JOAN OF ARC. 
 
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 -T-ay/^ 
 
 ^ ^. .-^-y/ 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 JOAN OF A 
 
 THE 
 
 (V/ 
 
 ail)' of drUaiis. 
 
 BY 
 
 DAVID W. BARTLETT. 
 
 AtTTHOR OP "LIFE OF LADY JANE OBEY," ETO., ETC. 
 
 AUBURIf AND BUFFALO: 
 
 MI-.LER, ORTON & MULLIGAN. 
 
 1854. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year one tllousarid eight hun- 
 dred and fifty-three, . f 
 
 BY DEEBY AND MILLEE, ' 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Northern District of 
 New- York. 
 
 IAjU.S^ 
 
 STEEEOTYPED BY 
 DEEBY AND MILLEE, 
 
 ATTBTJEN. 
 
TO 
 
 A DEAR AND FAITHFUL FRIEN'D, 
 
 IS 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The present volume is not an elaborate essay upon 
 the Maid of Orleans, — neither is it a minute history 
 of France from her birth to her death. • I have, in 
 preparing it, had principal reference to the popular 
 mind. The first thing necessary was to consult closely 
 and carefully all the proper authorities ; next, to write 
 a plain history of the life of Joan. With the reliable 
 facts before me, and the tragical story in my heart,. I 
 have endeavored to relate it naturally, very likely, in 
 passages, reflecting the language as well as the facts 
 of my authorities. I claim credit only as a compiler. 
 I have in no instance used any but the most reliable 
 authorities ; and this little story of one whose name 
 will ever be one of the brightest on the page of his- 
 tory, may be relied on as true in every particular. 
 
 In the introductory chapters of the book I have 
 quoted at some length from Froissart, for the double 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 purpose of giving the reader an impression of the state 
 of France at that time, politically and socially, and to 
 show him the causes which made the English master? 
 of Orleans, Rheims, Paris, and nearly all the great 
 cities of France. 
 
 There has recently been some dispute in reference 
 to the name of the Maid of Orleans. The London 
 Literary Gazette^ under date of October 16, 1652, 
 says : 
 
 " We have this week to correct a blunder of con- 
 siderable historical importance, which has remained 
 unexposed, and in fact undetected, for the last four 
 hundred years. The name of Joan of Arc, the heroine 
 of France, has always heretofore been wrongly writ- 
 ten, not only by English and other foreigners, but by 
 the French themselves. Her real name, it appears, 
 was Dare, not d'Arc: — that is to say, plain Joan 
 Dare ; not Joan of Arc. To be called c?'Arc, Joan 
 should have been of noble family, whereas she was the 
 daughter of a common peasant, and served as waitress 
 in an inn; or she should have belonged to a place 
 called Arc, whereas she was born at the village of 
 Domremv in Champagne, commenced her career at 
 
PKEFAOE. IX 
 
 Vaucouleurs, and never, so far as it appears, did any 
 exploits at Arc. The mistaken way of writing the 
 name no doubt arose from the folly of some of the 
 early French historians wishing to make her appear 
 of sufficiently good descent to be entitled to the aris- 
 tocratic de. But it is nevertheless a great wonder 
 that this erroneous spelling should have become univer- 
 sal, and should never have been discovered • by any 
 later historian, foreign or French. And the wonder 
 becomes greater still when we call to mind that Joan 
 Dare has been for so long a period the most marked 
 figure in French history, has been the cherished idol 
 of the French' people, has been the subject of histories, 
 and plays, and poems, and novels iimumerable, and 
 has had pictures and statues by the score executed in 
 her honor. It is the descendant of one of her brothers, 
 a gentleman named Haldat, now living at Nancy, who 
 has brought to light the fact that the heroine has never 
 yet been called by her right name ; and it is a little 
 publication of his entitled " Examen Critique de I'His- 
 toria de Jeamia Dare," which has just fallen into our 
 hands, that has called our attention to the subject. 
 The proofs that M. Haldat cites are to our mind per- 
 fectly clear. Amongst them is the patent by which 
 A* 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 King Charles VII. conferred nobility on Joan's family; 
 and in this document the name is written Dare. In 
 fact, if the correct way of writing it had at that time 
 been d' Arc, the patent would not have been required 
 at all, as the family would have been already noble. 
 M. Haldat shows too, very clearly, that Joan's father 
 was named Jacques Dare, that he was a common la- 
 borer, and that he originally belonged to the village 
 of Septfond. M. Haldat concludes by saying, 'I 
 hope that the name will be henceforfch v/ritten Dare, 
 and that the heroine will be left in undisputed posses- 
 sion of the plebean origin.' We fear, however, that 
 the wish will not be regarded. However plain an 
 error may be proved to be, it becomes so venerable 
 by four centuries' duration, that it is almost certain to 
 last forever." 
 
 Mahon says : " Joan's brothers and their issue took 
 the name of Du Lis, from the Lily of France, which 
 the King had assigned as their arms. It is said by a 
 writer of the last century that their lineage ended in 
 Coulomb e du Lis, Prior of Coutras, who died in 1760. 
 Yet we learn that there is still a family at Nancy, and 
 another at Strasburg, which bear the name of Du Lis, 
 and which put forth a pedigree to prove themselves 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 the relatives — not, as a modern traveler unguardedly 
 expresses it, the descendants ! — of the holy Maid. 
 
 De Quincey says : " Modern France, that should 
 know a great deal better than myself, insists that the 
 name is not d'Arc, i. e. of Arc, but Dare. Now it 
 happens sometimes, that if a person whose position 
 guarantees his access to the best information, will con- 
 tent himself with gloomy dogmatism, striking the table 
 with his fist and saying in a terrific voice, " It is so, 
 and there's an end of it," — one bows deferentially and 
 submits. But if, unhappily for himself, won by this 
 docility, he relents too amiably into reasons and argu- 
 ments, probably one raises an insurrection against 
 him that may never be crushed ; for in the fields of 
 logic one can skirmish perhaps as well as he. Had he 
 confined his position to dogmatism, he would have en- 
 shrouded himself in darkness, and have hidden his own 
 vulnerable points. But coming down to base reasons, 
 he lets in light, and one sees where to plant the blows. 
 Now the worshipful reason of modern France for dis- 
 turbing the old received spelling, is — that Jean Hordel, 
 a descendant of La Pucelle's brother, spelled the nanae 
 BwTQ in 1612. But what of that % Beside the chances 
 that M. Hordel might be a gigantic blockhead, it is 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 notorious that what small matter of spelling Provi- 
 dence had thought fit to disburse amongst men in the 
 seventeenth century, was all monopolized by printers : 
 in France, much more so." 
 
 I prefer to cling to the old name, Joan d'Arc, or 
 Joan of Arc, because usage has schooled the ear to like 
 it better tLan the one of Dare; besides, it is by no 
 means yet clear that Dare is the proper name. 
 
 The Author. 
 
 Hartford^ Conn.^ Jan. 1, 1854. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Charles the Sixth — De Clisson — The Duke of Brittany 
 
 — Sir Peter De Craon — The Duke and Sir Peter con- 
 spire to ruin De Clisson — Sir Peter meditates assassi- 
 nation — Comes to Paris, where De Clisson resides — 
 Attacks him at night — Wounds him — Narrow escape 
 
 — Sir Peter flies to the Duke of Brittany — The King 
 
 is indignant and vows vengeance, It 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 The Provost of Paris is ordered to pursue Sir Peter — 
 
 The Duke of Brittany is commanded to deliver him up 411 
 
 — He refuses — The King sets out to punisji him — 
 Strange accident at the forest of Mans — The King 
 becomes deranged — He attacks his friends — The 
 party return — Ministers unpopular — The King's un- 
 cles administer the government, 32 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 The result of the frenzy of the King — Disputes arise — 
 His brother, the Duke of Orleans, claims the right to 
 rule — The King's uncles, De Berry and Burgundy, 
 also claim it — Council called — Decided that Burgun- 
 dy and De Berry administer the government — Bur- 
 gundy's death — The young Duke of Burgundy claims 
 the right to occupy his father's place — Orleans sup- 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAQB 
 
 ported by the Queen-Dowager — "War — Burgundy- 
 triumphs — Orleans is assassinated — The succeed- 
 ing Duke of Orlean-s and Count Armagnac take up 
 arms — "War of the Burgundians and Armagnacs — 
 English influence and aid sought by both factions — 
 Henry V. — Resolves upon a war of- conquest, 51 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Battle of Agincourt — The terrible encounter — Cour- 
 age of the English — French lines broken — A panic — 
 Utter defeat — ■ The English masters of the field — 
 Death of the Duke of York, 65 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The English King lacks wisdom — Duke of Orleans ta- 
 ken prisoner and carried to England — Charles, the 
 Dauphin — English invade Normandy — The French 
 Queen — Siege of Rouen — Conference of Biu-gundy and 
 the Dauphin — Treaty of Troyes — King Henry and 
 Princess Katharine married — His death — Henry VI. 
 — Orleans taken by the English — The Dauphin's for- 
 tunes at a low ebb — The English victorious every- 
 where, '73 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Joan of Arc — Extract from De Quincey — Joan's birth- 
 place, Domremy — Her early days — Piety — Modesty 
 — The Beech Tree — Her dreams — The ill-fortune of 
 the Dauphin fires her heart — She sees strange sights 
 — The Spirits whisper to her — She reveals to her un- 
 cle the command of the Voices — They set out to see 
 the Governor of Vaucouleurs — Repulsed — The Maid 
 not discouraged — Sets out upon her lone journey to 
 the Dauphin — Interview with him, 8'7 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Dauphin convinced that Joan's mission is divine — 
 Relapses into -unbelief — She is examined by a coun- 
 cil — She inspires faith, and is declared to be in com- 
 munication with Heaven — She is placed at the head 
 of the army — Enthusiasm of the soldiers — Provisions 
 sent to the people of Orleans — Joan enters the city at 
 dead of night — battle is given — the Maid conquers, 120 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 The siege of Orleans raised — Description of the conflict 
 — Joan wounded — ^Bravery of the English — Their de- 
 feat — A day of Thanksgiving and Praise — Joan ur- 
 ges the Dauphin to follow up his victory with further 
 action — Personal appearance of Joan — The Dauphin 
 unwilling to go on towards Rheims — Siege of Jargeau 
 -^Falls into the hands of the French — Other towns con- 
 quered — Troy es taken — Rheims — The Dauphin is 
 crowned at Rheims — Joan's two great predictions ac- 
 complished — See asks leave to return to Domi^emy — * 
 Is persuaded to remain at Court, 136 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Joan is honored — Domremy made free from Impost — 
 Joan begins to doubt her further communication with 
 the Yoices — The army marches on Paris — Joan 
 wounded and deserted — She is discouraged — King 
 Charles shows the White Feather — Returns to his cas- 
 tle — Joan during the winter — Spring returns — She 
 attempts the rescue of De Flary — Is made a prisoner, 162 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Joan is taken to Rouen — Put into a dungeon — She is 
 insulted — Cruel treatment — Her enemies determine 
 
XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 to crush lier — Her trial resolved -upon -r- The Bisnop 
 of Beauvais — Attempt made to deceive Joan — Un- 
 successful, ». 183 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The trial commenced — Joan's attire — The trial — Con- 
 duct of the Bishop of Beauvais — Nothing proved 
 against the Maid — Yet she is brought in guilty of 
 "Witchcraft — Listens to a Public Sermon — She is de- 
 ceived by her tormentors — Signs a paper, the contents 
 of which she misunderstands — Is taken back to prison 
 — Attempted outrage — She assumes male attire — Is 
 discovered — Doomed to die, 190 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Joan's execution — The Market-Place — Sympathy of the 
 Spectators — Her triumphant end, . . . « 208 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The Bishop of Beauvais — Extract from De Quincey-— 
 Review of the career of the Maid, 212 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 The news of Joan's death reaches Domr^my — Death of 
 her father — Further history of the family — Domre- 
 my in modern times — The end 220 
 
LIFE OF JOAN 
 
 / 
 
 CHAPTER i 
 
 CHARLES THE SIXTH — DE CLISSON — DUKE OF BRITTANY — SIR PETER 
 
 DE CRAON THE DUKE AND SIR PETER CONSPIRE TO RUIN DE 
 
 CLISSON SIR PETER MEDITATES ASSASSINATION GOES TO PARIS, 
 
 WHERE DE CLISSON RESIDES ATTACKS HEM AT NIGHT NARROW 
 
 ESCAPE SIR PETER FLIES TO THE DUKE THE KING IS INDIG- 
 NANT, AND VOWS VENGEANCE. 
 
 It will be necessary, in order to understand 
 and appreciate properly the events in the life of 
 Joan of Arc, to review the history of France for 
 a quarter of a century preceding the date of her 
 birth. Charles the Sixth was upon the throne 
 of France, and reigned prosperously. He was 
 on terms of peace with the English, who at this 
 time possessed Calais, Bayonne and Bordeaux. 
 The king gave the most important office in his 
 cabinet to the Constable De Clisson, who was 
 lite himself, a Breton. He w^s a brave and bold 
 
 2 
 
lb THE LIFE OF 
 
 man, and possessed many enemies. Among 
 tliem was one of the most powerful men in 
 France — tlie Duke of Brittany. Froissart cliron- 
 icles tlie history of their hatred and qnarrels ; 
 and as the story will give the reader a good idea 
 of France at this period, we will quote it here : 
 
 "Yon have heard before how Sir Peter de 
 Craon, a knight of high birth and great wealth, 
 was disgraced by the King of France and his 
 brother, as well as the reasons for it ; and that 
 having retired to the court of Brittany, the duke 
 had assured him Sir Oliver de Clisson was at the 
 bottom of this business. Some supposed the 
 duke had been instigated to say this from his 
 hatred to the constable, whom he wished to dis- 
 honor and destroy. While Sir Peter de Craon 
 was with the Duke of Brittany, they had fre- 
 quent conversations on what means they could 
 employ to put Sir Oliver to death ; for they said 
 that if he were but destroyed, no one would seek 
 to revenge his loss ; and the duke expressed his 
 regret he had not put him to death when in his 
 castle of Ermine, adding he would willingly 
 give one hundred thousand francs if he could 
 once more have him in his possession. Sir Peter 
 de Craon observing the mortal hatred of the duke 
 
JOAN OF AEO. 19 
 
 to Clisson, tlioiiglit of an extraordinary expedi- 
 ent, when meditating alone upon this subject, 
 for it is from appearances we must judge. He 
 resolved, whatever might be the consequences, 
 that he would himself assassinate the constable, 
 or have it done under his own eyes, and not at- 
 tend to anything until the deed were performed, 
 when he would afterward treat for his pardon. 
 He was no way afraid of what John of Blois, or 
 the Yiscount de Rohan, who had married the 
 constable's two daughters, could do against him : 
 he held them very cheap, for, with the assistance 
 of the duke and his family connections, he could 
 withstand them both. The house of Blois was 
 much weakened, and the Count Guy de Blois 
 had just sold the reversion of that county to the 
 Duke of Touraine, which by succession ought to 
 have descended to John of Brittany, who had in 
 this sale been very unkindly treated by the 
 Count de Blois. Now, if the constable were 
 slain, by degrees he would soon get the better of 
 the favorites of the king and the Duke of Tou 
 
 raine 
 
 '' Sir Peter persevered in his abominable de- 
 signs, urged on by that enemy who never sleeps, 
 and who delights in the heart of the wicked man 
 
20 THELIFEOF 
 
 that is inclined towards him. He regularly 
 formed his whole plan in the manner I shall men- 
 tion ; but had he foreseen the great evils and 
 mischiefs that ensued from them, it is to be 
 hoped that reason and temperance would have 
 ruled in his heart, to prevent them from being 
 put into execution. It is truly said, that a too 
 great desire to accomplish an object clouds the 
 understanding, and that vicious inclinations over- 
 rule virtue. Thus it happened to Sir Peter de 
 Craon, whose eagerness to destroy the constable 
 made him listen to the counsels of folly and mad- 
 ness. He had secured a safe retreat with the 
 Duke of Brittany, after the deed should be done 
 and the constable dead, without fear of any search 
 being there made for him, for the duke had 
 promised him an asylum ; and should the King 
 of France follow him with a powerful army to 
 Brittany, in one night he could embark and sail 
 for Bayonne, Bordeaux, or England, where he 
 could not come after him. The English mortally 
 hated Clisson, for his great severity to them from 
 the time he had turned to the French. . . . 
 
 " Sir Peter de Craon long brooded over this 
 intended deed without mentioning it to any one ; 
 I know not if he ever told it to the Duke of Brit- 
 
J O A N O F A K C . 21 
 
 tany. Some tliink he must have disclosed it to 
 him, but others thought the contrary ; the first 
 opinion, however, was strengthened if not con- 
 firmed by Sir Peter and his accomplices return- 
 ing by the shortest road, and as expeditiously as 
 possible, to Brittany, instantly after the assassi- 
 nation, as to a place of refuge. . . . . 
 
 " You must know that at this period Sir Peter 
 de Craon had a very handsome house near the 
 churchyard of Saint John at Paris, like other 
 great lords, to receive him when he came to that 
 city. This hotel was, in his absence, under the 
 care of a house-steward; and during the last 
 Lent season he had sent varlets thither for his 
 service, with orders to lay in a large store of 
 wines and all sorts of provisions. He had like- 
 wise written to the steward to purchase for him 
 armor, such as coats of mail, gauntlets, steel hel- 
 mets, and other things sufficient for forty men, 
 and to let him know when they were provided, 
 that he might send for them ; but to observe the 
 greatest secresy in the business. The steward, 
 thinking no harm, obeyed the orders and provi- 
 ded the armor ; during which time Sir Peter 
 resided at a handsome castle of his in Anjou, 
 called Sable, from whence he sent at differ- 
 
22 THELIFEOF 
 
 ent times, four or more determined fellows, in 
 the most secret manner possible, to Ms hotel in 
 Paris. He said to them nothing more when he 
 left them, but ' When you arrive at my house 
 in Paris, make yourselves comfortable, and ask 
 the house-steward for whatever you may want, 
 who will instantly give it to you ; but do not on 
 any account pass the gates or show yourselves. 
 I will one day satisfy you well for your obedi- 
 ence, and pay you handsome wages.' 
 
 " Upon this they departed and journied to Pa- 
 ris, which they entered at their pleasure ; for in 
 those days the gates were never shut, night nor 
 day. At length they amounted to forty cour- 
 ageous bravos, for such were what Sir Peter 
 wanted. There were several among them who, 
 had they known the business they were engaged 
 in, would not have come ; but Sir Peter took 
 good care not to betray his secret. About the 
 feasts of "Whitsuntide, Sir Peter de Craon came 
 to his hotel in Paris, not in state, but as privately 
 as his men had done. On his arrival he asked 
 for the porter, and said — ' I command thee, un- 
 der pain of having thy eyes thrust out, not to 
 admit either man or woman into the hotel, nor 
 to permit any one to go out without my special 
 
JOANOFAKC. 23 
 
 orders.' The porter as well as the house-steward 
 promised obedience. He shut up in their cham- 
 bers the wife -of the latter, her children and the 
 chambermaid. He was in the right to do this. 
 Had these women or children gone into the 
 street, his arrival would have been known ; for 
 young children and women naturally tell all 
 they see, and what is intended to be concealed. 
 
 " Thus, as I have related, were the whole of 
 his people confined within the walls of the hotel, 
 until the feast of the holy sacrament. You may 
 suppose that Sir Peter had his spies fully em- 
 ployed, to bring him intelligence, but it was not 
 until the eve of this feast he found a fit opportu- 
 nity to execute his scheme, which had vexed 
 him much. 
 
 "It happened that on the feast of the holy sac- 
 rament, the King of France kept an open court 
 at the hotel de St. Pol, where he entertained all 
 barons and lords who were in Paris. He was 
 in high enjoyment, as were the queen and the 
 Duchess of Touraine : to add to their amuse- 
 ments, after the dinner, lists were prepared with- 
 in the courts of the hotel, and young knights 
 and squires, ready armed and mounted for tilt- 
 ing, came thither and justed very gallantly. 
 
24 THELTFEOF 
 
 The tiltings were well performed, to tlie delight 
 of the king, queen, ladies and damsels, and last- 
 ed until the evening. The prize for the best 
 tilter was adjudged by the queen, the Duchess 
 of Touraine, and the ladies and heralds appoint- 
 ed to the office, to Sir William de Flanders, 
 Count de l^amur. The king entertained at sup- 
 per, in the hotel de St. Pol, every knight who 
 wished to partake of it ; and afterward the dan- 
 cings continued until one o'clock in the morning. 
 "When they were over, every one retired to his 
 home without guard and without suspicion. Sir 
 Oliver de Clisson remained the last ; and when 
 he had taken leave of the king, he returned to the 
 apartment of the Duke of Touraine, and asked, 
 'My lord, shall you stay here to-night, or do 
 you go to Poulain's ? ' This Poulain, was treas- 
 urer to the Duke of Touraine, and lived at the 
 Croix du Tiroir, near the Silver Lion. The 
 duke replied — ' Constable, I am not deter- 
 mined whether I shall stay or not, but do you g®, 
 for it is high time to retire.' ' My lord, God 
 give you a good night,' said Sir Oliver, and 
 went away. He found his servants and horses 
 waiting for him in the square before the hotel ; 
 but they had not mor^than eight or ten torches, 
 
JOANOFAEO. 25 
 
 which the varlets lighted. When the constable 
 was mounted, and the torches were borne before 
 him, he rode down the broad street of St. 
 Catharine. 
 
 " Sir Peter de Craon's spies had this day exert- 
 ed themselves, and he knew every particular re- 
 lative to the constable — of his staying behind 
 the rest of the company, the exact number of 
 his horses and attendants. He had in conse- 
 quence quitted his hotel with his men all mount- 
 ed and secretly armed ; but there were not six 
 of them who knew what his real intentions were. 
 He had advanced to the causeway, near the 
 place of St. Catharine, where he and his people 
 lay hid, waiting for the constable to pass. As 
 soon as the constable had left the street of St. 
 Pol, and turned into the square of the great 
 street, advancing a foot's pace, with a torch on 
 each side to light him, he began a coitversation 
 with one of his squires, saying — ' I am to have 
 at dinner to-morrow my Lord of Touraine, the 
 Lord de Coucy, Sir John de Yienne, Sir Charles 
 de Angers, the Baron de Ivry, and several more : 
 be sure take care they have all things comforta- 
 ble, and let nothing be spared.' As he said 
 
 this. Sir Peter de Craon and his company ad- 
 B 
 
26 THE LIFE OF 
 
 vancecl, and witliout saying a word fell on the 
 constable's attendants and extinguislied the 
 torches. The constable hearing the clatter of the 
 horses behind him, thought it was the Duke of 
 Touraine who was playing him a trick, and 
 cried out — ' My lord, by my faith, this is very 
 ill done ; but I excuse it, for you are so young 
 you make a joke of everything.' At these 
 words, Sir Peter de Craon, drawing his sword 
 from the scabbard, said, — ^ Death, death ! 
 Clisson, you must die ! ' ' "Who art thou,' 
 said Clisson, ' that utterest such words ? ' 'I 
 am Peter de Craon, thy enemy, whom thou hast 
 so often angered, and thou shalt now pay for it.' 
 Then calling to his people, he said, — ^ Advance, 
 advance ! I have found him I was in search of, 
 and whom I have long wanted to seize.' He 
 then struck him several blows, and his men, 
 drawing their swords, fell on him. Sir Oliver 
 was quite unarmed, having only a short cutlass, 
 not two feet long, which, however, he drew, and 
 defended himself with it as well as he could. 
 His servants being quite defenceless were soon 
 dispersed. Some of Sir Peter's men asked if 
 they were to murder all? 'Yes,' replied he, 
 ^ all who put themselves in a posture of de- 
 
JOAN OF AEG. 27 
 
 fence.' They could not resist the attack, for 
 they were but eight, and without armor. Sir 
 Peter's men fully intended to murder the con- 
 stable, and their master wished nothing more 
 than to see it done ; but as I heard from some 
 of those who had been in this attack, the mo- 
 . ment that they learnt that the person they were 
 assassinating was the Constable of France, their 
 arms became as it were nerveless through sur- 
 prise, and their blows were given weakly, 
 and through fear ; for in perpetrating wicked- 
 ness none are bold. 
 
 "The constable parried the blows tolerably 
 well with his short cutlass ; but his defence 
 would have been of no avail if God's providence 
 had not protected him. He kept steady on 
 horseback sometime, until he was villainously 
 struck on the back part of the head, which 
 knocked him off his horse. In his fall he hit 
 against the hatch of a baker's door, who was al- 
 ready up to attend to his business and bake his 
 bread. Having heard the noise of horses on the 
 causeway and high roads, the baker had, fortu- 
 nately for the constable, half opened the hatch, 
 and Sir Oliver falling against it burst it quite 
 open and rolled into the shop. Those on horse- 
 
28 THELIFEOF 
 
 back could not follow him, as the entrance was 
 neither wide nor high enough, besides they did 
 work like cowards. It must be owned for truth, 
 that God showed great favor to the constable : 
 if he had not exactly fallen against the hatch, 
 or if it had been closed, he would in falling lost 
 his life, and have been trampled to death by the 
 horses, for they were afraid to dismount. Sev- 
 eral of them imagined, even Sir Peter de Craon 
 and the person who had hit him, that the blow 
 on his head which unhorsed him must cause his 
 death ; Sir Peter therefore said, — ' Come, let 
 us away ; we have done enough : if he be not 
 dead he can never recover from the last blow, 
 which was given by a lusty arm.' On saying 
 this they collected together and left the place at 
 a good trot, and were soon at the gate of Saint 
 Anthony, which they passed and gained the 
 fields, for since the battle of Kosebecque the 
 gates were never shut. The Parisians had then 
 their mallets taken from them by the constable, 
 and many of the citizens punished and fined for 
 their imprudent conduct, as I have fully nar- 
 rated." 
 
 Sir Peter fled to the Duke of Brittany, who 
 received him with open arms. Froissart thus 
 
J O A N O F A K C . 29 
 
 describes tlie manner in which the news was 
 broken to the king : 
 
 " News of this was carried to the king at the 
 hotel de Saint Pol, just as he was going into 
 bed. In much alarm they said, ' Ah, sire ! we 
 dare not conceal from you a shocking event that 
 has just happened in Paris.' 'What event?' 
 asked the king. ' Your constable, Oliver de 
 Clisson, is murdered.' ' Murdered ! ' repeated the 
 king. 'How, and who has done it?' 'Sire, 
 that we do not know ; but tliis misfortune has 
 befallen him hard by, in the great street of St. 
 Catharine.' ' Come, quickly light torches, for 
 I will go and see him,' replied the king. The 
 torches being ready, the varlets bore them be- 
 fore ; and the king threw only a cloak over him 
 while the shoes were putting on his feet. The 
 men at arms and ushers of the guard of the pal- 
 ace escorted him. Those who were gone to bed, 
 on hearing what had passed, instantly dressed 
 themselves to follow the king, who had left the 
 hotel de St. Pol in such haste that Sir Walter 
 Martel and Sir John de Lignac were the only 
 chamberlains that attended him, for he would 
 not wait for others, and thus he walked at a 
 good pace, with torches before and behind him. 
 
30 THELIB^EOF 
 
 In this manner he arrived at the baker's shop, 
 which he entered, bnt the chamberlains with 
 many torches staid without. The king found 
 his constable nearly in the state he had heard 
 him to be in, except that he was not dead ; for 
 his servants had stripped him to see if he had 
 many wounds, and where they had been given. 
 The first words the king said were, ' Constable, 
 how fares it with you ? ' ' Dear sire,' replied he, 
 ^ but so so, and very weak.' '• And who has put 
 you in this state ? ' ' Sire, Peter de Craon and 
 his accomplices have traitorously and without 
 the smallest suspicion attacked me.' ' Constable,' 
 said the king, ' nothing shall ever be more se- 
 verely punished than this crime, nor can any 
 sufferings make amends for it : run quickly,' 
 added the king, ' for doctors and surgeons.' 
 These were before sent for, and they arrived 
 from all quarters, particularly those attached to 
 the king's person. On their arrival the king 
 was well pleased, and said, — ' Attend well to 
 my constable, and tell me what state he is in, 
 for I am sorely grieved at his misfortune.' The 
 doctors having declared they would, examined 
 him all -over, the king being present, who was 
 greatly angered at this event : he asked, ' If 
 
JOANOFAKC. 31 
 
 there was any danger of death ? ' The doctors 
 imanimoiTslj replied, 'Sire, certainly not, and 
 in fifteen days we will restore him to yoii w^ell 
 enough to ride on horseback.' This answer 
 pleased the king, who said, ' God be praised, 
 this is excellent news.' Then addressing him- 
 self to the constable, he said, 'Take care of 
 yourself, and do not think of this or any other 
 business ; no crime shall be more rigorously 
 punished than that of these traitors ; they shall 
 pay for it as if it were done to myself.' The 
 constable faintly answered, ' May God repay 
 you all, and for your kindness in this visit.' " 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PROVOST OF PARIS IS ORDERED TO PURSUE SIR PETER THE 
 
 DUKE OF BRITTANY IS COMMANDED TO DELIVER UP DE CRAON 
 
 HE REFUSES THE KING SETS OUT TO PUNISH CRAON STRANGE 
 
 ACCIDENT AT THE FOREST OF MANS THE KING BECOMES DE- 
 RANGED HE ATTACKS HIS FRIENDS THE ARMY RETURNS — -THE 
 
 king's uncles ADMINISTER THE GOVERNMENT. 
 
 Peter de Ceaon took refuge with the Duke 
 of Brittany, who had promised to protect him 
 in case he was pursued. He exclaimed upon 
 seeing him : 
 
 " You are a poor creature, and cannot slay a 
 man when you have him in your power." 
 
 His word was given to protect him, however, 
 and well knowing that to obey his pledge would 
 call down upon him the anger of the king, he, 
 nevertheless, hesitated not an instant to give De 
 Craon succor. 
 
