Joan of Arc

Foreword

The story told in this book is one of the most remarkable in the history of the world. Even naturally speaking, it is without parallel that a young, slight girl, an unlettered peasant, should step out of her obscurity and within the space of a few weeks should gain the ear of princes, the love and faith of a people, should rally a demoralized and defeated army , outmatch in strategy battle-seasoned warriors, and having restored a king to a rescued throne, go down herself to defeat and death.

It is a story that has appealed to many pens, that has occasioned mockery and irreverence, and that many writing in all reverence have sought to explain on natural grounds. But if we are to accept any explanation at all, it must be that of Joan herself, namely, that she was "the child of God," His prophet. His Maid, His avenger, raised up at His good pleasure to do a given task in a given way. Without the Catholic Faith, she is inexplicable. More than on her sword, she relied on the Mass; more than bread, the sacraments were her sustenance.

During the centuries since her death Joan has stood as the symbol of France, douce France la

VI FOREWORD

belle, the France of God and His Church. As religion declined and patriotism became submerged in internationalism, devotion to Joan waned; as the national spirit revived men rallied to the standard of the Maid of Orleans as they had rallied in her life-time, and to all that standard stood for, "everything that a good Christian should love." It is not too much to say that the devotion to her propagated by the works of one man, Charles Peguy, was not only instrumental in saving France in the Great War, but in saving many a soul alive that would otherwise have perished.

For since these chapters, written from Joan's own standpoint, were first published we have been given to see great things; we have seen France again invaded by the enemy, Rheims, the beloved and the effigy of Joan herself, made targets of attack; we have seen France saved again, who shall doubt through what intervention of the Maid, and finally we have seen the all but final step in the process of her canonization taken by the Church to which her final appeal was made. Do not think that it is by mere poetic justice that this year shall see her raised to the honors of the altar. That is here which was manifest throughout her life — the finger of God.

It is by something more than poetic justice, too, that these papers are given their share in the work of rehabilitation. Something of the fire of Joan's own chivalry pervades them, as well

FOREWORD Vll

as something of that hunger and thirst for justice that has finally accorded her her place among those

"White Horsemen, who ride on White Horses, the Knights of God."

Dr. Mooney's fine scholarship and charm of style were never better exemplified than in this tribute to Joan of Arc, virgin and martyr.

Blanche Mary Kelly.

New York, 19 19.

Feast of St. Joan of Arc.

Contents

PAGE

From Domremy to Chinon .... i

ILLUSTRATIONS

II From Chinon To Rheims

Jeanne the Maid, could she have had her way, would have met Charles VII. within an hour after her arrival at Chinon. Imagine then how impatiently she waited, during a whole fortnight, while the royal Council debated whether she should be admitted to the king's presence. Doubts were expressed as to the girl's sanity, and as to the saintliness of her inspiration. De Beaudricourt, was not alone in thinking that her prompter might be the devil. A committee of ecclesiastics was appointed to test her. Having done so, with much formality and caution, and being favorably affected by her manner and speech, they advised the king to grant the girl an audience.

Into the grand hall of the castle, where a

crowd of courtiers had assembled, the peasant

of Domremy was led, on the night of March lo,

1429. Purposely, the king bore no mark of

royalty; still the Maid, who now saw him for

the first time, picked him out at once saluting

him with the words: "God give you good life,

gentle prince." "What is your name?" Charles asked. "Gentle dauphin," she repHed, "my name is Jeanne the Maid, and by me the King of Heaven sends word that you shall be anointed and crowned at Rheims, and that you shall be lieutenant of the King of Heaven, who is King of France." Then she gave a proof that when she wrote to Charles of "the many excellent things she had to tell him," her words were not boastful. "I say to you, on the part of my Lord," said she, "that you are the true heir of France, and the son of the King. I am sent to you to conduct you to Rheims, in order that there you may be anointed, and crowned, if you so will."

