Here are the exploits which the Maid and the loyal French did in one
week. She took Jargeau on June 11; on June 15 she seized the bridge of
Meun; Beaugency yielded to her on June 17; on June 18 she defeated the
English army at Pathay. Now sieges were long affairs in those days, as
they are even to-day, when cannon are so much more powerful than they
were in Joan's time. Her success seemed a miracle to the world.
This miracle, like all miracles, was wrought by faith. Joan believed in
herself, in her country, and in God. It was not by visions and by
knowing things strangely that she conquered, but by courage, by strength
(on one occasion she never put off her armour for six days and six
nights), and by inspiring the French with the sight of her valour.
Without her visions, indeed, she would never have gone to war. She often
said so. But, being at war, her word was 'Help yourselves, and God will
help you.' Who could be lazy or a coward when a girl set such an
example?
The King of France and his favourites could be indolent and cowards. Had
Charles VII. been such a man as Charles Stuart was in 1745, his foot
would have been in the stirrup, and his lance in rest. In three months
the English would have been driven into the sea. But the king loitered
about the castles of the Loire with his favourite, La Tremouille, and
his adviser, the Archbishop of Reims. They wasted the one year of Joan.
There were jealousies against the Constable de Richemont of Brittany who
had come with all his lances to follow the lily flag. If once Charles
were king indeed and the English driven out, La Tremouille would cease
to be powerful. This dastard sacrificed the Maid in the end, as he was
ready to sacrifice France to his own private advantage.
[Illustration: THE CORONATION OF CHARLES VII]
At last, with difficulty, Charles was brought to visit Reims, and
consent to be crowned like his ancestors. Seeing that he was never
likely to move, Joan left the town where he was and went off into the
country. This retreat brought Charles to his senses. The towns which he
passed by yielded to him; Joan went and summoned each. 'Now she was with
the king in the centre, now with the rearguard, now with the van.' The
town of Troyes, where there was an English garrison, did not wish to
yield. There was a council in the king's army: they said they could not
take the place.
'In two days it shall be yours, by force or by good will,' said the
Maid.
'Six days will do,' said the chancellor, 'if you are sure you speak
truth.'
Joan made ready for an attack. She was calling 'Forward!' when the town
surrendered. Reims, after some doubts, yielded also, on July 16, and all
the people, with shouts of '_Noel!_' welcomed the king. On July 17 the
king was crowned and anointed with the Holy Oil by that very Archbishop
of Reims who always opposed Joan. The Twelve Peers of France were not
all present--some were on the English side--but Joan stood by Charles,
her banner in her hand. 'It bore the brunt, and deserved to share the
renown,' she said later to her accusers.
When the ceremony was ended, and the Dauphin Charles was a crowned and
anointed king, the Maid knelt weeping at his feet.
'Gentle king,' she said, 'now is accomplished the will of God, who
desired that you should come to Reims to be consecrated, and to prove
that you are the true king and the kingdom is yours.'
Then all the knights wept for joy.
The king bade Joan choose her reward. Already horses, rich armour,
jewelled daggers, had been given to her. These, adding to the beauty and
glory of her aspect, had made men follow her more gladly, and for that
she valued them. She, too, made gifts to noble ladies, and gave much to
the poor. She only wanted money to wage the war with, not for herself.
Her family was made noble; on their shield, between two lilies, a sword
upholds the crown. Her father was at Reims, and saw her in her glory.
What reward, then, was Joan to choose? She chose nothing for herself,
but that her native village of Domremy should be free from taxes. This
news her father carried home from the splendid scene at Reims.
Would that we could leave the Maiden here, with Orleans saved, and her
king crowned! Would that she, who wept when her saints left her in her
visions, and who longed to follow them, could have been carried by them
to their Paradise!
But Joan had another task; she was to be foiled by the cowardice of her
king; she was to be captured, possibly by treachery; she was to be tried
with the most cruel injustice; she was to die by fire; and was to set,
through months of agony, such an example of wisdom, courage, and loyal
honour as never was shown by man.
Did Joan look forward to her end, did she know that her days were
numbered? On the journey to Reims she met some Domremy people at
Chalons, and told them that she 'feared nothing but treachery.' Perhaps
she already suspected the political enemies, the Archbishop of Reims and
La Tremouille, who were to spoil her mission.
As they went from Reims after the coronation, Dunois and the archbishop
were riding by her rein. The people cheered and cried _Noel_.
'They are a good people,' said Joan. 'Never saw I any more joyous at the
coming of their king. Ah, would that I might be so happy when I end my
days as to be buried here!'
Said the archbishop:
'Oh, Jeanne, in what place do you hope to die?'
Then she said:
'Where it pleases God; for I know not that hour, nor that place, more
than ye do. But would to God, my maker, that now I might depart, and lay
down my arms, and help my father and mother, and keep their sheep with
my brothers and my sister, who would rejoice to see me!'[21]
Some writers have reported Joan's words as if she meant that she wished
the king to let her go home and leave the wars. In their opinion Joan
was only acting under heavenly direction till the consecration of
Charles. Afterwards, like Hal of the Wynd, she was 'fighting for her own
hand,' they think, and therefore she did not succeed. But from the first
Joan threatened to drive the English quite out of France, and she also
hoped to bring the Duc d'Orleans home from captivity in England. If her
Voices had told her _not_ to go on after the coronation, she would
probably have said so at her trial, when she mentioned one or two acts
of disobedience to her Voices. Again, had she been anxious to go home,
Charles VII. and his advisers would have been only too glad to let her
go. They did not wish her to lead them into dangerous places, and they
hated obeying her commands.
Some French authors have, very naturally, wished to believe that the
Maid could make no error, and could not fail; they therefore draw a line
between what she did up to the day of Reims, and what she did
afterwards. They hold that she was divinely led till the coronation, and
not later. But it is difficult to agree with them here. As we saw,
Gerson told the French that by injustice and ingratitude they might
hinder the success of the Maid. His advice was a prophecy.