menu_book Chapter 11

CHAPTER XI. Jean Dart. In northern France, the river Meuse runs through broad meadowlands, where the sun shines dimly for many months each year, and cold rolling mists sweep down upon the earth in winter, coating each twig with silver.

There, in the little village of Domremy in the year 1412, was born a girl named Jean Dart, whose father Jacques Dart was a simple peasant. When Jean Dart was born, life was hard and dangerous at Domremy. The villagers were hard put to it to protect themselves against fierce knights and noblemen who rode at the head of a rotting band to steal and plunder at will.

The peasants had to look on sadly with no hope of redress when brutal men at arms drove off their sheep or tossed the torch into their cottages, and as there was little to choose between friend and foe, the villagers stood guard on the tower of a nearby monastery and gave the alarm when any soldiers approached the town. Domremy, however, was no worse off in these respects than other towns and villages in

that far time, and it must not be thought that the village folk were holy without pleasures. Roses grew along the walls of their cottages, wine flowed from their vineyards, and there were village festivals and dances in which they loved to take part. Although they could not read or write, their priests instructed them in the history of mighty power, and in the lives of the saints and martyrs, and their teachings, how those

that obeyed the church and its priests were blessed, while those that broke its laws must surely enter the dismal fires of hell. There were also bands of players who acted the religious stories taught by the priests in so vivid a manner that the peasants were thrilled and delighted, and while their cottages were barren for, their church was glorious with gold, rich embroidery, and bright with

candlelight that gleamed upon the carven painted figures of the saints that they adored. It had been prophesied in France that from a forest near Domremy there would come a maid who would deliver the country from the perils that beset it, and when Jeanne d'Art was a little girl the time seemed right indeed for the appearance of such a deliverer. A great war had been raging between France and England.

The English had captured many French towns and laid claim to the crown itself. The French king Charles VI was quite mad, and his queen had leaked herself with the enemies of France, and her son, Prince Charles, who had been called a dauphin, had been compelled to flee to escape the English and the Burgundians. Perhaps Jeanne d'Art had heard the prophecy about the maid.

In those days the saints were believed to take sides in war with the countries that were dearest to them. The English believed in St. George, who slew the dragon, but the patron saint of France was the archangel Michael. He was portrayed in the churches of the night in shining armor with a crown above his helmet,

and sometimes he bore scales in which he weighed the souls of men. Jeanne had listened to many stories about him and to tales of other saints as well, legends of St. Margaret, who sole escaped from her persecutors in the shape of a white dove, and stories of the gracious St. Catherine, who died by the sword because she was a Christian. These tales made a great impression on her, all the more because she did not know one

letter of the alphabet from another. She was a serious child, with something about her that marked her as being different from the other children of the village, and as she grew older she grew apart from them and did not share in their games and dances. Often when her father believed her to be tending his sheep, she was kneeling in prayer.

Her girlfriends, Mangette and Joviat, urged her to share their pleasures and to give less heed to the dreams that seemed to hold her in their spell, but Jeanne persisted in her way of life and gained a reputation for piety that passed beyond her village into the neighboring countryside. When a mere child, something happened to Jeanne that was destined to shake the entire kingdom

of France. When she listened to the church bells as they rang out over the meadows, she believed that she heard heavenly voices calling her name. She was only thirteen years old when she began hearing them, and they seemed to come from the direction of the church that was near her cottage.

The first time was at noon, and a bright light appeared to her, while a grave sweet voice said, I come from heaven to help you to lead a pure and holy life. Be good, Jeannette, and God will aid you. Badly frightened, she ran into the cottage and said nothing of what happened, but a few days later the same voice called to her again, in amazement she knew it to be the voice of

an angel, and then St. Michael himself appeared to her in the light. From that time on the visions and the voices came more frequently, and it seemed to Jeanne that not only St. Michael came, but St. Margaret and St. Catherine appeared to her also, coming with bright light and speaking with sweet musical words, and they were so real that she believed she had actually touched their garments and tasted the sweet scents their

robes emitted. They began to urge her to take a strange course of action, far removed from her birth and station, and marvelous to think of, telling her that she must alter her way of life, put on an armor, and become a captain in the wars, for she was chosen by the King of Heaven to save France from its enemies, and they called her daughter of God, for Jeanne was

filled with fear and grave misgiving, for how was she a poor unlettered girl and the daughter of peasants to lead armies and wield the sword of war? In the meantime the mad Charles VI died and left his throne to be fought for by the Dauphin who was destined to become Charles VII, but this prince found his dominion so harried by war, so divided against themselves, and his path beset by so many enemies that he

