and drawers, and was subsequently interred at the church of Notre-Dame de
Montereau, without winding-sheet and without pall over his grave."

[Illustration: '"Into the River!"'----77]

The enmities of the Orleannese and the Armagnacs had obtained
satisfaction; but they were transferred to the hearts of the Burgundians.
After twelve years of public crime and misfortune the murder of Louis of
Orleans had been avenged; and should not that of John of Burgundy be, in
its turn?  Wherever the direct power or the indirect influence of the
Duke of Burgundy was predominant, there was a burst of indignation and
vindictive passion.  As soon as the Count of Charolais, Philip,
afterwards called the Good, heard at Ghent, where he happened at that
time to be, of his father's murder, he was proclaimed Duke of Burgundy.
"Michelle," said he to his wife, sister of the _dauphin_, Charles, "your
brother has murdered my father."  The princess burst into tears; but the
new duke calmed her by saying that nothing could alter the love and
confidence he felt towards her.  At Troyes Queen Isabel showed more anger
than any one else against her son, the _dauphin_; and she got a letter
written by King Charles VI. to the dowager Duchess of Burgundy, begging
her, her and her children, "to set in motion all their relatives,
friends, and vassals to avenge Duke John."  At Paris, on the 12th of
September, the next day but one after the murder, the chancellor, the
parliament, the provost royal, the provost of tradesmen, and all the
councillors and officers of the king assembled, "together with great
number of nobles and burgesses and a great multitude of people," who all
swore "to oppose with their bodies and all their might the enterprise of
the criminal breakers of the peace, and to prosecute the cause of
vengeance and reparation against those who were guilty of the death and
homicide of the late Duke of Burgundy."  Independently of party-passion,
such was, in Northern and Eastern France, the general and spontaneous
sentiment of the people.  The _dauphin_ and his councillors, in order to
explain and justify their act, wrote in all directions to say that,
during the interview, Duke John had answered the _dauphin_ "with mad
words .  .  .  He had felt for his sword in order to attack and outrage
our person, the which, as we have since found out, he aspired to place in
subjection .  .  .  but, through his own madness, met death instead."
But these assertions found little credence, and one of the two knights
who were singled out by the _dauphin_ to accompany him on to the bridge
of Montereau, Sire de Barbazan, who had been a friend of the Duke of
Orleans and of the Count of Armagnac, said vehemently to the authors of
the plot, "You have destroyed our master's honor and heritage, and I
would rather have died than be present at this day's work, even though I
had not been there to no purpose."  But it was not long before an event,
easy to foresee, counterbalanced this general impression and restored
credit and strength to the _dauphin_ and his party.  Henry V., King of
England, as soon as he heard about the murder of Duke John, set himself
to work to derive from it all the advantages he anticipated.  "A great
loss," said he, "is the Duke of Burgundy; he was a good and true knight
and an honorable prince; but through his death we are by God's help at
the summit of our wishes.  We shall thus, in spite of all Frenchmen,
possess Dame Catherine, whom we have so much desired."  As early as the
24th of September, 1419, Henry V. gave full powers to certain of his
people to treat "with the illustrious city of Paris and the other towns
in adherence to the said city."  On the 17th of October was opened at
Arras a congress between the plenipotentiaries of England and those of
Burgundy.  On the 20th of November a special truce was granted to the
Parisians, whilst Henry V., in concert with Duke Philip of Burgundy, was
prosecuting the war against the _dauphin_.  On the 2d of December the
bases were laid of an agreement between the English and the Burgundians.
The preliminaries of the treaty, which was drawn up in accordance with
these bases, were signed on the 9th of April, 1420, by King Charles VI.,
and on the 20th communicated at Paris by the chancellor of France to the
parliament and to all the religious and civil, royal and municipal
authorities of the capital.  After this communication, the chancellor and
the premier president of parliament went with these preliminaries to
Henry V. at Pontoise, where he set out with a division of his army for
Troyes, where the treaty, definitive and complete, was at last signed and
promulgated in the cathedral of Troyes, on the 21st of May, 1420.

Of the twenty-eight articles in this treaty, five contained its essential
points and fixed its character: 1st. The King of France, Charles VI.,
gave his daughter Catherine in marriage to Henry V., King of England.
2d. "Our son, King Henry, shall place no hinderance or trouble in the way
of our holding and possessing as long as we live, and as at the present
time, the crown, the kingly dignity of France, and all the revenues,
proceeds, and profits which are attached thereto for the maintenance of
our state and the charges of the kingdom.  3d. It is agreed that
immediately after our death, and from that time forward, the crown and
kingdom of France, with all their rights and appurtenances, shall belong
perpetually and shall be continued to our son King Henry and his heirs.
4th. Whereas we are, at most times, prevented from advising by ourselves
and from taking part in the disposal of the affairs of our kingdom, the
power and the practice of governing and ordering the commonweal shall
belong and shall be continued, during our life, to our son King Henry,
with the counsel of the nobles and sages of the kingdom who shall obey us
and shall desire the honor and advantage of the said kingdom.  5th. Our
son King Henry shall strive with all his might, and as soon as possible,
to bring back to their obedience to us, all and each of the towns,
cities, castles, places, districts, and persons in our kingdom that
belong to the party commonly called of the _dauphin_ or Armagnac."