Why should this peasant girl publicly assure Charles that he was the legitimate son of the late king? How could she know of the tormenting doubt locked up within the heart of Charles, and disclosed by him to God alone? All the secrets of which she had knowledge, Jeanne did not reveal at this first interview. A few days later, in the presence of Charles and of four of his confidants, having first sworn the latter to secrecy, she related that, on the first day of November, 1423, in the royal chapel at Loches, Charles had begged God to free his soul of the doubt of his legitimacy. Unless a messenger from God had disclosed this fact — for it was a fact — to Jeanne, she could have known nothing of it. If Charles desired a sign proving the Maid's heavenly mission, he had at least one.

Whatever the king's conviction, the royal Council still doubted. A second commission of ecclesiastics was appointed to question the girl, and a deputation of Friars Minor was despatched to Domremy, to inquire about her family, habits and reputation. Though the reports of both the friars and the doctors were favorable, the royal Council decided to carry her to Poitiers, where the king's parliament was in session. There another commission of theologians, professors, canonists and lawyers, catechized her and argued with her, displaying much art, learning and subtlety, as became men of prudence and of erudition, not unmixed with vanity. Members of parliament, courtiers, great ladies, visited her ; all observing, probing, and some spying. These official and private inquisitions ended in a general acknowledgment of Jeanne's piety, virtue, sincerity and intelligence. Without pronouncing her mission supernatural, the theologians, professors, canonists and lawyers declared that it was not impossible that God had sent her; and that, considering the alarming condition of France, the king not only might, but should employ her against his enemies.

During the month, and more, that Jeanne had been questioned, cross-questioned, sounded and curiously inspected, her heart was strained almost to breaking; nor could she help resenting a method that seemed to her witless, if not absurd. There was she, sent by God, vowed to Him — she who had left a dear mother, a good father, brothers, a sister, loved companions, the garden, the sheep, the fireside, home and her cherished shrines; she, a Maid, who — having dofifed maiden attire — donned armor, and risked a long and dangerous journey among men, among enemies — was eager to rescue the city of Orleans, to crown a king, to save France, and yet, instead of accepting her promptly, instead of following her lead and fighting the English, not a man had sense enough to do more than ply her with interrogatories, just as if she were trying for a university degree! She wept often, but it was when alone, kneeling before God. Facing men she was calm, firm, fearless. Through prayer, she knew that God was with her; and that, therefore, she could not be overmatched. Assuming that Jeanne had no special aid from heaven, one could not help attributing to her rare gifts of mind. She was quick of understanding, farsighted, ready of speech, direct, witty. The bachelors of law, the licentiates in theology, who were tempted to be smart at her expense, regretted, with reason, their callow impertinence. For hours at a sitting, solemn, dull clerics, bored her with questions as futile as that of Master Peter, who, though her faith in God was constantly expressed, asked her: "Do you believe in God?" Naturally, the more

26 JOAN 0^ ARC

he reflected upon her answer : "Better than you," the more he doubted her mission. "You say," — thus another learned ecclesiastic tried her — "You say that you have had a revelation that God desires to deliver the people of France from the evils that oppress them. If God so desires, being all-powerful, He has no need of the aid of men-at-arms." One can see the Maid's pitying look, as she answered: "In God's name the men-at-arms will fight, and God will give the victory." Once, aweary of their prosy inquiries, she exclaimed : "I don't know A from B ; but I am sent by God to raise the siege of Orleans and to conduct the king to Rheims, in order that there he may be anointed and crowned."

In this answer, according to the books, she spoke of Charles as "the king"; but such was not her custom. Generally, she named him, "the dauphin," a title applied, at the time, to the heir to the French throne. As we have already seen, in 1422, six days after his father's death, Charles had assumed the title of king. Neither he, nor any of those who met Jeanne could help noting that she spoke of Charles as if he were, in 1429, no more than an heir expectant. They may have thought her ignorant of the meaning of the term she commonly used, but she disabused them. "Why do you call the king dauphin and not king?" she was asked at Poitiers. "I will not call him king" she replied, "until after he has been anointed and crowned at Rheims, whither I have a mission to conduct him." There is a whole treatise on kingly government in Jeanne's speeches. Would that kings and peoples had learned from them! The King of Heaven, is indeed the sovereign of every land. The Christian who would be a lieutenant of the King of Heaven, should bear the King's sign on his forehead, before wearing a bauble crown. The gift of the King of kings, freely given. He may, at will, withdraw. What kings may lose, peoples may lose. The proud He puts down; the humble He uplifts.