was unable to go to the city of Rheim, where all French kings must be anointed with sacred oil before they could be considered to be the rightful sovereigns of France. His failure to do this added power to the English and better reason for them to claim the French crown for their young king Henry VI, whose armies had joined the Duke of Burgundy, and it became more plain each day that France would be ruled by whichever king was the first

to be crowned at Rheim. In the meantime the heavenly voices that spoke to Jeanne grew more and more insistent, telling her that she must go forth to the wars and lead the Dauphin Charles to the cathedral at Rheim to be crowned and anointed, and at last she could no longer disobey but prepare to fulfill the strange destiny that they pointed out to her.

Clad in her poor best dress, Jeanne visited a garrison of French soldiers and told their captain that heaven had called on her to lead the French to victory and to see that the Dauphin Charles was duly crowned at Rheim. For a week she remained, imploring the captain to listen to her, but gaining nothing but insults and mockery that drove her at last to return home, for the archangel Michael

and St. Catherine and St. Margaret continued to appear to her and she had no choice except to listen to their words. Then she went to the French stronghold and told the captain, whose name was Robert de Baudricourt, that if the Dauphin Charles would give her men-at-arms she would deliver the city of Orleans, which was being besieged by the English and drive the French enemy

from their strongholds in all France. At this time the captain gave heed to her and wrote the French court, telling the Dauphin of what she had said, and after many days of weary waiting he received a reply ordering that Jeanne be taken to Chenin where the Dauphin was awaiting her. This was not accomplished all at once and Jeanne had to answer many tedious and wearisome

questions, for wise men and clergymen from all over the land desired to know if she were inspired by angels or devils, and they feared that the visit she had seen might be the work of Satan himself, but they decided at last that there was a great virtue in which she had beheld, and that perhaps after all she was to be the deliverer of France that the prophets had told of.

And they decided that, as travel was dangerous and there were many rough characters on the Jeanne should go to the French court dressed as a boy, and a jerkin, a doublet, hose and gaiters were given to her. Attired in these garments accompanied by men-at-arms, Jeanne set forth on her journey and travelled for more than seventy leagues through a hostile country with enemies at every hand.

At length she came to Chenin and sent the Dauphin a letter telling him that she was sent by God to crown him as the King of France. Charles was suspicious of Jeanne and decided to see for himself if she was inspired by angels. And when he summoned her to the court he prepared a trick to deceive her.

He had one of his courtiers wear the royal robes and seat himself on the throne, while the Dauphin, disguised in humble garments, stood quietly in a group of courtiers and servants that crowded the room. When Jeanne entered she stopped for a minute and glanced about her. Then instead of going to the throne where the supposed prince was sitting, she went

straight to Charles, where he stood among his courtiers, and falling down on her knees before him, she told him that the King of Heaven had called upon her to deliver the city of Orleans from the hands of the English and to take him to Reims to be crowned. All who beheld this were amazed, for Jeanne had never seen Charles before, nor had she so much as looked upon his portrait, and Charles and his noblemen believed that this was indeed

a sign that Jeanne was guided by heavenly powers. Before they went any further, however, they put her to further tests. She was questioned again by learned doctors and ministers. The doctors were sent even to the city of Domoyami to learn about her early life. They asked her to give signs and to perform miracles, but Jeanne told them it was not

in her power to do these things. Her deeds, she declared, should answer for themselves, and before the walls of Orleans all should receive the sign that they required in the rout of the English army, and she begged them to make haste and to let her go there, for the English were battering at the walls and the besieged garrison was suffering.

In Tours Jeanne was fitted out with plain white armor and received a sword that was believed to have belonged to the great Charles Martel, who had saved France in all Christendom from the invaders several hundred years before her time. She also had a banner painted for her, snowy white with Fleur de Léon on it, and a picture of God upholding the world, with angels on each side, and then in company with skilled

captains and men of war, and with her two brothers Jean and Pierre riding behind her, Jeanne went to the city of Blois, where the army to relieve Orleans was awaiting her arrival. With priests marching at the head of the column, chanting in Latin, accompanied by captains decked in all the panoply of war, and followed by men at arms, Jean left Blois for Orleans.

She was in command of a convoy of supplies and provisions, and the larger part of her army was to come up later. There were two roads to Orleans, which was built on the margin of the River Loire. One road led directly past the English camp, the other running down to the river, where was to be gained only by bridges and boats.

