E-text prepared by Martin Robb
A HEROINE OF FRANCE
The Story of Joan of Arc
by
EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN
Contents
CHAPTER I. HOW I FIRST HEARD OF THE MAID.
CHAPTER II. HOW I FIRST SAW THE MAID.
CHAPTER III. HOW THE MAID CAME TO VAUCOULEURS.
CHAPTER IV. HOW THE MAID WAS TRIED AND TESTED.
CHAPTER V. HOW THE MAID JOURNEYED TO CHINON.
CHAPTER VI. HOW THE MAID CAME TO THE KING.
CHAPTER VII. HOW THE MAID WAS HINDERED; YET MADE PREPARATION.
CHAPTER VIII. HOW THE MAID MARCHED FOR ORLEANS.
CHAPTER IX. HOW THE MAID ASSUMED COMMAND AT ORLEANS.
CHAPTER X. HOW THE MAID LED US INTO BATTLE.
CHAPTER XI. HOW THE MAID BORE TRIUMPH AND TROUBLE.
CHAPTER XII. HOW THE MAID RAISED THE SIEGE.
CHAPTER XIII. HOW THE MAID WON A NEW NAME.
CHAPTER XIV. HOW THE MAID CLEARED THE KING'S WAY.
CHAPTER XV. HOW THE MAID RODE WITH THE KING.
CHAPTER XVI. HOW THE MAID ACCOMPLISHED HER MISSION.
CHAPTER XVII. HOW THE MAID WAS PERSUADED.
CHAPTER XVIII. HOW I LAST SAW THE MAID.
CHAPTER I. HOW I FIRST HEARD OF THE MAID.
"The age of Chivalry--alas!--is dead. The days of miracles are pastand gone! What future is there for hapless France? She lies in thedust. How can she hope to rise?"
Sir Guy de Laval looked full in our faces as he spoke these words,and what could one reply? Ah me!--those were sad and sorrowful daysfor France--and for those who thought upon the bygone glories ofthe past, when she was mistress of herself, held high her head, andwas a power with hostile nations. What would the great Charlemagnesay, could he see us now? What would even St. Louis of blessedmemory feel, could he witness the changes wrought by only a centuryand a half? Surely it were enough to cause them to turn in theirgraves! The north lying supine at the feet of the Englishconqueror; licking his hand, as a dog licks that of his master,lost to all sense of shame that an English infant in his cradle (soto speak) should rule through a regent the fair realm of France,whilst its own lawful King, banished from his capital and from halfhis kingdom, should keep his Court at Bourges or Chinon, passinghis days in idle revelry, heedless of the eclipse of formergreatness, careless of the further aggressions threatened by theever-encroaching foe.
Was Orleans to fall next into the greedy maw of the Englishadventurers? Was it not already threatened? And how could it besaved if nothing could rouse the King from his slothfulindifference? O for the days of Chivalry!--the days so long goneby!
Whilst I, Jean de Novelpont, was musing thus, a curious lookovershadowed the face of Bertrand de Poulengy, our comrade andfriend, with whom, when we had said adieu to Sir Guy a few milesfarther on, I was to return to Vaucouleurs, to pay a long-promisedvisit there. I had been journeying awhile with Sir Guy in Germany,and he was on his way to the Court at Chinon; for we were all ofthe Armagnac party, loyal to our rightful monarch, whether King oronly Dauphin still, since he had not been crowned, and had adoptedno truly regal state or authority; and we were earnestly desirousof seeing him awaken from his lethargy and put himself at the headof an army, resolved to drive out the invaders from the land, andbe King of France in truth as well as in name. But so far it seemedas though nothing short of a miracle would effect this, and thedays of miracles, as Sir Guy had said, were now past and gone.
Then came the voice of Bertrand, speaking in low tones, as a manspeaks who communes with himself; but we heard him, for we wereriding over the thick moss of the forest glade, and the horses'feet sank deep and noiseless in the sod, and our fellows had fallenfar behind, so that their laughter and talk no longer broke uponour ears. The dreamy stillness of the autumn woodlands was aboutus, when the songs of the birds are hushed, and the light fallsgolden through the yellowing leaves, and a glory more solemn thanthat of springtide lies upon the land.