This substitution, in the near future, of an English for the French
kingship; this relinquishment, in the present, of the government of
France to the hands of an English prince nominated to become before long
her king; this authority given to the English prince to prosecute in
France, against the _dauphin_ of France, a civil war; this complete
abdication of all the rights and duties of the kingship, of paternity
and of national independence; and, to sum up all in one word, this
anti-French state-stroke accomplished by a king of France, with the
co-operation of him who was the greatest amongst French lords, to the
advantage of a foreign sovereign--there was surely in this enough to
excite the most ardent and most legitimate national feelings.  They did
not show themselves promptly or with a blaze.  The fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, after so many military and civil troubles, had
great weaknesses and deep-seated corruption in mind and character.
Nevertheless the revulsion against the treaty of Troyes was real and
serious, even in the very heart of the party attached to the Duke of
Burgundy.  He was obliged to lay upon several of his servants formal
injunctions to swear to this peace, which seemed to them treason.  He had
great difficulty in winning John of Luxembourg and his brother Louis,
Bishop of Therouenne, over to it.  "It is your will," said they; "we will
take this oath; but if we do, we will keep it to the hour of death."
Many less powerful lords, who had lived a long while in the household of
Duke John the Fearless, quitted his son, and sorrowfully returned to
their own homes.  They were treated as Armagnacs, but they persisted in
calling themselves good and loyal Frenchmen.  In the duchy of Burgundy
the majority of the towns refused to take the oath to the King of
England.  The most decisive and the most helpful proof of this awakening
of national feeling was the ease experienced by the _dauphin_, who was
one day to be Charles VII., in maintaining the war which, after the
treaty of Troyes, was, in his father's and his mother's name, made upon
him by the King of England and the Duke of Burgundy.  This war lasted
more than three years.  Several towns, amongst others, Melun, Crotoy,
Meaux, and St. Riquier, offered an obstinate resistance to the attacks of
the English and Burgundians.  On the 23d of March, 1421, the _dauphin_'s
troops, commanded by Sire de la Fayette, gained a signal victory over
those of Henry V., whose brother, the Duke of Clarence, was killed in
action.  It was in Perche, Anjou, Maine, on the banks of the Loire, and
in Southern France, that the _dauphin_ found most of his enterprising and
devoted partisans.  The sojourn made by Henry V. at Paris, in December,
1420, with his wife, Queen Catherine, King Charles VI., Queen Isabel, and
the Duke of Burgundy, was not, in spite of galas and acclamations, a
substantial and durable success for him.  His dignified but haughty
manners did not please the French; and he either could not or would not
render them more easy and amiable, even with men of note who were
necessary to him.  Marshal Isle-Adam one day went to see him in camp on
war-business.  The king considered that he did not present himself with
sufficient ceremony.  "Isle-Adam," said he, "is that the robe of a
marshal of France?"  "Sir, I had this whity-gray robe made to come hither
by water aboard of Seine-boats."  "Ha!" said the king, "look you a prince
in the face when you speak to him?"  "Sir, it is the custom in France,
that when one man speaks to another, of whatever rank and puissance that
other may be, he passes for a sorry fellow, and but little honorable, if
he dares not look him in the face."  "It is not our fashion," said the
king; and the subject dropped there.  A popular poet of the time, Alan
Chattier, constituted himself censor of the moral corruption and
interpreter of the patriotic paroxysms caused by the cold and harsh
supremacy of this unbending foreigner, who set himself up for king of
France, and had not one feeling in sympathy with the French.  Alan
Chartier's _Quadriloge invectif_ is a lively and sometimes eloquent
allegory, in which France personified implores her three children, the
clergy, the chivalry, and the people, to forget their own quarrels and
unite to save their mother whilst saving themselves; and this political
pamphlet getting spread about amongst the provinces did good service to
the national cause against the foreign conqueror.  An event more powerful
than any human eloquence occurred to give the _dauphin_ and his partisans
earlier hopes.  Towards the end of August, 1422, Henry V.  fell ill; and,
too stout-hearted to delude himself as to his condition, he thought no
longer of anything but preparing himself for death.  He had himself
removed to Vincennes, called his councillors about him, and gave them his
last royal instructions.  "I leave you the government of France," said he
to his brother, the Duke of Bedford, "unless our brother of Burgundy have
a mind to undertake it; for, above all things, I conjure you not to have
any dissension with him.  If that should happen God preserve you from it!
--the affairs of this kingdom, which seem well advanced for us, would
become bad."  As soon as he had done with politics he bade his doctors
tell him how long he had still to live.  One of them knelt down before
his bed and said, "Sir, be thinking of your soul; it seemeth to us that,
saving the divine mercy, you have not more than two hours."  The king
summoned his confessor with the priests, and asked to have recited to him
the penitential psalms.  When they came to the twentieth versicle of the
_Miserere,--Ut oedificentur muri Hierusalem_ (that the walls of Jerusalem
may be built up),--He made them stop.  "Ah!" said he, "if God had been
pleased to let me live out my time, I would, after putting an end to the
war in France, reducing the _dauphin_ to submission or driving him out of
the kingdom in which I would have established a sound peace, have gone to
conquer Jerusalem.  The wars I have undertaken have had the approval of
all the proper men and of the most holy personages; I commenced them and
have prosecuted them without offence to God or peril to my soul."  These
were his last words.  The chanting of the psalms was resumed around him,
and he expired on the 31st of August, 1422, at the age of thirty-four.  A
great soul and a great king; but a great example also of the boundless
errors which may be fallen into by the greatest men when they pursue with
arrogant confidence their own views, forgetting the laws of justice and
the rights of other men.