 The king resolved to punish the bold assassin, 
 and gave orders to the Provost of Paris to pur- 
 sue him. To show his anger, he executed those 
 of Sir Peter de Craon's men who were left in 
 Paris. The pr(5vost not being successful, the 
 
JOANOFAKC." 33 
 
 king summoned tlie Duke of Brittany to deliver 
 up the criminal. His reply was evasive and 
 unsatisfactory, and the king declared war against 
 him. He collected an army together, though 
 he met with opjDosition from his uncles, the 
 Dukes of Berri and Burgundy, who hated De 
 Clisson on account of his great wealth and influ- 
 ence at court. They endeavored to persuade 
 him to let the constable and De Craon fight out 
 their quarrel themselves, but his majesty very 
 properly insisted upon punishing so dastardly an 
 assassin. He pushed on with his army to the 
 city of Mans. From that place he again sent a 
 demand to the Duke of Brittany to deliver up 
 de , Craon. But the duke declared he did not 
 know where he was. This evident falsehood 
 only added fuel to the king's anger, and he de- 
 termined to overthrow the duke. The history 
 of his derangement is thus described by Frois- 
 sart : 
 
 " When the King of France had resided about 
 three weeks in the city of Mans, during which 
 time counsels were daily held, and when the 
 knights were returned with the Diike of Brit- 
 tany's answer, the king said that since he knew 
 what to depend on he would not longer stay at 
 
 B* 3 
 
34: THELIFEOF 
 
 Mans, for it was displeasing and hnrtful to him, 
 but advance towards the frontiers of Brittany, 
 nearer this duke who was supporting the traitor 
 Sir Peter de Craon. The intention of the king 
 was to deprive the Duke of Brittany of his 
 duchy, and nominate a governor of it until his 
 children should be of age to have it restored to 
 them, but the present duke was to be driven 
 thence ; and this determination was so firmly 
 rooted in his mind, nothing could make him 
 change it. He set out from Mans between nine 
 and ten o'clock in the morning ; and the lords 
 and others who had been quartered there, pre- 
 pared to follow him after they had heard more 
 and drank a cup. He had the evening before 
 sent for the marshals of his army to . his cham- 
 ber, and ordered them to have the men at arms 
 ready by early morn to march to Angers ; ' for,' 
 he added, ' we have determined never to return 
 from Brittany until we shall have destroyed the 
 traitors who give us so much trouble.' The 
 marshals gave their orders for the army to march 
 on the morrow, and assured the captains that it 
 was now determined upon to pursue the road to 
 Brittany. The day the king left Mans was ex- 
 cessively hot, as was to be expected, for it was 
 
JOANOFAKC. 35 
 
 the middle of August, when the sun is in its 
 greatest force. 
 
 "You must know, in order perhaps to account 
 truly for what followed, that the king, during his 
 stay at Mans, labored hard and assiduously in 
 the council, where he had but little assistance, 
 and was beside not perfectly recovered in health. 
 He had been the whole summer feeble in body 
 and mind, scarcely eating or drinking anything, 
 and almost daily attacked with fever, to which 
 he was naturally inclined, and this was increas- 
 ed by any contradiction or fatigue. He suffered 
 much from the insult offered his constable, so 
 that his physician and uncles noticed that at 
 times his intellects were deranged ; but they 
 could not do anything, for he would not listen 
 to what they proposed, nor would he consent, 
 on any account, to defer the expedition to Brit- 
 tany. I was told that a strange accident hap- 
 pened to him as he was riding through the for- 
 est of Mans, for which he ought to have assem- 
 bled his council, instead of pursuing his march 
 fcirther. A man, bareheaded, with naked feet, 
 clothed in a jerkin of white russet, that showed 
 he was more mad than otherwise, rushed out 
 from among the trees and boldly seized the reins 
 
86 THELIFEOF 
 
 of the king's horse. Having thus stopped him, 
 he said, ' King, ride no further, hut return, for 
 thou art betrayed.' This speech made such an 
 impression on the king's mind, which was weak, 
 that his understanding was shaken. As the man 
 finished his speech, the men at arms advanced 
 and beat him soundly on his hands, which made 
 him drop the reins. They suffered him to run 
 off, without paying any attention to what he 
 said, thinking he was some madman, for which 
 they were afterward by many blamed and dis- 
 graced : they ought at least to have arrested 
 him, to have examined if he really were mad, 
 and to learn why he had uttered such words, 
 and whence he had come. E"othing, however, 
 was done, and he made off by their rear, and 
 was never after seen by any who had the least 
 knowledge of him. Those who were near the 
 king's person heard very plainly the words he 
 had spoken. 
 
 " The king and his army passed on ; and it 
 might be about twelve o''clock when they were 
 clearing the forest. They now entered an ex- 
 tensive sandy plain, and the sun was so resplen- 
 dent, and in such force, that scarcely any could 
 endure the heat : the horses consequently suf- 
 
JOAN OF A EC. 37 
 
 fered much. There was none so used to arms as 
 not to complain of the oppressive heat ; and the 
 lords took different routes, apart from each 
 other. The king rode by himself, to have less 
 dust ; and the Dukes of Berry and Burgundy, 
 conversing together, kept on his left hand at 
 about two acres' distance from him. The other 
 lords, such as the Count de la Marche, Sir James 
 de Bourbon, Sir Charles d' Albert, Sir Phillip 
 d'Artois, Sir Henry and Sir Phillip de Bar, Sir 
 Peter de ISTavarre, rode in different paths. The 
 Duke of Bourbon, the Lord de Coucy, Sir Charles 
 d' Angers, the Baron d' Ivry, were following at 
 a gentle pace, talking together, and some dis- 
 tance from the king, not suspecting the misfor- 
 tune which was on the point of befalling him. 
 It was manifestly the work of God, whose pun- 
 ishments are severe to make his creatures trem- 
 ble. Have we not seen many similar examples, 
 both in the Old and 'New Testament, especially 
 in the instance of l^ebuchadnezzar, king of the 
 Assyrians ! He reigned over them with such 
 power, that nothing was spoken of but his mag- 
 nificence and glory ; when suddenly, in the 
 midst of his pomp, the Lord of kings, God, the 
 Master of heaven and earth, and Creator of all 
 
38 " T II E L I F E O F 
 
 tilings, struck liim in siichwise that he lost his 
 senses and his kingdom. He continued for sev- 
 en years in this deplorable state, living on 
 acorns and wild fruits, having the taste of a wild 
 boar or hog. After this period of penitence, 
 God restored him to his senses and memory ; 
 upon which he declared to Daniel, the servant 
 of the Lord, that there was none other God but 
 the God of Israel. To speak truly, the God the 
 Father, the Son and the. Holy Ghost, three in 
 name, but one in substance, was, is, and ever 
 will be, of as sufficient power to declare his 
 works as from the beginning, and one ought not, 
 therefore, to be surprised at whatever wonder- 
 ful things happen. The reason why I speak 
 thus is, that a great influence from Heaven this 
 day fell on the king of France, and as some say, 
 from his own fault. The physicians of his body, 
 who ought to have well known his constitution, 
 declared that, considering the weak state of his 
 health, he should not have thus exposed himself 
 to the heat of the day, but have rode in the cool 
 of the mornings or evenings. Those ^ho had 
 advised otherwise were disgraced ; but he had 
 long been led by his ministers to act just as they 
 pleased. The king rode over this sandv plain 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 39 
 
 which reflected the heat, which was much 
 greater than had ever before been known in 
 that season : he was, besides, dressed in a jacket 
 of black velvet that added to the warmth, and 
 had only a single hood of crimson, ornamented 
 with a chaplet of large, beautiful pearls, the 
 queen had presented him on his leaving her. 
 He was followed by one of his pages, who had a 
 Montauban cap of polished steel on his head 
 that glittered in the sun, and behind him an- 
 other pa^e rode on horseback, carrying a ver- 
 milion-colored lance,, enveloped with silk, for 
 the king, the head of which lance was broad, 
 sharp and bright. The Lord de la Eiviere had 
 brought a dozen such when he last came from 
 Toulouse, and this was one ; for he had present- 
 ed the whole to the king, who had given three 
 to the Duke of Orleans, and the same number 
 to the Duke of Burgundy. 
 
 " As they were thus riding, the pages, who 
 were but children, grew negligent of them- 
 selves and their horses ; and the one who bore 
 the lance fell asleep, and, forgetful of what he 
 had in his hand, let it fall on the casque of the 
 page before him, which made both the lance 
 and casque ring loudly. The king being so 
 
40 THE LIFE OF 
 
 near, (the pages rode almost on the heels of his 
 horse) was startled, and shuddered ; for he had 
 in his mind the words the wise man or fool had 
 spoken when he seized his horse's reins in the 
 forest of Mans, and fancied a host of enemies 
 were come to slay him. In this distraction of 
 mind, he drew his sword and advanced on the 
 pages, for his senses were quite gone, and he 
 imagined himself surrounded by enemies, giving 
 Hows of his sword, indifferent on whom they 
 fell, and bawled out, 'Advance! advance on 
 these traitors.' The pages seeing the king thus 
 wroth, took care of themselves, for they im- 
 agined they had angered him by their negli- 
 gence, and spurred their horses different ways. 
 The Duke of Orleans seeing him approach with 
 his naked sword, grew alarmed, and spurring 
 his horse, made off, and the king after him. 
 The Duke of Burgundy, hearing the cries of the 
 pages, cast his eyes to that quarter, and seeing 
 the king pursuing his brother with drawn sword, 
 was thunderstruck, and not without reason : he 
 cried out for help, saying — 
 
 '^ ' My lord has lost his senses : for God's sake 
 lay hands on him ; ' and then added, ' Fly, fair 
 nephew of Orleans : fly, or my lord will murder 
 
JOANOFAEO. 41 
 
 yon.' The Duke of Orleans was mucli fright- 
 ened, and galloped as fast as his horse could go, 
 followed by knights and squires. There were 
 now great shoutings, insomuch that those at a 
 distance thought thej were hunting a wolf or 
 hare, until they saw it was the king, who was 
 not himself. 
 
 " The Duke of Orleans escaped, however, by 
 making several turns, and was aided by knights, 
 squires, and men-at-arms, who surrounded the 
 king, and allowed him to waste his strength on 
 them ; for, of course, the more he exerted him- 
 self the weaker he grew. When he made at 
 any one knight or squire, they fell before the 
 stroke, and I never heard that in this fit of mad- 
 ness any one was killed. Several were struck 
 down by his blows, because no one made any 
 defence. At last, when he was quite jaded and 
 running down with sweat, and his horse in a 
 lather from fatigue, a I^orman knight, who was 
 one of his chamberlains, and much beloved by 
 him, called William Martel, came behind and 
 caught him in his arms, though he had his 
 sword still in his hand. When he was thus 
 held, all the other lords came up, and took the 
 sword from him : he was dismounted, and gently 
 
4:2 THE LIFE OF 
 
 laid on the ground, that his jacket might be 
 stripped from him, to give him more air and 
 cool him. His three nncles and brother ap- 
 proached : but he had lost .all knowledge of 
 them, showing no symptoms of acquaintance or 
 affection, but rolled his eyes round in his head 
 without speaking to any one. The princes of 
 blood were in amazement, and knew not what 
 to say nor how to act. The Dukes of Berry 
 and Burgundy at length said, ^We must re- 
 turn to Mans, for the expedition is at an end 
 for this season.' They did not then say all 
 they thought ; but they made their intentions 
 very apparent to those who were not in their 
 good graces, on their return to Paris, as I shall 
 relate in the course of this history. It must be 
 owned that, when all things are considered, it 
 was a great pity for a king of France, who is 
 the most noble and powerful prince in the world, 
 to be thus suddenly deprived of his senses. There 
 could not be any remedy applied, nor any 
 amendment expected, since God willed it 
 should be so. Having undressed and cooled 
 him as gently as they could, they laid him on a 
 litter, and carried him slowly to Mans. The 
 marshals instantly sent orders for the van to re- 
 
J O A N O F A E . 43 
 
 turn, and the whole army was informed there 
 was an end to the expedition. To some, the rea- 
 sons were told why it was thus put an end to, 
 ,to others not. The evening the king was 
 brought back to Mans, his physicians were much 
 occupied with him, and the princes of his blood 
 in the utmost trouble. The event was spoken 
 of very differently : some said that the king, to 
 ruin the kingdom of France, had been poisoned, 
 or bewitched, the morning before, he left Mans. 
 These words were so often repeated, that they 
 came to the ears of the Duke of Orleans, and oth- 
 ers of the royal blood. 
 
 " In conversation together, they said — 'Do 
 you hear, (for you must unless you shut your 
 ears,) what murmurmgs there are against the 
 king's ministers ? It is reported and common- 
 ly believed, that he has been poisoned or be- 
 witched : now how can we know whether this 
 has been done or not? ' Some made answer, — 
 . ' From his physicians, for they must know his 
 habit and constitution.' The physicians were 
 sent for, and most strictly examined by the Duke 
 of Burgundy. To this examination they re- 
 plied, ' that the king had, for a long time, been 
 suffering under this disorder ; and, knowing that 
 
4:4: THELIFEOF 
 
 this weakness of intellect oppressed him griev- 
 ously, it would make its appearance.' The 
 Duke of Burgundy told the physicians, ' that in 
 the whole of the matter they had honestly ac- 
 quitted themselves, but that the king, from his 
 great anxiety to undertake this war, would not 
 listen to any advice on the subject of his health. 
 Cursed be this expedition, and unhappy is it that 
 ever it was proposed, for it has been his destruc- 
 tion ; and it would have been better that Clis- 
 son and his whole race had been murdered, than 
 that the king had been afflicted with such a dis- 
 order. E"ews of it will be carried everywhere, 
 and, as he is now but a young man, we who are 
 his uncles, and of his blood, who aliould have 
 advised him, shall be much blamed, though we 
 have been no way in fault. J^ow tell us,' said 
 the duke, addressing himself to the physicians, 
 ^ were you present yesterday morning at his din- 
 ner, before he mounted his horse?' 'Yes, in 
 God's name we were,' said they. 'And what 
 did he eat and drink V 'So very little that it 
 is scarcely worth mentioning ; for he sat musing 
 the whole time.' 'And who was the person that 
 last served him with liquor ? ' asked the duke. 
 ' That we know not,' said the physicians ; ' ' for 
 
JOANOFAEC. 45 
 
 as soon as the table was removed, we went away 
 to make ourselves ready for riding, but you- will 
 learn it from his butlers or chamberlains.' Rob- 
 ert Tulles, a squire from !^ormandy, and head- 
 butler, was called. On his coming, he was 
 questioned who had served the king with wine. 
 He replied, ' My lords. Sir Eobert de Lignac' 
 The knight was then sent for, and asked where 
 he had taken the wine to serve the king the 
 morning before he mounted his horse. 'My 
 lords,' said he, ' here is Robert Tulles who gave 
 it me, and tasted it as well as myself, in the 
 king's presence.' ' That is true,' added Robert 
 Tulles ; ' and in this respect there shall not be 
 the smallest ground for suspicion ; for there is 
 now some of the very same in bottles to what 
 the king drank, which we will open and drink 
 before you.' The Duke of Berry then said — 
 ' We are debating here about nothing : the king 
 is only poisoned or bewitched by bad advisers, 
 but it is not time at present to talk of these mat- 
 ters. Let us bear the misfortune as well as we 
 can for the moment.' 
 
 " On the conclusion of the Duke of Berry's 
 speech, the lords retired to their lodgings for 
 the night ; and the king's uncle? ordered four 
 
46 THE LIFE OF 
 
 kniglits of honor to sit np with the king, to at- 
 tend him quietly, and administer to his wants. 
 They were Sir Reginald de Hoye, Sir Reginald 
 de Trie, the Lord de Garencieres, and Sir Wil- 
 liam Martel. The Lord de la Riviere, Sir John 
 le Mercier, Montagu, the Baron de Yillaines, 
 Sir William de Bordes, and Sir Helion de Lig- 
 nac, were ordered not to interfere in any man- 
 ner of business until the king should be perfect- 
 ly recovered. On receiving this order they de- 
 parted, and others took charge of the govern- 
 ment. On the morrow morning, the king's 
 uncles visited him : they found him very weak, 
 and asked how he had slept. Llis chamber- 
 lains replied, ^ Yery little : he cannot rest.' 
 ' This is sad news,' said the Duke of Burgundy. 
 All three then approached him ; and by this 
 time the Duke of Orleans arrived, and asked 
 him how he was. He made no answer, but 
 stared at them without recollecting who they 
 were. These lords were much shocked, and, 
 conversing together, said, ' We need not stay 
 longer, for he is extremely ill, and we do him 
 more harm than good by our presence. We 
 have ordered his chamberlains and physicians 
 to take every care of him, which of course they 
 
JOANOFAEC. 4:7 
 
 will do. Let us consider how tlie kingdom is to 
 be governed, for a government must be speedily 
 provided, or all things will go ill.' ' Good 
 brother,' said the Duke of Burgundy to the Duke 
 of Berry, ' it will be necessary for us to go to 
 Paris, and order the king to be brought hence 
 gently ; for we can have him better attended to 
 when nearer to us than here. We will assem- 
 ble the whole council at Paris, and discuss how 
 the kingdom shall be governed, and whether our 
 fair nephew of Orleans be regent, or we,' ' It 
 is well spoken,' replied the Duke of Berry : ' let 
 us consider of the best place for the king to be 
 removed to, for the recovery of his health.' 
 After some consultation, it was determined that 
 he should be carried, with every precaution, to 
 the Castle of Creil, which has a good air, and is 
 in a rich country on the Biver Oise. When this 
 was settled,. the men-at-arms were disbanded, and 
 orders given by the marshals for them to retire 
 peaceably to their homes, without committing 
 any ravages on the country ; and that, if such 
 excesses were indulged in, the leaders would be 
 called upon to make reparation. The king's un- 
 cles and the chancellors of France, sent off var- 
 lets to the different cities and principal towns in 
 
4:8 THELIFEOF 
 
 Picardy, to order the inliabitants to be very at- 
 tentive in tlie guard of them, for the reason that 
 the king was indisposed. These orders were 
 obeyed. The French nation was dismayed and 
 concerned when it was publicly known that the 
 king labored under a frenzy. They spoke much 
 against those who had advised him to this expe- 
 dition to Brittany, and said that he had been 
 betrayed by those who had urged him on 
 against the duke and Sir Peter de Craon. Peo- 
 ple's tongues could not be stopped, for it was so 
 serious a misfortune, it was necessary vent 
 should be somehow given to the vexation it 
 , caused. 
 
 " The king was carried to Creil, and put under 
 the care of the before-named knight and his phy- 
 sicians. The men-at-arms were disbanded and 
 marched home. It was strictly forbidden the 
 queen's household and all others, under pain of 
 being severely punished, to mention his misfor- 
 tune to the queen, who was far gone with child. 
 It was concealed from her for some time, during 
 which the king was under care of the knights at 
 Creil, and his physicians, who were giving him 
 various medicines, which, however, did him lit- 
 tle good. At this time there was a most learned 
 
JOANOFARC. 4:9 
 
 physician in France, wlio liad not liis equal any- 
 where, a friend of the Lord de Coney, and born 
 on his lands. His name was Master William de 
 Harsley ; he had fixed his residence in the city 
 of Laon, which he preferred to any other. On 
 first hearing of the king's illness and the cause 
 of it, knowing, as he thought, the king's consti- 
 tution, he said — ' This disorder of the king is 
 from the alarm in the forest, and by inheriting 
 too much of his mother's weakness.' These 
 words were carried to the Lord de Coucy, at 
 that time in Paris with the Duke of Orleans and 
 the king's uncles. The whole of the council, 
 and the principal barons and prelates of the 
 realm, were there assembled, to consult on the 
 government of the kingdom during the king's 
 illness, and until he should be perfectly restored ; 
 and whether the Duke of Orleans, or his uncles, 
 or all three, should have the regency. They 
 were upwards of fifteen days before they could 
 agree : at last, it was thought advisable, from 
 the youth of the Duke of Orleans, which made 
 . him unfit to bear so great a Weight, that the two 
 uncles of the king should govern the kingdom ; 
 but that the Duke of Burgundy should be the 
 principal ; and that the Duchess of Burgundy 
 
 C 4 
 
50 JOANOFARC. 
 
 should remain with the queen, and be respected 
 as second to her in rank." 
 
 The king never completely recoved his rea- 
 son, though he was at times after this, so far in 
 possession of his right mind, as to be able to act 
 rationally. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE RESULT OF THE KINg's MADNESS ' DISPUTES ARISE THE KING's 
 
 BROTHER, THE DUKE OF ORLEANS, CLAIMS THE RIGHT TO RULE 
 
 THE king's uncles ALSO CLAIM IT COUNCIL CALLED BURGUNDY 
 
 AND DE BERRY ARE TO RULE BURGUNDy's DEATH THE SECOND 
 
 DUKE OF BURGUNDY CLAIMS HIS FATHER's PLACE ORLEANS SUP- 
 PORTED BY THE QUEEN-DOWAGER "WAR -^ BURGUNDY TRIUMPHS 
 
 ORLEANS IS ASSASSINATED THE SECOND DUKE OF ORLEANS 
 
 AND THE COUNT ARMAGNAO TAKE UP ARMS WARS OF THE BUR- 
 
 GUNDIANS AND ARMAGNACS ENGLISH INFLUENCE AND AID SOUGHT 
 
 BY BOTH PARTIES- — HENRY V. RESOLVES UPON A WAR OF CON- 
 QUEST. 
 
 "We have given the reader a picture of the 
 times immediately preceding the advent cf Joan 
 of Arc into the world, through the vivid pen of 
 Froissart. "We have had a double purpose in so 
 doing — first, to let the reader look upon France 
 and the French people as they existed in the 
 fifteenth century, and thus eiiable him the bet- 
 ter to appreciate the distinguished characters of 
 that time ; second, because the historical events 
 described by Froissart have a direct connection 
 with the subject of this volume. 
 
 The direct result of the illness of the French 
 king was the birth of a series of disputes, which 
 
62 " THELIFEOF 
 
 caused an Englisb. monarch to rest proudly in 
 the capital of France. 
 
 The brother of the king, the Duke of Orleans, 
 naturally enough, demanded that the govern- 
 ment of the kingdom should be placed in his 
 hands during the king's illness, or incapacity for 
 business. He made this claim because he was 
 the nearest relation of the king. The Dukes of 
 Burgundy and Berry were uncles to the king, 
 and they objected to the demand of the Duke of 
 Orleans. They claimed that he was too young 
 and inexperienced in statesmanship. They 
 claimed themselves the government of the na- 
 tion, they having been the king's advisers. The 
 Duke of Burgundy was powerful — much more 
 so than the Duke of Orleans. He possessed the 
 duchy of Burgundy, and through his wife all 
 Flanders. The whole council was called togeth- 
 er, and after a stormy debate, which lasted fif- 
 teen days, it was decided thsif the two uncles 
 should govern the realm, and that the Duke of 
 Burgundy should be the principal. It was stip- 
 ulated that the Duchess of Burgundy should 
 remain with the queen, to prevent the latter 
 from joining the Duke of Orleans. 
 
 The Duke of Burgundy and his nephew, the 
 
JOANOFAEC. 53 
 
 Diike of Orleans, conducted tliemselves peacea- 
 bly towards each otlier. The latter, however, 
 gave secret aid to De Clisson, who waged war 
 against the Dnke of Brittany. He was assisted 
 by many of the most powerful houses, in France. 
 Burgundy played the same game with the op- 
 posing party, assisting privately the Duke of 
 Brittany and Peter de Craon. Still ostensibly 
 the uncle and nephew were friends. Craon re- 
 paired to Paris, but was disappointed in his ex- 
 pectations of quiet. The Queen-Dowager of 
 Kaples sued him for a large sum of money, which 
 he had taken from her husband by fraud. He 
 was thrown into prison, where he remained for 
 a long time, and where he deserved to spend the 
 remainder of his life. But he was at length set 
 free, and he at once fled to England. 
 
 A change soon occurred in the peaceful course 
 of affairs. In 1404:, the Duke of Burgundy was 
 taken suddenly tU at Brussels. He attempted 
 to reach his home, but it was in vain. He was 
 carried in a litter borne by horses as far as Halle, 
 where he stopped. Feeling that his last hour 
 had come, he called for his sons, and as his dy- 
 ing coimsel, entreated them to be loyal and obe- 
 
64 THE LIFE OF 
 
 dient to the king. They promised to do as he 
 wished — but soon forgot the promise. 
 
 The oldest son, by name John, now became 
 Duke of Burgundy. He was well aware that it 
 was unsafe for him to rely upon the support of 
 the people, simply because they had acknowl- 
 edged the right of his father to rule. He 
 was also aware that the Duke of Orleans would 
 make a bold and courageous attempt to regain 
 his rights. He therefore determined to strength- 
 en himself in every possible manner. He first 
 concluded two marriages which his father had 
 projected — one between the dauphin, the king's 
 eldest son, and his own daughter Margaret ; the 
 other between his eldest son Philip, Count of 
 Carolois, and Michelle, daughter of the king. 
 He was sure that these marriages would preserve 
 to him the position which his father had occupi- 
 ed. He was however mistaken. The Duke of 
 Orleans was supported by the queen, and the 
 Duke of Burgundy was not allowed to have any- 
 thing to do with the administration of the king- 
 dom. The Duke of Burgundy made an appeal 
 to arms. He gathered an army together and 
 marched to Paris, where he felt sure of being 
 
J O A N O F A R C . 65 
 
 welcomed by the people, they being attached to 
 him. He was right in his sm^mises ; the people 
 of Paris received him with open arms. The 
 truth was that the Duke of Orleans had the best 
 right to the government of the nation, but Bur- 
 gundy possessed greater wealth, greater power, 
 and perhaps greater governing talent. The king 
 became in reality his prisoner. The dauphin set 
 out to join his mother and the Duke of Orleans, 
 but was overtaken by the Duke of Burgundy, 
 and forcibly brought back to Paris. The mon- 
 arch and the heir-apparent v/ere now under his 
 control. He was the sole ruler of France. Or- 
 leans collected an army, and several skirmishes 
 took place. The country became dissatisfied 
 with such a state of things, which at any moment 
 might eventuate in a horrible civil war, and 
 great efforts w^ere made to induce the two par- 
 ties to settle their differences amicably. 
 
 The son of the Duke of Orleans married Isa- 
 bella, daughter of the king. The occasion was 
 celebrated with considerable magnificence, the 
 nobility of the nation being present. The Dukes 
 of Burgundy and Orleans at this marriage-festi- 
 val, took a solemn oath to forget the past and to 
 live in future as friends. A priest administered 
 
56 THELIFEOF 
 
 the sacrament to them, and they gave to each 
 other every' possible pledge to strictly and hon- 
 orable observe their oaths. But at this very 
 time the Duke of Burgundy was planning the 
 murder of Orleans. A more base action is not 
 recorded upon the page of history. Towards 
 the latter part of the year 1407, the Duke of 
 Burgundy, through hirelings, caused Orleans to 
 be waylaid and murdered in the streets of Paris. 
 For a time, Burgundy concealed the horrible as- 
 sassination, but finding concealment no longer 
 possible, he boldly avowed and defended the 
 deed. ITo one dared to arrest him ; he was too 
 powerful. The Dukes of Berry and Bourbon, 
 though fearing to cause his arrest, yet made 
 their abhorrence so plainly known that he was 
 obliged to retire from Paris to his own castle. 
 The Duchess of Orleans, with her son, came to 
 Paris, and begged of the king to grant her his 
 protection, and to avenge the murder of her hus- 
 band. The monarch was touched by her elo- 
 quence, and promised to grant her wishes, but 
 he was powerless. The government of France 
 was not in his hands, but in those of the Dukes 
 of Berry and Bourbon, who were the friends of 
 Burgundy. The duke collected a large army, 
 
JOANOFAJKC. 57 
 
 marched to Paris, and got the king and his son 
 completely in his power. On the 8th of March, 
 1408, he got together a body of distinguished 
 persons, consisting of Louis, Duke of Aquitaine, 
 the dauphin ; the King of Sicily ; the Cardinal 
 de Bar ; the Dukes of Berry, Brittany, and Lor- 
 raine ; and many earls, barons, and knights ; the 
 Rector of the University, doctors of law and the- 
 ology, and many citizens. John Petit, a theo- 
 logical doctor, made a long speech before this 
 distinguished body, in which he accused the 
 Duke of Orleans of many detestable crimes. 
 Many of his accusations were entirely destitute 
 of truth. He was charged with attempting to 
 cause the death of the monarch by witchcraft. 
 . According to this learned doctor, the Duke of 
 Orleans was a traitor ; therefore, it was right 
 for Burgundy to secure his assassination, and the 
 people had no cause to blame him for the act. 
 Of course no one was convinced by such misera- 
 ble pleading, but at the same time no one dared 
 to oppose the powerful duke. The citizens of 
 Paris actually shouted praises of the murderer in 
 the streets. Children sung songs in his honor, 
 and such was the state of feeling that the queen, 
 
 with her children, left the city. The king was 
 c* 
 
58 THELIFEOF 
 
 suffering with an attack of his old disease, and 
 of conrse remained in the hands of Burgundy ; 
 he was virtually his prisoner. The monarch be- 
 came better, and the duke, seizing upon a favor- 
 able opportunity, asked him to grant him a full 
 pardon for causing the death of Orleans. The 
 request was granted, and the duke returned to 
 his estates. As soon as he had fairly quitted the 
 city, the queen and the Duchess of Orleans re- 
 turned. A public answer was given to the base 
 accusations of the Duke of Burgundy, against 
 the character of Orleans. The king promised 
 that justice should be done, but his promise was 
 worth little or nothing, his intellect was so im- 
 paired. The duke, in the meantime, achieved a 
 victory over the citizens of Leige ; many power- 
 ful societies were his partisans ; and with tri- 
 umph he reentered Paris. He made friends with 
 the Duke of Berry, the two agreeing to share 
 the government equally. The queen and the 
 Duke of Bourbon escaped with the king to Tours. 
 Burgundy now ruled with a despotic hand. 
 Everywhere he made his power felt, and every- 
 where he was detested by the friends of Orleans. 
 He was guardian to the dauphin, and took pos- 
 session of his person. He soon neglected the 
 
JOAN OF AEG. 59 
 
 Duke of Bourbon and the Duke of Berry. They 
 were angered because of his haughty demeanor, 
 and went over to his enemies. A strong alli- 
 ance, in consequence, was formed, including the 
 young Duke of Orleans, the Count of Armaguac, 
 the High-Constable of France, and other distin- 
 guished members of the nobility. Their object 
 was to drive the Duke of Burgundy from power, 
 and chastise him for the shameful murder of 
 which he. was guilty. The war which followed, 
 is known as the war of the Burgundians and 
 Armagnacs. The people of the nation were di- 
 vided into two parties; those who sided with 
 the young Duke of Orleans were called Armag- 
 nacs, from the Count of Armagnac ; and those 
 who took part with the Duke of Burgundy, were 
 called Burgundians. 
 
 The Count of Armagnac was a man of great 
 influence, and of great wealth, but in many re- 
 spects was the inferior of his enemy. The war 
 was waged on both sides with terrible fierceness 
 and cruelty. Yictory alternated between the 
 parties. To-day the Burgundians were flushed 
 with success, to-morrow the Armagnacs were 
 victorious. Paris became an earthly hell, and 
 its streets ran with blood. The butchers of that 
 
60 THE LIFE OF 
 
 city, in a body, took up arms for the Dube of 
 Burgundy. The Armagnacs were at last par- 
 tially crushed, and the pope excommunicated 
 the whole party. Many of them suffered hor- 
 rible persecutions, others were left to starve in 
 prisons, and, when dead, their bodies were 
 thrown into the ditches to be consumed by the 
 dogs. It was almost a certain death for a man 
 to zealously espouse the cause of Armagnac, for 
 Burgundy ruled like a tyrant. Yet thousands 
 were known to hate him, and thousands more 
 were afraid to whisper a word against him, who, 
 in their hearts, wished for his downfall. 
 