At Poitiers, as at Chinon and at Vaucouleurs, the people had not waited for the decision of Council or commission. They saw and noted the girl; devout, prudent, frank, great-hearted, showing more spirit than king or courtier. That she was heaven-sent they doubted not. When the royal Council recommended that Jeanne the Maid should be put in charge of an army corps, and sent to Orleans to victual the city and supply the besieged with arms, there was great rejoicing. A word had passed around and Durant Laxart was the authority. More than a year back, rumor said, Jeanne had spoken to Durant of an old prophecy, that he, and all his countryfolk had heard again and again. Its purport was, that the Kingdom of France should be ruined through a woman, and then saved by a young girl from Lorraine. Through a woman, Isabeau, the unnatural mother of Charles, had not the kingdom been ruined? And Jeanne the Maid, was not she from Lorraine? Seventeen is young, and Jeanne was but seventeen.

From Poitiers they led her to Chinon, thence to Blois, and finally to Tours, where she arrived towards the end of April, 1429. During her stay at Blois, the king gave her a complete set of armor, and empowered her to organize a military staff becoming to a leader. On this staff she appointed her two younger brothers, Jean and Pierre d'Arc, who had affectionately followed her. As her chaplain she chose Jean Pasquerel, an Augustinian. Robert de Beaudricourt had presented her with a sword, when she set out from Vaucouleurs. At the suggestion of one of her saints, she put aside the captain's weapon and used another in its stead. The village from which, on the way to Chinon, Jeanne wrote to the king, was known as Ste. Catherine de Fierbois, and so it is called this very day. To the church, founded by Charles Martel and dedicated to Ste. Catherine, pious pilgrims were wont to resort.

Of a morning, while at Tours, Jeanne summoned a skilful armorer. "Take this letter," said she, "to the priests of Ste. Catherine de Fierbois. Following my directions, they will find a sword buried behind the altar. Bring it to me." The priests had never heard of the mysterious sword. However, they upturned the earth back of the altar, and, wonderful to relate, not far below the surface discovered a sword. The weapon was covered with rust. They cleaned the blade and polished the five crosses that ornamented the guard. Then the armorer carried the sword to Jeanne. Some folk said that Charles Martel himself had wielded the weapon; but Jeanne called it Catharine's sword. In the Maid's hands we shall see it do braver work than Charles Martel ever did, and better work, for, often as she fought, Jeanne never shed one drop of human blood.

The battles she was to fight, in the name of the Lord, the Maid determined to wage only with the aid of Christian soldiers. And that no one should doubt upon whom she depended for victory, she gave orders for a standard having a white ground strewn with lilies, and on this ground a painted image of the God of Majesty throned on clouds, and bearing in His hand the globe; beneath, adoring, were two angels holding lilies. Inscribed on the standard were the words: "J^^us, Mary." Another and a smaller standard she also designed. This one bore a figure of the Blessed Virgin, to whom an angel offered a lily. To these Jeanne added a banner upon which was portrayed an image of Christ on the Cross.

Though no worse than that of the fighting men of any prince of the time, the discipline of the French king's army was not creditable to a Christian country. Blasphemy, murder, robbery, incendiarism, even rape, were common crimes. At Blois, by Jeanne's orders, every morning and evening the banner bearing the image of the crucified Christ was set up in a public place; and beneath the banner Jeanne and her chaplain, with the priests of the city, sang hymns to the Mother of God. And as the soldiers gathered around the banner to join in the devotions, the Maid questioned each one: "Have you confessed?" If the answer were negative, the Maid ordered the man to withdraw, or forthwith to confess to one of the priests at hand. And with the sword of St. Catharine she performed a glorious deed, for she drove out of the camp a woman who was neither the mother, nor wife, nor child, nor sister, nor relative of any man there. As the Maid pursued hotly the blade broke in her hands, but no sword in so short a time did braver work than the sword of St. Catharine. Within a few days Jeanne had a new army, an army of decent men, all devoted to her, just because, by her example and teaching, she had helped them to be Christian.