Methinks there is something in the gradual death of the year whichattunes our hearts to a certain gentle melancholy; and perchancethis was why Sir Guy's words had lacked the ring of hopeful braverythat was natural to one of his temperament, and why Bertrand's eyeswere so grave and dreamy, and his voice seemed to come from faraway.
"And yet I do bethink me that six months agone I did behold a scenewhich seems to me to hold within its scope something of miracle andof mystery. I have thought of it by day, and dreamed of it bynight, and the memory of it will not leave me, I trow, so long asbreath and being remain!"
We turned and looked at him--the pair of us--with eyes whichquestioned better than our tongues. Bertrand and I had beencomrades and friends in boyhood; but of late years we had been muchsundered. I had not seen him for above a year, till he joined usthe previous Wednesday at Nancy, having received a letter I didsend to him from thence. He came to beg of me to visit him at hiskinsman's house, the Seigneur Robert de Baudricourt of Vaucouleurs;and since my thirst for travel was assuaged, and my purse somethingover light to go to Court, I was glad to end my wanderings for thenonce, in the company of one whom I still loved as a brother.
From the first I had noted that Bertrand was something graver andmore thoughtful than had been his wont. Now I did look at him withwonder in my eyes. What could he be speaking of?
He answered as though the question had passed my lips.
"It was May of this present year of grace," he said, "I mind it thebetter that it was the Feast of the Ascension, and I had kept fastand vigil, had made my confession and received the Holy Sacramentearly in the day. I was in my lodging overlooking the market place,and hard by the Castle which as you know hangs, as it were, overthe town, guarding or threatening it, as the case may be, when amessenger arrived from my kinsman, De Baudricourt, bidding me to acouncil which he was holding at noon that day. I went to himwithout delay; and he did tell me a strange tale.
"Not long since, so he said, an honest prud'homme of theneighbouring village of Burey le Petit, Durand Laxart by name, hadasked speech with him, and had then told him that a young niece ofhis, dwelling in the village of Domremy, had come to him a few dayssince, saying it had been revealed to her how that she was to beused by the God of Heaven as an instrument in His hands for theredemption of France; and she had been told in a vision to go firstto the Seigneur de Baudricourt, who would then find means wherebyshe should be sent to the Dauphin (as she called him), whom she wasto cause to be made King of France."
"Mort de Dieu!" cried Sir Guy, as he gazed at Bertrand with a lookbetwixt laughter and amaze, "and what said your worshipful uncle tothat same message?"
"At the first, he told me, he broke into a great laugh, and bid thehonest fellow box the girl's ears well, and send her back to hermother. But he added that the man had been to him once again, andhad pleaded that at least he would see his niece before sending heraway; and since by this time he was himself somewhat curious to seeand to question this village maiden, who came with so strange atale, he had told Laxart to bring her at noon that very day, and hedesired that I and certain others should be there in the hall withhim, to hear her story, and perhaps suggest some shrewd questionwhich might help to test her good faith."
"A good thought," spoke Sir Guy, "for it is hard to believe inthese dreamers of dreams. I have met such myself--they talk greatswelling words, but the world wags on its way in spite of them.They are no prophets; they are bags of wind. They make a stir and acommotion for a brief while, and then they vanish to be heard of nomore."
"It may be so," answered Bertrand, whose face was grave, and
whosesteadfast dark-blue eyes had taken a strange shining, "I can onlyspeak of that which I did see and hear. What the future may holdnone can say. God alone doth know that."
"Then you saw this maid--and heard her speech. What looked shelike?--and what said she?"