 And now the fatal step was taken which re- 
 sulted so disastrously to France in the years 
 which followed, and which indirectly caused the 
 martyrdom of Joan of Arc. The Duke of Bur- 
 gundy attempted to ally himself with England. 
 As a matter of course, England had watched the 
 civil war raging in France, with a careful eye. 
 She saw now that these intestine struggles might 
 very easily be turned to her own advantage. 
 Henry lY., the King of England, was pleased 
 with the message of Burgundy, asking for assist- 
 ance, and sent over to him a small body of 
 armed men. English soldiers were now upon 
 
J OAN OF AEC. 61 
 
 Frencli soil — were in the French capital ! The 
 next year the Armagnacs made him flattering 
 proposals, more so than those of the Duke of 
 Burgundy, and he sent them a much larger 
 armed force. His policy was to keep the civil 
 war alive. He well knew that nothing would 
 so surely and quickly destroy the vitality of the 
 nation, and render its conquest a comparatively 
 easy matter. So he helped one party, then the 
 other — encouraged the Duke of Burgundy, and 
 then the Count of Armagnac. When the Bur- 
 gundians were successful, they bitterly persecu- 
 ted the Armagnacs. They were executed in 
 great numbers : thrown into jail, starved, and 
 many of them assassinated. And when the 
 Armagnacs were victorious, the Burgundians 
 were imprisoned, executed, and treated with 
 great cruelty. 
 
 In March, 1413, Henry Y. came to the Eng- 
 lish throne. Tlie state of England was far from 
 being tranquil, and Henry lY., who had no 
 right to the throne npon which he sat, though 
 finding it impossible for him to engage in open 
 war with France, yet saw the policy of busying 
 the English people with French politics. "When 
 dying, he said to his son: 
 
62 THELIFEOF 
 
 " Busy gicldy minds with foreign quarrels ! " 
 This shrewd advice has been acted upon by 
 many a tyrant since that day. The English 
 people remembered that they once had a strong 
 foothold in France, and that they were finally 
 driven from the greatest part of the territory, 
 which by their victories they had won. 'No- 
 thing would please the nation better than an at- 
 tempt to recover their lost premises. It would 
 gratify the national desire, and flatter its pride. 
 King Henry Y. therefore resolved upon a war 
 with the French people — a war of conquest. 
 He went busily at work to prepare himself for 
 . such a war. He sent over an ambassador to the 
 French court, with proposals for a peace upon 
 the following conditions, which he knew never 
 would be accepted : He demanded Katharine, 
 the king's daughter, in marriage ; two millions 
 of crowns for her marriage portion ; one million 
 six hundred thousand crowns as the arrears of 
 the ransom of King John, who was taken pris- 
 oner at the battle of Poitiers, and which re- 
 mained unpaid. To crown all, with an almost 
 sublime impudence, he demanded that l^orman- 
 dy, Aquitaine, Anjou, Touraine, Ponthieu, 
 Mans, Poitou, and every other part of France, 
 
 t 
 
JOAN OF AKC. 63 
 
 which had ever belonged to England, should at 
 once be resigned again to the English nation I 
 The Armagnacs were in power when these un- 
 generous demands were made. They desired 
 intensely to conclude an alliance with Henry, 
 fearing that only through him could they retain 
 their supremacy. But he asked too much. He 
 struck at the honor and the life of the nation. 
 He asked that their king should become a vassal. 
 Such was the desire of the Count of Armagnac, 
 to avoid offending the English monarch : such 
 was his own dangerous, precarious position, that 
 he offered to England the king's daughter, the 
 county of Guienne, and a large territory in the 
 south of France. While the French were delib- 
 erating, the English were gathering strength for 
 war. Henry would not accept the proposals, 
 and at once joined his army at Southampton. 
 His preparations being completed, on the 24:th 
 of August, 1415, he landed at Harfleur, on the 
 French coast, and at once laid siege to that town. 
 The occupants were brave, but could not with- 
 &tand the English soldiery, and gave a promise 
 that if they received no aid before the 18th of 
 September, they would surrender. The French 
 monarch knew of their unfortunate position, but 
 
64: JOAN OF AKC. 
 
 was unable to send them any assistance, and 
 they capitulated. An enormous sum of money 
 was wrung from the inliabitants by the English 
 king. He obliged the inhabitants, with the ex- 
 ception of the nobles and soldiers, to ransom 
 themselves with exorbitant sums of money. 
 Some of the money thus wickedly defrauded 
 from the industrious inhabitants was distributed 
 among the invading soldiery, but the greater 
 part was sent back to England. Harileur was 
 •strongly garrisoned, and the main body of the 
 army, with the king, set out for Calais. The 
 French, by this time, were up in arms, and a 
 French army, double the English in numbers, 
 opposed his march to Calais. He passed slowly 
 on to the E,iver Somme, expecting to ford it 
 with the army, but it was impassable, and on 
 the opposite side a large body of troops were 
 stationed. Harassed on every side by the fresh 
 French soldiery, he passed on to Betencourt, 
 crossed the river, marched directly to Calais, 
 found the French army drawn up to intercept 
 him at Agincourt, and, ascending the heights 
 opposite, prepared for battle the following day. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BATTLE OF AGINOOUET COUEAGE OF THE ENGLISH FRENCH LINES 
 
 BROKEN A PANIC A RALLY UTTER DEFEAT ENGLISH MAS- 
 TERS OF THE FIELD DEATH OF THE DUKE OF YORK. 
 
 The Frencli army consisted of one hundred 
 and fiftj thousand men. They were fresh, un- 
 wearied, and eager for battle. They were upon 
 their native soil, and animated by that enthusi- 
 asm which arises from patriotic sentiments. 
 The English were not so strong by one half as 
 they were when they landed at Harfleur ; they 
 were worn and weary, and knew that in num- 
 bers, at least, the French had an alarming ad- 
 vantage over them. It could not, then, have 
 been with feelings of joy that they looked down 
 from the heights of Blangi upon the plains of 
 Agincourt upon that mighty array of French 
 soldiery. The result of a battle must have 
 seemed doubtful to even the most sanguine. 
 But their spirits were not depressed ; there was 
 no escape from an engagement, and they pre- 
 pared for it. Cold and hungry, they lay clown 
 
 5 
 
S6 T H P] L I F E O F 
 
 on their arms, many of the soldiers confessing 
 their sins, amid much weeping, and partaking of 
 the holy sacrament. It was a chilly October 
 night, and few eyes were closed in sleep for 
 thinking of the momentous morrow. Friday, 
 the 25th of October, 1415, dawned at last, and 
 the English beheld the great French army drawn 
 up on the plains in three battalions. It was an 
 imposing sight, and when the English saw that 
 their enemies were six times as powerful in 
 numbers as themselves, they must have been 
 somewhat faint-hearted. It is very certain that 
 the French considered the result of the battle 
 fixed. They entertained not a doubt of the 
 overwhelming defeat of the English. They 
 seated themselves by companies close to their 
 banners, partook of food, and waited the ap- 
 proach of the enemy. 
 
 The English, perceiving that the French had 
 no intention of commencing the battle, sat down 
 to meat and drink. Prayers were said, after 
 which they left their encampment. Some light 
 troops were dispatched to the town of Agincourt, 
 where a few buildings were set on fire to alarm 
 the French. The English monarch sent two 
 Jbimdred well-trained archers to the rear of the 
 
JOANOFAEO. 67 
 
 army, from wliich place tliey proceeded very 
 secretly to the little village of Trameconrt, post- 
 ing themselves in the outskirts, not far from the 
 van of the French army, and awaiting the mo- 
 ment when they could use their bows with most 
 effect. The king remained with the main body 
 of the army, which w^as drawn up in array for 
 battle by Sir Thomas Erpingham. The archers 
 were placed in the van — the men-at-arms im- 
 mediately behind them. Two wings were then 
 formed of men-at-arms, and archers and horses 
 were placed with the baggage in the rear. 
 
 Sir Thomas Erpingham, by authority of the 
 king, exhorted the soldiers earnestly to defend 
 their lives. He rode in front of the lines, at- 
 tended by two aids, and when this was done, he 
 flung a truncheon into the air, and cried aloud, 
 ''^Nestrocque I " ' This was the signal for the 
 archers concealed at Tramecourt to shoot. He 
 then dismounted. The whole English army 
 shouted when they saw this, which astonished 
 the French exceedingly. The concealed archers 
 reechoed the shouts, and at the same moment 
 let fly their arrows upon the French. The main 
 body of the English army advanced instantly. 
 The archers, amounting to thirteen thousand 
 
6S T K E L I F E O F 
 
 men, also shot a dense shower of arrows high 
 into the air, but so as to take effect upon the' 
 French. They saw the English advance, and 
 drew up every man nnder his banner, with his 
 helmet on his head. The constable charged 
 every man to confess his sins, and to fight hard 
 against the foreign foe. The English trumpets 
 now sounded, and the French, by stooping to 
 the ground, prevented the arrows from striking 
 the vizors of their helmets. But with this pre- 
 caution many of the French were slain before 
 the general attack was commenced. The Eng- 
 lish were now directly upon them, indeed so close 
 to them that they could not fight to advantage. 
 Brabant, who was intending to force himself 
 through the English archers, lost more than 
 five-sixths of the men under him, and still at- 
 tempting the feat, was driven back entirely dis- 
 comfited. Lareuses led on a small force in like 
 manner, against the English, but was shot dead 
 ofi* his horse. Fear and confusion began to 
 seize upon the minds of the French soldiers. 
 The lines in many places were broken ; the 
 ground was of clay, and was exceedingly bad 
 footing for the horses. They became unman- 
 ageable, and sank in the mire with their riders. 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 69 
 
 A panic arose everywhere, and large bodies of 
 soldiery fled. The English, cool and vrell-disci- 
 plined, knew perfectly well how to take advan- 
 tage of this. Their bows were thrown aside, 
 and they used their hatchets and swords with 
 terrible effect. The first battalion was either 
 killed or frightened away, and they noAv came 
 up to the second, which was in the rear of the 
 first. Duke Anthony, by command of the 
 French king, threw himself Avith a small body 
 of men in between the Englisli and the second 
 French battalion. They were, however, in- 
 stantly swept away by the more enthusiastic 
 and merciless English. The second battalion 
 was, like the first, scattered to the four winds 
 of heaven. Some — very many — were killed, 
 some fled, while many were made prisoners. 
 The rear division saw the ruin of the two in 
 front of them, and now began to fly. While the 
 battle raged hotly, news came lo the English 
 king that the French were attacking his rear, 
 and had already carried off many of his horses 
 and much of his ba2r2:ao:e. This was true : and 
 it was also true that the French were gathering 
 again on the plains; and Henry, the English 
 king, gave orders that every one should put hid 
 
70 THELIFEGF 
 
 prisoner to death. A terrible massacre ensued 
 tliis heartless command. The direct cause of it 
 was the disgraceful attack upon the king's bag- 
 gage by the French Bournonville, assisted by six 
 hundred peasants. He seized many valuable 
 articles — among them a sword ornamented with 
 diamonds, belonging to the king. This was 
 given to the Duke of Burgundy to appease his 
 anger, but it had not that effect, for he impris- 
 oned Bournonville. As soon as the English 
 were convinced that the French had no inten- 
 tion of continuing the battle, the inhuman sacri- 
 fice of prisoners ceased. The English were mas- 
 ters of the field. They had lost but sixteen hun- 
 dred men, though among them was the Duke of 
 York, uncle to the king. 
 
 In the morning, the French were certain of 
 victory. They were in numbers six times as 
 strong as their enemies ; they were well posi- 
 tioned ; they were brave, and were led on by 
 renowned captains. They v^ere fighting, too, 
 for their native land — defending; it from a hate- 
 ful foe. The English, on the other hand, were 
 small in numbers, though strong in will ; they 
 were on foreign shores, were weary,. and were 
 forced, as it were, to battle. But when night 
 
JOAN OF AKO. 71 
 
 came tliey were the conquerors. They had 
 beaten the French in a fair, drawn-up battle, 
 upon their own soil. They had achieved a foot- 
 hold in France ! And this was the result of the 
 civil wars which had waged between the Ar- 
 magnacs and the Burgundians. France was trod- 
 den under foot by Englishmen 1 
 
 As soon as the English king saw that the bat- 
 tle was finished, and that he was master of the 
 field, while his men were stripping the dead, he 
 summoned the French herald, Montjoye, and 
 said to the French : 
 
 "It is not we who have made this great 
 slaughter, but the omnipotent God, and, as we 
 believe, for a punishment of the sins of the 
 French." He asked Montjoye: "To whom 
 does the victory belong ? " The herald replied 
 that it belonged to the English king. The mon- 
 arch then asked the name of the castle he saw 
 near him. The reply was, Agincourt. " Well, 
 then," said the king, " since all battles should 
 "have the names of the fortress nearest to the spot 
 where they were fought, this battle shall, from 
 henceforth, bear the ever-durable name of Agin- 
 court." 
 
 The night was drawing on, and the English 
 
72 JOANOFAKO. 
 
 army retreated to Maisoncelles, where they had 
 encamped the night previous, and made their 
 encampment there, taking with them theii 
 wounded. When they were gone, the poor 
 wounded Frenchmen remaining alive upon the 
 battle-field, crawled away to an adjoining for- 
 est, and to neighboring villages, where a few 
 were cared for so that they recovered, but the 
 majority expired in a short time. 
 
 Early the next morning, the English returned 
 to the field of Agincourt, and all the French 
 who were found upon it, were either j)ut to 
 death or made prisoners. They then marched 
 towards Calais in high spirits, though the con- 
 dition of two-thirds of the army was most pitia- 
 ble. They were suffering from hunger and fa- 
 tigue, were illy clad, and were obliged to march 
 on foot. But they returned safely to Calais, and 
 with great rejoicing. The French were in the 
 utmost consternation at their enormous loss, and 
 in view of the dreary prospect for the future. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE ENGLISH KING SHOWS A LACK OF WISDOM DUKE OP ORLEANS 
 
 TAKEN PRISONER AND CARRIED TO ENGLAND CHARLES, THE 
 
 DAUPHIN ENGLISH AGAIN INVADE FRANCE SIEGE OF ROUEN 
 
 BURGUNDY AND THE DAUPHIN TREATY OF TOURS KING HEN- 
 RY AND KAIHARINE MARRIED HIS DEATH HENRY VI. VIC- 
 TORIES OF THE ENGLISH. 
 
 The English king did not use his victory to 
 much advantage. Instead of following up Agin- 
 court with still more decisive battles, or with 
 bold demands, which the French, in their amaze- 
 ment and fright, would not have dared to refuse, 
 he loitered at Calais and coquetted with the 
 Duke of Burgundy. Two years passed away in 
 this manner, and at the end of that period Bur- 
 gundy was somewhat affected by the offers and 
 bribes of the English monarch. 
 
 During the memorable battle of Agincourt, 
 
 the Duke of Orleans, son of the murdered duke, 
 
 was taken prisoner and removed to England, 
 
 where he acquired the English language. The 
 
 absence of the duke, however, did not materially 
 
 affect the state of parties in France. The Ar- 
 D 
 
74 THE LIFE OF 
 
 magnacs still bitterly opposed the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, in his attempts to seize upon the reins of 
 government. Two years passed away amid con- 
 flicts between the two factions, one of them "all 
 the time in correspondence with an English foe, 
 and listening to dishonorable proposals from that 
 foe. During this period great changes occur- 
 red. Louis, the danphin, expired ; his next 
 brother^ the Duke of Touraine, then became heir 
 to the throne. He, too, perished, and Charles 
 the Fourth, son of the king, now but sixteen 
 years old, became the heir to the crown, and as- 
 sumed the title of Dauphin. It was his fortune to 
 ascend the throne of France still later, and to pre- 
 serve it by the help of the immortal Joan of Arc. 
 In the summer of 1417, the English king in- 
 vaded E'ormandy, at the head of twenty-five 
 thousand soldiers. He subdued many important 
 places, among them Cherbourg and Caen. Du- 
 ring that and the succeeding year he was at- 
 tended by success, and pushed his fortunes stead- 
 ily and courageously. The French queen re- 
 ceiving an affront from the Armagnac party, 
 joined the Duke of Burgundy to gratify her re- 
 venge. A knight by the name of Bois-Bour- 
 don, a great favorite with her majesty, having 
 
J O A N O JP' A K C . 75 
 
 offended the king, was, by the advice of Count 
 Armagnac, siezed and executed. The queen 
 was possessed of violent passions, and had, be- 
 fore this, shown herself the enemy of good gov- 
 ernment, and, indeed, of the state. Her treas- 
 ures were siezed for the public service, and she 
 was banished to the city of Tours. There meas- 
 ures were high-handed, but they were, unques- 
 tionably, deserved, and necessary for the pre- 
 servation of the kingdom. But the queen's 
 dreadful ire was roused. She cared naught for 
 king or country, so that her revenge might be 
 sated. Armagnac must be overthrown. She at 
 once gave all her influence in support of the 
 Duke of Burgundy, and his cause, which was 
 drooping, began to revive. The queen went so 
 far as to seek the death of her own son, the. dau- 
 phin, and heir-aj)parent to the crown, because 
 he was allied with the Count of Armagnac. 
 Burgundy, in conjunction with this unnatural 
 queen, at the head of a great army, took posses- 
 sion of Amiens, Abbeville, IVIontreuil, Kheims, 
 Chalons, Troyes, Beaunoit, and many other im- 
 portant towns. 
 
 In 1418, through the help of one of his officers, 
 
 by name L' Isle-Adam, the Duke of Burgundy 
 
70 THELIFEOF 
 
 took possession of the city of Paris. The enor- 
 mities which he committed are too horrible to 
 relate. 
 
 The daaphin was fortunate enough to escape. 
 The prisons were broken open, and the Armag- 
 nacs, who had been imprisoned when the city 
 was taken, were, to the number of sixteen hun- 
 dred, dragged forth and murdered in cold blood. 
 The Count d'Armagnac, the chancellor, and four 
 bishops, were among those who were massacred. 
 Armagnac's body was lashed to that of the 
 chancellor, and dragged through the streets and 
 gutters of Paris for three days, by a parcel of 
 low ruffians. On the fourth day the bodies 
 were carried out of the city on a hurdle, and 
 buried in a ditch called Louviere. The better 
 portion of the people of Paris became disgusted 
 with these atrocities, and endeavored to reason 
 with the mob, but it was all in vain. The life 
 of a single Armagnac was not safe in Paris. 
 
 The dauphin fled from the city to Anjou, 
 where, for a long time, he brooded over his mis- 
 fortunes, and apparently gave up all hopes of 
 power. In a short time his melancholy wore 
 off, and he gave himself up to a life of enjoy- 
 ment and indolence. 
 
JOANOFARC. 77 
 
 In June, 1415, Henry of England, with a 
 powerful army, laid siege to Rouen. For many 
 months the town made a good defence, but by 
 October it was suffering all the horrors of a ter- 
 rible famine. The people and garrison lived 
 upon horses, cats, dogs, rats and mice. Twelve 
 thousand of the inhabitants were turned out- 
 side of the gates to subsist as they could. 
 Fifty thousand in all died of hunger. When 
 meat was carried through the streets, it was 
 guarded by a strong force, and often the perish- 
 ing inhabitants fought desperately with the 
 guard, to gain possession of it. Strange as it 
 may seem, it is yet true, that the town held out 
 until the middle of January. By that time the 
 sufferings of the people were so horrible that 
 they could no longer be endured. 
 
 Rouen surrendered to the English. A most 
 important city was now in the hands of the en- 
 emy, and nearly the whole of iTormandy sub- 
 mitted to English rule. A treaty of peace was 
 soon begun between King Henry and the king 
 of France. The Duke of Burgundy was the real 
 head of the nation — the king having no will of 
 his own. The dauphin made overtures to the 
 duke which were acceptable, and he at once 
 
78 THE LIFE OF 
 
 broke oif the treaty wliicli was progressing with 
 King Henry. The English were exceedingly 
 angry at this conduct, and reopened the v/ar 
 with great spirit. Pontoise was taken, after a 
 sixteen month's siege. It surrendered then 
 for want of water, the well-ropes being entirely 
 worn out. 
 
 The Duke of Burgundy and the dauphin ap- 
 pointed a day for personal conference, to ar- 
 range state matters. It was agreed that the 
 armies of each should remain on opposite sides 
 of the river, and that the duke and dauphin 
 should hold their conference alone. They met, 
 and immediately a party in the interest of the 
 dauphin fell upon Burgundy and murdered him, 
 before his personal attendants could draw their 
 swords. This base assassination casts a stigma 
 upon the character of the dauphin which it is 
 difficult to remove. True, it is claimed by his 
 eulogists, that he had no knowledge of the 
 shameful plot by which the duke was so treach- 
 erously murdered, but there is no proof that 
 such was the case, and it is on record, that after 
 the deed was done he did not disapprove of it. 
 Not only did he not disapprove of it — he 
 went so far as to invent a false tale, to the effect 
 
JOANOFAKC. 79 
 
 that the duke had rested his hand upon his 
 sword in a threatening manner while addressing 
 him, and that in the alarm it occasioned the 
 duke was killed. 
 
 Phillip, the present Duke of Burgundy, son 
 to the Burgundy so inhumanly butchered, vowed 
 to avenge the death of his father by depriving 
 the dauphin of his kingdom. . The queen still 
 hated her son, and at once joined Duke Phillip. 
 Treason was plotted instantly by this singular 
 couple. I^egotiations were opened with the 
 English king. The result was the treaty of 
 Troyes. It was agreed that King Henry should 
 marry the Princess Katharine ; that King 
 Charles should, while he lived, be entitled to the 
 name and dignity of King of France ; that King 
 Henry should be heir-apparent to the French 
 throne, and with him the government of the 
 kingdom should be entrusted. France and Eng- 
 land were to be united — all the nobility of 
 France were to swear that they would adhere to 
 the future succession of Henry, and obey him as 
 reo:ent until the death of Charles, the kino:. It 
 was also agreed, as the price of this treason, that 
 the dauphin and his adherents should be hunted 
 down by the united armies of Henry and Bur- 
 
80 THE LIFE OF 
 
 gundy. Thus did the Duke of Burgundy bar- 
 gain away France to gratify personal revenge — 
 thus did he practice treason against his country, 
 to secure the overthrow of the dauphin. And 
 thus did a queen of France sell the life of her 
 own son, and that son the legitimate heir to the 
 throne ! 
 
 The marriage between King Henry and the 
 Princess Katharine was consummated at Troyes, 
 in the month of May, and immediately thereaf- 
 ter the two monarchs repaired to Paris, which 
 was possessed by the English for many years 
 after this. His utmost energies were next direct- 
 ed against the dauphin and his friends. Sens, 
 Montereau, and other important places, till now 
 strongly prejudiced in favor of the dauphin, sub- 
 mitted to the English king, whose power was 
 very great. 
 
 He now left his uncle, the Duke of Exeter, to 
 govern Paris, and returned with his young wife 
 to England. While there, he made large col- 
 lections of money and soldiers, and again re- 
 turned to battle the dauphin. Victory attend- 
 ed him everywhere — the dauphin fled at 
 his approach. Town after town was taken, the 
 northern provinces were entirely deserted by 
 
JOANOFAEO. 81 
 
 the dauphin's partisans, and it seemed for a 
 time as if his forces would be entirely cut off. 
 
 A son was born to King Henry, and the 
 queen, in May, 1422, set out for Harfleur, and 
 from thence to Paris. Grand pageants were 
 held in honor of the occasion, and Paris was 
 crowded with happy men. But the Eang of 
 France, at his quiet hotel, received no homage, 
 while a foreign sovereign engrossed the atten- 
 tion of the capital and nation. There were 
 some true patriots there, who, when they no- 
 ticed this, were very sad. 
 
 In August, while in the midst of his rejoicing, 
 
 and flushed with his successes, King Henry was 
 
 attacked by a violent and painful disease, and 
 
 expired in the thirty-fourth year of his age. 
 
 Pomp and circumstance attended the funeral 
 
 ceremonies, as a matter of course, but they could 
 
 not mitigate the effect of the awful stroke. Li 
 
 less than two months, poor, imbecile, crushed 
 
 King Charles, of France, fell into the arms of 
 
 death. Henry YI., who had succeeded to the 
 
 English throne, was at once proclaimed King of 
 
 France and England, while at the same time 
 
 Charles, the dauphin, was crowned at Poitiers, 
 
 where he was staying, King of France, and was 
 D* 6 
 
82 THELIFEOF 
 
 acknowledged as the lawful monarch of France 
 by all of his former adherents. Thus there were 
 two claimants to the French throne. 
 
 The great French heart began to beat more 
 truly, and in many of the towns heretofore devo- 
 ted to Burgundy, a strong feeling was mani- 
 fested in favor of the dauphin. The young 
 English king left the Duke of Bedford to govern 
 in his name, and to defend the English cause in 
 France. He was a skillful and brave soldier, 
 and, though the dauphin fought courageously, 
 yet he was driven from town to town by the 
 English. He was at one time reduced so low as 
 to be scarcely able to provide for his own per- 
 sonal wants. Money he had none, his court was 
 dissolved, and his table was often without the 
 necessaries of life. But he still maintained pos- 
 session of the city of Orleans. The Duke of 
 Bedford was exceedingly anxious to possess it, 
 for it lay between his army and the provinces 
 devoted to the dauphin. He resolved to take it, 
 while Charles Avas as firmly resolved to retain it. 
 If he were to lose it, there was nothing but utter 
 defeat before him. Lord Gaucourtwas appoint- 
 ed to command the garrison of the city. He 
 was a brave and able commander, and the sol- 
 
JOAN OF AEC. 83 
 
 dieiy under him were experienced and brave. 
 Everything that could be done was done to ren- 
 der the city impregnable by Gaucourt. In Oc- 
 tober, the Earl of Salisbury appeared before the 
 svalls of Orleans with an army of ten thousand 
 men. The battle began. On the third day the 
 Earl of Salisbury was shot from the walls, out 
 the Earl of Suffolk arrived shortly after with 
 fresh forces, and took the place of Salisbury. 
 Instead of attempting to take the city by hard 
 fighting, Suffolk endeavored to starve the people 
 into subjection. His army was drawn up on all 
 sides of the town, so as to command it. But 
 parties from both armies scoured the surround- 
 ing country for bread until both began to suffer 
 from famine. The seige had lasted five months, 
 and it was February, when a party of English 
 were met by a large party of Frenchmen, both 
 having been out foraging. The French troops 
 were commanded by the Count Dunois, son of 
 the Duke of Orleans, so cruelly murdered by the 
 Duke of Burgundy. He hoped, by a bold 
 stroke, to force the English to give up the siege. 
 The English posted themselves behind their 
 wagons, and awaited the attack. The French 
 discharged their canon against them, and rushed 
 
84 THE LIFE OF 
 
 with great impetuosity against them. They be- 
 came disordered by their too rapid advance, and 
 the enemy seeing it, at once tooli advantage of 
 it and achieved the victory. The Count of Du- 
 nois vv^as badly wounded, and five hundred 
 French soldiers were killed. The people of Or- 
 leans, before this battle, were not in possession 
 of high spirits. They were suffering extremely 
 from famine ; they had heretofore constantly 
 seen success making its home with the enemy, 
 and could have but faint hopes that France 
 would overthrow the authority of the young but 
 powerful English monarch. The dauphin's 
 cause was at low ebb, however sanguinely it 
 might be considered. He had been driven from 
 province to province, and here his army was, at 
 last, in Orleans, and at the point of starvation. 
 A detachment of four thousand men, the flower 
 of the army, go out to gather supplies for the 
 famishing multitude, and meet an English enemy 
 on a similar errand, but consisting of only twen- 
 ty-five hundred men. They meet. ]^ews of 
 their conflict comes on the wind to Orleans, and 
 its inhabitants rejoice. They are certain of vic- 
 tory. It cannot be that two thousand English 
 soldiers will withstand the attack of double that 
 
JOAN OF AEO. 85 
 
 number of Erenchmen "under a brave leader. 
 And with defeat, perhaps the English will be- 
 come discouraged, will desert France, and 
 Charles, the dauphin, will ascend the glorious 
 throne of his fathers 1 
 
 It is not strange if such thoughts filled the 
 minds of the inhabitants of the city of Orleans. 
 But how shall we picture their poignant grief, 
 their bitter sorrow, and utter despair, when the 
 news came that five hundred of their bravest 
 men lay dead on the field of battle ; that Du- 
 nois was wounded, and that the English again 
 were rejoicing over a triumph? A gloom over- 
 spread the town — the people gave up hope, and 
 awaited the final result with a calm despair. 
 
 The dauphin had shut himself up in his Castle 
 of Chinon, and there watched the siege of Or- 
 leans. He was surrounded by fair women and 
 gay men. In the midst of so great dangers he 
 indulged in the wildest pleasures. He was a 
 brave and noble monarch, yet, at the same time, 
 he was deficient in many kingly qualities. He 
 loved pleasure too well, was too easily seduced 
 by the beauty of handsome women, by the gay 
 conversation of witty men. He too easily for- 
 got the critical condition of his crown — the 
 
86 JOAN OF AEG. 
 
 dangers whidi surrounded his native land. 
 When the news of the sad defeat of Dunois be- 
 fore the walls of Orleans, came to the Castle of 
 Chinon, King Charles and his courtiers were 
 enjoying themselves with music and dancing, 
 and other voluptuous pleasures. They were at 
 first stunned by the terrible news. The dauphin 
 became sad and gloomy, his attendants and sup- 
 porters gave over all hope, and expected daily 
 to hear of the downfall of Orleans. A show of 
 cheerfulness was preserved at the castle, but the 
 hearts of all there were full of sorrow. If Or- 
 leans fell — and it certainly must fall — the dau- 
 phin would be obliged to ily into Languedoc. 
 If pursued into Languedoc, where could he 
 go ? He must soon become an exile, or surren- 
 der himself to the enemy. 
 
 It was February of the year 1429 — a year 
 long to be remembered by Frenchmen. The 
 dauphin sat one day gloomily reflecting upon 
 his hopeless condition, when an extraordinary 
 visitor was announced. A simple peasant girl 
 wished an audience of the king — a messenger 
 from Heaven knelt at the threshold of his door ! 
 It was Joan of Aec. But we must go back. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 JOAN OF ARC EXTRACT FROM DE QUINCET JOAn's BIRTH-PLACE 
 
 HER YOUTH PIETY MODESTY THE BEECH TREE HER 
 
 DREAMS THE ILL-FORTUNE OF THE DAUTHIN FIRES HER HEART 
 
 STRANGE SIGHTS THE SPIRITS HAVE INTERCOURSE WITH HER — - 
 
 SHE MAKES A CONFIDANT OF HER UNCLE THEY SET OUT TO SEE 
 
 THE GOVERNOR OF VANCOULEURS REPULSED LONG AND PER- 
 ILOUS JOURNEY TO THE DALTHIN INTERVIEW WITH THE DAUPHIN. 
 