Jean had desired to march directly past the English, so as to strike fear into their hearts, but her captains deemed that the other road was safer and without her knowledge guided her upon it, so that when she beheld Orleans the river was between, and she spoke bitterly to the captains for deceiving her. In God's name, she cried in anger, you deceive yourselves, not me, for I bring you more certain

aid than ever before was brought to a town or a city. It is the aid of the King of Heaven, and in truth the way that the captains had chosen in their timidity was more dangerous and uncertain than the one that Jean had chosen. The English, however, were so negligent that they allowed the entire army to enter the city in safety, and the people of Orleans rejoiced beyond words when Jean in her shining

armor appeared within the ramparts of the beleaguered town. They beat upon the door of the house where she was lodged, clamored to see her, and they so closely about her as she rode through the streets that a torch set fire to her white standards and the maid, wheeling a horse, was obliged to put it out with her own hands. On the following day Jean led two heralds with a letter to the English leaders, bidding

them to depart and to save their lives where there was time, for otherwise the French would fall upon them and slay them all, but the English laughed greatly at the letter pretending to scorn it and really believing it to be the work of a witch who was led by evil spirits. And they answered her with vile taunts and insults, and one of their captains, named Glassdale, shook his fist in her direction and shouted in a voice that reached her ears,

"'Witch, if ever we lay our hands upon you, you shall be burned alive!' Nonetheless, the English were more frightened by the sight of this young girl in white armor than they cared to admit, for they believed they were now fighting the powers of darkness, and in this way Jean's preceded the French army more good than the thousands of soldiers she brought with her.

It came to pass that soon after Jean's arrival in the city, although she was now considered the real leader of the French rather than the captains, an attack was made by the French against one of the English forts that rose without the city walls. And things went badly for the French, for the English repulsed them with great slaughter. Jean had not been told of the attack, but was asleep at the time it took place, but

the saints that watched over her appeared to her in a dream and told her that she must rise instantly and go forth against the English. When she rose she heard the hearty shouts of the English soldiers and the screams of the French who were being slaughtered. She put on her armor as quickly as possible and galloped to the scene of the fight while

with her white standard in her hand. The French were in full flight when she appeared, but their courage returned when they saw her and they ran to gather around her banner. She cried out to them that they must return to the charge and take the English fort, although the English hurled great stones upon them and fired with crossbows and cannon.

The French soldiers swarmed over the English ramparts and gained victory, and through the Like the maid stood unmoved beneath the hail of missiles that the English showered upon her followers, and she led the attack in person when the French climbed over the walls. This was only the commencement of the fighting, for the French with Jean to lead them, now commenced a determined series of attacks against the English forts that lay about the city,

and everywhere Jean and her white standard were in front rank of the battle. And she risked her life a thousand times a day. At last the French attacked one of the strongest of all of the English forts, the Bastille of Les Troyes. Before the fight began, Jeanne told the men-in-arms, who were detailed to accompany her on the

field, to stay particularly close to her that day, for, she said, I have much work to do and blood will flow from my body, above the breast. As the French approached the stronghold they were met with showers of stones and arrows. The English crossbowmen did deadly work, and the English cannon fired stone balls into the ranks of the French soldiers.

The French brought scaling ladders to mount the walls, but above them the English stood ready with boiling pitch and melted lead to hurl into the faces of those who succeeded in mounting. In spite of all these dangers, Jeanne was constantly close to the English walls, and her white standard always rose where the fighting was hottest.

When a scaling ladder was placed against the wall she was the first to mount, and was halfway up to the top when the English crossbowmen, taking careful aim, fired an arrow with such force that it pierced right through her steel coat of mail and stood out behind her shoulder. Her grip relaxed from the ladder, and she fell. A mighty cheer went up from the English, who believed that in drawing the blood of the

witch they had drawn her power, too, and for a time it seemed that this were really so for Jeanne's wound was very painful and she seemed no longer a warrior, but a pitiful little girl overcome with tears and faintness. At last, however, when her steel shirt had been removed, she grasped the arrow with her own hands and drew it from the wound, and after this she rose and insisted on donning

her armor once more. The French had seen her fall, and their courage had left them, and they were in full retreat when Jeanne returned to the battle. In God's name, she cried, writing towards them, forward once more. Do not fly when the place is almost ours.

One more brave charge, and I promise you, you shall succeed. The English were still rejoicing at what had been accomplished when, to their dismay, the French trumpets blew the charge again, and they beheld the maid with her white standard directly beneath their walls, and they considered that her return to the fight was something less than magical, and fear gripped their hearts.