At length, all things being ready, on April 2^, in the morning, the army set out from Blois to rescue Orleans. Preceding Jeanne, who, seated

JOAN OF ARC RECEIVING HER DIVINE MISSION on a white steed, held aloft proudly the banner of the God of Majesty, walked the priests chanting the hymn: "Come, Holy Ghost." A day's march, a night under the sky, an early reveille, and marching again till past mid-day, they saw Orleans in the distance. The Bastard of Orleans, with a detachment of troops, met Jeanne's force. "I bring you," said she to him, "the best succor ever sent to knight or to city, for it is the succor of the King of Heaven." The night was passed inactively, because the leaders deemed daylight more favorable to their enterprise. Coming by the left bank of the Loire, the provisions could only reach Orleans by means of boats. The citizens of Orleans made a feint of attacking one of the English forts. The effort was wasted. Jeanne's men worked undisturbed, and before night-fall of the same day, the twenty-ninth, Orleans was revictualled and reinforced. By the light of torches, the banner of the God of Majesty in front, Jeanne entered Orleans amid the glad welcomes of the inhabitants. Her armor, the trappings of her horse, they touched reverently, as if she were a messenger of the Lord. And she, gentle and grateful, led the way to the Cathedral, there to thank God for His favor.

Jeanne marched to Orleans, I said, along the left bank of the Loire, but the road was net of her choosing. The king's officers who accompanied her feared to risk the road leading along the right bank, because there the EngHsh were in force. "In the name of God," exclaimed Jeanne, "the counsel of my Lord is surer and wiser than yours." Where the English were, the Maid would be. Was not she commissioned by her Lord to drive them out? Why then shoiild she fear? The sooner done, the better. To save words, she yielded to the timid, but having entered Orleans, she was unwilling to let one day pass without assailing the enemy.

Again the timid opposed. All but two hundred of her army insisted on returning to Blois. Soon they would come back, so they promised. Not a day beyond the first of May would she wait. The people were ready to follow her anywhere at any hour. Along the whole of the right bank of the river she tested the strength of the English on two successive days. Early in the morning, on the fourth of the month, her Christian soldiers returned from Blois. Before mid-day they engaged the enemy and captured one of the strongest of the English forts. On the sixth, at the head of four thousand men, she sallied forth again. Before sundown two other forts had fallen. At night, the English burned a third which they dare not defend. After Mass, on the morning of the seventh, at the head of a company of soldiers and citizens, Jeanne rode up to one of the city gates, meaning to lead an attack on another English fort. The gate was closed and a high official informed her that the Council of War forbade her exit without their permission. "You are a bad man," cried the Maid, "whether that please you or not, the soldiers shall go out of the city, and they will conquer as they have conquered." The great man was flung aside, the gates were forced, and Jeanne and her troops assailed the English once more.

Then the Council of War gained courage. Soldiers hurried from the city, the guns opened fire. All day besiegers and besieged fought desperately. Night fell, and still they fought. At last the strongest of the enemy's forts surrendered. Early on the morning of Sunday, the eighth of May, forsaking their wounded, their provisions, their artillery, the English deserted all their posts, retreating. Orleans was saved. The city that had been besieged for seven months, and that had offered to surrender, so hopeless was its case, had been victualled, reinforced, and freed from all danger within nine days. The succor brought by Jeanne the Maid, the succor of the King of Heaven, was indeed the best succor ever sent to knight or to city.

"Are the English facing us as they flee, or do you see only their backs?" asked Jeanne, "They show their backs," was the answer. Then said

Jeanne: "Let them go; my Lord does not wish us to fight them today. We shall have them at another time." Thereupon, in a field they set up an altar, by her order, and the whole army worshipped at two Masses of thanksgiving.