 " What is to be thought of her f What is to 
 be thought of the poor shepherd-girl from the 
 hills and forests of Lorraine, that — like the He- 
 brew shepherd-boy from the hills and forests of 
 Judea — rose suddenly out of the quiet, out of 
 the safety, out of the religious inspiration, rooted 
 in deep pastoral solitudes, to a station in the van 
 of armies, and to the more perilous station at the 
 right hand of kings ? The Hebrew boy inaugu- 
 rated his patriotic mission by an aot^ by a victori- 
 ous act, such as no man could deny. But so did 
 the girl of Lorraine, if we read her story as it 
 was read by those who saw her nearest. Ad- 
 verse armies bore witness to the boy as no pre- 
 tender : but so they did to the gentle girl. 
 
88 THELIFEOF 
 
 Judged by tlie voices of all who saw them from 
 a station of good will, both were found true and 
 loyal to any promise involved in their first acts. 
 Enemies it was that made the difference between 
 their subsequent fortunes. The boy rose to a 
 splendor and a noonday prosperity, both personal 
 and public, that rang through the records of his 
 people, and became a bye-word amongst his pos- 
 terity for a thousand years, until the sceptre was 
 departing from Judah. The poor, forsaken girl, 
 on the contrary, drank not herself from that cup 
 a rest which she had secured for France. She 
 never sang together with the songs that rose in 
 her native Domremy, as echoes to the departing 
 steps of invadei's. She mingled not in the festal 
 dances of Yaucouleurs, which celebrated in rap- 
 ture the redemption of France. JSTo ! for her 
 voice was then silent : 'No ! for her feet were 
 dust. Pure, innocent, noble-hearted girl ! whom 
 from earliest youth, ever I believed in as full of 
 truth and self-sacrifice, this was amongst the 
 strongest pledges for thy side, that never once 
 — no, not for a moment of weakness — didst 
 thou revel in the vision of coronets and honor 
 from man. Coronets for thee ? O, no ! Hon- 
 ors, if they come when all is over, are for those 
 
JOANOFARC. 8^ 
 
 that share thy blood. Daughter of Doinremy, 
 when the gratitude of thy king shall awaken, 
 thou wilt be slewing the sleep of the dead. 
 Call her. King of France, but she will not hear 
 thee ! Cite her by thy apparitors to come and 
 receive a robe of honor, but she will be found 
 en contunfiace. "When the thunders of universal 
 France, as even yet may happen, shall proclaim 
 the grandeur of the poor shepherd-girl that gave 
 up all for her country — thy ear, young shep- 
 herd-girl, will have been deaf for five centuries. 
 To suffer and to do, that was thy j)Osition in 
 this life; to do — never for thyself, always for 
 others ; to suffer — never in the persons of gen- 
 erous champions, always in thy own — that was 
 thy destiny ; and not for a moment was it hid- 
 den from thyself. Life, thou saidst, is short ; 
 and the sleep which is in the grave, is long ! 
 Let me use that life, so transitory, for the glory 
 of those heavenly dreams destined to comfort the 
 sleep which is so long. This pure creature — 
 pure from every suspicion of even a visionary 
 self-interest, even as she was pure in senses more 
 obvious — never once did this holy child, as re- 
 garded herself, relax from her belief in the dark- 
 ness that was traveling to meet her. She might 
 
90 THE LIFE OF 
 
 not prefigure tlie very manner of her death ; she 
 saw not in vision, perhaps, the aerial altitude of 
 the fiery scaffold, the spectat(5^s without and on 
 every road pouring into Rouen as to a corona- 
 tion, the surging smoke, the volleying flames, 
 hostile faces all around, the pitying eye that 
 lurked but here and there until nature and im- 
 perishable truth broke loose from artificial re- 
 straints ; these might not be apparent through 
 the mists of the hurrying future. But the voice 
 that called her to death, that she heard forever. 
 " Great was the throne of France even in those 
 days, and great was he that sat upon it : but 
 well Joanna knew that not the throne, nor he that 
 sat upon it, were for Aer/ but, on the contrary, 
 that she was for tliem / not she by them, but 
 they by her, should rise from the dust. Gorge- 
 ous were the lilies of France, and for centuries 
 had the privilege to sj)read their beauty over 
 land and sea, until, in another century the va'ath 
 of God and man combined to wither them; but 
 well Joanna knew, early at Domremy she had 
 read that bitter truth, that the lilies of France 
 would decorate no garland for her. Flower nor 
 bud, bell nor blossom, would ever bloom for her»^^ 
 
 ■*De Qiiincey. 
 
JOANOFAKC. 91 
 
 Joan of Arc was born in the year 1410. 
 Hume, the historian, makes a strange blunder 
 in saying that she was born in 1400. She her- 
 self declared that she was born in 1410. The 
 town of her nativity was the little village of 
 Domremy, in the valley of the Meuse, amidst 
 the marshes of Lorraine and Champagne, and 
 between the towns of J^eufchatean and Yan- 
 conlenr. Her parents were Jacques and Isa- 
 beau d'Arc — heV mother's maiden name was 
 Isabeau Romee. Her father was a poor shep- 
 herd, with three children living, beside Joan. 
 A sister died in childhood — three brothers lived 
 to manhood. 
 
 '^ Domremy stood on the frontiers ; and like oth- 
 er frontiers, produced a mixed race, representing 
 the CIS and the trans. A river, it is true, formed 
 the boundary line at this point — tlie river 
 Meuse ; and tJiat^ in old days, might have divi- 
 ded the populations ; but in those days it did 
 not — there were bridges, there were ferries, 
 and weddings crossed from the right bank to 
 the left. Here lay two great roads, not so much 
 for travelers, that were few, as for armies, that 
 were too many by half. These two roads, one of 
 which was the great high-road between France 
 
93 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and Germany, decussated at this very point; 
 which is a learned way of saying that they 
 formed a St. Andrew's cross, or letter X. These 
 roads, so grandly situated, as great trunk arte- 
 ries between two mighty realms, and haunted 
 forever by wars or rumors of wars, decanated — 
 for anything I know, to the contrary — abso- 
 lutely under Joanna's bed-room window ; one 
 rolling away to the right, past Monsieur d' Arc's 
 old barn, and the other unaccountably preferring 
 to sweep round that man's odious pig-sty to 
 the left. 
 
 . . . " On whatever side of the border 
 chance had thrown Joanna, the same love to 
 France would have been nurtured. For it is a 
 strange fact, noticed by M. Michelet and others, 
 that the Dukes of Bar and Lorraine had for gen- 
 erations pursued the policy of eternal warfare 
 with France, on their own account, yet also of 
 eternal amity and league with France in case 
 anybody else presumed to attack her. Let 
 peace settle upon France, and before long you 
 might rely upon seeing the little vixen Lorraine 
 flying at the threat of France. Let France be 
 assailed by a formidable enemy, and instantly 
 you saw a duke of Lorraine or Bar insisting on 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 93 
 
 having his throat cut in support of France ; 
 which favor accordingly was cheerfully granted 
 to them in three great successive battles by the 
 English and by the Turkish Sultan, viz, at Crecy, 
 at l^icopolis, and at Agincourt. 
 
 "This sympathy with France during great 
 eclipses, in those that, during ordinary seasons, 
 were always teasing her with brawls and gueril- 
 la im'oads, strengthened the natural piety to 
 
 France of those that were confessedly the chil- 
 
 « 
 dren of her own house. The outposts of France, 
 
 as one may call the great frontier provinces, 
 were, of all localities, the most devoted to the 
 Fleurs de Lys. To witness, at any great crisis, 
 the generous devotion to these lilies of the little 
 fiery cousin, that, in gentle weather, was forever 
 tilting at her breast, could not but fan the zeal 
 of the legitimate daughter : whilst to occupy a 
 post of honor on the frontiers..against an old he- 
 reditary enemy of France, would naturally have 
 stimulated this zeal by a sentiment of martial 
 pride, had there ever been no other stimulant 
 to zeal by a sense of danger always threatening, 
 and of hatred always smouldering. That great 
 four-headed road was a perpetual memento to 
 patriotic ardor. To say, this way lies the road 
 
94 THE LIFE OF 
 
 to Paris — and that other way to Aix-la-Cha- 
 pelle ; this to Prague, that to Yienna — nour- 
 ished the warfare of the heart by daily ministra- 
 tions of sense. The eye that watched for the 
 gleams of lance or helmet from the hostile fron- 
 tier, the ear that listened for the groaning of 
 wheels, made the high-road itself, with its rela- 
 tions to centres so remote, into a manual of pa- 
 triotic enmity. 
 
 " The situation, therefore, locally of Joanna, 
 was full of profound suggestions to a heart that 
 listened for the stealthy steps of change and fear 
 that too surely were in motion. But if the place 
 were grand, the times, the burthen of the times, 
 was far more so. The air overhead in its upper 
 chambers was hurtling with the obscure sound ; 
 was dark with sullen fermenting of storms that 
 had been gathering for a hundred and thirty 
 years. " 
 
 Joan Vv^as brought up by her humble parents 
 without much education — indeed she could 
 neither read nor write, but in that age it was by 
 no means a remarkable fact. A highly-educa- 
 ted woman was a rare sight. She was industri- 
 ous, could sew and spin, and was peculiarly apt 
 
 * De Quincey. 
 
JOANOFAEC. 95 
 
 in repeating her Pater ISToster and Ave Maria. 
 She exhibited no signs of an iron constitution — 
 no signs of that heroic spirit which was after- 
 ward developed, and which has handed her 
 name down to us as one of the brightest the 
 .world ever saw. Indeed, she was excessively 
 bashful, so much so that whenever a stranger 
 addressed her she was put out- of countenance. 
 This was the result of a very delicate nervous 
 organization. She tended her father's flocks 
 upon her beautiful, native hills. It was an oc- 
 cupation well calculated to foster piety and a 
 meditative disposition. She was, unlike many 
 of, her fellow-religionists, not confined in her 
 pious acts to the prescribed rules of the church, 
 though she was an enthusiastic Catholic. But 
 she went beyond these, and became distinguished 
 in Domremy for her active benevolence, for her 
 gentleness and kindness to the sick and suffer- 
 ing. So ardently pious a girl could not be found 
 in all that region, and she became an object of 
 ridicule. She shared little in common w^ith her 
 young companions. Often she was seen to 
 kneel in the fields, by herself alone, and pray 
 devoutly. Or she would go to the church, and 
 upon her bended knees pray enthusiastically to 
 
96 THELIFEOF 
 
 the Yirgin. The sacristan declared afterwards 
 that whenever he forgot to ring the bells of the 
 church for evening service, Joan always re- 
 buked him, and promised him a reward if he 
 would carefully attend to his duty. There was a 
 pretty village chapel some distance from Dom- 
 remy, and every Sunday Joan made a pilgrim- 
 age to this place, it being dedicated to the Yirgin. 
 In the contiguous forest of Bois Chemin, there 
 was an old and renowned beech tree, with great 
 and beautiful arms, with a rich foliage which 
 protected the weary visitor, who sat at its foot, 
 from the rays of the sun. A clear little stream 
 dashed along past the spot, and to its waters as- 
 tonishing healing powers were ascribed. The 
 tree everywhere bore the name of '^ L^Arbre 
 des Dairies^'' and Joan was exceedingly fond of 
 frequenting this cheering spot. It was a popu- 
 lar rumor in Domremy that this tree was fre- 
 quented by the fairies — ^her own god-mother told 
 her that she had heard them discourse with' her 
 own ears beneath the tree. So testified many 
 of the old people of the village, and in the eyes 
 of the devout the tree became a wonderful, a 
 hallowed object. Once every year, the priest 
 of Domremy, with the villagers, marched to the 
 
JOAN OF AEC. 97 
 
 tree and around it, singing solemn psalms and 
 saying solemn prayers. The young peoj)le also 
 hung its boughs with choice garlands, and danced 
 in its cool shade to pleasant music. Joan's tem- 
 perament was quite fitted to appreciate such a 
 spot. So pious, so ready to believe anything 
 marvellous, so imaginative — the spot became 
 to her the haunt of spirits. To her spiritual 
 eyes the place was peopled with fairies. She 
 saw them upon the banks of the beautiful rivu- 
 let, she heard their delicious music in the shad- 
 ows of the solemn tree. Her ear, so finely 
 made, could hear the fairy-music, when grosser 
 ears heard nought but the rustling of the leaves. 
 The fairy tree was to her the threshold of the 
 invisible world. In the misty summer eve- 
 nings she could see the fairies come and dance 
 there, as others had done before her. 
 
 From the same withered lips which filled her 
 young brain with legends of the fairy tree, Joan 
 also heard true tales of the history of France. 
 She heard the stories of the many wars with 
 England, and the civil w^ars which had ruined 
 France. When she was ten years old, England, 
 by the shameful treaty of Troyes, became in re- 
 ality the ruler of the destinies of France. When 
 E n 
 
98 THELIFEOF 
 
 she was twelve, Charles YI. expired, and the 
 English prince was proclaimed at Paris King of 
 France. At the same time the poor dauphin 
 asserted, but feebly, his right to his father's 
 throne. "We need scarcely say, that Joan be- 
 came his enthusiastic friend. In her lonely re- 
 treat, among her native forests, with the spirits 
 beneath the fairy tree, she dwelt sadly upon the 
 condition of her dear mother, France. She re- 
 called all the tales of the fierce wars which she 
 had heard from aged lips, and her young heart 
 swelled with the purest patriotism. She would 
 willingly, young as she was, have died to ensure 
 the defeat of the English king. Whenever a 
 traveler came into Domremy, she sought him 
 out, often gave up her own little chamber for 
 his accommodation, and gained from him all he 
 knew respecting the state of the war. A little 
 later and news came to her ears of the defeat of 
 Crevant ; still later the defeat at Yerneuil ; and 
 later still the overthrow of La Hire at Cham- 
 pagne. The successes of the English only set 
 Joan's head on fire. She was never discouraged 
 — never seemed to doubt for a moment that the 
 English would in the end be defeated. But it 
 piade her young heart ache to see the fortunes 
 
JOAN OF AEC. 99 
 
 of the dauphin at so low an ebb. Domreiny was 
 far away from the seat of the war, but the inhab- 
 itants were deeply interested in it ; but no one 
 watched so eagerly for the most trifling news as 
 the poor j)easant girl. Indeed, the dauphin him- 
 self could not have been more interested than 
 she was, and we much doubt if he watched the 
 state of his fortunes as carefully as they were 
 watched by Joan of Arc. The people of Dom- 
 remy, with but one exception, were the partisans 
 of the dauphin, and so zealous was Joan in her 
 loyalty to Charles that she wished his single ene- 
 my in Domremy dead. The young men of the 
 village were Armagnacs, and were in the habit 
 of sallying out in a body to fight the juvenile 
 population of the adjoining town of Maxey — a 
 Burgundian village — and the Maid was in the 
 habit of seeing her brothers return from their 
 boyish conflicts, bruised and bloody. A party 
 of Burgundian cavalry at one time attacked 
 Domremy, and put the inhabitants' to flight. 
 Joan and her parents found shelter in E^euf- 
 chateau, a place under the protection of the 
 Duke of Lorraine. In this place they remained 
 for fifteen days, at an inn, where Joan acted as 
 
 
100 THELIFEOF 
 
 a servant — the only period during her life when 
 she acted in that capacity. 
 
 Joan, though possessed of great capabilities 
 for enthusiasm, imagination, and zeal — though 
 she had an exceedingly delicate nervous organi- 
 zation — was nevertheless in her. physical con- 
 stitution, with one or two imperfections, both 
 hardy and robust. She could ride a horse like 
 a trooper. Though excessively modest, yet she 
 took pleasure in athletic exercises generally con- 
 fined to the other sex. 
 
 The condition of France, we have said, weigh- 
 ed down the spirit of the peasant-girl. She 
 thought all the day long of the poor dauphin and 
 his sad prospects — of the political condition of 
 France. At night she dreamed about them. 
 Politics and religion were mingled in these 
 dreams: she longed and prayed and "wrestled" 
 for the deliverance of her native land, until at 
 last she began to be filled with the idea that 
 France would be saved — that the dauphin would 
 triumph through the miraculous interposition of 
 God. She was conscious of a pure and disinter- 
 ested heart ; — she knew that in it there lurked 
 not one drop of selfish blood. Was it strange 
 
JOAN OF A KG. 101 
 
 then that in her wild enthusiasm she imaorined 
 that she was to be the instrument of God to save 
 France ? If a miracle was to be wrought, who 
 could be found to conduct it of holier character 
 than Joan of Arc ? 
 
 She was only thirteen years of age when she 
 began to see apparitions. That she w^as honest, 
 that she^ sincerely thought she saw strange sights 
 and signs from the other world, no manly heart 
 can doubt. Her first visitation by the good spir- 
 its was at bright noonday, she says. She was 
 standing alone in her father's garden, when sud- 
 denly she saw a most brilliant and beautiful 
 light shining into her face, and while almost 
 overcome by the wonderful sight, she heard a 
 strange but sweet voice, bidding her to be a 
 good girl, and God would surely -bless her ! This 
 dream of her imagination shows how pure and 
 pious a heart she possessed. The next appari- 
 tion came when she was away in the fields, alone, 
 watchino^ her father's flocks. Wonderful and 
 majestic forms floated in the sky past her, and 
 mysterious language was addressed to her. It 
 was promised that France should be delivered, 
 and through her aid. These sights and appari- 
 tions became more and more frequent, and more 
 
102 THELIFEOF 
 
 definite in their import. The spirits that came 
 were generally those of St. Catharine and St. 
 Margaret — the guardian saints of the Domremy 
 church. Michael the Archangel at one time 
 came to the lovely Maid. On her trial several 
 years after she said: 
 
 " I saw him w^ith these eyes as plainly as I see 
 you now." 
 
 When closely questioned again, she rejjlied : 
 
 " Yes, I do believe firmly, as firmly as I do 
 believe in the Christian faith, and that God has 
 redeemed us from the pains of hell, that these 
 voices came from Him, and by his command." 
 
 Poor peasant-girl! no one can doubt thy sin- 
 cerity of heart. And it was this sublime confi- 
 dence in her God — this willingness to believe in 
 impossibilities, if her Maker told her to believe 
 in them — w^hich renders her so truly heroic in 
 our eyes. She consecrated herself in her virgini- 
 ty to God and France, in gratitude for such re- 
 markable intercourse with heavenly spirits. She 
 declared afterwards, that when she saw the first 
 vision she was exceedingly frightened, but never 
 after that. She says : 
 
 " When the saints were disappearing, I nsed 
 to weep and beseech I might be borne nway 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 103 
 
 with them, and after they had disappeared I 
 used to kiss the earth on which they rested." 
 
 She grew beautiful in her person every day. 
 She was of comely figure and face, and her con- 
 stant visitations from heaven, the strange and 
 sweet dream which always haunted her brain, 
 imparted a spiritual beauty to her countenance. 
 
 A young villager of Domremy fell in love with 
 the Maid, and his suit was very acce23table to 
 her parents, so much so that they united with 
 him in urging her to receive him as her future 
 husband. She steadily refused, and the young 
 and ardent lover determined that if he could not 
 win her by fair means, to try foul. So he de- 
 clared that she was bound to him by a promise 
 of marriage, and made her appear before the 
 official at Toul, to compel her to fulfill her en- 
 gagement. But the Maid took a solemn oath 
 that she had never made such a promise, and 
 the young man was sent back to Domremy with- 
 out his coveted ^rize. 
 
 Her parents were very much displeased with 
 the course which she pursued, and ruled her 
 with much severity. She was afraid of them, 
 and did not dare to reveal the great secret which 
 burned in her heart. She let fall strange hints 
 
104 THELIFEOF 
 
 to others, whicli came to tlieir ears, of lier holy 
 mission, which alarmed them. To the man who 
 was the onl j enemy of the dauphin in Domremy, 
 and whose death she desired, she said one day : 
 
 " Gossip, if you. were not a Burgundian, 1 
 could tell you something." 
 
 To another she said : 
 
 " There is now between Colombey and Yau- 
 couleurs a maid, who will cause the king to be 
 crowned ! " 
 
 Her parents heard of these things and were 
 alarmed. They feared that her ardent imagina- 
 tion might be practiced upon by some wander- 
 ing band of soldiers, and she be enticed away 
 from her home to the wars. Her fate in such a 
 case, as in all such cases, they supposed would 
 be her ruin. She would become a camp-follow- 
 er. Thinking of such a fate, her father said to 
 his son : "Did I think such a thing would be, 
 I would sooner that you drowned her ; and if 
 you did not, I would, with my own hands ! " 
 
 It was about this time that the Duke of Bed- 
 ford put a large army under the leadership of 
 the Earl of Salisbury, to defeat, and indeed ut- 
 terly overthrow Charles, the dauphin. Success 
 crowned his efforts in every direction. Town 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 105 
 
 after town capitulated to him, until at last his 
 great army stood before the gates of Orleans. 
 The unvarying news of defeat only served to fan 
 the flame of patriotism in Joan's heart. Orleans 
 was besieged! She heard with a frame trem- 
 bling with excitement. In Orleans the last great 
 struggle was to be fought, and if defeated, the 
 dauphin must fly to the mountains, and perhaps 
 fly his native land. The English were deter- 
 mined to reduce the inhabitants of Orleans by 
 starvation. Petty fights occurred outside the 
 walls daily between small detachments of French 
 and English soldiery, but it was not the plan of 
 the Britons to attack the city, but to strengthen 
 their position every day, until victory eventually 
 was sure to become theirs. And every day saw 
 their position strengthened. Their numbers in- 
 creased ; they were posted admirably ; Orleans 
 was besieged by a large and well-disciplined 
 army, in possession of tower and redoubts out- 
 side the walls which commanded the town on 
 every side. It became every day more certain 
 that there was no hope for the French, unless 
 through some extraordinary and unlooked-for 
 occurrence. 
 The Maid knew very well to how sad a point 
 
 E* 
 
106 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the fortunes of her king were reduced, and a 
 strong and holy desire filled her heart to save 
 him and to save France. The dauphin had nev- 
 er been anointed with the holy oil at Rheims, 
 and in the eyes of the populace he was not king 
 until this ceremony was performed. To raise 
 the siege of Orleans, and to crown the dauphin 
 at Rheims, were the two master desires of her 
 heart. She saw visions, in which spirits came to 
 her and pointed her out as the savior of France. 
 She, a poor, slight peasant-girl, held intercourse 
 with angels — so she herself thought — and the 
 angels told her what to do ; and never for a mo- 
 ment questioning their reality, or their authority, 
 she set about the great, the sublime idea ! Was 
 ever a grander faith than this ? What could a 
 mere country-girl hope to perform against legions 
 of trained soldiers ? How could she hope to in- 
 spire even her friends with hope — how inspire 
 her enemies with fear ? Her first step was to 
 visit her uncle, Durand Laxart, who resided in a 
 little village called Petit Burey, between Dom- 
 remy and Yaucouleurs. She told him unreserv- 
 edly about her visions, her belief that she was 
 commissioned of God to save the dauphin, and 
 her intention to obey the spirits who were her 
 
JOAN OF A KG. 107 
 
 companions. He was astonislied, and yet so 
 simple yet earnest was Joan's faith, that he be- 
 came a sincere convert at once to the truth of 
 her mission. Kobert de Baudriconrt was Gov- 
 ernor of Yaucouleurs, and was an ardent friend 
 of the danphin. To him Joan's uncle offered to 
 go, w^ith the tale she had just told him. Full of 
 honest faith, the villager set out upon his jour- 
 ney, and entered the presence of the stern war- 
 rior, and told his story. He received it with 
 contempt, replying — 
 
 " Box your niece's ears well and send her home 
 to her father." 
 
 Durand Laxart came back with Baudricourt's 
 reply. But the Maid was not discouraged ; she 
 determined herself to see the governor, She 
 succeeded after much difficulty in being brought 
 face to face with the warrior. "With the utmost 
 eloquence she declared to him that she could 
 save France — that she could and would raise the 
 siege of Orleans, and crown Charles at Kheims. 
 But the iron-hearted soldier would not have faith 
 in her strange promises. Still the heart of the 
 poor Maid was strong, — still she was hopeful 
 and prayerful. 
 
 She resolved to stay in Yaucouleui's ; she 
 
108 THE LIFE OF 
 
 sought the gOYernor again and again, and with 
 tears and eloquent words besought him not to 
 turn a deaf ear to her supplications — she who 
 was to be the savior of France ! It was God, 
 she said, who spoke to him through her, and 
 how could he refuse to listen to his Maker's 
 voice ! She went back once with her uncle to, 
 his home in Petit Bourey, but her restless heart 
 would not let her stay, and again together they 
 set out for Yaucouleurs. At one time she de- 
 termined upon setting out on foot for the French 
 court, though it was one hundred and fifty 
 leagues distant. Her courage during all this 
 time was hero-like ! She begged Baudricourt at 
 least to send a letter to the daujDhin, and at last 
 he consented to do it. The king should decide 
 whether she should make the journey or not. 
 Although the governor had no faith in Joan, yet 
 other persons in Yaucouleurs had. De Metz, 
 a gentleman of some influence, met her one day 
 in the streets, and said — 
 
 " Child ! what are you doing here ? Must we 
 not submit to seeing the king expelled his king- 
 dom, and to ourselves becoming English ? " 
 
 The Maid replied : " I am come here to ask 
 the Sire de Baudricourt to send me before the 
 
JOAN OF AKC. 109 
 
 dauphin : he has no care for me, or for words of 
 mine ; and yet it is needful that before Mid-Lent 
 I should stand in the dauphin's presence, should 
 I even in reaching him wear through my feet, 
 and have to crawl upon my knees. For no one 
 upon this earth, neither king, nor duke, nor 
 daughter of King of Scots,* no one but myself, 
 is appointed to recover this realm of France. 
 Yet I would more willingly remain to spin by 
 the side of my poor mother, for war seems no 
 work for me. But go I must, because the Lord 
 my Master so wills it." 
 
 " And who is the Lord your Master ? " said Do 
 Metz. 
 
 " The King of Heaven," she replied. 
 
 Her manner, especially her tone of voice, con- 
 vinced De Metz that she was indeed inspired 
 of God, and taking her hand he promised, on the 
 faith of a gentleman, to conduct her to the king. 
 He asked her when she desired to commence 
 the journey, and she said : 
 
 " To-day rather than to-morrow ! " 
 
 Another gentleman in Yaucouleurs, named 
 
 * The son of the dauphin was expecting to marry a daugh- 
 ter of the King of Scots, and succor was expected from that 
 quarter. 
 
110 THELIFEOF 
 
 Bertrand de Poulegny, also became a believer 
 in Joan's inspiration, and offered to accompany 
 De Metz on liis pilgrimage to court. Baudri- 
 court did not — so it seems at least — receive any 
 reply from the king in reference to Joan's pro- 
 posed visit, but through the entreaties of De 
 Metz and Poulegny and the popular feeling in 
 Vaucouleurs, he consented to their dej)arture, 
 though he utterly refused to contribute a sou 
 towards the Maid's necessary expenses. The 
 Duke of Lorraine had heard of Joan's fame, and 
 being ill of a mortal disease he sent for her to 
 restore him to health. She replied that her mis- 
 sion was not to save his life, but to save the dau- 
 phin and France. The duke kindly gave her 
 four livres, which were exceedingly welcome, as 
 she was before this penniless. When she left 
 Yaucouleurs, Baudricourt gave her a sword, 
 with these words : 
 
 " So, then — happen what may ! " 
 
 Her Uncle Laxart and another countryman 
 borrowed sufficient money to purchase a horse, 
 and the expenses of the journey were borne by 
 De Metz, for which he was afterwards well re- 
 warded by the king. Joan being, as she said, 
 commanded by the voices in the vision, assumed 
 
JOAN OF AEG. Ill 
 
 the male attire. Just before she was ready to 
 start, her parents heard the news — that their 
 daughter was ready to set out for the wars — 
 and they hastened to Yaucouleurs to beg of her 
 to relinquish so wild, so sad, so ruinous a project. 
 Their grief and consternation were great ; — they 
 looked upon her already — she who had ever 
 been so pure and saint-like — as a ruined and 
 despised woman. For a woman to go to the 
 wars was at least to lose the reputation of virtue. 
 But the Maid was firm. She was indeed great- 
 ly affected by the honest suffering of her parents, 
 but she felt it to be her duty to obey the heav- 
 enly " voices." They went back with sad hearts. 
 After they were gone, Joan wrote to them beg- 
 ging their forgiveness for the journey she felt it 
 to be her solemn duty to undertake, and they 
 forgave her. 
 
 It is thought by some historians that her 
 brother Pierre accompanied her on this journey, 
 but it is by no means certain that he did so. 
 The party left Yaucouleurs on the first Sunday 
 in Lent— the 13th of February, 1429. De Metz, 
 Poulegny, Colet de "Vienne, a king's messen- 
 ger, Pichard, a king's archer, and two servants, 
 were the com.panions of the Maid. The season 
 
112 THE LIFE OF 
 
 was that of winter, the journey was long and 
 dangerous, for the country was full of straggling 
 detachments of soldiery belonging to either ar- 
 my ; there were rivers to ford, great forests to 
 cross, yet Joan was stout of heart. She never 
 complained for a moment of the hardships which 
 she was obliged to suffer during her journey, 
 though she did complain that her companions 
 refused to wait every morning for her to hear 
 mass. Her faith grew brighter each succeeding 
 day of the journey ; theirs grew weak. They be- 
 came filled with disheartening doubts ; it seemed 
 to them, after all, as if they were conducting 
 an insane woman, a crazy peasant-girl, to the 
 king, and they were tempted to end her life. 
 
 The Maid however reached Gien in safety, 
 and from there she was among the partisans of 
 the dauphin. To all whom she met she frankly 
 announced her mission — to crown the king and 
 raise the siege of Orleans. The more widely the 
 tale of her journey should be circulated the bet- 
 ter, for it would, if it was believed that she really 
 was directed specially by God, inspire the nation 
 with hope. Stories of her visions and of her su- 
 perhuman energy and will were spread far and 
 near by the gossips, until they at last came to 
 
JOAN OF AEC. 113 
 
 Orleans, and its inhabitants, before entirely hope- 
 less, welcomed the news. 
 