On the 22d of October, 1422, less than two months after the death of
Henry V., Charles VI., King of France, died at Paris in the forty-third
year of his reign.  As soon as he had been buried at St. Denis, the Duke
of Bedford, regent of France according to the will of Henry V., caused a
herald to proclaim, "Long live Henry of Lancaster, King of England and of
France!"  The people's voice made very different proclamation.  It had
always been said that the public evils proceeded from the state of
illness into which the unhappy King Charles had fallen.  The goodness he
had given glimpses of in his lucid intervals had made him an object of
tender pity.  Some weeks yet before his death, when he had entered Paris
again, the inhabitants, in the midst of their sufferings and under the
harsh government of the English, had seen with joy their poor mad king
coming back amongst them, and had greeted him with thousand-fold shouts
of "Noel!"  His body lay in state for three days, with the face
uncovered, in a hall of the hostel of St. Paul, and the multitude went
thither to pray for him, saying, "Ah! dear prince, never shall we have
any so good as thou Wert; never shall we see thee more.  Accursed be thy
death!  Since thou dost leave us, we shall never have aught but wars and
troubles.  As for thee, thou goest to thy rest; as for us, we remain in
tribulation and sorrow.  We seem made to fall into the same distress as
the children of Israel during the captivity in Babylon."

[Illustration: The Body of Charles VI. lying in State----84]

The people's instinct was at the same time right and wrong.  France had
yet many evil days to go through and cruel trials to endure; she was,
however, to be saved at last; Charles VI. was to be followed by Charles
VII. and Joan of Arc.




CHAPTER XXIV.----THE HUNDRED YEARS' WAR.--CHARLES VII. AND JOAN
OF ARC.  1422-1461.

[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF JOAN OF ARC----85]

Whilst Charles VI. was dying at Paris, his son Charles, the _dauphin_,
was on his way back from Saintonge to Berry, where he usually resided.
On the 24th of October, 1422, at Mehun-sur-Yevre, he heard of his
father's death.  For six days longer, from the 24th to the 29th of
October, he took no style but that of regent, as if he were waiting to
see what was going to happen elsewhere in respect of the succession to
the throne.  It was only when he knew that, on the 27th of October, the
parliament of Paris had, not without some little hesitation and
ambiguity, recognized "as King of England and of France, Henry VI., son
of Henry V. lately deceased," that the _dauphin_ Charles assumed on the
30th of October, in his castle of Mehun-sur-Yevre, the title of king, and
repaired to Bourges to inaugurate in the cathedral of that city his reign
as Charles VII.

[Illustration: The Shepherdess of Domremy----90]

He was twenty years old, and had as yet done nothing to gain for himself,
not to say anything of glory, the confidence and hopes of the people.  He
passed for an indolent and frivolous prince, abandoned to his pleasures
only; one whose capacity there was nothing to foreshadow, and of whom
France, outside of his own court, scarcely ever thought at all.  Some
days before his accession he had all but lost his life at Rochelle by the
sudden breaking down of the room in the episcopal palace where he was
staying; and so little did the country know of what happened to him that,
a short time after the accident, messengers sent by some of his partisans
had arrived at Bourges to inquire if the prince were still living.  At a
time when not only the crown of the kingdom, but the existence and
independence of the nation, were at stake, Charles had not given any
signs of being strongly moved by patriotic feelings.  "He was, in person,
a handsome prince, and handsome in speech with all persons, and
compassionate towards poor folks," says his contemporary Monstrelet; "but
he did not readily put on his harness, and he had no heart for war if he
could do without it."  On ascending the throne, this young prince, so
little of the politician and so little of the knight, encountered at the
head of his enemies the most able amongst the politicians and warriors of
the day in the Duke of Bedford, whom his brother Henry V. had appointed
regent of France, and had charged to defend on behalf of his nephew,
Henry VI., a child in the cradle, the crown of France, already more than
half won.  Never did struggle appear more unequal or native king more
inferior to foreign pretender.

Sagacious observers, however, would have easily discerned in the cause
which appeared the stronger and the better supported many seeds of
weakness and danger.  When Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, heard at
Arras, that Charles VI. was dead, it occurred to him immediately that if
he attended the obsequies of the English King of France he would be
obliged, French prince as he was, and cousin-german of Charles VI., to
yield precedence to John, Duke of Bedford, regent of France, and uncle of
the new king, Henry VI.  He resolved to hold aloof, and contented himself
with sending to Paris chamberlains to make his excuses and supply his
place with the regent.  On the 11th of November, 1422, the Duke of
Bedford followed alone at the funeral of the late king of France, and
alone made offering at the mass.  Alone he went, but with the sword of
state borne before him as regent.  The people of Paris cast down their
eyes with restrained wrath.  "They wept," says a contemporary, "and not
without cause, for they knew not whether for a long, long while they
would have any king in France."  But they did not for long confine
themselves to tears.  Two poets, partly in Latin and partly in French,
Robert Blondel, and Alan Chartier, whilst deploring the public woes,
excited the popular feeling.  Conspiracies soon followed the songs.  One
was set on foot at Paris to deliver the city to king Charles VII., but it
was stifled ruthlessly; several burgesses were beheaded, and one woman
was burned.  In several great provincial cities, at Troyes and at Rheims,
the same ferment showed itself, and drew down the same severity.  William
Prieuse, superior of the Carmelites, was accused of propagating
sentiments favorable to the _dauphin_, as the English called Charles VII.
Being brought, in spite of the privileges of his gown, before John
Cauchon, lieutenant of the captain of Rheims [related probably to Peter
Cauchon, Bishop of Beauvais, who nine years afterwards was to sentence
Joan of Arc to be burned], he stoutly replied, "Never was English king of
France, and never shall be."  The country had no mind to believe in the
conquest it was undergoing; and the Duke of Burgundy, the most puissant
ally of the English, sulkily went on eluding the consequences of the
anti-national alliance he had accepted.