"I will tell you all the tale. We were gathered there in the greathall. There were perhaps a score of us; the Seigneur at the head ofthe council table, the Abbe Perigord on his right, and the Count ofLa Roche on his left. There were two priests also present, and thechiefest knights and gentlemen of the town. We had all beenlaughing gaily at the thought of what a village maid of butseventeen summers--or thereabouts--would feel on being introducedinto the presence of such a company. We surmised that she wouldshrink into the very ground for shame. One gentleman declared thatit was cruel to ask her to face so many strangers of condition somuch more exalted than her own; but De Baudricourt cried out, 'Whyman, the wench is clamouring to be taken to the King at his Court!If she cannot face a score of simple country nobles here, how canshe present herself at Chinon? Let her learn her place by a sharplesson here; so may she understand that she had best return to herdistaff and spindle and leave the crowning of Kings to otherhands!' And it was in the midst of the roar of laughter whichgreeted this speech that the door opened slowly--and we saw themaid of whom we had been talking."
"And she doubtless heard your mirth," spoke I, and he bent his headin assent.
"I trow she did," he answered, "but think you that the ribald jestsof mortal men can touch one of the angels of God? She stood for amoment framed in the doorway, and I tell you I lie not when Ideclare that it seemed to all present as though a halo of purewhite light encircled her. Where the light came from I know not;but many there were, like myself, who noted it. The far end of thehall was dim and dark; but yet we saw her clear as she movedforward. Upon her face was a shining such as I have seen upon noneother. She wore the simple peasant dress of her class, with thecoif upon her head; yet it seemed to me--ay, and to others too--asthough she was habited in rich apparel. Perchance it was that whenone had seen her face, one could no longer think upon her raiment.If a queen--if an angel--if a saint from heaven stood in statelycalm and dignity before one's eyes, how could we think of theraiment worn? We should see nothing but the grandeur and beauty ofthe face and form!"
"Mort de Dieu!" cried Sir Guy with his favourite oath, "but youlook, good Bertrand, as though you had gazed upon some vision fromthe unseen world!"
"Nay," he answered gravely, "but I have looked upon the face of onewhom God has visited through His saints. I have seen the reflectionof His glory in human eyes; and so I can never say with others thatthe days of miracles are past."
Bertrand spoke with a solemnity and earnestness which could not butimpress us deeply. Our eyes begged him to continue, and he told therest of his tale very simply.
"She came forward with this strange shining in her eyes. She bentbefore us with simple reverence; but then lifted herself up to herfull height and looked straight at De Baudricourt without boldnessand without fear, as though she saw in him a tool in the hand ofGod, and had no other thought for him besides.
"'Seigneur,' she said, 'my Lord has bidden me come to you, that youmay send me to the Dauphin; for He has given me a message to himwhich none else may bear; and He has told me that you will do it,therefore I know that you will not fail Him, and your laughtertroubles me not.'
"'Who is your Lord, my child?' asked De Baudricourt, not laughingnow, but pulling at his beard and frowning in perplexity.
"'Even the Lord of Heaven, Sire,' she answered, and her handsclasped themselves loosely together whilst her eyes looked upwardwith a smile such as I have seen on none other face before. 'Hethat is my Lord and your Lord and the Lord of this realm of France.But it is His holy will that the Dauphin shall be its King, andthat he shall drive back the English, and that the crown shall beset upon his head. And this, with other matters which are for hisear alone I am sent to tell him; and you, good my lord, are he whoshall send me to my King.'
"Thus she spoke, and looked at us all with those shining eyes ofhers; yet it seemed to me she scarce saw us. Her glance did gobeyond, as though she were gazing in vision upon the things whichwere to be."
"She was beautiful, you say?" asked Sir Guy, whose interest waskeenly aroused; but who, I saw, was doubtful whether Bertrand hadnot been deceived by some witchery of fair face and graceful form;for Bertrand, albeit a man of thews and sinews and bold as a lionin fight, was something of the dreamer too, as warriors in all ageshave sometimes been.
"Yes--as an angel of God is beautiful," he answered, "ask me not ofthat; for I can tell you nothing. I know not the hue of her hair orof her eyes, nor what her face was like, nor her form, save thatshe was tall and very slender; but beautiful--ah yes!--with thebeauty which this world cannot give; a beauty which silenced everyflippant jest, shamed every scoffing thought, turned ridicule intowonder, contempt into reverence. Whether this wonderful maiden camein truth as a messenger of God or no, at least not one present butsaw well that she herself believed heart and soul in her divinecommission."