 The day before Joan left Yauconleurs the fa- 
 mous " battle of Herrings " was fonght, and five 
 linndred French soldiers were left dead on the 
 field. The people of Orleans were discoiiraged, 
 despairing, and the dauphin himself, though 
 hopeful in temperament, was by this blow made 
 sorrowful and dispirited. Young, — he was just 
 twenty-seven years of age, — easy and graceful 
 in his manners, the dauphin was beloved ; yet 
 his lack of stern and warrior-like qualities lost 
 to him the respect of the more earnest minds of 
 France. It is said that La Hire, one of his bra- 
 vest captains, once said to his master : 
 
 " I never yet saw a kingdom so merrily lost !" 
 And yet much of the time Charles was suffering 
 from want of the common luxuries and even 
 necessaries of life. 
 
 After the battle of Herrings, Charles' cour- 
 tiers advised him to desert Orleans, and retire 
 with his remaining forces into the provinces of 
 Dauphine or Languedoc — a region of mountain 
 fastnesses, where, they argued, he could suc- 
 cessfully withstand the assaults of the English. 
 But this advice was overruled. Histories gene- 
 
114. THE LIFE OF 
 
 rally give tlie credit of it to the far-famed Agnes 
 Sorel. Hume says : 
 
 " It was fortunate for this good prince, that as 
 he lay under the dominion of the fair, the women 
 whom he consulted had the spirit to support his 
 sinking resolution in this desperate extremity. 
 Mary of Anjou, his queen, a princess of great 
 merit and prudence, vehemently ojDposed this 
 measure. His mistress too, the fair Agnes Sorel, 
 seconded all her remonstrances, and threatened 
 that if he thus pusillanimously threw away the 
 sceptre of France, she would seek in the court 
 of England a fortune more correspondent to her 
 wishes." 
 
 Lord Mahon thus remarks upon the mistake 
 of the historian : 
 
 "More recently the great dramatist of Ger- 
 many has considerably improved the story, by 
 suppressing the fact that Charles was already 
 married, and making him proffer his hand and 
 his crown to the lovely Agnes : 
 
 " 'She might adorn 
 The fairest throne on earth, but she disdains it. 
 My paramour she is, and by that name 
 Alone doth she desire to be called.' 
 
 "We feel reluctant to assist in dispelling an 
 
JOAN OF AEG. 115 
 
 illusion over whicii the poetry of Schiller has 
 thus thrown the magic tints of genius. Yet it 
 is, we fear, as certain as historical records can 
 make it, that it was not until the year 1431, after 
 the death of Joan of Arc, that Agnes Sorel ap- 
 peared at court, or was even seen by Charles. 
 . . . Any romantic legend or popular tradition 
 may be readily welcomed by a poet to adorn his 
 tale, without any nice inquiry as to its falsehood 
 or truth. But we may notice, in passing, another 
 .departure of Schiller from the facts, without any 
 motive of poetical beauty to explain and excuse 
 it. He has transferred the position of Chinon to 
 the northern bank of the Loire, and made the 
 passage of that river the signal of retreat towards 
 the southern provinces, evidently conceiving the 
 place to be Chateau Chinon, a town some fifty 
 leagues distant, in the ancient Duchy of Burgun- 
 dy, in the modern department of I^ievre. But 
 no English reader — no English traveler — will 
 thus lightly mistake the favorite resort of our 
 own Henry 11. — of our own Kichard Cceur de 
 Lion. Long will they love to trace along the 
 valley of the Loire, between Tours and Sunmur, 
 on the east of the bordering hills, the yet proud 
 though long since forsaken and mouldering bat- 
 
116 THE LIFE OF 
 
 dements of Chinon. Ascending the still unbro- 
 ken feudal towers, a glowing and glorious pros- 
 pect spreads before them — a green expanse of 
 groves and vineyards, all blending into one — 
 the clear mountain stream of Yienne sparkling 
 and glancing through the little town at their feet 
 — while, more in the distance, they survey, 
 winding in ample folds, and gemmed with many 
 an islet, the wide waters of the Loire. They will 
 seek to recognize, amidst the screen of hills which 
 there encircles it, the neighboring spire of Fon- 
 tevrault, where lie interred the Second Henry 
 and his lion-hearted son. They will gaze with 
 fresh delight on the ever-living landscape, when 
 they remember the departed great who loved to 
 gaze on it before. ISTor, amid these scenes of 
 historic glory or of present loveliness, will any 
 national prejudice, or passion, or ill-will forbid 
 them many a lingering look to that ruined hall — 
 the very one, as tradition tells us, where the Maid 
 of Orleans was first received by Charles I " 
 
 But we must return to Joan. "When she had 
 arrived within a few leagues of the castle, she 
 stopped — at the village of St. Catharine de Fier- 
 bois — and sent forward to the king to ann'ounce 
 
JOAN OF AEO. 117 
 
 her arrival and her object. The permission to 
 go on was at once given, but Charles pondered 
 two days over her request to be presented to him. 
 His counselors were divided upon the subject — 
 some considered the Maid to be a sorceress — an 
 emissary of the devil ; some thought her to be 
 a crack-brained enthusiast ; and others, while 
 refusing to believe that Joan was really sent 
 from Heaven to achieve the deliverance of 
 France, yet believed it wise for them, in their 
 desperate situation, to accept whatever aid might 
 offer itself. It was decided at last for a com- 
 mission to receive Joan, and interrogate her 
 closely as to her mission. The commission re- 
 ported favorably after their interview. Several 
 noblemen, attracted to her by curiosity after 
 seeing her sublime enthusiasm and ardent, art- 
 less piety, came away, if not converts yet strong- 
 ly impressed in her favor. 
 
 The king, after wavering for several days, 
 agreed to receive the Maid. The hour appoint- 
 ed came, and the dauphin was attired plainly 
 and stood among his courtiers, ^vhile one of hi& 
 subjects was magnificently clad, and occupied 
 the position usually his. He was determined to 
 try Joan, and see if the spirits would point out 
 
118 THELIFEOF 
 
 to her the real king. But tie must have forgot- 
 ten that Joan had probably seen his portrait, and 
 that in her enthusiastic brain the image yet re- 
 mained clear and distinct as the orio^inal. The 
 simple country -girl was led into the grand hali 
 of Chinon. It was lit up by fifty torches, and 
 hundreds of knights and nobles were there. Tet 
 Joan was calm as a queen aniong them. She 
 was wholly occupied with her mission. For her- 
 self she had not a thought, and of course trem- 
 bled not before that earthly assemblage, when 
 she knew herself to be a messenger of God. She 
 entered the presence of the king, walked up to 
 him where he stood in his plain attire and in his 
 retired position, and said: 
 
 " God give you good life, gentle King ! " 
 " I am not the king ; he is there," said Charles, 
 pointing to one of his nobles. 
 
 "In the name of God," she replied, "it is no 
 other but yourself. Most noble Lord Dauphin, 
 I am Joan, the maid sent on behalf of God to 
 aid you and your kingdom ; and by his command 
 I annoimce to you that you shall be crowned in 
 the city of Hheims, and shall become his lieu- 
 tenant in the realm of France." Shortly after 
 she added : 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 119 
 
 " Gentle Daupliin, why will you not believe 
 me ? I tell yon that God has pity on yon, on 
 yonr kingdom, and on yonr people ; for St. Lonis 
 and Charlemagne are on their knees before him, 
 praying for you and for them ! " . 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE DAHPHIN CONVINCED — HE RELAPSES INTO A STATE OF DOUBT 
 
 JOAN IS EXAMINED BY A COUNCIL DEOLABED TO HAVE A DIVINE 
 
 MISSION IS PLACED AT THE HEAD OF THE ARMY ENTHUSIASM 
 
 OF THE SOLDIERS PROVISIONS SENT TO ORLEANS JOAN ENTERS 
 
 THE CITY AT MIDNIGHT BATTLE IS GIVEN THE MAID CONQUERS, 
 
 The dauphin was not convinced that Joan was 
 a messenger from God simply from the fact that 
 she had singled him out as king from among his 
 courtiers, but her singularly earnest and lofty 
 enthusiasm made a deep impression upon him. 
 He took her aside and plied her with questions 
 in reference to himself, and in a little while came 
 back astonished, and declaring that the Maid 
 had spoken to him of secrets known only to him- 
 self and God, and he believed she was really 
 from God. The secret which she had spoken of 
 was afterwards revealed by the king to one of 
 his favorites, by the name of Boissy. It seems 
 the king, in his despondency, before Joan's pre- 
 sentation at court, had been in his closet alone 
 praying, and that he had supplicated earnestly 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 121 
 
 the Almighty to give him aid if^ and only if lie 
 had a right to the throne — if he was the true and 
 real heir of France. One of the first things Jo- 
 an uttered after they were alone was, looking 
 earnestly in his face — 
 
 " I tell you, on behalf of God, that you are the 
 true and real heir of France ! " 
 
 It is not strange that Joan should have ven- 
 tured such a remark, but under the peculiar cir- 
 cumstances, to the king it was proof of her 
 divine mission. 
 
 Charles, however, very soon relapsed into a 
 state of unbelief. He began to doubt whether 
 Joan was not an impostor. He discovered that 
 she knew nothing of the art of war, and therefore 
 wondered how it could be possible for her to 
 achieve any victory over the English. He saw 
 that she was utterly ignorant of statesmanship ; — 
 how then could she save France ? She was an 
 ijgnorant peasant-girl. In all save that holy en- 
 thusiasm, she was like any other lass in Domre- 
 my. But that transformed her into an angel of 
 light ; that made her pure, holy, and possessed 
 with power. The court, which at first was as- 
 tonished and convinced by her impressive ap- 
 pearance, soon got accustomed to that, and 
 
122 THE LIFE OF 
 
 finding that in a thousand things she was like 
 any country girl, their faith grew faint. But if 
 her reputation for miraculous powers lessened 
 at court, among the masses of the people it in- 
 creased. Her long and dangerous journey of 
 one hundred and fifty leagues through a hostile 
 country, without being met by a single enemy, 
 a single mishap — this extraordinary fact they 
 said was proof sufiicient that God was with her. 
 There also occurred at Chinon an incident which 
 added wonderfully to her fame. She met a rough 
 soldier one day in the street, who addressed her 
 with a coarse jest, when she quietly reproved 
 him, saying that it ill became any man, so near 
 Ms end, to use such words. That very afternoon 
 the soldier, in attempting to ford the river, was 
 drowned. At once Joan gained the reputation 
 of a prophet. 
 
 The dauphin and his council being yet in 
 doubt as to the propriety of listening to the 
 advice of Joan, concluded to conduct her be- 
 fore the University and Parliament of Poitiers. 
 There she was obliged to pass a weary and criti- 
 cal examination by several theological doctors. 
 All their acumen, however, was unavailing. 
 The gentle yet courageous girl never for an 
 
JOANOFAEO. 123 
 
 instant swerved from lier lioly purpose — never 
 varied in her statement. She said : 
 
 "I know neither A. nor B., but I am com- 
 manded by my voices, on behalf of the King of 
 Heaven, to raise the siege of Orleans, and to 
 crown the dauphin at Rheims." 
 
 "And pray, what language do your voices 
 speak ? " asked Doctor Leguin, from Limoges, in 
 a strong Limousin accent. 
 
 " Better than yours," she instantly replied. 
 
 She did not claim any miraculous gifts, though 
 they were ascribed to her by the people. She 
 simjDly declared that God had commanded her 
 to save France — and that she confidently ex- 
 pected to do. The doctors asked her for a sign, 
 and her reply was one to stir the heart of a brave 
 man. Said she : 
 
 " It is not here but at Orleans that I will give 
 you a sign — and my only sign shall be, to lead 
 brave men to battle ! " 
 
 A messenger was sent to Domremy to ascer- 
 tain the history and early conduct of the Maid. 
 He came back with stories of her piety and sim- 
 ple honesty. The result of all these examina- 
 tions was greatly in her favor. A prophecy had 
 long been current in France, that the realm was 
 
124 THELIFEOF 
 
 to be saved by a maiden. The doctors of tlieol- 
 ogy even were affected bj this prophecy. 
 
 The Queen of Sicily, mother to Charles' wife, 
 and the chief ladies of the court, declared that 
 they could no longer doubt, and the doctors at 
 once declared that the dauphin ought to accept 
 the services of the Maid. 
 
 She was at once equipped for battle. She was 
 arrayed in a knight's armor, but declined accept- 
 ing a sword, saying that there was one marked 
 with five crosses, and lying in the church vault 
 of St. Catharine, at Fierbois, which she would 
 carry, and none other. A messenger was accor- 
 dingly sent, and the old, neglected sword was 
 found exactly where she had declared it would 
 be found. The people considered this another 
 and an astonishing proof of her supernatural 
 powers. A banner was next made, under her 
 direction. The material was white, and it was 
 covered with the fleurs de lis of France, and 
 upon it was the figure of our Saviour, and the 
 inscription " Jhesus Maria." Jean Sire d'Aulon 
 was made her squire, — he was a very brave 
 man, — and Father Pasquerel, a friar, was ap- 
 pointed her confessor. She had also two heralds 
 and two pages. Two months were occupied in 
 
JOAN OF AEG. 125 
 
 making all these preparations, and the month of 
 April had half gone when the Maid joined the 
 army at Blois. She entered the town on horse- 
 back in her armor, and with her head bare, 
 her dark curls streaming in the wind. She rode 
 her horse finely, — her form was tall and grace- 
 ful, — there was an air of triumph in her coun- 
 tenance, and her lance was poised as if for in- 
 stant conflict with the enemy. 
 
 The army saw her with hopeful hearts : their 
 enthusiasm was so great, that from the depths of 
 despair they sprang to exultation. They believed 
 that God was about to rescue them and France 
 from destruction. Thousands who had deserted 
 the ranks came pouring back, and voluntarily 
 assumed the instruments of war. Six thousand 
 soldiers were thus drawn up to receive her. The 
 dauphin was not there, for such was his devotion 
 to pleasure that he had retired to his castle of 
 Chinon ; but the great French captains were 
 there, such as the Marshal de Boussac, the Ad- 
 miral de Culant, La Hire, De Eetx, and De Lore. 
 Although it had never yet been defined, the ex- 
 act position Joan was to occupy, yet the strange, 
 the wild enthusiasm of the army, at once set the 
 matter at rest. The renowned chiefs at once 
 
 1 
 
126 THE LIFE OF 
 
 placed her at the head of the forces, and she was 
 acknowledged by the soldiers as their highest 
 authority. The very first act of Joan — and it 
 indicates the real piety of her heart — was an 
 attempt to reform the morals of the'camp. The 
 women of ill-fame, who swarmed in it, were sent 
 away with gbod advice, and the men were called 
 upon to prepare for battle by confession and 
 prayer. Father Pasquerel every night and morn- 
 ing bore aloft her holy banner, and herself and 
 the priests of Blois walked in procession through 
 the town, singing hymns and calling upon sin- 
 ners to repent. Joan's enthusiasm was such that 
 no one could resist its influence. Hundreds of 
 the rough soldiers followed her to mass, and 
 among them the swearing, wicked, but cour- 
 ageous La Hire. 
 
 Before setting out Joan dictated a letter to the 
 English, announcing her mission from on high, 
 and demanding that they at once resign all the 
 cities which they held in France to King Charles, 
 or they would receive chastisement from Heav- 
 en ! Her letter, and indeed all her letters, were 
 headed with the words " Jhesus Makia," and a 
 sign of the cross. 
 
 Tu^ "^ -owlish, as might be expected, paid little 
 
JOAN OF AEC. 127 
 
 attention to what they considered a foolish com- 
 mand. They threatened to burn alive the herald 
 who brought her message, as an ally of Satan, 
 but the French declared they would, in revenge, 
 burn the English herald, and the French letter- 
 bearer was saved. Still, Joan's letter had a 
 great effect. The leaders might scoff, but the 
 great body of the soldiery, being superstitious, 
 began to believe that Joan, either from God or 
 the devil, was supplied with supernatural pow- 
 ers, and would acheive their overthrow. They 
 began to hear her name pronounced with fear. 
 
 The French leaders at Blois had been gather- 
 ing a supply of provisions for Orleans, the inhab- 
 itants of that city being reduced to the lowest 
 extremity. Ten thousand men were sent as a 
 guard to the provisions, and to endeavor, at 
 whatever risk, to get them to the starving but 
 courageous besieged. It was an exceedingly 
 difficult operation, for the English army was far 
 superior in numbers to the French. Joan insist- 
 ed that the provisions should be carried along 
 the northern bank of the Loire, through the dis- 
 trict of Beauce, while the army leaders were 
 equally desirous that the march should be 
 along the southern bank of the Loire and through 
 
128 THELIFEOF 
 
 the district of Sologne. Their reason, and it 
 was an important one, was that upon that side 
 the English were quartered with less efficiency, 
 and therefore it would be less dangerous to make 
 the approach there. The Count of Dunois was 
 determined not to listen to the Maid on this 
 point, though she were a messenger from Heav- 
 en. But Joan was firm — • the voices directed 
 her to go through Beauce — and there she must 
 go. Unable to overcome her objections to the 
 southern route, a ruse was resorted to : — the 
 river was crossed at Blois, but the northern route 
 was taken, the Maid, who had no knowledge of 
 either route, all the time believing that they 
 were proceeding through Beauce. After they 
 had marched two days, the city of Orleans came 
 into sight, and Joan was astonished to perceive 
 that the approach was made contrary to her 
 command. She was exceedingly indignant, but 
 she perceived that no time was to be spent upon 
 the past, for the present was full of importance 
 to the success of the French. She held a con- 
 ference with the Coimt Dunois, who was ready 
 with boats to receive the convoy of provisions. 
 Kight was coming on, and the storm raged fierce- 
 ly, the wind blowing against them. The army 
 
JOAN OF AEG. 129 
 
 leaders all insisted u23on delay, but Joan, with 
 a wisdom greater tlian theirs, demanded that 
 the attempt be made to reach Orleans that night. 
 The result was most happy ; the wind, after the 
 embarkation, changed, and the provisions enter- 
 ed Orleans, to the great joy of the starving in- 
 habitants. The night was so dark and stormy 
 that the English soldiers kept close in their re- 
 doubts, and no opposition was made to the 
 entrance. 
 
 It was now determined to attempt to bring 
 from Blois a second convoy of provisions — the 
 army of ten thousand being as yet outside the 
 waUs of Orleans with Joan. This determina- 
 tion was for a time concealed from her, but when 
 it was made known, though much displeased, 
 she consented to it, provided Father Pasquerel 
 and other priests were allowed to remain with 
 the army to maintain its morals, and also that 
 the convoy should this time take the route along 
 the northern bank of the Loire. 
 
 The Maid now formed the bold resolution of 
 
 herself entering the beleaguered city, to share 
 
 its trials and triumphs. She had faith in herself, 
 
 and was ready to commit herself to the care of 
 
 the spirits who thus far had been her guide. It 
 F* 9 
 
130 THE LIFE OF 
 
 was on the night of the 29th of April, that she 
 made her entrance. The gallant La Hire with 
 two hundred lancers embarked right in the face 
 of the English, in their bastile of St. Jean le 
 Blanc. They seemed to be awe-struck at the 
 sublime courage and devotion of Joan. And 
 so, at dead of night, amid lightning and thun- 
 der, with her little band of two hundred, the 
 peasant-girl of Domremy made an entrance into 
 Orleans, surrounded as it was by a powerful 
 English army ! Is it strange that the people of 
 Orleans looked upon her as a child of Heaven ? 
 The inhabitants, though it was midnight, flocked 
 in vast numbers to her side, and gazed at her 
 with holy wonder, or pressed forward to touch 
 the hem of her garments, believing that in so 
 doing they received a blessing. | 
 
 The morning was hastening on, but Joan pro- 
 ceeded to the cathedral, where the majestic "Te 
 Deum " was chanted by torchlight. She then 
 selected her home with a lady of pure reputa- 
 tion — at number 35 Rue du Tabourg. This 
 carefulness of her reputation was one of her 
 characteristics throughout her marvelous career. 
 Though associated with the licentious and the 
 profligate on the field of battle, she was always 
 
JOAN OF AKC. 131 
 
 exceedingly particular in making her home with 
 the gentle and virtuous. She found, at the home 
 selected "by her as her residence, a superb enter- 
 tainment prepared for her, but she refused to 
 accept it, and dipping a slice of bread into some 
 wine and water, she ate it and retired to rest. 
 All these little incidents were treasured up by 
 the people ; her form, her conduct, everything 
 pertaining to her was carefully noticed. They 
 saw that she was gentle, and beantiful, and pure 
 of heart, as well as heroic and brave — saw that 
 in every possible manner she studied their com- 
 fort and happiness — and they were quite wdlling 
 to fall down in reverence and love at her feet. 
 She spoke confidently of raising the siege 
 at once ; and she said her only anxiety was that 
 it might be done without the shedding of blood. 
 Her heart was too gentle to look upon the slaugh- 
 ter of a battle-field without horror — and yet, if 
 it must be, she was prepared for it. She direct- 
 ed an archer to ^hoot a second letter of warning 
 into the English ranks. She even went herself 
 out upon the walls, and in a loud voice warned 
 the besiegers to depart, or they should most 
 surely be overtaken by disaster and shame. Sir 
 "William Gladsdale commanded in the quarter 
 
132 THELIFEOF 
 
 where she appeared, and tie and his soldiers 
 laughed and scoffed at her, " Go home," said 
 they, " and keep your cows." Joan was so much 
 affected by their insults, that she wept aloud. 
 But it soon became very evident that their laugh- 
 ter and scoffs were affected, for on the fourth 
 day the second convoy of provisions made its 
 appearance, and Joan and La Hire sallied forth 
 with troops to meet it and escort it into the city, 
 and strange to say, the long line made their pro- 
 cession into the town, under the very eyes of a 
 powerful enemy, without a single attempt to 
 prevent them. The English soldiery seemed to 
 be paralyzed with fear, and the same sentiment 
 was rapidly extending to the English officers. 
 Up to the present time success had been gained 
 without striking a blow ; but now the hour for 
 conflict came. The afternoon of the morning 
 on which the convoy entered Orleans, a portion 
 of the inhabitants made an attack upon the bas- 
 tile of St Loup. Joan, after bringing in the 
 convoy, had retired to her room, and the army 
 chiefs sent her no word of the attack upon the 
 English. The day was warm, and to her it had 
 been one of fatigue, and she threw herself upon 
 a bed and tried to sleep. But she was restless — 
 
JOAN OF Ailt'c 133 
 
 Father Pasqnerel, lier chaplain, gives the account 
 — and disturbed. Suddenlj she called to her 
 esquire : 
 
 "■The voices tell me to march against the En- 
 glish, but I do not know whether it should be 
 against their bastiles or against Fastolf. You 
 must arm me." Her esquire put on her armor, 
 but while it was being done she heard a great 
 noise in the street. The report flew to lier that 
 the English were chasing the inhabitants, and 
 shedding their blood. She exclaimed : 
 
 " My God ! the blood of our people is flow- 
 ing 1 Why was I not wakened sooner ? Oh that 
 was ill done ! My arms ! my arms ! my horse ! " 
 She left her esquire behind and flew dovvn stairs. 
 A page loitered at the door. Said she with 
 great vehemence : 
 
 " You wicked boy, why did not you come and 
 tell me that the blood of France is being shed ? 
 Quick, quick ! My horse ! " 
 
 The horse was instantly brought, she mounted 
 it, and then called for her banner, which was 
 handed to her through a window of the house, 
 and she galloped" bravely towards tiie scene of 
 conflict. As she came near it she met a towns- 
 man, who was frightfully wounded : 
 
134 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " Ahj" said slie, " never liave I seen the blood 
 of Frenchmen flow, without my hair standing 
 on end ! " She at once plunged into the thick- 
 est part of the fight. The danger seemed to in- 
 spire the Maid. She waved her white banner 
 in the breeze, and wherever she saw a fainting 
 or retreating battalion, there she flew, and with 
 lofty words of courage and cheer she sustained 
 their spirits. A second onset was made, and 
 after three hours of terrible conflict St Loup was 
 w^on I The English soldiery were almost all put 
 to death, though the Maid upon her knees beg- 
 ged for their lives — belt ever remembered to 
 her glory ! 
 
 The next day — the 5th of May — was Ascen- 
 sion day, and was kept as a festival. The whole 
 of it was devoted to public prayer and thanks- 
 giving. Joan was all day among the soldiers, 
 exhorting them to repentance, and desiring that 
 none should join her banner without confession. 
 Her influence over the rough and wicked sol- 
 diery was astonishing. They forsook their vices 
 and went to mass. Prayers were heard every- 
 where in the camp. La Hire, who before he 
 saw the Maid had been a very wicked though 
 brave man, was deeply aflTected bv her enthusi- 
 
*JOAN OF AKC. 135 
 
 astic piety. He was regular at mass, and pray- 
 ed devoutly. One of his prayers is preserved. 
 It was delivered aloud by him just before going 
 to battle, and he uttered it with the utmost rev- 
 erence. It was as follows : 
 
 " O God, I pray thee that thou wouldest do 
 this day for La Hire, as much as thou wouldest 
 La Hire would do for thee if he was God, and 
 thou wert La Hire ! " 
 
 In the afternoon a council of w^ar was held, 
 but the Maid was not invited to join it. This 
 fact shows that the leaders of the army doubted 
 her mission. The council determined to attack 
 the English bastiles on the southern shore, but 
 Joan when she heard of their decision was much 
 opposed to it. She at length however acqui- 
 esced in it. 
 
CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 BATTLE JOAN WOUNDED — THE SIEGE KAISED BRAVERY OF THE 
 
 ENGLISH THE MAID URGES THE DAUPHIN TO FOLLOW UP THE VIC- 
 TORY BY FURTHER BATTLES PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF JOAN 
 
 SIEGE OF JARGEAU TROYES TAKEN RHEIMS TAKEN ALSO 
 
 THE DAUPHIN CROWNED AT RHEIMS JOAN BEGS LEAVE TO GO 
 
 BACK TO DOMREMY. 
 
 On the sixth of May, before daybreak, Joan 
 took her position with the army chiefs near the 
 side of Sologne, and made an attack upon the 
 bastile des Angustins. The English made a 
 courageous resistance — two bastiles joined for- 
 ces, and at last the French were put to flight. 
 The Maid, contrary to her will, was for a time 
 dragged along with the retreating soldiery, but 
 soon came to a stand, and then chased the En- 
 glish back to their entrenchment. She waved 
 her banner in the air, and galloped bravely to- 
 wards them, and thev were too fearful of her 
 powers to stand their ground. French reinforce- 
 ments now came up, and after a severe fight the 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 137 
 
 bastile des An'gnstins was taken, and burned to 
 the ground. Joan was sliglitly wounded in the 
 foot, and at night she was pursuaded to return 
 inside the walls. The English now only occupi- 
 ed a single fort, the bastile des Tournelles. But 
 it was a very strong entrenchment, and filled 
 with the bravest of captains and soldiers. The 
 French officers knowing this, were intent on re- 
 njaining- quiet for a time, and in council decided 
 not to make a further attack until they received 
 further reinforcements. But Joan would not 
 agree to their decision : 
 
 "You have been to your council," she said, 
 " and I to mine. Be assured that the council of 
 God will hold good, and that the council of men 
 will perish." 
 
 The warrior-chiefs were well aware that the 
 people and the soldiery were her warm parti- 
 sans. They cared not so much for her heavenly 
 and miraculous counsels, but far more for her 
 influence over the masses among the people and 
 the common soldiers. They urged her vehe- 
 mently to give up her insane idea of carrying 
 on the conflict immediately. Whilst she sat — - 
 so says one of the old chroniclers — while she sat 
 apparently weighing their arguments, an at- 
 
138 THELIFEOF 
 
 tempt was made to seduce lier thoughts from 
 the subject by the rare delicacy of a shad-fish! 
 Jacques Boucher, her host, brought it to her, 
 saying : 
 
 " Joan, let us eat this shad-fish to dinner, be- 
 fore you set out." 
 
 She replied : 
 
 ^' In the name of God, it shall not be eaten 
 till supper, by which time w^e will return by way 
 of the bridge, and bring back with us as a pris- 
 oner an Englishman who shall eat his share of 
 it ! " It was well and bravely said by the devo- 
 ted Maid. 
 
 Seeing that there was no virtue in mere per- 
 suasion, the Sire de Gaucourt, who was at that time 
 governor of the city, stationed a band of soldiers 
 before the Porte Bourgoyne, through which Joan 
 would be obliged to pass, and would not unbar 
 it. He himself commanded the men, and in 
 that manner thouo-ht to restrain the Maid from 
 what he considered a mad exploit. She said to 
 him: 
 
 "You are an ill man, but whether you will or 
 not, the men-at-arms shall come and shall con- 
 quer, as they have conquered before." 
 
 The people became aroused by her earnest 
 
JOAN OF AKC. 139 
 
 words ;— the soldiers even became enthusiastic, 
 and rushed rudely upon the Sire de Gaucourt, 
 and threatened to tear him in pieces. He saw 
 that it was not only impossible but impolitic to 
 resist them, and therefore yielded. Joan pressed 
 onward, with a host of people and soldiers 
 following. They crossed the Loire in boats, in- 
 tending to attack the Tournelles on the op230site 
 side. La Hire and the other leaders of the 
 French armies saw that an engagement was in- 
 evitable, and therefore followed on quickly after 
 Joan for the opposite shore. They opposed with 
 all their might the project of attacking the En- 
 glish, but when they saw that their opposi- 
 tion was useless, they went to fighting more 
 courageously. 
 
 The English captains on the northern shore, 
 Suffolk, Talbot and Fastolf, saw the preparations 
 of their enemies at first with composure, but 
 soon their soldiers showed signs of terror, when 
 they saw the approach of the Maid of Orleans, 
 whom they believed to be in league with the 
 devil. They were panic-stricken. Their lead- 
 ers could not persuade them to sally out to assist 
 their fellows under Gladsdale, nor to attack the 
 city in the absence of its defenders, which would 
 
140 THE LIFE OF 
 
 almost - surely be taken. And Glaclsdale was 
 left by them to sustain alone the attack. He 
 was however well fortified, and his garrison of 
 five hundred were well equipped, and were the 
 choicest men of the whole English army. Their 
 position was an excellent one for withstanding 
 an onset from an enemy, however fierce it might 
 be. They continued a steady fire upon the 
 French, of bows and fire-arms. The moment 
 an attempt was made to scale a rampart the lad- 
 ders were overthrown with hatchets, pikes, and 
 mallets. The attack commenced at ten o'clock 
 in the morning, and the Maid was all tlie time 
 in the foremost ranks of the army, weaving her. 
 banner and shouting to the soldiers to preserve 
 their couraa^e. At twelve o'clock she saw that 
 their ardor began to cool, and seizing a ladder 
 she planted it against a wall, and began to as- 
 cend it. The army was astonished at her daring 
 courage, but while they beheld, an arrow from 
 an English bow struck through her corselet, and 
 entered the flesh between her neck and shoulder. 
 She fell instantly back into the fosse, and the 
 English were already pressing down to make 
 her prisoner, but the French rallied bravely to 
 her rescue, and bore her safely away from the 
 
JOAN OF AKC. 141 
 
 field. She was laid carefully upon the grass 
 and disarmed. While she lay there the anguish 
 of her wound was great. With her own gentle 
 hand she pulled out the arrow — a few silent 
 tears flowing from her eyes. She declared that 
 she had a vision of her saints, and from that 
 moment was consoled. The wound was dressed ; 
 the Maid then devoted a few moments to pray- 
 er, and then mounted her charger and rode to 
 the" scene of battle. 
 