Such being the disposition of conquerors and conquered, the war, though
still carried on with great spirit, could not, and in fact did not, bring
about any decisive result from 1422 to 1429.  Towns were alternately
taken, lost, and retaken, at one time by the French, at another by the
English or Burgundians; petty encounters and even important engagements
took place with vicissitudes of success and reverses on both sides.  At
Crevant-sur-Yonne, on the 31st of July, 1423, and at Verneuil, in
Normandy, on the 17th of August, 1424, the French were beaten, and their
faithful allies, the Scots, suffered considerable loss.  In the latter
affair, however, several Norman lords deserted the English flag, refusing
to fight against the King of France.  On the 26th of September, 1423, at
La Gravelle, in Maine, the French were victorious, and Du Guesclin was
commemorated in their victory.  Anne de Laval, granddaughter of the great
Breton warrior, and mistress of a castle hard by the scene of action,
sent thither her son, Andrew de Laval, a child twelve years of age, and,
as she buckled with her own hands the sword which his ancestor had worn,
she said to him, "God make thee as valiant as he whose sword this was!"
The boy received the order of knighthood on the field of battle, and
became afterwards a marshal of France.  Little bands, made up of
volunteers, attempted enterprises which the chiefs of the regular armies
considered impossible.  Stephen de Vignolles, celebrated under the name
of La Hire, resolved to succor the town of Montargis, besieged by the
English; and young Dunois, the bastard of Orleans, joined him.  On
arriving, September 5, 1427, beneath the walls of the place, a priest was
encountered in their road.  La Hire asked him for absolution.  The priest
told him to confess.  "I have no time for that," said La Hire; "I am in a
hurry; I have done in the way of sins all that men of war are in the
habit of doing."  Whereupon, says the chronicler, the chaplain gave him
absolution for what it was worth; and La Hire, putting his hands
together, said, "God, I pray Thee to do for La Hire this day as much as
Thou wouldst have La Hire do for Thee if he were God and Thou wert La
Hire."  And Montargis was rid of its besiegers.  The English determined
to become masters of Mont St. Michel au peril de la mer, that abbey built
on a rock facing the western coast of Normandy and surrounded every day
by the waves of ocean.  The thirty-second abbot, Robert Jolivet, promised
to give the place up to them, and went to Rouen with that design; but one
of his monks, John Enault, being elected vicar-general by the chapter,
and supported by some valiant Norman warriors, offered an obstinate
resistance for eight years, baffled all the attacks of the English, and
retained the abbey in the possession of the King of France.  The
inhabitants of La Rochelle rendered the same service to the king and to
France in a more important case.  On the 15th of August, 1427, an English
fleet of a hundred and twenty sail, it is said, appeared off their city
with invading troops aboard.  The Rochellese immediately levied upon
themselves an extraordinary tax, and put themselves in a state of
defence; troops raised in the neighborhood went and occupied the heights
bordering on the coast; and a bold Breton sailor, Bernard de Kercabin,
put to sea to meet the enemy, with ships armed as privateers.  The
attempt of the English seemed to them to offer more danger than chance of
success; and they withdrew.  Thus Charles VII. kept possession of the
only seaport remaining to the crown.  Almost everywhere in the midst of a
war as indecisive as it was obstinate local patriotism and the spirit of
chivalry successfully disputed against foreign supremacy the scattered
fragments of the fatherland and the throne.

In order to put an end to this doubtful condition of events and of minds,
the Duke of Bedford determined to aim a grand blow at the national party
in France and at her king.  After Paris and Rouen, Orleans was the most
important city in the kingdom; it was as supreme on the banks of the
Loire as Paris and Rouen were on those of the Seine.  After having
obtained from England considerable re-enforcements commanded by leaders
of experience, the English commenced, in October, 1428, the siege of
Orleans.  The approaches to the place were occupied in force, and
bastilles closely connected one with another were constructed around the
walls.  As a set-off, the most valiant warriors of France, La Hire,
Dunois, Xaintrailles, and the Marshal La Fayette threw themselves into
Orleans, the garrison of which amounted to scarcely twelve hundred men.
Several towns, Bourges, Poitiers, and La Rochelle, sent thither money,
munitions, and militia; the states-general, assembled at Chinon, voted an
extraordinary aid; and Charles VII. called out the regulars and the
reserves.  Assaults on the one side and sorties on the other were begun
with ardor.  Besiegers and besieged quite felt that they were engaged in
a decisive struggle.  The first encounter was unfortunate for the
Orleannese.  In a fight called the Herring affair, they were unsuccessful
in an attempt to carry off a supply of victuals and salt fish which Sir
John Falstolf was bringing to the besiegers.  Being a little discouraged,
they offered the Duke of Burgundy to place their city in his hands, that
it might not fall into those of the English; and Philip the Good accepted
the offer, but the Duke of Bedford made a formal objection: "He didn't
care," he said, "to beat the bushes for another to get the birds."
Philip in displeasure withdrew from the siege the small force of
Burgundians he had sent.  The English remained alone before the place,
which was every day harder pressed and more strictly blockaded.  The
besieged were far from foreseeing what succor was preparing for them.