The French swarmed up the scaling ladders like monkeys, leaped over the ramparts, and a horrible din arose from the interior of the fort, where amid oaths and outcries the clanger and crash of axes and the meeting shields, the English were savagely slaughtered. Glasdale, the same leader who had threatened Jeanne from the English camp, was guarding the retreat of his men as they ran across a bridge over the Loire, but the French brought

up and set fire to an old barge piled high with straw, tar, sulfur, and all kinds of inflammable material, and the only escape for the English lay directly through the flames. Jeanne, on seeing this, was smitten with great pity for her enemies. "'Yield, Glasdale, yield!' she cried. "'Thou hast called me witch!

Thou hast basely insulted me! But I have great pity on your soul!' But the brave English captain refused to give in, and continued to guard the escape of his comrades. When all had passed through the smoke and flame, he tried himself to rush across, but

the planks were now eaten through with fire and would not hold him. With a crash of breaking timbers he plunged into the river beneath, where the weight of his armor pulled him down, and he was drowned. With the capture of this English stronghold the siege of Orleans came to an end. The English saw that they were beaten, and that their months of fighting to gain the

city had availed them nothing. On the following day the French beheld them marching away in good order, and Jeanne cried out for joy. "'Let them go!' she cried, for captains who wished to pursue them. "'This is Sunday, and God does not will that you should fight to-day, but you shall have

them another time.' And the French held a solemn mass in thanksgiving for their victory. Jeanne had made good her word, and Orleans was saved. And now the maid returned to tour Sommet de Dauphin, who had been so fain hearted that he stayed out of harm's way while a girl had gone forth and fought his battles for him.

But he was very glad to see the maid, and he gave her a royal welcome, and Jeanne told him that no time was to be lost, that he must come to Reims and be crowned. At last the tardy prince yielded to her request, as Jeanne with the army sent forth once more to capture the towns that still were held by the English. And with the maid at the head of the French army, the towns of Jargaux, Mounais, and Bourg-Gensay

were soon taken. The English were so frightened by the marvelous feats performed by Jeanne that it was not long before their entire army was in full retreat towards the city of Paris. But Jeanne pursued them and defeated them in the Battle of Pathé, where the mighty English leader Talbot took prisoner.

And then Jeanne took matters into her own hands, for Charles continued to delay. She issued a proclamation to the people to come to Reims for the king's coronation, and she left the court again to join the army, where Charles was compelled to follow her. At last, through the efforts of this simple peasant girl, the sluggard Charles was crowned with divine pomp and glory in the Reims cathedral, and Jeanne in her white armor and with her

white banner floating over her to beside him through all the ceremony. The holy oil was poured on his head, and all the people shouted in rejoicing, because they now had a king. Among the spectators was Jeanne's father, who had journeyed to Reims to see his famous daughter.

All the old man's expenses were paid by the king, and when it was time for him to depart, he was given a horse to carry him back to his native village. Jeanne now desired to besiege and capture Paris, which was held by Charles' enemies, but since he had been crowned he was reluctant to make any further effort to secure his kingdom. Paris was besieged, to be sure, but only half-heartedly, for the king did not send up the necessary

reinforcements and the siege was unsuccessful. Then came months when Jeanne was forced to wait at court, where the laggard king did nothing whatever, quite content with what had already been accomplished in his behalf. It is true he gave Jeanne many presents, among other things a mantle of cloth of gold, and that many sick persons believed her to be a saint and came to touch her in order to

be cured of illnesses and suffering. But when Jeanne was asked to lay her hands upon some sufferer and cure him, she replied that his touch would be as healing as her own, for that no extraordinary power lay in her. The English and the Burgundians sought to retrieve their fortunes by capturing Compiègne,

a town that was important in its relation to Paris and as large and as strong as Orleans itself. Word of this was brought to Jeanne, and she learned also that her enemies had already appeared before the city walls. With her usual swift decision she went to help the beleaguered garrison, she arrived

before the city by secret forest paths, and succeeded in gaining an entrance to it, and One morning with about five hundred followers she rode through the city gates to do battle with the besiegers. Her force drove the Burgundians before them like chaff, and the attack would have been wholly successful if a company of English men at arms had not come up at the gallop

and attacked the French from the flank and from the rear. All of the French fled except a small band in the immediate vicinity of the Maid. They were driven back into the town with the English and the Burgundians so close on their that the archers on the walls of the town could not shoot for fear of wounding their own comrades.