 The French troops were almost entirely dis- 
 heartened when they saw Joan borne from the 
 field, and had ceased to fight, but when they saw 
 her coming back their spirits ran high, and they 
 remembered that she had predicted that she 
 should be wounded, and their faith in her divine 
 mission was greater than ever. They led on to 
 battle again with the fiercest enthusiasm. The En- 
 glish were astonished and terrified to see the Maid 
 once more sound the onset. They supposed that 
 she was half dead from the effect of her wound and 
 fall. Many of the soldiers looked upon her as a su- 
 pernatural being, and declared that they saw in 
 the air, fighting by her side, the patron saints 
 of Orleans, and the Archangel Michael, on white 
 chargers! With such a superstitious belief 
 
142 THELIFEOF 
 
 among the soldiery it was impossible for the 
 chiefs to fight with advantage. They could not 
 impart confidence to the English army. In the 
 meantime the French troops fought courageous- 
 ly against them. A fresh body of townspeople 
 advanced to the broken arch at the opposite end 
 of the fort, and kept up a terrible fire. Sir 
 "William Gladsdale, the English commander of 
 the fort, at last drew in his forces from the outer 
 bulwarks, and concentrated his whole strength 
 upon the '' Tournelles," or towers. At that 
 time he was in sight of Joan, who cried out 
 to him : , 
 
 '' Surrender ! surrender to the Kins: of Heaven ! 
 Ah ! Glacidas, your words have foully wronged 
 me ; but I have great pity on your soul, and on 
 the souls of your men ! " 
 
 But the English captain would not heed her 
 summons to surrender, but pursued his way, ac- 
 companied by his bravest knights, along the 
 drawbridge, when a cannon ball thrown from a 
 French battery struck it where they were, ^nd 
 precipitated them all into the stream, and tliey 
 perished in it. The French now pressed into the 
 bastile without meeting any resistance. Three 
 hundred of the brave garrison were already 
 
JOAN OF AEG. 143 
 
 killed, and the remaining two hundred were 
 made prisoners of war. 
 
 When it was nearly night the Maid, as she 
 had predicted in the morning, returned to Or- 
 leans by the bridge. Her conduct during the 
 day had been glorious. Even those who doubt- 
 ed and scoffed at the idea of her divine mission, 
 could not deny that in martial courage and in- 
 trepidity she surj)assed every captain in the 
 French army. They therefore were obliged to 
 respect her. But the great body of the soldiery 
 and the people worshi23ed her as a messenger 
 from Heaven, as the Savior of France. They 
 were now thoroughly convinced that she was in 
 league with the angels. Her courage and endu- 
 rance had been superhuman. Their faith in her, 
 therefore, was firm and strong. 
 
 She returned to Orleans, and was received by 
 the inhabitants triumphantly. The bells of the 
 churches rang out, and in the cathedral the "Te 
 Deum " was chanted. The soldiers were in ex- 
 ulting spirits, and were greeted by the towns- 
 people most warmly. 
 
 The English were disheartened. That very 
 night the Earl of Suffolk summoned Fastolf, Tal- 
 
144 THE LIFE OF 
 
 bot and the other army chiefs to council. The 
 victories of the French had disheartened them, 
 and they were now inferior in numbers. The 
 chiefs were dejected at the prospect before them, 
 and discussed the subject of their future opera- 
 tions in a dispirited manner. They came to a 
 unanimous conclusion that the siege must be 
 raised. But it was with sad hearts that they 
 came to such a conclusion. 
 
 The next morning — it was Sunday, the 8th 
 of May — they abandoned their great forts of 
 London and St. Lawrence, abandoned all their 
 fortifications and set them on fire. "When the 
 inhabitants of Orleans arose that morning they 
 were surprised to see the English redoubts in 
 flames. The English army advanced a little 
 towards the city walls and rested, challenging 
 the French to a battle upon the open field. This 
 the French refused, and after a short tarry the 
 line of march was taken up, and the invaders 
 commenced a retreat towards Mehun-sur-Loire 
 in very good order. They had no transport, and 
 therefore were obliged to leave behind their 
 sick and wounded and all their baggage. The 
 French garrison and multitudes of the towns- 
 
JOAN OF AEC. 145 
 
 people were anxious to pursue them, but the 
 Maid of Orleans, with that nobleness of charac- 
 ter which she ever exhibited, said : 
 
 " In the name of God, let them depart ! — and 
 let us go and give thanks to God." After she 
 had said this she led the way to high mass. 
 
 And so the 8th of May was made a day of 
 prayer and thanksgiving to God. And ever 
 since that day its anniversary has been celebra- 
 ted in the city of Orleans. At this day it is re- 
 garded devoutly and solemnly by the inhabitants. 
 The magistrates of the city walk in procession 
 around the town, the '' Te Deum" is sung in the 
 great cathedral, and a sermon is delivered in 
 honor of the Maid of Orleans. 
 
 So soon one of the most important of Joan's 
 predictions had become a matter of veritable 
 history. In seven days she had '^ raised the siege 
 of Orleans," and three of these were spent in 
 public devotions ! With a faith truly wonder- 
 ful, she had never for an instant doubted God's 
 purpose to enable her to raise the siege, and 
 most bravely, most gloriously had she executed 
 her part in that difficult and dangerous conflict. 
 It was done — the English armies were gone — 
 and she remained their conqueror — the savior 
 
 G 10 
 
14:6 THELIFEOF 
 
 of Orleans, if not of France. She liad been bit- 
 terly opposed by all the warrior chiefs, by the 
 wise men of France, yet she had triiinij)hed over 
 them, and over the English ! It wonld not have 
 been strange if she had been elated with her 
 success — if her heart had throbbed qnickly with 
 a glorious pride, but it was not so. She seemed 
 scarcely to be aware that she w^as deserving of 
 any thanks. She was as meek and humble, as 
 unselfish, and devoted to the interests of the dau.- 
 phin, as ever. The first part of her prediction 
 was already accomplished, and she now, with 
 perfect confidence in God, set about accomplish- 
 ing the second, which was, to crown the dauphin 
 at E-heims. She urged Charles to submit him- 
 self to her guidance, for could he not see, had 
 he not ample proof that she was sustained, by a 
 powerful Arm? Could he object to follow her 
 councils, now that the siege of Orleans was 
 raised? An old French chronicler writes the 
 following description of an interview between 
 the Maid and the dauphin : 
 
 " When Joan the Maid was before the king, 
 she kneeled down and clasped him by the feet, 
 saying: 
 
 " ' Gentle Dauphin, come and receive your 
 
JOAN OF A EC. MY 
 
 noble crown at Kheims ; I am greatly pressed 
 that jon shonld go there ; do not doubt that you 
 will there be worthily croAvned as you ought.' 
 It "happened then that the king in his own 
 thoughts, and also three or four of the chief men 
 and captains around him, deemed it would be 
 right, if not displeasing to the said Joan, to in- 
 quire what hervoices said to her. She saw their 
 thoughts and said: 
 
 " ' In the name of God I know right well 
 what you think and desire to ask me of the 
 voice which I heard speak touching your being 
 crowned, and I will tell you truly. I had set 
 myself to prayer as I am wont to do, and I was 
 com]3laining because I was not believed in what 
 I had said ; and then I heard the voice declare — 
 DojugTiter ! go forward j I will he thy helper — 
 Go ! And when that voice comes to me I feel 
 so joyful as is wondrous to tell.' And while 
 speaking these words she raised her eyes towards 
 heaven, with every sign of gladness and exulta- 
 tion." 
 
 There is, says Mahon, an original document 
 in existence, which is of great intei^st, as it de- 
 scribes the personal appearance of Joan of Arc 
 at this time. It is a letter from an officer named 
 
148 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Grey, Sire cle Laval, to liis mother and grand- 
 mother at home. It commences in the ancient 
 fashion : 
 
 '*' My very redoubtable ladies and mothers," 
 and proceeds as follows :. 
 
 " On the Smiday, then, I set out with the king 
 to go to Selles in Berry, four leagues from St. 
 Agnan ; and the king caused the Maid, who be- 
 fore this was at Selles, to come forth and meet 
 him. . . . The aforesaid Maid appeared ful- 
 ly armed on all points save only her head, and 
 held her lance in her hand, and she gave a hearty 
 welcome to my brother and me. After we had 
 dismounted at Selles I went to her dwelling to 
 see her, upon which she ordered wine to be 
 brought in, and told me that right soon she would 
 have me to drink wine at Paris. Both in seeing 
 aiid in hearing her, she seems altogether a be- 
 ing from Heaven. This same Monday, about the 
 time of vespers, she set out again from Selles, to 
 go to Romorantin, three leagues forward on the 
 enemy's side, .having with her Mareschal de 
 Boussac and much folk, both men in arms, and 
 of the commonalty. There I saw her on horse- 
 back, clad all in hlaiilc armor save her head, with 
 a small axe in her hand, and mounted on a great 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 149 
 
 black charger, who, at the door of her dwelling 
 was prancing and rearing, and wonld not allow 
 her to mount, npon which she said, ' Take him 
 to the cross which stands before the church near 
 the road.' And after this she mounted without 
 further hindrance, for the horse grew as quiet as 
 though he had been bound. And then she turn- 
 ed towards the church-door, which was nigh, 
 and said in a clear woman's voice, ' Ye priests 
 and churchmen, do ye make procession and 
 prayers to God.' She then pursued her journey, 
 saying, ' Go forward, go forward ! ' Her banner 
 was folded and borne by a well-favored page ; 
 her small axe was in her hand, and a brother of 
 hers who has joined her eight days since was in 
 her company, also clad in hlanlc armor." 
 
 The dauphin, notwithstanding Joan's miracu- 
 lous success at Orleans, was unwilling to under- 
 take the expedition to Rheims. He could not 
 as yet have faith in her mission, or he was too 
 indolent and effeminate for the undertaking. He 
 was not worthy of such a subject as Joan of Arc. 
 Far better would it have been for France if she 
 had occupied the thrpne instead of the pleasure- 
 seeking Chaifes. He claimed that it was abso- 
 lutely necessary that other posts upon the river 
 
 M 
 
 ^■z 
 
150 ' THE LIFE OF 
 
 Loire, still occupied by the Englisli, should be 
 taken before proceeding to Rbeims. The Earl 
 of Suffolk had retired with several hundred En- 
 glish soldiers to Jargeau, and the Maid with the 
 French chiefs laid siege to the place. The artil- 
 lery for many days played upon both sides of it, 
 but ineffectually, but at last a breach was made 
 in the walls, and on the 12th day of June the 
 French trumpets sounded the signal to assault. 
 Joan was among the foremost, and waved her 
 banner to and fro, and gave courage to the sol- 
 diery. She herself alone planted a ladder 
 against one of the w^alls and commenced the as- 
 cent, when a large stone was rolled down from 
 the summit, striking upon her helmet and dash- 
 ing her down into the ditch, apparently killed, 
 but in a moment, though severely hurt, she 
 sprang up again, and w^ith a brave heart shout- 
 ed: 
 
 " Forward ! forward ! my friends ! the Lord 
 has delivered them into our hands ! " 
 
 Tlie attack was re-oewed — the troops fought 
 with additional vigor, and the town was taken, 
 and the garrison nearly all put to the sword, 
 though Joan did her utmost to save the lives of 
 those taken prisoners. The Earl of Suffolk was 
 
JOAN" OF AEO. 151 
 
 closely pursued hj a French, officer. According 
 to the chivalric notions then existing, it was a 
 disgrace for a knight to surrender to any man 
 who had never been knighted. The earl there- 
 fore turned upon his pursuer and asked : 
 
 " Are you of gentle birth ? " 
 
 " I am," he replied. It was one Regnault, an 
 esquire of Auvergne. '' And are you a knight ? " 
 asked the earl further. " I am not," he- replied. 
 The earl then said : 
 
 '' I will then make you one ! " He then touch- 
 ed him with his sword and dubbed him a knight, 
 and then surrendered the sword and himself to 
 his caj)tor. 
 
 Jargeau had fallen, and the fate of its garri- 
 son struck the garrisons of Beaugency and Me- 
 hun with such fear that they offered no further 
 resistance, and Talbot, who was the chief com- 
 mander of all the remaining English troops, 
 gathered them into one body, and retreated to- 
 wards the Seine. On his way there he met a 
 reinforcement of four thousand men under the 
 command of Fastolf. The French also were 
 reinforced at the same time with an army of 
 four thousand, under the Lord Constable of 
 France, Arthur de Richemont. He had some- 
 
152 THE LIFE OF 
 
 time previously become estranged from tlie king, 
 and Charles wrote to him not to approach with 
 his army, but he continued to draw near. Such 
 was Joan's devotion to her monarch that she 
 offered to give battle to the lord constable. 
 But the soldiers honored him, and she found 
 that it would be extremely difficult to induce 
 them to engage in a civil war. She also, upon 
 sober consideration, saw the extreme folly of 
 indulging in home quarrels in the condition of 
 France. They needed all their strength to clear 
 the country of the king's foreign enemies, the En- 
 glish. She therefore invited the constable to 
 unite his army with that under her guidance, 
 and promised to use her influence to reconcile 
 the king and his distinguished subject. The 
 forces having been joined together, set out in 
 pursuit of the English army. On the 18tli of 
 June they overtook them near the village of 
 Patay. The English were so dispirited, were so 
 firm in their belief that Joan had help, either 
 from God or the devil, that they drew up for 
 battle with trembling and fear, and when it be- 
 gan retained their ground but a few moments, 
 and fled in the wildest confusion. Fastolf, so 
 long known as a brave leader, ran at the first 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 163 
 
 fire, and for the cowardly act was punislied by 
 the deprivation of his order of the Garter. Tal- 
 bot, with more bravery and self-possession, re- 
 fused to turn his back upon the French, and dis- 
 mounting fought on foot and almost alone. He 
 was thus made a prisoner with Lord Scales. 
 Two thousand men were killed in the pursuit. 
 
 Another victory was gained by the French, 
 and Joan urged with increased vehemence that 
 the dauphin should set out for Rheims to be 
 crowned. It could not be concealed that such 
 a project, contemplated in an ordinary light, 
 must be attended with much danger, for Rheims 
 was still in possession of the English, as were all 
 the cities on the way there ; but it certainly was 
 a wise policy, to follow up victory by fresh 
 attacks, while the belief in the supernatural 
 powers of the Maid was strong and universal, 
 both in the French and English armies. And 
 those who believed that Joan's mission was a di- 
 vine one, certainly had no reason to doubt her, 
 now that she had accomplished several glorious 
 victories, and had raised the whole French peo- 
 ple from despair to triumphant exultation. The 
 king was not disposed to any great exertion. 
 He had few of the qualities necessary to make 
 
154 THE LIFE OF 
 
 a hero, and preferred the j)leasures and quiet of 
 the court to the camp. He preferred to waste 
 his life in dalliance with beautiful women, rather 
 than to don his armor, and free his country from 
 foreign bondage ! He was unworthy of Joan 
 of Arc. Simple peasant-girl as she w^as, her 
 spirit soared higher than that of the king ! But 
 the army were unanimously for proceeding to 
 Rheims, and the king finding it impossible to 
 resist the entreaties of Joan and the sentitoent 
 of his soldiery combined, gave a reluctant con- 
 sent to the proposed expedition. He therefore 
 put himself at the head of twelve thousand men, 
 and set out from the valley of the Loire for 
 Rheims. He was accompanied by Joan of Arc 
 and his bravest captains and most experienced 
 counselors. They first stopped their march be- 
 fore the walls of the city of Auxerre, which 
 elosed its gates, but upon payment of money 
 agreed to furnish the army w^ith provisions. 
 The army next j)roceeded to Troyes, which was 
 well defended both by fortification and by arms. 
 It refused to treat with the dauphin upon any 
 terms wdiatsoever. It must therefore, if taken 
 at all, be taken by siege. But the army had 
 made no preparation for such a mode of warfare. 
 
JOAN OF AKC. 155 
 
 They liad no mining tools or artillery ; they had 
 no provisions, and kept tli em selves from starving 
 by eating the green corn and beans in the fields 
 adj oining Troy es. After several days had passed 
 a council was Jield, when all the chief men and 
 warriors demanded londly a retreat to the valley 
 of the Loire. The dauphin became discouraged, 
 — indeed he had never possessed any true 
 courage from the beginning. "While the council 
 were disputing a knock was heard at the door, 
 and the Maid of Orleans walked in among them. 
 She first asked the king if he would believe 
 what she had to say. He, forgetting the won- 
 ders of valor and suffering which she had per- 
 formed for his sake, treated her with great cold- 
 ness, and replied that he would believe her if 
 she spoke that which was reasonable and profit- 
 able. She said : 
 
 "The city is yours if yon will but remain 
 before it two days longer ! " 
 
 She predicted confidently, and as all her pre- 
 vious predictions had been accomplished, the 
 council agreed to wait for two da^js. The mo- 
 ment that Joan learned their decision, she sprang 
 upon horseback, and commanded all the men-at- 
 arms whom she met to collect all the fagots 
 
156 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and burning material thej could find, and heap 
 them against the walls, intending to take Troyes 
 in that manner. The people of Trojes beheld 
 her conrageons exertions, and remembering her 
 former successes and knowing that she was re- 
 puted to have intercourse with spirits, they be- 
 gan to fear. Some of them said they actually 
 saw a swarm of white butterflies hovering over 
 her standard. Such reports sped like lightning 
 among the people and the soldiers, and many of 
 them suddenly bethought themselves that though 
 they were Burgundians, yet they were French- 
 men, and that the dauphin was their true king, 
 and that it was rebellion to resist his armies, and 
 therefore they sent terms of capitulation to the 
 king, which he joyfully accepted, and the next 
 day marched within the gates ! And did the 
 king feel truely grateful to Joan for saving him 
 from the disgrace of retreating to the valley of 
 the" Loire ? We fear that in his success he forgot 
 to give her due thanks. She had saved his honor 
 from detraction — she had given him the fame 
 of another victory — but she was as gentle and 
 humble as ever ! The army however gloried in 
 the Maid of Orleans, and they cried loudly in 
 favor of proceeding to Rheims. 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 157 
 
 And so the army marched towards Rheims. 
 First to Chalons, which was quickly surrendered, 
 and then without encountering a single shot, the 
 king and his army marched, on the 16th day of 
 July, into the city of Rheims ! 
 
 The inhabitants sang loudly their praises of 
 the king, the soldiery were elated with their suc- 
 cess, and all were happy in their pride of suc- 
 cess — -without we except Joan, and she was 
 happy but not proud. 
 
 The next day, in the grand cathedral of 
 Eheims, the gentle dauphin stood before the 
 assembled thousands, and was crowned with the 
 circlet which had rested upon the heads of his 
 ancestors — was anointed with the holy oil from 
 the cruise kept for centuries in that ancient town. 
 He was crowned King of France ! And Joan, 
 the Maid of Orleans — where was she? She 
 stood where it was fit she should stand — by the 
 side of her monarch ! She stood by his side 
 with her banner unfurled and in her hand. She 
 was asked afterward in her trial — 
 
 " Why was your banner honored thus beyond 
 all other banners?" 
 
 She gave the memorable reply, " It had shared 
 the danger — it had a right to share the glory ! " 
 
168 THE LIFE OF 
 
 All 1 yes, poor peasant-girl, thon wert right ! 
 And while she stood there amid hel* glory, who 
 did she see among that grand audience? She 
 saw her micle L^xart, and her father Jacqnes 
 '-D'Arc, two 23lain but honest peasants who had 
 traveled thus far to witness her triumph. 
 
 "What must have been her reflections as she 
 stood there? In three months time she had 
 raised the siege of Orleans and crowned Charles 
 at Rheims ! Three months before she had made 
 the prediction, and was laughed to scorn — • and 
 here she stood triumphant ! "Was she not filled 
 with pride ? 'No ; she was full of joy, to be sure, 
 but also full of tears. She thanked God most 
 devoutly for all that was done, and ascribed to 
 him all the glory of the result. She was but a 
 humble instrument in his hands. 
 
 She had raised herself from the condition of a 
 humble peasant-girl to a companionship with 
 kings ! Did she not look coldly upon her poor 
 old father and uncle ? Did they not remind her 
 unpleasantly of her former humble life ? 
 
 There is nothing in the whole life of the glo- 
 rious Maid more touching than her conduct at 
 this moment of her highest triumph. When the 
 holy rites were performed, she knelt down be- 
 
JOAN OF AKO. 159 
 
 fore the monarcli, and with her eyes streaming 
 with tears, -said : 
 
 " Gentle King ! now is fulfilled the pleasure 
 of God, who willed that you should come to 
 Rheims and be anointed, showing that you are 
 the true king, and he to whom the kingdom 
 should belong." She paused for a moment, and 
 then added : 
 
 " I wish that the gentle king would allow me 
 to return towards my father and mother, keep 
 my flocks and herds as before, and do all things 
 as I was wont to do." 
 
 Could anything surpass this in humility and 
 in entire unselfishness ? She felt that her mis- 
 sion was now ended — that the voices no more 
 perhaps would seek to give her counsel ; and for 
 the first time since she had left her home in Dom- 
 remy, she jDanted for its green fields, its pastures 
 and flocks, its ancient trees, its quiet, for the 
 home of her old father ! I^ot for a moment, 
 while executing the will of the voices, had she 
 considered it rio^ht to think wishfullv of home — 
 not for a moment when she was laughed at and 
 scorned, when she suflered, — but now, when at 
 the full tide of success, adored by the people and 
 the army, and honored above all by the newly- 
 
160 THE LIFE OF 
 
 crowned king — now slie turned to the great 
 beauty of her old home with a wishful, longing 
 heart ! 
 
 Happy would it have been for Joan if she had 
 gone home now, and had passed the remainder 
 of her life in peace and happiness, but Fate had 
 decreed that the noble girl should be requited 
 for her self-sacrificing life, by ignominy and 
 death. 
 
 Her father and uncle saw her at Rheims, and 
 gloried in her triumph. There is still in exist- 
 ence at Hheims the account for the entertain- 
 ment of Joan's father. He lodged at an inn 
 called the Striped Zebra, and the bill, amounting 
 to twenty-four livres, was paid by the king. 
 This certainly was a deserved mark of respect 
 from the monarch, and shows that he was, to a 
 certain degree at least, grateful to Joan for her 
 generous aid. The very inn where her father 
 lodged still exists at Rheims, and the same ca- 
 thedral in which Charles was crowned still exists, 
 though since then more than four hundred years 
 have rolled away. 
 
 The king and his council heard Joan's peti- 
 tion to return with her father to Domremy. 
 They had little of her generosity, and at once 
 
JOAN OF AEG. 161 
 
 began to calculate what her services might be 
 worth to them if she remained. They themselves 
 doubted her supernatural powers, but they prob- 
 ably had no doubts about her sincerity, and which 
 was of most importance, they knew that the peo- 
 ple, and the soldiers especially, to a man, adored 
 her as having intercourse wtih angelic spirits, 
 and as receiving assistance from Heaven. Her 
 presence inspired them with almost superhuman 
 courage, for they imagined that invisible angels 
 were fighting with them — that Heaven had pre- 
 ordained that victory should always, and every- 
 where, attend the Maid of Orleans. The king 
 and his council therefore came to the conclusion 
 that she must remain with them, and ev^ery pos- 
 sible argument was used to induce her to stay. 
 She beseeched them to spare her, now that her 
 great predictions were accomplished. Finding 
 that they were determined upon her presence, 
 she assented to their wish, and gave up her own 
 desires for the good of France. 
 
 11 
 
CHAPTER IX, 
 
 THE MAID HONOKED DOMREMY MADE FEEE FROM IMPOST JOAN 
 
 DOUBTS HERSELF MARCH TOWARDS PARIS ATTACK JOAN 
 
 DESERTED WOUNDED SHE IS DISPIRITED THE KING SHOWS 
 
 THE WHITE FEATHER RETURNS TO HIS CASTLE WINTER 
 
 JOAN ATTEMPTS TO RESCURE FLARY — TAKEN PRISONER DUN- 
 GEONED BY THE ENGLISH. 
 
 King Chakles seems at tliis time, seeing tliat 
 Joan gave up her strong desire to retire to Dom- 
 remy solely to please liim, to have showed her dis- 
 tinctly by various acts that he was grateful to 
 her. He offered to confer upon her family both 
 honors and riches, but she humbly refused to 
 accept them, but added that the only favor she 
 would ask, or consent to be granted was, that 
 Domremy should be exempt from any kind of 
 impost, and for three centuries it was free. 
 
 From this time, Joan constantly had doubts 
 whether she was under the guidance of angels. 
 She had so long looked upon herself as specially 
 designed to raise the siege of Orleans, and crown 
 the king at Hheims, that after these were ac- 
 complished, she doubted whether Heaven had 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 163 
 
 any further communications to make to lier. 
 At times she was confiding, and felt assured that 
 the voices whispered counsel to her, but she 
 never had the old faith and unhesitating confi- 
 dence in their directions. From this time she 
 seems to have experienced not merely external 
 sufferings, but her own mind was troubled. She 
 remained with the king and his council, but was 
 no longer so enthusiastic, so sure of constant suc- 
 cess as before. 
 
 Other important towns, soon following the ex- 
 ample set by Troyes and E-heims, capitulated to 
 the king. Among them were Laon, Soissons, 
 Compiegne and Beauvais. The English as yet 
 held undisputed possession of Paris, but the 
 king was gradually approaching it. Owing to 
 a want of reinforcements, they were unal^le to 
 risk a field engagement with the French, and so 
 retreated upon Paris. 
 
 It was during this retreat of the English — 
 the French army following them closely — that 
 the Maid met with an accident which caused a 
 good deal of fear among the soldiers, as it was 
 regarded by them as an ill-omen. The king 
 even regretted it. She broke her sword. One 
 of the chroniclers of those days says : 
 
164 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " Victory had made the French arrogant and 
 thoughtless, so that they resigned themselves to 
 every kind of licentiousness ; nothing could re- 
 strain them. In this the Maid was not heark- 
 ened to. Her wrath was so far kindled that one 
 day as she met some men-at-arms, who were ma- 
 king merry with a woman of loose life, she be- 
 gan to beat them with the flat of her sword, so 
 hard that the weapon broke. This was the sword 
 found in the church of Fierbois, and w^hich had 
 just achieved such noble deeds. The loss of it 
 was a grief to everybody, and even to the king. 
 He said to Joan, ' You ought to have taken a 
 good stout stick and struck the men with that, 
 instead of risking this sword, which has come to 
 you by help from Heaven, as you say.' " 
 
 Whether Joan herself felt very keenly this 
 occurrence we know not, but it is very proba- 
 ble that she did, for she attached great signifi- 
 cance to omens, as did the people generally in 
 that age. 
 
 The French army reached the heights of St. 
 Denis, from which they beheld the spires of 
 Paris. The sight of his old capital must have 
 filled the heart of Charles with an enthusiastic 
 desire for possession. He came it seemed at 
 
JOAN OF AKC. 165 
 
 the right time, for the Duke of Bedford was ab- 
 sent from. Paris in Normandj, engaged in try- 
 ing to quell disturbances there. In September, 
 1429, an attack was commenced upon the walls 
 of the city. Joan was quite anxious for it, and 
 promised the soldiers that the following night 
 they should sleep within the walls of Paris. 
 The king, who had so urged Joan on to this expe- 
 dition, now acted the part of a coward. His 
 ardor was cooled, and he refused to lead on the 
 action, or approach it nearer than St. Denis. 
 His officers, many of them were dispirited by 
 his absence, and others were jealous of the Maid 
 of Orleans, to whom had heretofore been as- 
 cribed the honor of the victories obtained, and 
 they were willing that she should take Paris, if 
 she could, without much aid from them. So 
 she was deserted by the king, and, to a certain 
 degree, by his officers. It may be, also, that 
 since the accident to her sword the soldiers had 
 lost faith in her powers. Perhaps she doubted 
 herself She led the army across the first ditch, 
 and while sounding the second, which was very 
 deep and broad, she was wounded very seriously 
 by an arrow shot from the walls, and her stan- 
 dard-bearer, who was by her side, was instantly 
 
166 THE LIFE OF 
 
 killed. Courao^eous and noble as ever, she 
 would not harbor a thought of retreat, and 
 though she lay npon the gromid exhausted by 
 her wound, she nrged the soldiers on ! 
 
 In a little while the poor girl became so ex- 
 hausted that she was obliged to cease her cries, 
 and seems to have been entirely overlooked by 
 her friends. She lay down behind a small hill, 
 and. endured her j)ain in silence. She did not 
 murmur even that the king and his generals, with 
 a forgetfulness which was not only cruel but 
 very ungrateful, came not to seek her, sore and 
 wounded as she was. There she lay until eve- 
 ning, when at last the Duke of Alencon came 
 to her assistance, and carried her to St. .Denis. 
 The events of this day made a very deep im- 
 pression upon Joan. It seemed to her as if 
 Providence had deserted her — as if no longer 
 the solemn yet beautiful voices guided her on 
 to victory. She had felt, too, very keenly the 
 conduct of those generals who had basely re- 
 fused to fight with energy, because they were 
 jealous of her. She must also have taken to 
 heart the coldness and apparent neglect of the 
 king. She must have remarked his supineness 
 and his longings for a retreat to Chinon. When 
 
JOAN OF A EC. 167 
 
 she arrived at St. Denis, her wounds were 
 dressed, and she repaired at once to the Church 
 St. Denis, and kneeling before the altars of the 
 martyrs, she returned public thanks to God, the 
 Virgin Mary, and the martyrs, for all the bene- 
 fits she had received from them. She then hung 
 up her arms before the shrine of St. Denis, and 
 declared her resolution never to use them again ! 
 It was the result of no sudden fit of indignation 
 at the king and his council (which she might 
 with reason have indulged in,) that caused this 
 determination, but she began to catch glimpses 
 of the shadows of the coming events. The noble 
 peasant-girl began to find her own heart filled, 
 instead of trusting faith, with doubts and glooms. 
 The moment, however, that the news came to 
 the king that she had renounced the habiliments 
 of war, he became alarmed, and he and his lead- 
 ing generals entreated Joan most eloquently to 
 put them on again to save France. The poor 
 girl looked upon the monarch as a being whose 
 command a subject must ever obey, and whose 
 entreaty must not pass unheeded b}^, if conso- 
 nant with right. She therefore once more 
 donned her armor, and stood, willing to attempt 
 the reduction of Paris. 
 
