led to it was occupied by their
garrisons; and no man could be so sanguine as to imagine that such an
attempt could so soon come within the bounds of possibility. The
enthusiasm and influence of Joan prevailed over all obstacles. Charles
set out for Rheims at the head of twelve thousand men: he passed Troye,
which opened its gates to him: Chalons imitated the example: Rheims sent
him a deputation with its keys, before his approach to it; and the
ceremony of his coronation was there performed, with the maid of Orleans
by his side in complete armour, displaying her sacred banner, which had
so often dissipated and confounded his fiercest enemies. The people
shouted with unfeigned joy on viewing such a complication of wonders,
and after the completion of the ceremony, the maid threw herself at the
king’s feet, embraced his knees, and with a flood of tears, which
pleasure and tenderness extorted from her, she congratulated him on this
singular and marvellous event.
The duke of Bedford, who was regent during the minority of Henry VI.,
endeavoured to revive the declining state of his affairs by bringing
over the young king of England, and having him crowned and anointed at
Paris. The maid of Orleans, after the coronation of Charles, declared to
the count of Dunois, that her wishes were now fully gratified, and that
she had no farther desire than to return to her former condition and to
the occupation and course of life which became her sex: but that
nobleman, sensible of the great advantages which might still be reaped
from her presence in the army, exhorted her to persevere, till, by the
final expulsion of the English, she had brought all her prophecies to
their full completion. In pursuance of this advice, she threw herself
into the town of Compiegne, which was at that time besieged by the duke
of Burgundy, assisted by the earls of Arundel and Suffolk; and the
garrison, on her appearance, believed themselves thenceforth invincible.
But their joy was of short duration. The maid, next day after her
arrival (25th of May,) headed a sally upon the quarters of John of
Luxembourg; she twice drove the enemy from their intrenchments; finding
their numbers to increase every moment, she ordered a retreat; when hard
pressed by the pursuers, she turned upon them, and made them again
recoil; but being here deserted by her friends, and surrounded by the
enemy, she was at last, after exerting the utmost valour, taken prisoner
by the Burgundians. The common opinion was, that the French officers,
finding the merit of every victory ascribed to her, had, in envy to her
renown, by which they themselves were so much eclipsed, willingly
exposed her to this fatal accident.
A complete victory would not have given more joy to the English and
their partisans. The service of _Te Deum_, which has so often been
profaned by princes, was publicly celebrated on this fortunate event at
Paris. The duke of Bedford fancied, that, by the captivity of that
extraordinary woman, who had blasted all his successes, he should again
recover his former ascendant over France; and, to push farther the
present advantage, he purchased the captive from John of Luxembourg, and
formed a prosecution against her, which, whether it proceeded from
vengeance or policy, was equally barbarous and dishonourable. It was
contrived, that the bishop of Beauvais, a man wholly devoted to the
English interest, should present a petition against Joan, on pretence
that she was taken within the bounds of his diocese; and he desired to
have her tried by an ecclesiastical court, for sorcery, impiety,
idolatry, and magic. The university of Paris was so mean as to join in
the same request: several prelates, among whom the cardinal of
Winchester was the only Englishman, were appointed her judges: they held
their court at Rouen, where the young king of England then resided: and
the maid, clothed in her former military apparel, but loaded with irons,
was produced before this tribunal. Surrounded by inveterate enemies, and
brow-beaten and overawed by men of superior rank, and men invested with
the ensigns of a sacred character, which she had been accustomed to
revere, felt her spirit at last subdued; Joan gave way to the terrors of
that punishment to which she was sentenced. She declared herself willing
to recant; acknowledged the illusion of those revelations which the
church had rejected; and promised never more to maintain them. Her
sentence was mitigated: she was condemned to perpetual imprisonment, and
to be fed during life on bread and water. But the barbarous vengeance of
Joan’s enemies was not satisfied with this victory. Suspecting that the
female dress, which she had now consented to wear, was disagreeable to
her, they purposely placed in her apartment a suit of men’s apparel, and
watched for the effects of that temptation upon her. On the sight of a
dress in which she had acquired so much renown, and which, she once
believed, she wore by the particular appointment of heaven, all her
former ideas and passions revived; and she ventured in her solitude to
clothe herself again in the forbidden garment. Her insidious enemies
caught her in that situation: her fault was interpreted to be no less
than a relapse into heresy: no recantation would now suffice, and no
pardon could be granted her. She was condemned to be burned in the
market-place of Rouen, and the infamous sentence was accordingly
executed. This admirable heroine, to whom the more generous superstition
of the ancients would have erected altars, was, on pretence of heresy
and magic, delivered over alive to the flames, and expiated, by that
dreadful punishment, the signal services which she had rendered to her
native country. To the eternal infamy of Charles and his adherents, whom
she had served and saved, they made not a single effort, either by force
or negociation, to save this heroic girl from the cruel death to which
she had been condemned. Hume says she was burnt on the 14th of June.
According to Lingard she perished on the 30th of May.
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