This very year, on the 6th of January, 1428, at Domremy, a little village
in the valley of the Meuse, between Neufchateau and Vaucouleurs, on the
edge of the frontier from Champagne to Lorraine, the young daughter of
simple tillers of the soil, "of good life and repute, herself a good,
simple, gentle girl, no idler, occupied hitherto in sewing or spinning
with her mother, or driving afield her parent's sheep, and sometimes,
even, when her father's turn came round, keeping for him the whole flock
of the commune," was fulfilling her sixteenth year.  It was Joan of Arc,
whom all her neighbors called Joannette.  She was no recluse; she often
went with her companions to sing and eat cakes beside the fountain by the
gooseberry-bush, under an old beech, which was called the fairy-tree: but
dancing she did not like.  She was constant at church, she delighted in
the sound of the bells, she went often to confession and communion, and
she blushed when her fair friends taxed her with being too religious.  In
1421, when Joan was hardly nine, a band of Anglo-Burgundians penetrated
into her country, and transferred thither the ravages of war.  The
village of Domremy and the little town of Vaucouleurs were French, and
faithful to the French king-ship; and Joan wept to see the lads of her
parish returning bruised and bleeding from encounters with the enemy.
Her relations and neighbors were one day obliged to take to flight, and
at their return they found their houses burned or devastated.  Joan
wondered whether it could possibly be that God permitted such excesses
and disasters.  In 1425, on a summer's day, at noon, she was in her
father's little garden.  She heard a voice calling her, at her right
side, in the direction of the church, and a great brightness shone upon
her at the same time in the same spot.  At first she was frightened, but
she recovered herself on finding that "it was a worthy voice;" and, at
the second call, she perceived that it was the voice of angels.  "I saw
them with my bodily eyes," she said, six years later, to her judges at
Rouen, "as plainly as I see you; when they departed from me I wept, and
would fain have had them take me with them."  The apparitions came again
and again, and exhorted her "to go to France for to deliver the kingdom."
She became dreamy, rapt in constant meditation.  "I could endure no
longer," said she, at a later period, "and the time went heavily with me
as with a woman in travail."  She ended by telling everything to her
father, who listened to her words anxiously at first, and afterwards
wrathfully.  He himself one night dreamed that his daughter had followed
the king's men-at-arms to France, and from that moment he kept her under
strict superintendence.  "If I knew of your sister's going," he said to
his sons, "I would bid you drown her; and, if you did not do it, I would
drown her myself."  Joan submitted: there was no leaven of pride in her
sublimation, and she did not suppose that her intercourse with celestial
voices relieved her from the duty of obeying her parents.  Attempts were
made to distract her mind.  A young man who had courted her was induced
to say that he had a promise of marriage from her, and to claim the
fulfilment of it.  Joan went before the ecclesiastical judge, made
affirmation that she had given no promise, and without difficulty gained
her cause.  Everybody believed and respected her.

[Illustration: Joan of Arc in her Father's Garden----91]

In a village hard by Domremy she had an uncle whose wife was near her
confinement; she got herself invited to go and nurse her aunt, and
thereupon she opened her heart to her uncle, repeating to him a popular
saying, which had spread indeed throughout the country: "Is it not said
that a woman shall ruin France, and a young maid restore it?"  She
pressed him to take her to Vaucouleurs to Sire Robert de Baudricourt,
captain of the bailiwick, for she wished to go to the _dauphin_ and carry
assistance to him.  Her uncle gave way, and on the 13th of May, 1428, he
did take her to Vaucouleurs.  "I come on behalf of my Lord," said she to
Sire de Baudricourt, "to bid you send word to the _dauphin_ to keep
himself well in hand, and not give battle to his foes, for my Lord will
presently give him succor."  "Who is thy lord?"  asked Baudricourt.  "The
King of Heaven," answered Joan.  Baudricourt set her down for mad, and
urged her uncle to take her back to her parents "with a good slap o' the
face."

In July, 1428, a fresh invasion of Burgundians occurred at Domremy, and
redoubled the popular excitement there.  Shortly afterwards, the report
touching the siege of Orleans arrived there.  Joan, more and more
passionately possessed with her idea, returned to Vaucouleurs.  "I must
go," said she to Sire de Baudricourt, "for to raise the siege of Orleans.
I will go, should I have to wear off my legs to the knee."  She had
returned to Vaucouleurs without taking leave of her parents.  "Had I
possessed," said she, in 1431, to her judges at Rouen, "a hundred fathers
and a hundred mothers, and had I been a king's daughter, I should have
gone."  Baudricourt, impressed without being convinced, did not oppose
her remaining at Vaucouleurs, and sent an account of this singular young
girl to Duke Charles of Lorraine, at Nancy, and perhaps even, according
to some chronicles, to the king's court.  Joan lodged at Vaucouleurs in a
wheelwright's house, and passed three weeks there, spinning with her
hostess, and dividing her time between work and church.  There was much
talk in Vaucouleurs of her, and her visions, and her purpose.  John of
Metz [also called John of Novelompont], a knight serving with Sire de
Baudricourt, desired to see her, and went to the wheelwright's.  "What do
you here, my dear?"  said he; "must the king be driven from his kingdom,
and we become English?"  "I am come hither," answered Joan, "to speak to
Robert de Baudricourt, that he may be pleased to take me or have me taken
to the king; but he pays no heed to me or my words.  However, I must be
with the king before the middle of Lent, for none in the world, nor
kings, nor dukes, nor daughter of the Scottish king can recover the
kingdom of France; there is no help but in me.  Assuredly I would far
rather be spinning beside my poor mother, for this other is not my
condition; but I must go and do the work because my Lord wills that I
should do it."  "Who is your lord?"  "The Lord God."  "By my faith,"
said the knight, seizing Joan's hands, "I will take you to the king, God
helping.  When will you set out?"  "Rather now than to-morrow; rather
to-morrow than later."  Vaucouleurs was full of the fame and the sayings
of Joan.  Another knight, Bertrand de Poulengy, offered, as John of Metz
had, to be her escort, Duke Charles of Lorraine wished to see her, and
sent for her to Nancy.  Old and ill as he was, he had deserted the
duchess his wife, a virtuous lady, and was leading anything but a regular
life.  He asked Joan's advice about his health.  "I have no power to cure
you," said Joan, "but go back to your wife and help me in that for which
God ordains me."  The duke ordered her four golden crowns, and she
returned to Vaucouleurs, thinking of nothing but her departure.  There
was no want of confidence and good will on the part of the inhabitants of
Vaucouleurs in forwarding her preparations.  John of Metz, the knight
charged to accompany her, asked her if she intended to make the journey
in her poor red rustic petticoats.  "I would like to don man's clothes,"
answered Joan.  Subscriptions were made to give her a suitable costume.
She was supplied with a horse, a coat of mail, a lance, a sword, the
complete equipment, indeed, of a man-at-arms; and a king's messenger and
an archer formed her train.  Baudricourt made them swear to escort her
safely, and on the 25th of February, 1429, he bade her farewell, and all
he said was, "Away then, Joan, and come what may."