168 THE LIFE OF 
 
 But now Cliarles put on the white feather. 
 He was sick of battle ; lie was tired of sieges, 
 and desired to go back to bis peaceful castles, 
 far fbom the noise and bustle and danger of war. 
 It would have been comparatively easy to re- 
 duce the capital by energetic and wise manage- 
 ment — there can be no doubt that, if at this 
 juncture, when all France resounded with the 
 triumph of his arms, he. had seriously led on the 
 troops against Paris, it must have fallen. But 
 he strangely, foolishly, and in the spirit of a 
 coward, began a retreat. By rapid marches the 
 river Loire was reached, and passed, and the 
 army put into winter- quarters — and this, too, 
 at the best time which could possibly occur to 
 besiege Paris, for the Duke of Bedford was now 
 necessarily absent in the provinces. There were, 
 also, several large towns in the north, such as 
 Amiens, Abbeville, St. Queritine, etc., etc., 
 which were quite ready to declare for the king 
 the moment he should appear before their gates 
 with an army. They were awaiting an excuse 
 to side with the newly-crowned monarch — but 
 the excuse, either because he lacked courage or 
 energy, he refused to give to them. 
 
 The French soldiers, with the Maid, thought 
 
JOAN OF AEO. 169 
 
 his conduct strange. One of the French his- 
 torians has ventured to speak of it justly. Sis- 
 mondi says : " It is probable, that, but for the 
 king's supineness, he might, on the first assault, 
 have made himself master of his capital, and his 
 sudden retreat to Chinon everywhere depressed 
 and deadened the enthusiasm of his people. 
 The unwarlike citizens, who, throughout the 
 towns of Champagne, of Picardy, and of the 
 Isle of France, were now rising or conspiring to 
 throw off the English yoke, well knew that if 
 they failed there would be no mercy for them, 
 and that they would perish by the hangman's 
 hands, yet they boldly exposed themselves in 
 order to replace their king on his throne ; and 
 this king, far from imitating their generosity, 
 could not even bring himself to bear the hard- 
 ships of a camp, or the toils of business, for more 
 than two months and a half ; he w^ould not any 
 longer consent to forego his festivals, his dances, 
 or his other less innocent delights." 
 
 The king, though he had retreated from be- 
 fore the walls of Paris, and was no longer in 
 need of the immediate services of the Maid, yet 
 did not forget her. lie seems to have been anx- 
 ious, by his conduct towards her, to atone for 
 H 
 
170 THELIFEOF 
 
 liis previous coldness and neglect, and drive lier 
 and her friends to forget his singular pusilla- 
 nimity exhibited by his order for a retreat from 
 Saint Denis. We cannot certainly give the rea- 
 son for it, but during this winter he granted let- 
 ters-patent of nobility to Joan and her family. 
 It was an act which was highly deserved. 
 
 Evans says : " In December, in this year, the 
 king, as a mark of honor to Joan, and an evi- 
 dence to future times of the estimation in w^hich 
 her services were held, raised her and all her 
 family to the rank of nobility, and declared that 
 all their descendants, both male and female, 
 should forever inherit this dignity. This was a 
 very unusual grant, and was an especial mark 
 of great favor ; for when the king created a com- 
 moner a nobleman, the descent of the title sel- 
 dom extended beyond the male descendants. 
 The family name was upon this occasion changed 
 from D'Arc to Dulys. In 1614, the rank was, 
 by a decree of parliament, restricted to the male 
 branches of the family ; and the last of these, 
 Henri-Frangois de Coulombe Dulys, canon of 
 Champeaux and prior of Coutras, died on the 
 29th of June, 1760." 
 
 During the winter, Joan, at different times, 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 171 
 
 distinguislied herself by her bravery in the small 
 skirmishes, or the sieges which were laid against 
 some of the smaller towns. At the siege of St. 
 Pierre le Montier, the troops were overcome by 
 their enemies, and retreated, but she reanimated 
 them, and led them on a second time, and to 
 victory. At another time, Joan headed an ex- 
 pedition against one D'Arras, a robber and pil- 
 lager. She succeeded in capturing him. He 
 was demanded by the authorities to answer for 
 his crimes, and she therefore gave him up, and 
 after a trial he was executed. She did not like 
 to give him up at first, preferring to keep him 
 as a prisoner of war, but she gave way to the 
 will of the magistrates. 
 
 De Quincey, in his essay upon Joan of Arc, 
 after recapitulating her victories and successes, 
 remarks as follows : 
 
 ""What remained was — to suffer. All this 
 forward movement was her own : excepting one 
 man, the whole council was against her. Her 
 enemies were all that drew power from earth. 
 Her supporters were her own strong enthusiasm, 
 and the headlong contagion by which she car- 
 ried this sublime frenzy into the hearts of wo- 
 men, of soldiers, and of all who lived by labor. 
 
172 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Henceforward she was thwarted ; and the worst 
 error that she committed was to lend the sanc- 
 tion of her presence to counsels which she dis- 
 approved. But she had accomplished the capi- 
 tal objects which her own visions had dictated. 
 These involved all the rest. Errors were now 
 less important ; and doubtless it had now be- 
 come more difficult for herself to pronounce au- 
 thentically what were errors. The noble girl 
 had achieved, as by a rapture of motion, the cap- 
 ital end of clearing out a free space around her 
 sovereign, giving him the power to move his 
 arms with effect ; and secondly, the inappreciable 
 end of winning for that sovereign what seemed 
 to all France the heavenly ratification of his 
 rights, by crowning him with the ancient solem- 
 nities. She had made it impossible for the Eng- 
 lish now to step before her. They were caught 
 in an irretrievable blunder, owing partly to dis- 
 cord amongst the uncles of Henry YL, partly 
 to a want of funds, but partly to the very im- 
 possibility which they believed to press with 
 tenfold force upon any French attempt to fore- 
 stall theirs. They laughed at such a thought ; 
 and whilst they laughed she did it. Henceforth 
 the single redress for the English of this capital 
 
JOAN OF AEG. 173 
 
 oversight, but wliich never could have redeemed 
 it effectually, was, to vitiate and taint tlie coro- 
 nation of Charles YII. as the work of a witch. 
 That policy, and not malice, was the moving 
 principle in the subsequent persecution of Jo 
 anna. Unless they unhinged the force of the 
 first coronation in the popular mind, by associa- 
 ting it with ]30wer given from hell, they felt that 
 the sceptre of the invader was broken. 
 
 "But she, the child, that at nineteen, had 
 wrought wonders so great for France, was she 
 not elated ? Did she not lose, as men so often 
 have lost, all sobriety of mind when standing 
 upon the pinnacle of success so giddy ? Let her 
 enemies declare. During the progress of her 
 movement, and in the centre of ferocious strug- 
 gles, she had manifested the temper of her feel- 
 ings by the pity which she had everywhere ex- 
 pressed for the suffering enemy. She forwarded 
 to the English ladies a touching invitation to 
 unite with the French as brothers, in a common 
 crusade against infidels, thus opening the road 
 for a soldierly retreat. She interposed to protect 
 the captive or wounded — she mourned over 
 the excesses of her countrymen — she threw her- 
 self off her horse to kneel by the dying Englisli 
 
174 THELIFEOF 
 
 soldier, and to comfort him with such ministra- 
 tions, physical or spiritual, as his situation al- 
 lowed. She sheltered the English that invoked 
 her aid, in her own quarters. She wept as she 
 beheld, stretched on the field of battle, so many 
 brave enemies that have died without confession. 
 And as regarded herself, her elation expressed 
 itself thus : On the day when she had finished 
 her w^ork, she wept; for she knew that when 
 her task was done her end must be aj^proaching. 
 Her aspirations only pointed to a place, which 
 seemed to her more than usually full of natural 
 piety, as one in which it would give her pleas- 
 ure to die. And she uttered, between smiles 
 and tears, as a wish that inexpressibly fascina- 
 ted her heart, and yet was half fantastic, a bro- 
 ken prayer that God would return her to the 
 solitudes from which he had drawn her, and 
 sufi'er her to become a shepherdess once more. 
 It was a natural prayer, because nature has laid 
 a necessity upon every human heart to seek for 
 rest, and to shrink from torment. Yet again, it 
 was a half-fantastic prayer, because, from child- 
 hood upwards, visions that she had no poAver to 
 mistrust, and the voices which sounded in her 
 ear forever, had long since persuaded her mind, 
 
JOAN OF AEC. 175 
 
 that for lier no sncli 2^1'ayer could be granted. 
 For well she felt that her mission must be worked 
 out to the end, and that the end was now at 
 hand. All went wrong from this time. She 
 herself had created the feitds out of which the 
 French restoration should grow ; but she was 
 not suffered to witness their development or 
 their prosperous ajDplication. More than one 
 military plan was entered upon which she did 
 not approve. But she still continued to expose 
 her person as before." 
 
 Truly, as De Quincey says for Joan, " what re- 
 mained was — to suffer." But before returning 
 to give her farther history upon the field of bat- 
 tle, we must record a singular event which oc- 
 curred about this time. Another woman came 
 to court, claiming that she was inspired by 
 Heaven, like the Maid of Orleans. But she laid 
 no claims to a warlike mission. She would not 
 interfere with Joan, though she did claim that 
 the angels conversed with her. Her mission 
 was one of gold — she came to furnish the pleas- 
 ure-loving king with money. She wished to 
 preach to the people, and exhort them to give 
 up their wealth to save France. She claimed 
 that she could tell those who kept their gold 
 
176 THE LIFE OF 
 
 and treasures concealed. She also pretended to 
 liave visions of a white lady arrayed in habili- 
 ments of gold. To the easy, luxurious Carles, 
 such a mission, were it real, would be very wel- 
 come. It would suit his tastes better far than 
 a warlike mission, though the one should cor- 
 rupt his court and dissatisfy the nation, and the 
 other purify the court and save the nation from 
 impending ruin. From the very first, Joan 
 looked upon the golden maid with distrust. 
 Why we cannot tell, unless she bore upon her 
 person the marks of deceit. She asked to be 
 shown the white lady. Catharine — the new 
 prophetess — declared that she came only in the 
 hours of darkness, and that if Joan would wait 
 beside her through the night, she should have 
 an opportunity to gaze upon the golden lady. 
 Joan therefore watched beside her through a 
 night, when, just at morning, she fell asleep. 
 Catharine declared that the white lady came 
 while she was asleep. This looked like deceit, and 
 therefore Joan determined to try it once more. 
 So she slept the whole of the next day, so as to 
 be sure of keeping awake the following night. 
 She kept awake the following night. Towards 
 morning she asi^ed : 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 177 
 
 " Is she coming soon ? " 
 
 Catharine replied, " Soon, soon." 
 
 Again Joan asked, and again : "Is she com- 
 ing?" and the reply as often came, "Soon, 
 soon." But the white lady never came. 
 
 It is a little singular that Joan did not remem- 
 ber that Tier spirits were never visible to any 
 one but herself. This was stated to her, but she 
 replied that they were not pure enough to see 
 what she saw — an honest answer. "With some 
 the golden lady gained credit, though she was 
 not generally popular. 
 
 To put an end to the controversy, Joan de- 
 clared that the voices had told her that Catha- 
 rine was an imposter, and that her mission was 
 not from above, and that her words were un- 
 worthy of being listened to. She advised the 
 lady to return to her home, and take care of her 
 family. This may seem cool and impertinent, 
 inasmuch as Joan herself gave no proof of her 
 inspiration before the siege of Orleans, but to us 
 it is a proof of her sincerity of heart. She could 
 not understand if the voices from above had 
 anything to say, why they should not as before 
 make her the medium of their revelations. Be- 
 sides, she began to feel conscious that heavenly 
 H* 12 
 
178 THELIFEOF 
 
 interposition was no longer to be granted, and 
 indeed, that her own career was rapidly draw- 
 ing to its close. 
 
 The gentle spring days returned, but King 
 Charles felt no disposition personally to encoun- 
 ter the English. He found little pleasure in the 
 excitement of the camp, and therefore remained 
 himself in his winter quarters, while he sent his 
 army once more across the river Loire into the 
 northern provinces. But they were miserably 
 equipped, and were without any leaders of re- 
 nown. An army to succeed needs good and dis- 
 ciplined officers. The French officers were so 
 jealous of the Maid of Orleans, that they seemed 
 at all times to avoid going into the field with 
 her. They seem to have been desirous of wit- 
 nessing her defeat, and therefore took means to 
 ensure it. Such treatment of one who had saved 
 their nation from utter ruin, cannot be con- 
 demned too severely. 
 
 Several skirmishes took place, and in several 
 of them Joan acted, with a wonderful courage 
 and intrepidity — in all she behaved herself 
 wisely and bravely. So bravely did she conduct 
 herself, that the Duke of Gloucester was obliged 
 to issue a proclamation, to give courage and 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 1T9 
 
 assurance to the English under his command. 
 All that Joan needed was a good and well-officer- 
 ed army, and with it she would have driven the 
 English from France in three months. But the 
 king and his council loved pleasure better than 
 independence. 
 
 The fortress of Compeigne was commanded 
 by Gillaume de Flavy, a very brave but also 
 cruel man. He had maintained his position for 
 many months, but now the Duke of Burgundy, 
 at the head of a powerful army, besieged him. 
 The French king should have siezed upon this 
 occasion, with all his forces, to defend one of his 
 bravest generals. Joan hearing of his danger, 
 resolved, though her forces were in a bad con- 
 dition, to fly to the relief of the brave man. 
 She could not remain inactive and see a brave 
 son of France sacrificed. Right nobly did she 
 at once go to Compeigne, taking with her a body 
 of troops and some of the famous French gene- 
 rals. It was on the twenty-fourth day of May 
 that she set out, and that very evening, though 
 only just arrived, and sadly worn and fatigued, 
 she headed an attack upon the English, and the 
 Burgundians, who were allies of the English. 
 The enemy were unprepared to meet her ; they 
 
180 THE LIFE O F 
 
 were fatigued witli tlie exertions of the day, and 
 twice she drove them from their entrenchments. 
 She at last began to despair of conquering them 
 immediately with her present forces. Their 
 numbers increased rapidly, and she sounded the 
 signal for retreat, herself remaining in the most 
 dangerous position — that of the rear-guard. 
 There she sustained herself nobly, until being 
 sore pressed, and the army having safely retreat- 
 ed, she gave way towards the town-gate. She 
 found it partially closed, so that few could enter 
 it at once, and in the great anxiety to press 
 through it, Joan was forgottfc',^ purposely or 
 otherwise. The English now surrounded her, 
 and seeing her desperate situation, Joan fought 
 with a courage which brought her enemies to a 
 stand, and she might have effected her escape 
 had the gate been wide open. At this juncture 
 an archer from Picardy came up behind her and 
 grasped her overcoat of red velvet, and in that 
 manner pulled her to the ground. She still 
 struggled for her liberty, and even reached the 
 outer fosse, but there the poor girl was complete- 
 ly overpowered, and finally surrendered to 
 Lionel of Yendone, and a brother soldier. 
 Joan of Arc! — that name wikich had carried 
 
JOAN OF AEC. 181 
 
 terror witli it tliroiigli the Englisli ranks — tlie 
 Maid of Orleans, was at last a prisoner of the 
 English. She was separated from all her old 
 friends, she vv^as divided from the upholders of 
 that cause she so dearly loved, and which she 
 was willing to seal with her heart's blood, and 
 now alone, a poor peasant-girl, was to meet the 
 fierce hate of a revengeful enemj. 
 
 The joy of the English can scarcely be im- 
 agined. The leaders saw that the terror whicli 
 had so long inspired the English army at the 
 name and fame of Joan was now at an end. 
 They thought also that the French people, if 
 Joan was dealt wdth in a certain manner, would 
 not ascribe the importance which they now did 
 to the coronation of Charles. Of that we shall 
 speak by and by. The English army was full 
 of rejoicings. The "Te Deum " was celebrated 
 in Paris by order of the Duke of Bedford. 
 
 But if the English army rejoiced, what was 
 the state of the French soldiery ? Every brow 
 w^as sad — every eye drooped. The gallant sa- 
 vior of France was in the hands of the enemy ! 
 Faces were dark and angry too. It was whis- 
 pered that the noble Maid had been betrayed — 
 that Gillaume de Flavy had deliberately betray- 
 
182 JOANOFARC. 
 
 ed Joan. And afterwards this rumor was proved 
 to be true. His own wife detesting him for his 
 conduct, became his murderer, and was pardon- 
 ed because she proved, beyond a doubt, that her 
 husband dehberately betrayed Joan into the 
 ' hands of her mortal enemies, simply because he 
 was enyious of her fame. She had risked all to 
 defend him, and then he betrayed the poor girl? 
 History records but few acts so base as this ! 
 
 Joan was first taken to John of Luxemburg, 
 and from there to Beaurevoir prison ; from there 
 to the prison at Arras, and from there to Le 
 Crotoy, at the mouth of the Somme. Twice she 
 made daring attempts to escape. At one time 
 she broke a passage through a wall, b^ut was 
 discovered and v/atched with increased rigor. 
 A second time she jumped from the tower of 
 her prison, headlong to the ground. She was 
 taken up for dead, but recovered. At last she 
 gave up her attempts to escape — she could no 
 longer evade her fate. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 JOAN IS TAKEN TO ROUEN PUT INTO AN IRON CAGE SHE 18 
 
 BASELY INSULTED CRUEL TREATMENT HER ENEMIES DETER- 
 MINE TO CRUSH HER HER TRIAL RESOLVED UPON THE BISHOP 
 
 OFBEAUVAIS ATTEMPTS TO DECEIVE THE MAID UNSUCCESSFUL. 
 
 Up to this time Joan has been in the posses- 
 sion of the Burgundians, bnt the English were 
 exceedingly anxious to secure her to themselves. 
 During the month of jN^ovember, 1430, she was 
 surrendered to them bj John of Luxemburg, 
 for the sum of ten thousand livres. M. de Ba- 
 rante says : 
 
 " Joan was taken to Rouen, where were then 
 the young King Henry and all the chiefs of the 
 English. She was led into the great tower of 
 the castle, an iron cage was made for her, and ' 
 her feet were secured by a chain. The English 
 archers who guarded her treated her with gross 
 contumely, and more than once attempted vio- 
 lence upon her. ^or were they merely com- 
 mon soldiers who showed themselves cruel and 
 violent towards her. The Sire de Luxemburg, 
 
184: THE LIFE OF 
 
 wliose prisoner site had been, lia]3pening to pass 
 tlirougli Rouen, went to see lier in her prison, 
 accompanied by the Earl of Warwick and the 
 Earl of Stafford. ' Joan,' said he, in jest, ' I am 
 come to pnt you to ransom, but you v/ill have to 
 promise never again to bear arms against us.' 
 ' Ah ! mon Dieu^ you are laughing at me,' said 
 she ; ' you have neither the will nor the power 
 to ransom me. I know well that the English 
 will cause me to die, thinking that after my 
 death they will win back the kingdom of France ; 
 but even were they a hundred thousand God- 
 dams more than they are, they shall never have 
 this kingdom.' Incensed at these words, the 
 Earl of Stafford drew his dagger to strike her, 
 but was prevented by the Earl of Warwick." 
 
 A modern writer, speaking of the rough treat- 
 ment which Joan received, says : 
 
 " Joan had been taken fighting openly in the 
 cause of her king and country ; and although 
 it is rare to find women wielding the sword, yet 
 such should surely be treated with still more 
 tenderness than other soldiers. Even in those 
 days, the worst that was done to an open enemy 
 taken in arms, was to imprison him, and thus 
 prevent his fighting again, until he was either 
 
JOAN OF AEG. 185 
 
 ransomed for money or exchanged against an- 
 other prisoner taken by liis own party. The 
 Duke of Bedford was quite aware of this, and 
 knew that if he put her to death on his own au- 
 thority, he should for ever forfeit his character 
 as a gentleman and an honorable soldier. But 
 the English had suffered so much from Joan's 
 extraordinary influence over the French soldiers 
 — the power which she possessed of inspiring 
 them with what seemed almost supernatural 
 courage, that he determined she should die." 
 
 Joan was right in thinking that the English 
 were resolved upon her death, that they might 
 win back the kingdom of France. The dauphin 
 had been crowned at Rheims, and they well 
 knew that the French people attached so much 
 importance to this rite that it would be neces- 
 sary to convince them that it was effected by 
 diabolical means, before it would be possible to 
 weaken their adherence to the lawfully-crowned 
 monarch. So it was resolved, if possible, to 
 cause Joan to suffer as a witch, and, for greater 
 effect, the ecclesiastical tribunals must become 
 her murderers. 
 
 Connected with this desire to ruin the cause 
 of King Charles, there was an intense personal 
 
186 . THE LIFE OF 
 
 hatred of Joan. She had caused their shame 
 and defeat, and they longed to wreak their ven- 
 geance npon her. It would seem as if her wo- 
 manhood should have protected her from the 
 insults and the cruelties which even a common 
 prisoner of war is subjected to under extraordi- 
 nary circumstances ; but she did not receive the 
 attentions and the rights to which a prisoner of 
 war is entitled. She was abused by the com- 
 mon soldiers, who, when she was in the field, 
 fled before her courage, but now that she was 
 in chains, like all cowards, became rough and 
 and cruel towards her. Officers of the army, 
 even the most prominent leaders, did not hesi- 
 tate to conduct themselves in a manner unheard 
 of among gentlemen — the Earl of Stafford ac- 
 tually drawing his dagger upon the poor girl. 
 But if she was then obliged to suffer all these 
 indignities, history has done her and them jus- 
 tice. While her name is glorious, theirs have 
 come down to us cX)vered with shame. 
 
 The English renounced any rights over the 
 Maid which they might desire, from the fact 
 that she w^as a prisoner of war, that they might 
 try her before an ecclesiastical tribunal for 
 witchcraft. To give an appearance of fairness 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 187 
 
 to the trial, they thought it best to bring her be- 
 fore a French bishop, if one could be found 
 ready to sell himself to the English cause. Such 
 a man was found in the person of Pierre Cau- 
 chon, Bishop of Beauvais. Joan had been made 
 a prisoner within the bounds of his diocese, and 
 upon that pretext he presented a petition for her 
 trial as a witch. The University of Paris was 
 also so influenced by the English as to join with 
 him in the petition. The j udges were appointed 
 — first, the inhuman Bishop of Beauvais, and 
 second, the vicar-general of the Inquisition, Jean 
 Lemaitre by name. These two men, heartless, 
 and sold to the English, were to decide the fate 
 of the Maid of Orleans. One hundred doctors 
 of theology were also called in to sit with them, 
 but they could simply give coijnsel, they could 
 not vote. 
 
 The enemies of the poor Maid were not con- 
 tent with forcing her to trial before a bribed 
 tribunal, they conducted the preliminaries of 
 the trial fraudulently and very wickedly. The 
 most atrocious practices were resorted to, to be- 
 tray her into unguarded disclosures. Men were 
 sent to Domremy to learn, if possible, something 
 against her character, but they returned, loaded 
 
188 THE LIFE OF 
 
 with eulogies of her, and convinced that she was 
 a pious and sincere enthusiast. First a private 
 investigation was held with Joan, the Duke of 
 Bedford hiding himself in the apartment, or 
 looking in through an aperture in the wall from 
 an adjoining room. Then a priest was sent to 
 her who professed himself to be an adherent of 
 King Charles, and a bitter enemy to the Eng- 
 lish. He professed, also, to deeply sympathise 
 with her in her sad condition. He came from 
 Lorraine. He had suft'ered in the holy cause 
 of France, he said. He then gave her false ad- 
 vice — for he was a deceiver and intended only 
 her ruin — and endeavored at least to lead her 
 to admit something to her hurt, in confidence to 
 him. Traps were laid ia- every direction to ruin 
 her. The men with whom she had to deal were 
 artful, designing and unprincipled, while she 
 was but a simple-hearted peasant. Is it strange 
 that under their tortures she at times became 
 confused ? The treatment v/hich she received, 
 so utterly lone and friendless was she, will ever 
 be a blot upon the historic fame of the English. 
 But not alone . upon the fame of the English. 
 Justly remarks Lord Mali on, while recounting 
 the devilish deeds which characterized this trial : 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 189 
 
 "But -when we find tliem nrgecl by some 
 French writers, even at tlie present day, as an 
 eternal blot upon the English name — as a still 
 subsisting cause of national resentment — we 
 may perhaps be allowed to observe, in self-de- 
 fence, that the worst wrongs of Joan were dealt 
 upon her by the hands of her own countrymen. 
 Her most bitter enemy, the Bishop of Beauvais, 
 was a Frenchman ; so was his colleague, the 
 vicar-general of the Inquisition ; so were both 
 the malignant Estivet and the perfidious L'Oise- 
 leur — the judges, the accuser, and the spy! 
 Even after this large deduction, there will still 
 remain a heavy responsibility against the Eng- 
 lish authorities — both civil and religious — 
 against the Duke of Bedford and the Cardinal 
 of Winchester." 
 
 This is all true ; and it is also true that the 
 saddest reflection which must have forced its 
 way to the hea.rt of Joan, was that the king and 
 his council, whom she had saved at the risk of 
 her life, for whom indeed she was about to die 
 — they had, as it were, deserted her in her hour 
 of agony. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 PREPARATIONS &0R TRIAL JOAN's ATTIRE THE TRIAL CON- 
 DUCT OF THE BISHOP OF BEAUVAIS NOTHING PROVED AGAINST 
 
 JOAN — SHE IS PRONOUNCED GUILTY OF WITCHCRAFT LISTENS 
 
 TO A PUBLIC SERMON SHE IS DECEIV^ED BY HER TORMENTORS 
 
 IS TAKEN BACK TO PRISON ATTEMPT TO OUTRAGE HER PERSON 
 
 SHE ASSUMES HER MALE ATTIRE IS DISCOVERED AND 
 
 DOOMED TO DIE. 
 
 The trial commenced on the 21st of February, 
 1431, in the chapel of the Castle of Eoiien, 
 She was dressed as she was wont when leading 
 the French soldiers to battle, in military attire ; 
 but over all hung the rude chains fastened upon 
 her by her captors. She still possessed the 
 courage and spirit which had characterized her 
 in the field, and though weighed down with 
 chains, yet her spirit was not crushed. ^For fif- 
 teen consecutive days she was subjected to the 
 most rigorous and embarrassing examinations. 
 Yet she bore herself bravely through them all. 
 She often manifested great shrewdness in her 
 replies to ensnaring questions. For instance, it 
 was asked : 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 191 
 
 "Do you know yourself to be in the grace of 
 God ? " If she replied in the affirmative, it was 
 determined to accuse her of presumption — if 
 in the negative, she would have been accused 
 of admitting her own guilt. Observe how 
 adroitly she replied : 
 
 " It is a great matter," she said, " to reply to 
 such a question." 
 
 Among the hundred doctors, was one Jean 
 Fabry, who pitied her, and said : 
 
 "So great a matter, that the prisoner is not 
 bound in law to answer it." The Bishop of 
 Beauvais was exceedingly angry at Fabry, and 
 said : 
 
 " You had better be silent." He then repeat? 
 ed his question to Joan : 
 
 " Do you know yourself to be in the grace of 
 God?" 
 
 " If I am not in the grace of God," she re- 
 plied, " I pray God that it may be vouchsafed 
 to me ; if I am, I pray God that I may be pre- 
 served in it." 
 
 Again an attempt was made to entrap her by 
 the question : 
 
 " Do the saints Margaret and Catharine, of 
 your vision, hate the English nation ? " If she 
 
192 THE LIFE OF 
 
 replied in tlie affirmative, it would be claimed 
 that such an imputation was blasphemous — if 
 in the negative, they would demand the reason 
 why they commanded her to wage war against 
 the English. But she baffled them by replying : 
 
 "They love whatever God loves, and hate 
 whatever he hates." 
 
 " Does God then hate the English ? " demand- 
 ed the Bishop of Beauvais, determined to em- 
 barrass her if possible. 
 
 " Whether God may love or may hate the 
 English I know not," she replied ; " but I know 
 that they shall be driven forth from this realm 
 by the king of France — all but those who shall 
 die in the field." A heroic reply, and which of 
 itself alone, should make her name famous. 
 
 The principal facts against Joan, and which 
 were relied on to prove her guilty of witchcraft, 
 were the fairy-tree at Domremy, and her banner 
 which she used in battle. It was charged that 
 she had intercourse with evil spirits under the 
 tree, and that her banner used in the battle- 
 field wrought a magical spell upon her enemies, 
 through her connection with bad spirits. She 
 replied, in reference to the tree, that she had 
 frequently been round the tree in the village 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 193 
 
 processions, but had never beheld her visions 
 there. In reference to her banner, she declared 
 that she procured it that she might not be 
 obliged to use the sword, as she did not desire 
 to kill with her owm hand, and had never done 
 so. Her inquisitors asked : 
 
 " When jou first took this banner, did you 
 ask whether it would make you victorious in 
 every battle ? " 
 
 ■She re^^lied, "The voices told me to take it 
 without fear, and that God would help me." 
 
 Again they asked, " Which gave the most 
 help — you to the banner, or the banner to 
 you?" 
 
 She replied, " Whether the victory came from 
 the banner or from me, it belonged to God 
 alone." 
 
 " Was the hope of victory founded on the ban- 
 ner or on yourself?" they asked. 
 
 " It was founded on God, and on naught be- 
 sides," she replied. 
 
 Again they asked, " If another person had 
 borne it, would the same success have followed ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell," she replied ; " I refer myself 
 to God." 
 
 " Why were you chosen sooner than another ? " 
 
 I 13 
 
194 THE LIFE OF 
 
 " It was the pleasure of God that thus a sim- 
 ple maid should put the foes of the king to 
 flight." 
 
 " "Were you not wont to say, to encourage the 
 soldiers, that all standards made in semblance 
 of yours would be fortunate ? " 
 
 " I used to say to them, ' Rush in boldly 
 among the English ! ' and then I used to rush in 
 myself." 
 
 Evans says of these trials : " Few witnesses 
 were examined against her, and none face to 
 face. The principal were some of those English 
 soldiers who were so terrified at her renown that 
 they refused to come to France to fight against 
 her. They swore that nothing but witchcraft 
 could have made them so afraid, and her very 
 judges seemed ashamed to make any use of such 
 evidence. They sought chiefly, as is still cus- 
 tomary on like occasions — for such trials, al- 
 though now very rare, do occasionally take 
 place in coi^^^tries where the Pope has power — 
 to convict her from her own mouth. 
 