As they hurried to Jargeau, the English leaders must have recalled the words of Jeanne's summons, issued from Blois before she opened the campaign. Against the foreigner, or the Burgundian, she bore no hate. The latter she hoped to unite to Charles; the former she would fight, only if they refused to acknowledge the rights of the lawful sovereign. "Give up," thus she wrote to the English, "the keys of all the good cities taken in France to the Maid sent by

God, the King of Heaven I am sent

here by God, the King of Heaven, to cast you

out of the whole of France And if you

will not believe the news that God sends you by the Maid, wherever we shall find you we shall hit you hard, and if you do not make satisfaction, we will create a tumult the like of which has not been in France for a thousand years. And believe firmly that the God of heaven will send the Maid a greater force than you can assemble against her and her gallant men, and when it comes to blows we shall see who has the best

right, God or you Answer whether you

desire to make peace in the city of Orleans, and, should you not do so, remember that soon you shall suffer great losses." They laughed at her, reviled her; but the seventeen-year-old girl had hit hard; great losses they had suffered, unexpectedly. Would she drive them out of the whole of France?

"Child of God, go on, go on, go on ! I will aid you, go on." Thus a voice spoke to Jeanne. On the second day after the flight of the English from Orleans, standard in hand, she set out for Tours. The king must be crowned forthwith at Rheims, as her Lord desired. Charles went forth to meet her, and meeting, embraced her before all the people. Ten days were passed at Tours, then the king accompanied her to Loches. The royal Council hesitated to advise Charles to venture on a journey to Rheims. "Let me go against the English," said the Maid, when she found she could move neither king nor Council. They had discharged her good soldiers, and six weeks passed before another force was gathered.

On June 6, she rode forth from the town of Selles, this time mounted on a black horse, armored all but her head, and holding in her hand a small axe. She reached Orleans on the ninth. Two days later she hurried to Jargeau, where the English, strongly fortified, blocked the way. At once, the Maid attacked. The fight was bloody, the English lost heavily. Those who could, escaped. Jargeau was in the king's hands. On the thirteenth Jeanne re-entered Orleans ; on the fifteenth she was once again in the saddle. At the bridge of Meung, on the Loire, she came up with the English, attached and defeated them. The following morning she was in front of Beaugency. Not awaiting an attack, the English abandoned the city and fell back on the castle.

Early on the seventeenth she learned that a force of five thousand men, sent by Bedford to crush her, was near at hand. That night the garrison of the castle of Beaugency capitulated. At daylight Jeanne went in search of the army of five thousand. The English had determined to fight near the town of Meung. News came to them of the fate of Beaugency. The leaders took fright and ordered a retreat. On the plains close to Patay, the Maid came up with them. "Have you spurs on?" asked she of the Duke of Alengon. "Why," said he, "must we flee?" "No," answered she, "in the name of God, the English will show their backs and you will need your spurs to follow them." And so it proved; two thousand of them were killed, two hundred made prisoners the others ran like frightened hares. Dismayed, the English evacuated fortress after fortress. The Maid had kept her word, and, wherever she met them, had hit them hard. The God of heaven had sent a greater force than they could assemble against her or her gallant men. Verily, God has the best right.

Nine days — and Orleans was saved; eight days more — and the EngHsh power was weakened, the EngHsh spirit broken; better still, the. courage, the patriotism of the French were renewed. Could it be that for these extraordinary achievements Jeanne deserved little credit ! Had she been merely a pretty figure in armor, a romantic "daughter of the regiment," who was permitted to play soldier in order to kindle a false enthusiasm among ignorant and superstitious men? Positively, No! At Orleans, and in the valley of the Loire, there were capable men and bold, the best blood of France;. men of education, training, ambition. The Maid had learned to spin, sew, dig, and pray, but no more. When the king presented her with a suit of armor, she put it on gladly, little knowing how her tender flesh would suffer from the weight and pressure of the metal. And yet, to the astonishment of the graybeards — as they frankly testified — this green girl disposed an army with a science beyond theirs, though some of them had fought and led a good thirty years. Her tactics no contemporary had equalled. When she entered the field, artillery was a novelty ; still, this did not hinder the spinner of Domremy from handling a battery more skilfully than the best trained gunner. In what military school was she so quickly and thoroughly educated? In the school of her saints, the Maid said.