Charles VII. was at that time residing at Chinon, in Touraine.  In order
to get there Joan had nearly a hundred and fifty leagues to go, in a
country occupied here and there by English and Burgundians, and
everywhere a theatre of war.  She took eleven days to do this journey,
often marching by night, never giving up man's dress, disquieted by no
difficulty and no danger, and testifying no desire for a halt save to
worship God.  "Could we hear mass daily," said she to her comrades, "we
should do well."  They only consented twice, first in the abbey of St.
Urban, and again in the principal church of Auxerre.  As they were full
of respect, though at the same time also of doubt, towards Joan, she
never had to defend herself against their familiarities, but she had
constantly to dissipate their disquietude touching the reality or the
character of her mission.  "Fear nothing," she said to them; "God shows
me the way I should go; for thereto was I born."  On arriving at the
village of St. Catherine-de-Fierbois, near Chinon, she heard three masses
on the same day, and had a letter written thence to the king, to announce
her coming and to ask to see him; she had gone, she said, a hundred and
fifty leagues to come and tell him things which would be most useful to
him.  Charles VII. and his councillors hesitated.  The men of war did not
like to believe that a little peasant-girl of Lorraine was coming to
bring the king a more effectual support than their own.  Nevertheless
some, and the most heroic amongst them,--Dunois, La Hire, and
Xaintrailles,--were moved by what was told of this young girl.  The
letters of Sire de Baudricourt, though full of doubt, suffered a gleam of
something like a serious impression to peep out; and why should not the
king receive this young girl whom the captain of Vaucouleurs had thought
it a duty to send?  It would soon be seen what she was and what she would
do.  The politicians and courtiers, especially the most trusted of them,
George de la Tremoille, the king's favorite, shrugged their shoulders.
What could be expected from the dreams of a young peasant-girl of
nineteen?  Influences of a more private character and more disposed
towards sympathy--Yolande of Arragon, for instance, Queen of Sicily and
mother-in-law of Charles VII., and perhaps, also, her daughter, the young
queen, Mary of Anjou, were urgent for the king to reply to Joan that she
might go to Chinon.  She was authorized to do so, and, on the 6th of
March, 1429, she with her comrades arrived at the royal residence.

At the very first moment two incidents occurred to still further increase
the curiosity of which she was the object.  Quite close to Chinon some
vagabonds, it is said, had prepared an ambuscade for the purpose of
despoiling her, her and her train.  She passed close by them without the
least obstacle.  The rumor went that at her approach they were struck
motionless, and had been unable to attempt their wicked purpose.  Joan
was rather tall, well shaped, dark, with a look of composure, animation,
and gentleness.  A man-at-arms, who met her on her way, thought her
pretty, and with an impious oath expressed a coarse sentiment.  "Alas!"
said Joan, "thou blasphemest thy God, and yet thou art so near thy
death!"  He drowned himself, it is said, soon after.  Already popular
feeling was surrounding her marvellous mission with a halo of
instantaneous miracles.

[Illustration: CHINON CASTLE----95]