"And what answer did the Seigneur de Baudricourt make to her?"
"He gazed upon her full for awhile, and then he suddenly asked ofher, 'And when shall all these wonders come to pass?'
"She, with her gaze fixed still a little upwards, answered, 'Beforemid-Lent next year shall succour reach him; then will the city ofOrleans be in sore straight; but help shall come, and the Englishshall fly before the sword of the Lord. Afterwards shall theDauphin receive consecration at Rheims, and the crown of Franceshall be set upon his head, in token that he is the anointed of theLord.'
"'And who has told you all this, my child?' asked De Baudricourtthen, answering gently, as one speaks within a church.
"'Mes voix,' she answered, speaking as one who dreams, and indreaming listens.
"'What voices?' asked De Baudricourt, 'and have you naught butvoices to instruct you in such great matters?'
"'Yes, Sire,' she answered softly, 'I have seen the great ArchangelMichael, his sword drawn in his hand; and I know that he has drawnit for the deliverance of France, and that though he has chosen sohumble an instrument as myself, yet that to him and to the Lord ofHeaven will he the victory and the glory.'
"When she had thus spoken there was a great silence in the hall, inwhich might have been heard the fall of a pin, and I vow thatwhether it were trick of summer sunshine or no, the light about themaiden seemed to grow brighter and brighter. Her face was justslightly uplifted as one who listens, and upon her lips there was asmile.
"'And I know that you will send me to the Dauphin, Robert deBaudricourt,' she suddenly said, 'because my voices tell me so.'
"We all looked at De Baudricourt, who sat chin on hand, gazing atthe maiden as though he would read her very soul. We waited,wondering, for him to speak At last he did.
"'Well, my girl, I will think of all this. We have till next year,by your own showing, ere these great things shall come to pass. Soget you home, and see what your father and mother say to all this,and whether the Archangel Michael comes again or no. Go home--be agood girl, and we will see what we will see.'"
"Was that all he promised?" spoke Sir Guy with a short laugh. "Itrow the maiden dreamer would not thank him for that word! Adeliverer of princes to be bidden to go home and be a good girl!What said she to that counsel?"
"Ay, well you may ask," spoke Bertrand with subdued emotion. "Justsuch a question sprang to my lips as I heard my kinsman's answer. Ilooked to see her face fall, to see sparks of anger flash from hereyes, or a great disappointment cloud the serene beauty of hercountenance. But instead of this a wonderful smile lighted it, andher sweet and resonant voice sounded clear through the hall.
"'Ah, now Seigneur, I know you for a good and true man! You speakas did my voices when first I heard them. "Jeanne, sois bonne etsage enfant; va souvent a l'eglise"; that was their first messageto me, when I was but a child; and now you say the same to me--be agood girl.
Thus I know that your heart is right, and that when myLord's time is come you will send me with His message to theDauphin.'
"And so saying she bent again in a modest reverence before us. Yetlet me tell you that as she did so, every man of us sprang to hisfeet by an impulse which each one felt, yet none could explain. Asone man we rose, and bowed before her, as she retired from the hailwith the simple, stately grace of a young queen. Not till the doorhad closed behind her did we bethink us that it was to a humblepeasant girl we had paid unconscious homage. We who had thought shewould well-nigh sink to the dust at sight of us, had been made tofeel that we were in the presence of royalty!"
"Tu Dieu! but that is a strange story!" quoth Sir Guy with knittedbrows. "For many a long day I have heard nought so strange! Whatthink you of it yourself, good Bertrand? For by my troth you speaklike a man convinced that a miracle may even yet be wrought forFrance at the hand of this maid."
"And if I do, is that so strange? Cannot it be that the good Godmay still speak through His saints to the sons of men, and mayraise up a deliverer for us, even as He did in the days of old forHis chosen people? Is His arm shortened at all? And is it meet thatwe Christian knights should trust Him less than did the Jews ofold?"