 " She was kept ip. very close and severe con- 
 finement, in a stone dungeon, fettered with iron 
 chains, and poorly fed, and from time to time 
 brought out in a large iiall, where her judges 
 
JOAN OF AKC. 195 
 
 were assembled, and there questioned closely, 
 sometimes for hours together, upon all the cir- 
 cumstances of her past life. This went on, not 
 for a few days, or even weeks, but for some 
 months, and was in itself so trying, that it had 
 been no wonder if, from yery weariness and ex- 
 haustion, she had said foolish things. Some- 
 times she was brought up two or three days 
 running, and then left several days together 
 without interruption ; but she never wavered 
 in her statements, or made any variation in 
 them. She told clearly and distinctly all she 
 had said when she first went to the king. She 
 avowed all her predictions, and even added one 
 to them, saying that within seven years the 
 English would lose a much more important 
 place than Orleans. She was quite right, for 
 Paris fell into King Charles' hands in the spring 
 of 1446." 
 
 On one point Joan seemed not so clear — that 
 of her first interview with the king. Says Lord 
 Mahon : " On this topic she at first refuses to 
 answer altogether, saying that she is forbidden 
 by her voices. But afterwards she drops mys- 
 terious hints of an angel bringing a crown to 
 Charles from Heaven ; sometimes saying that 
 
196 THE LIFE OF 
 
 the king alone had beheld this vision, and some- 
 times that it had been before many witnesses. 
 In other examinations she declares that she her- 
 self was this angel ; in others, again, she appears 
 to confound the imaginary crown of the vision 
 with the real one at Rheims. In short, this was 
 clearly one mainspring of her enthusiasm, or a 
 morbid point in her mind where judgment and 
 memory had been overpowered by imagination." 
 
 But not the slightest proof was elicited of her 
 being guilty of sorcery. Such had been her 
 candor and simple honesty, that when a propo- 
 sal was made to put her to torture, hoping there- 
 by to elicit revelations tending towards a con- 
 viction, only two persons were found base enough 
 to favor it. An Englishman, who was a witness 
 to her conduct, exclaimed : 
 
 " A worthy woman — if she were only Eng- 
 lish ! " 
 
 The question of Joan's guilt or her innocence 
 was unimportant, however, to her enemies — 
 they had resolved upon her death. If she could 
 be executed with a show of justice, of course 
 they would be pleased, but it was not to admin- 
 ister justice that they commenced the prosecu- 
 tion. It was to convict her of witchcraft, arid 
 
 V 
 
JOAS OF ARC. 197 
 
 to execute her as a witcli. Her inliuman judges 
 therefore drew up against her twelve articles of 
 accusation. These were presented to the Uni- 
 versity of Paris, which body eagerly gave in its 
 confirmation. 
 
 On the 24:th day of May, 1431 — just a year 
 from the day she was taken prisoner — she was 
 brought to listen publicly to a sermon. The 
 place was the churchyard of Saint Owen, where 
 two scafifolds were erected — one for the Cardi- 
 nal of Winchester and the Bishop of Beauvais ; 
 the other for Joan and the preacher, by name 
 Evard. The sermon was full of provoking lan- 
 guage, directed at Joan, but she bore his insults 
 in silence. But when the preacher spoke of 
 King Charles as " a heretic and schismatic," she 
 exclaimed aloud : 
 
 " Speak of me, but do not speak of the king — 
 he is a good Christian. By my faith, sir, I can 
 swear to you, as my life shall answer for it, that 
 he is the noblest of all Christians, and not such 
 as you say." 
 
 The Bishop of Beauvais was very angry, and 
 directed the officers upon duty to stop her voice, 
 when the preacher proceeded. When he was 
 through, a form of abjuration was presented to 
 
 .J 
 
198 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Joan, for lier to sign. Of course she knew not 
 the meaning of the word, and it was explained 
 to her. She declared that she had nothing to 
 abjure — that what she had done was com- 
 manded by God. She was entreated ; argu- 
 ments were used to persuade her that for hei;vto 
 sign the form could not be wrong. She was 
 pointed to the public executioners, who were 
 waiting to bear her away to death, if she refused. 
 She became confused, and replied : 
 
 " I would rather sign than burn." She then 
 put her- mark to the jpaper. The wretches, how- 
 ever, who urged her to sign, were not desirous 
 of saving her life, but of an opportunity to play 
 a trick upon the hapless Maid. By deceit they 
 secured her name, not to the jpaper which had 
 'been read to her^ but to another which contained 
 a full confession of all the crimes with which 
 she was charged. This was exhibited to the 
 people to convince them of Joan's guilt, and to 
 disgrace her in their ^ight, while she, in her dun- 
 geon, was entirely unconscious of the ba^e de- 
 ception which had been praticed upon her. 
 She was now, according to this virtually forged 
 confession, submissive. The Bishop of Beauvais 
 then passed sentence upon her, which was, that 
 
JOANOFAKO. 199 
 
 slie was to remain in prison for tlie rest of her 
 life, " with the bread of grief and the water of 
 anguish for her food." 
 
 She replied,. "Well, then, ye men of the 
 church, lead me to your own prisons, and let me 
 no longer remain in the hands of these English." 
 
 That wish, however, was not destined to be 
 gratified — she was taken back to her old dun- 
 geon. Her enemies by no means had yet done 
 with her. They were in want of her blood. 
 Her life they must have. They had proved her 
 guilty of heresy, but according to the rules of 
 the church, no person could be executed on the 
 first charge, but if guilty of a relapse, the pun- 
 ishment of death could be inflicted. The slight- 
 est pretext would, of course, be instantly acted 
 upon, and that soon was not wanting. 
 
 She had, according to promise, resumed her 
 female dress. Her male costume, which had 
 been adopted because it was positively necessary 
 upon the battle-field, was now thrown aside. 
 Her judges commanded it. But, as she sat in 
 her lonely cell one day, there entered an Eng- 
 lish lord. He made base proposals to her, aye, 
 not only that, he attempted violence. A strug- 
 gle ensued, and when the infamous nobleman 
 
200 , THE LIFE OF 
 
 left, and the officers entered, slie was found with 
 her lace torn, and she was herself in tears. This 
 last outrage upon her honor was too much, and 
 her courageous spirit trembled. In her trouble 
 the voices whispered to her again, telling her to 
 resume her male costume, for it was necessary 
 as a protection against the ruffians by whom she 
 was surrounded — as a safeguard to her honor. 
 She therefore reilssumed her military dress, and 
 was discovered in it by the officers. This was a 
 sufficient pretext for the Bishop of Beauvais. 
 He repaired at once to her prison, to be con- 
 vinced of the fact. When he was satisfied, he 
 asked : 
 
 " Have you heard the voices again." 
 
 She replied, " I have ; St. Catharine and St. 
 Margaret have reproved me for my weakness in 
 signing the abjurations, and commanded me to 
 resume the dress which I wore by the appoint- 
 ment of God." 
 
 Her fate was sealed, for the bishop pro- 
 nounced her a relapsed heretic. Nothing now 
 remained but to execute her. 
 
 One of the many French historians, who have 
 written upon this subject, gives the following 
 reason for Joan's assuming the male costume, 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 201 
 
 but the one whicli we have jnst given, was 
 sworn to by the jDi'iest, who was her confessor : 
 "Although poor Joan was prevented from ta- 
 king her rest peaceably, yet human nature can- 
 not endure without sleep. It may be, too, that 
 the hearts of her keepers were not so hard as 
 those of their masters. However this be, one 
 night she slept soundly. One of the conditions 
 she had agreed to, for the permission to live, 
 was to put on women's clothes, and this she had 
 done. These clothes were, by the bishop's or- 
 ders, removed, and the clothes she had been 
 used to wear when she was free and happy, and 
 had led oii the soldiers of her king to victory, 
 were laid by her side. When she awoke she 
 had no choice but to put them on, or remain 
 the scoff of the ^rude soldiers. She dressed her- 
 self in them, perhaps sadly thinking of the days 
 that were passed. The bishop was on the watch, 
 and no sooner had he heard that she had done 
 an act contrary to her agreement, than he has- 
 tened to make himself a witness of the fact, hur- 
 ried away, and meeting the Duke of Bedford on 
 his way, told him to " make himself easy, for 
 the thing was done," proceeded to summon the 
 
 other judges, and immediately procured a sen- 
 I* 
 
202 THE LIFE OF 
 
 tence of death on Joan, as one wlio had a second 
 time disobeyed the orders of the church — as a 
 " relapsed heretic " — and her execution was 
 fixed for the next day." 
 
 De Quincey, in his essay upon Joan of Arc, 
 makes some very acute observations upon her 
 trial, which we will present here, and then pro- 
 ceed to her execution. 
 
 " ITow came her trial. This trial, moving of 
 course under English influence, was conducted 
 in chief by the -Bishop of Beauvais. He was a 
 Frenchnvan, sold to English interests, and hoping, 
 by favor of the English leaders, to reach the 
 highest preferment. Bishop that art^ Arch- 
 hisho^ that shalt he, Cardinal that may est he, 
 were the words that sounded continually in his 
 ear; and doubtless, a whisper of visions still 
 higher, of a triple crown, and feet upon the necks 
 of kings, sometimes stole into his heart. M. 
 Michelet is anxious to keep us in mind that this 
 Bishop was but an agent of the English. True. 
 But it does not better the case for his country- 
 man ; that being an accomplice in the crime, 
 making himself the leader in the persecution 
 against the helpless girl, he was willing to be all 
 this in spirit, and with the conscious vileness of 
 
JOAN OF A EC. 203 
 
 a catspaw. l^ever from the foundations of the 
 earth was there, such a trial as this, if it were 
 laid open in all its beauty of defence, and all its 
 hellishness of attack. Oh, child of France ! 
 shepherdess, peasant-girl ! trodden under foot by 
 all around thee, how I honor thy flashing intel- 
 lect, quick as God's lightning, and true as that 
 lightning to its mark, that ran before France 
 and laggard Europe by many a century, con- 
 founding the malice of the ensnarer, and making 
 dumb the oracles of falsehood ! Is it not scan- 
 dalous, is it not humiliating to civilization, that, 
 even at this day, France exhibits the horrid spec- 
 tacle of judges examining the prisoner against 
 himself ; seducing him, by fraud, into treacher- 
 ous conclusions against his own head ; using the 
 terrors of their power for extorting confession 
 from the frailty of hope ; nay, (which is worse,) 
 using the blandishments of condescension and 
 snaky kindness for thawing into compliances of 
 gratitude those whom they had failed to freeze 
 into terror? Wicked judges ! Barbarian juris- 
 prudence ! that, sitting in your own conceit on 
 the summits of social wisdom, have yet failed to 
 learn the first principles of criminal justice ; sit 
 ye humbly and with docility at the feet of this 
 
204 THE LIFE OF 
 
 girl from Domremj, that tore your webs of 
 cruelty into slireds and dust. "Would you ex- 
 amine me as a witness against myself? " was 
 the question by which, many times she defied 
 their arts. Continually she showed that their 
 interrogations were irrelevant to any business 
 before the court, or that entered into the ridicu- 
 lous charges against her. General questions 
 were proposed to her on points of casuistical di- 
 vinity ; two-edged questions which not one of 
 themselves could have answered without, on the 
 one side, landing himself in heresy (as then in- 
 terpreted,) or, on the other, in some presumptu- 
 ous expression of self-esteem. ISText came a 
 wretched Dominican that pressed her with an 
 objection, which, if applied to the Bible, would 
 tax every one of its miracles with unsoundness. 
 The monk had the excuse of never having read 
 the Bible. M. Michelet has no such excuse ; 
 and it makes one blush for him, as a philosopher, 
 to find him describing such an argument as 
 "weighty," whereas it is but a varied expression 
 of rude Mahometan metaphysics. Her answer 
 to this, if there were room to place the whole 
 in a clear light, was as shattering as it was rapid. 
 Another thought to entrap her by asking what 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 205 
 
 language the angelic visitors of her solitude had 
 talked : as though heavenly counsels could want 
 polyglott interpreters for every word, or that 
 God needed language at all in whispering 
 thoughts to a human heart. Then came a worse 
 devil, who asked her whether the archangel 
 Michael had appeared naked. Not comprehend- 
 ing the vile insinuation, Joan, whose poverty 
 suggested to her simplicity that it might be the 
 costliness or suitable robes which caused the 
 demur, asked them if they fancied God, who 
 clothed the flowers of the valleys, unable to 
 find raiment for his servants. The answer of 
 Joanna moves a smile of tenderness, but the 
 disappointment of her judges makes one laugh 
 horribly. Others succeeded by troops, who up- 
 braided her with leaving her father ; as if that 
 greater Father, whom she believed herself to 
 have been serving, did not retain the power of 
 dispensing with his own rules, or had not said, 
 that, for a less cause than martyrdom, man and 
 woman should leave both father and mother. 
 
 " On Easter Sunday, when the trial "had been 
 long proceeding, the poor girl fell so ill as to 
 cause a belief that she had been poisoned. It 
 was not poison. Nobody had any interest in 
 
206 THE LIFE OF 
 
 hastening a deatli so certain. M. Miclielet, 
 whose sympathies with all feelings are so quick 
 that one would gladly see them always as justly 
 directed, reads the case most truly. Joanna had 
 a two-fold malady. She was visited by a par- 
 oxysm of the complaint called home-sickness ^ 
 the cruel nature of her imprisonment, and its 
 length, could not but pointher solitary thoughts, 
 in darkness, and in chains, (for chained she was,) 
 to Domremy. And the season, which was the 
 most heavenly period of the spring, added stings 
 to this yearning. That was one of her maladies 
 — nostalgia^ as medicine calls it ; the other was 
 weariness and exhaustion from daily combats 
 with malice. She saw that everybody hated her, 
 and thirsted for her blood; nay, many kind- 
 hearted creatures that would have pitied her 
 profoundly as regarded all political charges, had 
 their natural feelings warped by the belief that 
 she had dealings with fiendish powers. She 
 knew she was to die ; that was not the misery ; 
 the misery was that this consummation could 
 not be reached without so much intermediate 
 strife, as if she were contending for some chance 
 (where chance was none) of happiness, or were 
 dreaming for a moment of escaping the inevita- 
 
JOAN OF AKC. 207 
 
 ble. Why, then, did slie contend? Knowing 
 that she would reap nothing from answering her 
 persecutors, why did she not retire by silence 
 from the superfluous contest? It was because 
 her quick and eager loyalty to truth would not 
 suffer her to see it darkened by frauds, which 
 she could expose, but others, even of candid lis- 
 teners, perhaps, could not; it was through that 
 imperishable grandeur of soul, which taught her 
 to submit meekly and without a struggle to her 
 punishment, but taught her not to submit — no, 
 not for a moment — ■ to calumny as to facts, or to 
 misconstruction as to motives. Besides, there 
 were secretaries all around the court taking 
 down her words. That was meant for no good 
 to her. And Joanna might say to herself— 
 these words that will be used against me to-mor- 
 row and the next day, perhaps in some nobler 
 generation may rise again for my justification. 
 Yes, Joanna, they are rising even now in Paris, 
 and for more than justification." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Joan's execution — sympathy of the spectators — her tri- 
 umphant END. 
 
 The SOth. day of May was Joan's execution- 
 day. She was but nineteen years old ; she was 
 in the bloom of her youth, and yet must die. 
 
 At daybreak, Martin L'Advenu entered her 
 cell to prepare her for her dreadful end ; for 
 she — that fair young girl, that earnest, noble 
 heart, was to be burned to ashes that day. Yes, 
 in the market-place of Eouen, before thousands, 
 she was to endure that awful martyrdom. 
 When the sentence first broke upon her ear, 
 Joan was appalled, was overcome by its terrible 
 cruelty, and for some moments cried aloud — 
 shrieked in her agony. She appealed to God 
 against the atrocious wrong about to be perpe- 
 trated upon her. In a little while she grew 
 calm, and dried her tears. She made her last 
 confession to the priest, and received the holy 
 sacrament. When this last sad ceremony was 
 over, she once more clothed herself in woman's 
 attire. There was no longer any necessity to 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 209 
 
 protect herself from the English villains ; there 
 was no longer any necessity for her armor, for 
 she was about to go and dwell with the voices ! 
 She set out for the place of' execution sur- 
 rounded by a guard of eight hundred spearmen. 
 On her way there occurred an incident too 
 touching to be overlooked. The priest who had 
 endeavored to win her confidence in her cell, on 
 purpose to ruin her, now came and knelt at her 
 feet, and implored the poor suffering victim to 
 forgive his dreadful sin. At last she came to 
 the spot where she was to die. A platform was 
 raised to a great height, surrounded by burning 
 materials, so arranged as to create currents of 
 air, which should fan the flames. The sight of 
 this pile at first struck terror into her heart. 
 She found there, ready to receive her, the Bish- 
 op of Beauvais and the Cardinal of Winchester, 
 ready to witness the agonies of their victim. A 
 sermon was then preached, when the inhuman 
 Bishop of Beauvais arose and read her sentence. 
 At this her tears again overflowed her cheeks, 
 and once more she declared her innocence. She 
 begged for a crucifix, and when one was handed 
 to her she kissed it, and placed it in her bosom. 
 The priest L'Advenu did this. The other priests 
 
 14 
 
210 T HE L I F I^ OF 
 
 shouted : " How now, priest, do you mean to 
 make us dine here 1 " They were hungry for her 
 blood. She was now tied to the stake, and upon 
 her pale brow was placed a mitre with these 
 words inscribed ; 
 
 " HERETIQUE EELAPSE, APOSTATE, IDOLATRE." 
 
 The executioner knelt and begged her forgive- 
 ness, and then applied the fatal torch. At this 
 instant the Bishop of Beauvais came very near 
 to her, whereupon she looked at him amid her 
 agony, and said : 
 
 " It is you who have brought me to this death," 
 She was right. 
 
 The flames now spread rapidly and enveloped 
 her, but still the noble L'Advenu staid at her 
 feet, trying to comfort her soul. With her last 
 breath she declared the voices were real, and 
 that in saving her king she had obeyed the will 
 of God. The flames by this time were so fierce 
 that the priest was in danger, and with a gen- 
 erosity and thoughtfulness more than human, 
 she reminded him of it, and asked him to leave 
 her alone with the flames and preserve himself. 
 As he retreated, he heard the last word floating 
 from her lips, the name of — Jesus ! 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 211 
 
 Ten thousand men wept like children ; even 
 the strong-hearted prelates wept ; and amid the 
 raging flames that young girl expired. An Eng- 
 lish soldier had laid a wager that he would 
 throw a fagot into the flames — he did so — 
 but he afterward solemnly declared that he saw 
 a dove arise from her ashes, and fly to Heaven. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE BISHOP OF BE AUVAIS — EXTRACT FROM DE QUINCKT EEYIEW 
 
 OF THE CAREER OF JOAN. 
 
 The Bishop of Beauvais has been by all civil- 
 ized nations severely condemned for the heart- 
 less part which he acted in the murder of his 
 countrywoman. De Quincey, in his essay, metes 
 out justice to the venerable murderer in the 
 following terms : 
 
 " Bishop of Beauvais I thy victim died in fire 
 upon a scaffold — thou upon a down bed. But 
 for the departing minutes of life, both are often- 
 times alike. At the farewell crisis, when the 
 gates of death are opening, and fiesh is resting 
 from its struggles, oftentimes the tortured and 
 the torturer have the same truce from carnal 
 torments ; both sink together into sleep ; to- 
 gether both, sometimes, kindle into dreams. 
 When the mortal mists were gathering fast upon 
 you two, bishop and shepherd-girl — when the 
 pavillions of life were closing up their shadowy 
 curtains about you — let us try, through the gi- 
 
JOAN OF ABO. 213 
 
 gantic gloomsj to decipher the flying features of 
 your separate visions. 
 
 The shepherd-girl that had delivered France 
 — she, from her dungeon, she, from her baiting 
 at the stake, she, from her duel with fire, as she 
 entered her last dream — saw Domremy, saw 
 the fountain of Domremy, saw the pomp of for- 
 ests in which her childhood had wandered. 
 That Easter festival, which man had denied to 
 her languishing heart — that resurrection of 
 spring-time, which the darkness of dungeons had 
 intercepted from her^ hungering after the glori- 
 ous liberty of forests — were by God given 
 back into her hands, as jewels that had been 
 stolen from her by robbers. With those, per- 
 haps, (for the minutes of dreams can stretch into 
 ages,) was given back to her by God, the bliss 
 of childhood. By special privilege, for her 
 might be created, in this farewell dream, a sec- 
 ond childhood, innocent as the first ; but not, 
 like that,^ sad with the gloom of a fearful mission 
 in the rear. This mission had now been fulfilled. 
 The storm was weathered, the spirits even of that 
 mighty storm were drawing off. The blood, that 
 she was to reckon for, had been exacted ; the 
 tears, that she was to shed in secret, had been 
 
214 THBLIFEOF 
 
 paid to the last. Tlie hatred to herself in all 
 eyes had been faced steadily, had been suffered, 
 had been survived. And in her last fights upon 
 the scaffold she had triumphed gloriously ; vic- 
 toriously she had tasted the stings of death. 
 For all, except this comfort from her farewell 
 dream, she had died — died, amidst the tears of 
 ten thousand enemies — died, amidst the drums 
 and trumpets of armies — died, amidst peals re- 
 doubling upon peals, volleys upon volleys, from 
 the saluting clarion of martyrs. 
 
 " Bishop of Beauvais ! because the guilt-biir- 
 thened man is in dreams haunted and waylaid 
 by the most frightful of his crimes, and because 
 upon that fluctuating mirror — rising (like the 
 mocking mirrors of Qnirage in Arabian deserts) 
 from the fears of death — most of all are reflected 
 the sweet countenances which the man has -laid 
 in ruins ; therefore I know. Bishop, that you, 
 also, entering your final dream, saw Domremy. 
 That fountain, of which the witnesses spoke so . 
 much, showed itself to your eyes in pure morn- 
 ing dews ; but neither dews, nor the holy dawn, 
 could cleanse away the bright spots of innocent 
 blood upon its surface. By the fountain. Bish- 
 op, you saw a woman seated, that hid her face. 
 
JOAN OF AEG. 215 
 
 But as you draw near, the woman raises her 
 wasted features. Would Domremy know them 
 again for the features of her child ? Ah, but 
 you know them, Bishop, well ! Oh, mercy ! 
 What a groan was that^ which the servants, 
 waiting outside the bishop's dream at his bed- 
 side, heard from his laboring heart, as at this 
 moment he turned away from the fountain and 
 the woman, seeking rest in the forest afar off. 
 Yet not so to escape the woman, whom once 
 again he must behold before he dies. In the 
 forests, to which he prays for pity, will he find 
 a respite ? What a tumult, what a gathering of 
 feet is there ! In glades, where only wild deer 
 should run, armies and nations are assembling ; 
 towering in the fluctuating crowds are phantoms 
 that belong to departed hours. Tliere is the 
 great English prince. Regent of France. There 
 is my Lord of Winchester, the princely cardinal, 
 that died and made no sign. There is the Bishop 
 of Beauvais, clinging to the shelter of thickets. 
 What building is that which hands so rapid are 
 raising ? Is it a martyr's scaffold ? Will they 
 burn the child of Domremy a second time ? 
 INTo : it is a tribunal that rises to the clouds ; and 
 two nations stand around it, waiting for a trial. 
 
216 THE LIFE OF 
 
 Shall my Lord of Beauvais sit again upon the 
 judgment seat, and again number the hours for 
 the innocent? Ah I no: he is the prisoner at 
 the bar. Already all is waiting ; the mighty 
 audience is gathered, the court is hurrying to 
 their seats, the witnesses are arrayed, the trum- 
 pets are sounding, the judge is going to take his 
 place. Oh ! but this is sudden. My lord, have 
 you no counsel ? " Counsel I have none : in 
 heaven above, or on earth beneath ; counsellors 
 there is none now that would take a brief from 
 me : all are silent." Is it, indeed, come to this ? 
 Alas ! the time is short, the tumult is wondrous, 
 the crowd stretches away into infinity, but yet 
 I will search in it for somebody to take your 
 brief: I know of somebody that will be your 
 counsel. Who is this that cometh from Domre- 
 my ? Who is she that cometh in bloody coro- 
 nation robes from Rheims? Who is she that 
 cometh with blackened flesh, from walking the 
 furnaces of Eouen ? This is she, the shepherd- 
 girl, counselor that had none for herself, whom 
 I chose, Bishop, for yours. It is she, I engage, 
 that shall take my lord's brief. She it is, Bish- 
 op, that would plead for you : yes. Bishop, she 
 — when heaven and earth are silent." 
 
JOAN OF AEC. 217 
 
 In reviewing calmly the career of the Maid 
 of Orleans, and her cruel death, it is impossible 
 to withhold the severest censures upon the con- 
 duct of the French king, and indeed his council 
 and the leading officers in the armj. The con- 
 duct of the English was cruel in the extreme, 
 but they have this excuse, that they were sorely 
 tempted. Joan of Arc had caused their utter de- 
 feat and ruin. Had she not arisen like an ano^el 
 of strength, to lead on and animate the French 
 forces, they would have remained the undispu- 
 ted masters of France. In a manner w^hich 
 seemed to them miraculous, Joan had caused 
 their ruin. She had crowned Charles at Eheims, 
 and unless they could make the French nation 
 believe she had been instigated by the devil, it 
 would be impossible to persuade them that 
 Charles was not the lawful monarch and ruler 
 of France. It seemed impossible for the Maid 
 to perform what she did without help, either 
 from Heaven or — the Prince of Darkness. The 
 age was a superstitious one, and the English de- 
 termined to burn Joan as an accomplice of Sa- 
 tan. Nothing can stand for a moment as an 
 apology for their act of unparalleled atrocity — 
 and yet the age was a cruel one. It was full of 
 
218 THELIFEOF 
 
 blood, full of anguish, full of persecutions. The 
 murder of the poor innocent girl at this day 
 would be an act of much greater cruelty than it 
 was in the fourteenth century. This fact is 
 scarcely a palliation of the act — it can be no 
 apology for it. 
 
 But what can be said — what single word in 
 palliation of the conduct of the French king — 
 of the French bishop — of the French statesmen, 
 and of the French officers ? The French officers 
 sold the girl who had saved them, to her bitter- 
 est enemies — the French bishop condemned her 
 to death; while the council and the king, who, 
 without her aid, would in a few months have 
 been hunted out of France — made no exer- 
 tions to save her. Ingratitude such as this is 
 more terrible than burning piles or scaffolds. 
 We know not that Joan complained of this 
 heartless course which was pursued toward her 
 by those she had risked her life and reputation 
 to benefit. It is probable she did not. She 
 must have felt it, however, very keenly — it 
 must have embittered her last moments. The 
 fires of the place of execution were not more 
 cruel than these friends of hers. It is well that 
 she never knew that the general, for whom she 
 
JOAN OF AKC. 219 
 
 risked all to relieve in his dangerous position, 
 purposely delivered lier into the hands of the 
 English. If she had known this, it must liave 
 broken her heart. The dark story of that day's 
 proceedings was not revealed, until the traitor 
 himself was sent amid his unrepented crimes, by 
 the hand of his wife, to appear at the bar of God 
 with the peasant-girl of Domremy. 
 - Of the Bishop of Beauvais we need not say 
 more, for w^e have quoted the words of another 
 upon his conduct. It is no mean punishment 
 for a man to stand forth as he does upon the 
 page of history — a man forever to be remem- 
 bered by his terrible cruelty. 
 
 And King Charles, wdio, beyond the Loire, 
 dallied with his maidens in the lap of pleasure, 
 while Joan of Arc, his savior, was burning at 
 the stake — for him history has its reward also. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE NEWS OF JOAn's DEATH REACHES DOMREMT DEATH OP HER 
 
 FATHER FURTHER HISTORY OF THE FAMILY DOMREMY IN MOD- 
 ERN TIMES THE END. 
 
 The news of Joan's execution caused the death 
 of her poor father at Domremy. Her mother 
 lived for many years after it, and was distressing- 
 ly poor. The - city of Orleans allowed her , a 
 pension of three franco a month, to enable her 
 to live. The brothers of the Maid, after her 
 death, took the name of Du Lis, from the Lily 
 of France, the king having assigned it as their 
 arms. Their lineage ended about the middle of 
 the last century. 
 
 The very cottage in which Joan dwelt with 
 her peasant-father, still exists at Domremy. 
 Montaigne describes a visit to it in his travels. 
 The front was covered with rude paintings of 
 her exploits. He also saw the shaded spot 
 where she used to retire to commune with her 
 fancies. Gradually the old house became de- 
 
JOAN OF ARC. 221 
 
 molislied, until but a single room remained ; tliat 
 however was the sleeping-room occupied b j Joan. 
 Thirty years ago it was employed as a stable, 
 but is now saved from such a desecration. The 
 council-general of the Department purchased it, 
 that so remarkable a relic of the past might be 
 saved to future generations. 
 
 Upon the bridge at Orleans a statue has been 
 raised to the memory of Joan of Arc, at the sole 
 expense of the women of that city. But the most 
 beautiful tribute to the memory of Joan, is 
 her statue in the gallery at Yersailles, by the 
 princess Mary of Wurtemberg. Mahon says 
 of it : 
 
 " Who that has ever trodden the gorgeous gal- 
 leries of Yersailles has not fondly lingered be- 
 fore that noble work of art — before that touch- 
 ing impersonation of the Christian heroine — 
 the head meekly bended, and the hands devout- 
 ly clasping the sword in sign of the cross, but 
 firm resolution imprinted on that close-pressed 
 mouth, and beaming from that lofty brow ? — 
 Whose thoughts, as he paused to gaze and gaze 
 again, might not sometimes wander from old 
 times to the present, and turn to the sculptress 
 — sprung from the same royal lineage which 
 
2^5 THE LIFB OF 
 
 Joan had risen in arms to restore — so highly 
 gifted in talent, in fortunes, in hopes of happi- 
 ness — yet doomed to an end so grievous and 
 untimely ? Thus the statue has grown to be a 
 monument, not only to the memory of the Maid, 
 but to her own : thus future generations in 
 France — all those, at least, who know how to 
 prize either genius or goodness in woman — 
 will love to blend together the two names — the 
 female artist with the female warrior — Mary 
 
 OF WUETEMBEEG and JoAN OF AeC." 
 
 Yes, the future generations of France will love 
 to repeat the name of the heroic Maid of Or- 
 leans ! And we must remember that the peojple 
 of France have ever loved her memory. While 
 she lived, the common soldiers and the common 
 people loved her, and worshiped her as a being 
 from a purer and holier sphere. If the king for- 
 got her — if the nobility laughed at her preten- 
 sions—if the French generals were jealous of 
 her fame, and therefore sought her destruction 
 — still the French people loved her devotedly. 
 They shouted her praise till the forest shook, and 
 when they knew she was a prisoner, and at last 
 a martyr, they wept at her untimely fate, and 
 taught their children to keep her memory green 
 
JOANOFAEC. 223" 
 
 iti tlieir hearts. They avenged her death also — 
 for, twenty years after its occurrence the English 
 had but a single town in all France, and that 
 was Calais. 
 
 THB END, 
 
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