At Orleans, when veterans fled she stood firm, holding aloft her standard. More than once, when panic meant ruin, she rallied panicky troops. Fearless, she carried the banner of the God of Majesty up to the enemy's wall. On the memorable day that, against the will of the royal Council, she forced her way through the city gate, just as she had planted a scaling-ladder against the rampart of an English fort, an arrow pierced her above the breast. She had foretold the event on the preceding day, and a long time back, at Chinon. Still she had not spared herself. Strong-hearted as she was, the girl could not hold back her tears when she saw her blood flowing. They drew out the arrow head and dressed the wound, whereupon she returned to lead her men, as though she felt no pain.

During the eight days' campaign on the Loire, again and again did she display her chivalrous spirit. The dukes, marshals, captains, were all pusillanimous, ever seeking delay, ever timorous of the enemy's strength and doubtful of their own. While they palavered, Jeanne, standard in hand, would face the men-at-arms and give the order: "To the assault! Fear not, be bold; God is our leader!" Thus the Maid forced the fighting. At Jargeau, as, with her standard, she was mounting a ladder, a heavy stone, striking her helmet, stunned her. The moment she recovered, up she rose in the ditch, urging the men: "Friends, at them! At them! Courage! Our Lord has condemned the EngHsh ; even now they are ours !" "In the name of God," said she^ on the road to Patay, "we must fight; we should have them even if they were hanging half way between earth and sky."

At Domremy, she had been brought up to dig, to spin, to sew, to tend sheep. A from B she did not know, and yet, in all France, there was no braver soldier, no more intelligent, skilful, dashing leader of men than Jeanne the Maid. If her saints did not instruct her, if God did not aid her, pray who did?

"I am sent by God to raise the siege of Orleans and to conduct the king to Rheims, in order that there he may be anointed and crowned." Her mission was still unfulfilled. The will of God, Jeanne was anxious, promptly and completely to execute. She had hoped, and so had the people, that, after the victory at Patay, Charles would come to Orleans, uniting with soldiers and subjects in their solemn thanksgiving and in their festal rejoicings ; but the king remained at Sully, a short thirty miles away, seemingly careless of God's will and unmindful of God's mercy. The Maid hastened to him, urging him to set out for Rheims without delay. Charles consulted the royal Council and they debated as usual.

Finally on June 22, Jeanne induced him to advance a dozen miles to Chateauneuf. There the royal Council, having argued, duly consented to the Maid's wishes. She galloped to Orleans, gathered her army corps, and, on the twenty-fourth, marched to Gien, where she met the dauphin. As the king and the Council insisted on another leisurely discussion, Jeanne left them to talk and advanced by herself. Two days later Charles followed her with twelve thousand men. By July fifth they had reached Troyes. A number of lesser places had acknowledged Charles from day to day. But Troyes was garrisoned by English and Burgundian soldiers and refused to admit a French force into the city.

After a five days' siege the royal Council advised Charles to waste no more time on such obstinate people. Was it not better to proceed to Rheims, having as little trouble as possible. Jeanne protested. "Gentle King of France," said she, "this city is yours. Remain here two or three days and without any doubt it will be in your power, through love or by force." They gave way to the girl. Then she mounted her horse, called out the men-at-arms, and set them to making entrenchments and disposing artillery. All night they labored. In the morning, Jeanne, bearing the standard of the God of Majesty, was about to lead the army in an assault against the walls, when, from the gates of the city, a deputation advanced offering to capitulate. Amid the plaudits of citizens and soldiers, Charles and Jeanne entered Troyes triumphantly. Next Chalons surrendered.