On her arrival at Chinon she at first lodged with an honest family near
the castle.  For three days longer there was a deliberation in the
council as to whether the king ought to receive her.  But there was bad
news from Orleans.  There were no more troops to send thither, and there
was no money forthcoming: the king's treasurer, it was said, had but four
crowns in the chest.  If Orleans were taken, the king would perhaps be
reduced to seeking a refuge in Spain or in Scotland.  Joan promised to
set Orleans free.  The Orleannese themselves were clamorous for her;
Dunois kept up their spirits with the expectation of this marvellous
assistance.  It was decided that the king should receive her.  She had
assigned to her for residence an apartment in the tower of the Coudray, a
block of quarters adjoining the royal mansion, and she was committed to
the charge of William Bellier, an officer of the king's household, whose
wife was a woman of great piety and excellent fame.  On the 9th of March,
1429, Joan was at last introduced into the king's presence by the Count
of Vendome, high steward, in the great hall on the first story, a portion
of the wall and the fireplace being still visible in the present day.  It
was evening, candle-light; and nearly three hundred knights were present.
Charles kept himself a little aloof, amidst a group of warriors and
courtiers more richly dressed than he.  According to some chroniclers,
Joan had demanded that "she should not be deceived, and should have
pointed out to her him to whom she was to speak;" others affirm that she
went straight to the king, whom she had never seen, "accosting him humbly
and simply, like a poor little shepherdess," says an eye-witness, and,
according to another account, "making the usual bends and reverences as
if she had been brought up at court."  Whatever may have been her outward
behavior, "Gentle _dauphin_," she said to the king (for she did not think
it right to call him king so long as he was not crowned), "my name is Joan
the maid; the King of Heaven sendeth you word by me that you shall be
anointed and crowned in the city of Rheims, and shall be lieutenant of
the King of Heaven, who is King of France.  It is God's pleasure that our
enemies the English should depart to their own country; if they depart no
evil will come to them, and the kingdom is sure to continue yours."
Charles was impressed without being convinced, as so many others had been
before, or were, as he was, on that very day.  He saw Joan again several
times.  She did not delude herself as to the doubts he still entertained.
"Gentle _dauphin_," she said to him one day, "why do you not believe me?
I say unto you that God hath compassion on you, your kingdom, and your
people; St. Louis and Charlemagne are kneeling before Him, making prayer
for you, and I will say unto you, so please you, a thing which will give
you to understand that you ought to believe me."  Charles gave her
audience on this occasion in the presence, according to some accounts, of
four witnesses, the most trusted of his intimates, who swore to reveal
nothing, and, according to others, completely alone.  "What she said to
him there is none who knows," wrote Alan Chartier, a short time after [in
July, 1429], "but it is quite certain that he was all radiant with joy
thereat as at a revelation from the Holy Spirit."  M. Wallop, after a
scrupulous sifting of evidence, has given the following exposition of
this mysterious interview.  "Sire de Boisy," he says, "who was in his
youth one of the gentlemen of the bed-chamber on the most familiar terms
with Charles VII., told Peter Sala, giving the king himself as his
authority for the story, that one day, at the period of his greatest
adversity, the prince, vainly looking for a remedy against so many
troubles, entered in the morning, alone, into his oratory, and there,
without uttering a word aloud, made prayer to God from the depths of his
heart that if he were the true heir, issue of the house of France (and a
doubt was possible with such a queen as Isabel of Bavaria), and the
kingdom ought justly to be his, God would be pleased to keep and defend
it for him; if not, to give him grace to escape without death or
imprisonment, and find safety in Spain or in Scotland, where he intended
in the last resort to seek a refuge.  This prayer, known to God alone,
the Maid recalled to the mind of Charles VII.; and thus is explained the
joy which, as the witnesses say, he testified, whilst none at that time
knew the cause.  Joan by this revelation not only caused the king to
believe in her; she caused him to believe in himself and his right and
title: though she never spoke in that way as of her own motion to the
king, it was always a superior power speaking by her voice, 'I tell thee
on behalf of my Lord that thou art true heir of France, and son of the
king.'" (Jeanne d'Arc, by M. Wallon, t. i. p. 32.)

Whether Charles VII. were or were not convinced by this interview of
Joan's divine mission, he clearly saw that many of those about him had
little or no faith in it, and that other proofs were required to upset
their doubts.  He resolved to go to Poitiers, where his council, the
parliament, and several learned members of the University of Paris were
in session, and have Joan put to the strictest examination.  When she
learned her destination, she said, "In the name of God, I know that I
shall have tough work there, but my Lord will help me.  Let us go, then,
for God's sake."  On her arrival at Poitiers, on the 11th of March, 1429,
she was placed in one of the most respectable families in the town, that
of John Rabuteau, advocate-general in parliament.  The Archbishop of
Rheims, Reginald de Chartres, Chancellor of France, five bishops, the
king's councillors, several learned doctors, and amongst others Father
Seguin, an austere and harsh Dominican, repaired thither to question her.
When she saw them come in, she went and sat down at the end of the bench,
and asked them what they wanted with her.  For two hours they set
themselves to the task of showing her, "by fair and gentle arguments,"
that she was not entitled to belief.  "Joan," said William Aimery,
professor of theology, "you ask for men-at-arms, and you say that it is
God's pleasure that the English should leave the kingdom of France, and
depart to their own land; if so, there is no need of men-at-arms, for
God's pleasure alone can discomfit them, and force them to return to
their homes."  "In the name of God," answered Joan, "the men-at-arms will
do battle, and God will give them victory."  Master William did not urge
his point.  The Dominican, Seguin, "a very sour man," says the chronicle,
asked Joan what language the voices spoke to her.  "Better than yours,"
answered Joan.  The doctor spoke the Limousine dialect.  "Do you believe
in God?" he asked, ill-humoredly.  "More than you do," retorted Joan,
offended.  "Well," rejoined the monk, "God forbids belief in you without
some sign tending thereto: I shall not give the king advice to trust
men-at-arms to you, and put them in peril on your simple word."  "In the
name of God," said Joan, "I am not come to Poitiers to show signs; take
me to Orleans, and I will give you signs of what I am sent for.  Let me
have ever so few men-at-arms given me, and I will go to Orleans;" then,
addressing another of the examiners, Master Peter of Versailles, who was
afterwards Bishop of Meaux, she said, "I know nor A nor B; but in our
Lord's book there is more than in your books; I come on behalf of the
King of Heaven to cause the siege of Orleans to be raised, and to take
the king to Rheims, that he may be crowned and anointed there."  The
examination was prolonged for a fortnight, not without symptoms of
impatience on the part of Joan.  At the end of it, she said to one of the
doctors, John Erault, "Have you paper and ink?  Write what I shall say to
you."  And she dictated a form of letter which became, some weeks later,
the manifesto addressed in a more developed shape by her from Orleans to
the English, calling upon them to raise the siege and put a stop to the
war.  The chief of those piously and patriotically heroic phrases were as
follows:--