Then the drawbridge was raised to keep the English from forcing an entrance, and Jeanne and her few followers were surrounded by the enemy. The maid was dressed in a scarlet and gold cloak which covered her armor, and more attention was drawn to her than usual on account of the riches of her apparel. A Burgundian archer laid hands on her and dragged her from her horse.

She was a prisoner. A great shout of triumph went up for the Burgundians, when they saw it was indeed Jeanne the maid whom they had taken, and she was brought before the Duke of Burgundy, who with great joy sent many letters abroad informing the heads of the church and the English of his good fortune.

The English were determined to get Jeanne in their power, for they had planned a cruel death for her. The Holy Inquisition likewise demanded her to receive justice at the hands of the church, and now must be recorded the blackest shameful fact that Charles made no effort to ransom Jeanne or do anything to relieve her misfortune, as might well have been possible for the French

held important English prisoners. And not content with leaving her to die, he proceeded to slight the name of the girl who had won him his throne. For in official accounts of how he had been crowned he made no reference to Jeanne at all.

Orleans was won by the grace of God, his enemies were routed by the will of Providence. Of Jeanne and her efforts in his behalf he said not one single word. Jeanne was sent from castle to castle, and confined in one prison after another. On one occasion she was jailed in a high tower, and she tried to escape by leaping from a window that was more than sixty feet above the ground, only to be picked up, insensible

and bleeding as she laid the foot of the castle wall. Then her worst enemy appeared before her. This was Pierre Cochon, the Bishop of Beauvais. He persuaded the English to buy her from her captors, so they might try her and punish her, and the sum of six thousand francs was paid by them as blood money.

Jeanne was then taken to the town of Rouen, and imprisoned in a grim and ancient castle which was already centuries old. Not content with lodging her in a damp cell, the English placed fetters on her leg, and chained her to a great log so that she must need to drag the chain about wherever she moved.

And instead of allowing her women to be her attendants, her only jailers were rough men at arms who were constantly with her. To try this simple girl came the greatest dignitaries of the realm, men aged in experience and the law, grave doctors and wise bishops, all with the single purpose of accomplishing her death.

With every advantage on their side they did not even allow a counsel for the prisoner, and when they saw that in spite of this she might be able skillfully to defend herself, they had her answer set aside as being of no importance and having no bearing on the trial. And they were right, for nothing that Jeanne said could possibly affect an issue where

the stake and the executioner were already decided upon, and when some of the spectators showed signs of pity for her youth and innocence they had the trial continued secretly in her cell. They played with her as a cat plays with a mouse, and tortured her in mind as well as in body.

And under the guise of compassion they pretended to spare her life, only in the end to tell her that the stake had been made ready and that she must come at once to the market-place to be burned. On the thirtieth day of May, 1431, Jeanne was taken from her cell by two priests and escorted by men-in-arms to the market-place of Rouen, where three scaffolds had been prepared.

On one sat the priests who had been her judges. On another Jeanne must stand and hear a sermon before she died. And on the third was a grim steak with faggots piled high for her burning, and at the top of the steak was nailed a placard that bore these words. Jeanne, who hath cost herself to be called the maid, a liar, pernicious deceiver of the

people, soothsayer, superstitious at blasphemer against God, presumptuous, miscreant, boaster, idolatrous, cruel, dissolute, and evoker of devils, apostate, schismatic, and heretic. Then with the learned doctors and churchmen drinking in the words, a sermon was read for the benefit of her soul. After it was ended the Bishop of Vauvay read the sentence, which concluded by abandoning

her to the arm of the law, for the church itself could not pronounce sentence of death. But must leave that to the civil magistrates. Neither could the clergymen behold the affliction of the sentence, and they all came down from their seats and left the market area. What followed was supposed to be too dreadful for them to see.

So Jeanne was burned, and even in her death there took place something approaching a miracle. For when the fire was extinguished her brave heart was found intact among the embers, and the frightened English threw it into the river. But the end did not come here. The enemies of Jeanne were so afraid of her power that they followed her with persecution

after she was dead and made various attempts to darken her reputation and give her memory an evil name. But they defeated their own ends. Twenty-five years later another trial was held in which the maid was pronounced to be and nearly five hundred years later in 1909 Pope Leo XIII took the first step towards

making her a saint by pronouncing her venerable. Her canonization followed in 1920. The marvels brought by Jeanne still continue, for without her there might be a different France from that which we know today. In Domremy the house of Jacques d'Arc still stands, much in the same in many ways as it

was when she beheld her visions there. In addition a splendid church has been built to her memory, not far from the village she loved, and her name and fame grow greater as time passes.