Sir Guy made no reply, but fell into thought, and then asked asudden question:
"Who is this peasant maid of whom you speak? And where is she now?Is she still abiding content at home, awaiting the time appointedby her visions?"
"I trow that she is," answered Bertrand. "I did hear that she wenthome without delay, as quietly as she had come. Her name is Jeanned'Arc. She dwells in the village of Domremy over yonder. Her fatheris an honest prud'homme of the place. She has brothers and asister. She is known in the village as a pious and gentle maid,ever ready to tend the sick, hold vigil for the dead, take chargeof an ailing child, or do any such simple service for theneighbours. She is beloved of all, full of piety and good works,constant in attendance at church, regular in her confession and atmass. So much have I heard from her kinsman Laxart, though for mineown part I have not seen her again."
"And what thinks De Baudricourt of her mission? Does he ever speakof it?"
"Not often; and yet I know that he has not forgotten it. Forofttimes he does sink into a deep reverie; and disjointed wordsbreak from him, which tell me whither his thoughts have flown.
"At the first he did say to me, 'Let the girl go home; let us seeif we hear more of her. If this be but a phantasy on her part; ifshe has been fasting and praying and dreaming, till she knows notwhat is true and what is her own imagining, why, time will cure herof her fancies and follies. If otherwise--well, we will see whenthe time comes. To act in haste were to act with folly.'
"And so he dismissed the matter, though, as I say, he doth notforget it, and I think never a day comes but he thinks on it."
"And while the Lord waits, the English are active!" cried Sir Guywith a note of impatience in his voice. "They are alreadythreatening Orleans. Soon they will march in strength upon it. Andif that city once fall, why what hope is there even for suchremnants of his kingdom as still remain faithful south of theLoire? The English will have them all. Already they call our Kingin mockery 'the King of Bourges;' soon even that small domain willbe reft away, and then what will remain for him or for us? If thevisions of the maiden had been true, why doth not the Lord strikenow, before Salisbury of England can invest the city? If Orleansfall, all is lost!"
"But Jeanne says that Orleans shall be saved," spoke Bertrand in alow voice, "and if she speaks sooth, must not she and we alikeleave the times and seasons in the hand of the Lord?"
Sir Guy shrugged his shoulders, and gave me a shrewd glance, themeaning of which I was at no loss to understand. He thought thatBertrand's head had been something turned, and that he had become avisionary, looking rather for a miracle from heaven than fordeliverance from the foe through hard fighting by loyal menmarching under the banner of their King. Truth we all knew wellthat little short of a miracle would arouse the indolent anddiscouraged Charles, cowed by the English foe, doubtful of his ownright to call himself Dauphin, distrustful of his friends,despairing of winning the love or trust of his subjects. But couldit indeed be possible that such a miracle could be wrought, and byan instrument so humble as a village maid--this Jeanne d'Arc?
But the time had come when we must say adieu to our comrade, andturn ourselves back to Vaucouleurs, if we were not to be benightedin the forest ere we could reach that place. We halted for ourserving men to come up; and as we did so Bertrand said in a lowvoice to Sir Guy:
"I pray you, Seigneur de Laval, speak no word to His Majesty ofthis maid and her mission, until such time as news may reach him ofher from other sources."
"I will say no word," answered the other, smiling, and so with manyfriendly words we parted, and Bertrand and I, with one servantbehind us, turned our horses' heads back along the road by which wehad come.
"Bertrand," I said, as the shadows lengthened, the soft dusk fellin the forest, and the witchery of the evening hour fell upon myheart, "I would that I could see this maiden of whom you speak,this Jeanne d'Arc of the village of Domremy."
He turned and looked me full in the face; I saw his eyes glow andthe colour deepen in his cheeks.
"You would not go to mock, friend Jean de Metz?" he said, for so Iam generally named amongst my friends.
"Nay," I answered truthfully, "there is no thought of mockery in myheart; yet I fain would see the Maid."
He paused awhile in thought and then made answer:
"At least we may ride together one day to Domremy; but whether orno we see the Maid will be according to the will of Heaven."
A Heroine of France: The Story of Joan of Arc Page 1