"Jesu Maria,

"King of England, account to the King of Heaven for His blood royal.
Give up to the Maid the keys of all the good towns you have taken by
force.  She is come from God to avenge the blood royal, and quite
ready to make peace, if you will render proper account.  If you do
not so I am a war-chief; in whatsoever place I shall fall in with
your folks in France, if they be not willing to obey, I shall make
them get thence, whether they will or not; and if they be willing to
obey, I will receive them to mercy.  .  .  .  The Maid cometh from
the King of Heaven as His representative, to thrust you out of
France; she doth promise and certify you that she will make therein
such mighty _haha_ [great tumult], that for a thousand years
hitherto in France was never the like.  .  .  .  Duke of Bedford,
who call yourself regent of France, the Maid doth pray you and
request you not to bring destruction on yourself; if you do not
justice towards her, she will do the finest deed ever done in
Christendom.

"Writ on Tuesday in the great week." [Easter week, March, 1429].
Subscribed: "Hearken to the news from God and the

Maid."

At the end of their examination, the doctors decided in Joan's favor.
Two of them, the Bishop of Castres, Gerard Machet, the king's confessor,
and Master John Erault, recognized the divine nature of her mission.  She
was, they said, the virgin foretold in the ancient prophecies, notably in
those of Merlin; and the most exacting amongst them approved of the
king's having neither accepted nor rejected, with levity, the promises
made by Joan; "after a grave inquiry there had been discovered in her,"
they said, "nought but goodness, humility, devotion, honesty, simplicity.
Before Orleans she professes to be going to show her sign; so she must be
taken to Orleans, for to give her up without any appearance on her part
of evil would be to fight against the Holy Spirit, and to become unworthy
of aid from God."  After the doctors' examination came that of the women.
Three of the greatest ladies in France, Yolande of Arragon, Queen of
Sicily; the Countess of Gaucourt, wife of the Governor of Orleans; and
Joan de Mortemer, wife of Robert le Macon, Baron of Troves, were charged
to examine Joan as to her life as a woman.  They found therein nothing
but truth, virtue, and modesty; "she spoke to them with such sweetness
and grace," says the chronicle, "that she drew tears from their eyes;"
and she excused herself to them for the dress she wore, and for which the
sternest doctors had not dreamed of reproaching her.  "It is more
decent," said the Archbishop of Embrun, "to do such things in man's
dress, since they must be done along with men."  The men of intelligence
at court bowed down before this village-saint, who was coming to bring to
the king in his peril assistance from God; the most valiant men of war
were moved by the confident outbursts of her patriotic courage; and the
people everywhere welcomed her with faith and enthusiasm.  Joan had as
yet only just appeared, and already she was the heaven-sent interpretress
of the nation's feeling, the hope of the people of France.

Charles no longer hesitated.  Joan was treated, according to her own
expression in her letter to the English, "as a war-chief;" there were
assigned to her a squire, a page, two heralds, a chaplain, Brother
Pasquerel, of the order of the hermit-brotherhood of St. Augustin,
varlets, and serving-folks.  A complete suit of armor was made to fit
her.  Her two guides, John of Metz and Bertrand of Poulengy, had not
quitted her; and the king continued them in her train.  Her sword he
wished to be supplied by himself; she asked for one marked with five
crosses; it would be found, she said, behind the altar in the chapel of
St.  Catherine-de-Fierbois, where she had halted on her arrival at
Chinon; and there, indeed, it was found.  She had a white banner made,
studded with lilies, bearing the representation of God seated upon the
clouds, and holding in His hand the globe of the world.  Above were the
words "Jesu Maria," and below were two angels, on their knees in
adoration.  Joan was fond of her sword, as she said two years afterwards
at her trial, but she was forty times more fond of her banner, which was,
in her eyes, the sign of her commission and the pledge of victory.  On
the completion of the preparations she demanded the immediate departure
of the expedition.  Orleans was crying for succor; Dunois was sending
messenger after messenger; and Joan was in a greater hurry than anybody
else.

More than a month elapsed before her anxieties were satisfied.  During
this interval we find Charles VII. and Joan of Arc at Chatelherault, at
Poitiers, at Tours, at Florent-les-Saumur, at Chinon, and at Blois, going
to and fro through all that country to push forward the expedition
resolved upon, and to remove the obstacles it encountered.  Through a
haze of vague indications a glimpse is caught of the struggle which was
commencing between the partisans and the adversaries of Joan, and in
favor of or in opposition to the impulse she was communicating to the war
of nationality.  Charles VII.'s mother-in-law, Yolande of Arragon, Queen
of Sicily, and the young Duke of Alencon, whose father had been killed at
the battle of Agincourt, were at the head of Joan's partisans.  Yolande
gave money and took a great deal of trouble in order to promote the
expedition which was to go and succor Orleans.  The Duke of Alencon,
hardly twenty years of age, was the only one amongst the princes of the
house of Valois who had given Joan a kind reception on her arrival, and
who, together with the brave La Hire, said that he would follow her
whithersoever she pleased to lead him.  Joan, in her gratitude, called
him the handsome duke, and exhibited towards him amity and confidence.