“The French are come to Rheims where it is proper that all Kings of France be crowned, and there arrived the Dauphin, Saturday, 16th of this month; the town gates were opened to him without opposition and Sunday 17th he was crowned with great pomp. The ceremony lasted from the hour of tierce until Vespers.”
It was thus that Morosini’s journal, to which we have already referred, summed up the events. (Ed. cit., pp. 10–11.) On the very day of the sacring itself, Joan sent to Philippe the Good, Duke of Burgundy, who had answered neither her invitation nor that of the King his cousin, the following letter:
“High and redoubted prince, Duke of Burgundy, the Maid requires you, on behalf of the King of Heaven, my right and sovereign Lord, that the King of France and you make good firm peace which last long. Forgive each other with good heart entirely as must faithful Christians do. . . . I beg and require you with clasped hands that you make no battle nor war against us, you, your men, and your subjects, and believe assuredly that what number soever of men you bring against us, they will not win, and will be great pity at the battle and at the blood which will there be spilt of those who shall come against us.” (Q. iv, 127. Original in the Archives départementales du Nord.)
It happened that on the same day emissaries from the duke arrived in Rheims, led by one of his intimates, David de Brimeu. There was reason to hope that the King would take advantage of the exceptionally favourable turn in his affairs to conclude that “good firm peace” which Joan was counting on.
But no such thing; and in the course of the negotiations, from which Joan was carefully excluded and which were carried on in secret, Charles VII, henceforth King of France, concluded only a truce—of two weeks! This truce condemned the royal army to inaction; and in exchange the Duke made Charles the fantastic promise that he would hand over Paris to the King. In fact he, and Bedford with him, was simply seeking to gain time: Bedford had called for reinforcements from England immediately after the battle of Patay, and early in July three thousand five hundred knights and archers disembarked at Calais, raised, incidentally, with the funds collected for a crusade against the Bohemian heretics who were called Hussites. This army left Calais on July 15th for Paris where it arrived on the 25th.
1 This bronze statuette of Joan on horseback was cast in the fifteenth century. It is now in the Cluny Museum.
1a The bust of Charles VII from his tomb gives a rather less sulky impression of the man than the famous Fouquet portrait.
1b Henry VI.
2 Jean, Count of Dunois.
3a The oldest miniature of Joan is from a manuscript executed in Arras in 1451 by Martin Le Franc, and called Le Champion des Dames. It depicts Joan, with lance and shield, in company with Judith who is holding Holofernes’ head.
3b A miniature from a later manuscript of Le Champion des Dames, now in the Grenoble Municipal Library.
4 This page of the official history of the siege of Orleans records the lifting of the siege on May 18, 1429. It was written by Clément de Fauquembergue, the scribe or greffier to the Parliament of Paris. In the margin he has scribbled a pen drawing of Joan from his imagination. It is the only pictorial representation of Joan done during her own life.
5 The inquiry into the circumstances of Joan’s trial and condemnation which had been initiated by Charles VII was subsequently taken up by the Church. Its investigation was directed by Jean Bréhal who was appointed inquisitor of the Faith for France in 1452. This is a page from his “Summarium” of evidence.
6 A fifteenth-century Franco-Flemish miniature of Joan from a manuscript book of poems by Charles of Orleans.
7 The painting commissioned by the aldermen of Orleans and executed in 1581 was the prototype for much of the iconography during the next two centuries.
Two frontispieces from Jean Hordal’s dissertation on Joan, published at Pont-à-Mousson in 1612; 8a clearly is a derivative version of the “Aldermen’s Painting”
9 The Bull of Canonization, 1920.
10 Joan’s last letter to the people of Rheims, March 28, 1430. The signature is in a different hand from the body of the letter. It may be an example of Joan’s own hand.
Two folios from the letter John, Duke of Bedford, wrote to Henry VI, including the passage quoted on page 101: “And alle thing there prospered for you . . .”
12 The sixteenth-century manuscript of Diane de Poitiers contains a transcription of the rehabilitation proceedings, and this fine miniature, done from imagination, of Joan’s mother, Isabelle Romée.
13 Joan is brought to the Dauphin (Vigils of Charles VII).
14 Joan in the presence of the Dauphin at Chinon.
15 Siege warfare.
16 Joan drives out the camp followers (Vigils of Charles VII).
17 The Siege of Orleans (Vigils of Charles VII).
18 Siege of Dreux (Vigils of Charles VII).
19 Charles receiving his crown from Archbishop Regnault (Vigils of Charles VII).
20 Joan directing her troops during the attack on Paris.
21 Joan is captured (Vigils of Charles VII).
22 Joan’s trial. Bishop Cauchon is seated in the high-backed chair.
The negotiations were a fraud practised on the King; they were, likewise, a betrayal by him of Joan and all who were animated by her spirit.
It must here be recalled how it was that the House of Burgundy had come to rely upon the English alliance, beginning in 1416 immediately after Agincourt. The duke—at that time John the Fearless—was dominated by his rivalry with the House of Orleans; it will be remembered that in 1407 he had had Louis, Duke of Orleans, assassinated. In 1418 John the Fearless had made himself master of Paris from which the Dauphin Charles had only escaped with great difficulty. An unbridgeable gulf had finally opened between Charles and the House of Burgundy when John the Fearless himself was assassinated on the bridge of Montereau (10 September 1419). He and the Dauphin—the future Charles VII—had met there to negotiate, it was hoped, a peace between Armagnacs and Burgundians; the negotiations having come to nothing, the two parties were withdrawing when, for some unknown reason, a dispute broke out, swords were drawn, and one of them struck the Duke of Burgundy on the brow. Since when his son, Philippe the Good, had resumed his policy of alliance with England. He it was who had dictated the signing of the Treaty of Troyes in the following year. His great aspiration was to play honest broker between England and France, and he missed no opportunity of making both sides feel his enormous strength: the possessions of this man, who was called “the grand-duke of the West”, extended from the Alps to the North Sea; apart from Burgundy itself, his possessions included the country known as the County of Burgundy, i.e. Franche-Comté; Flanders, Artois and a part of the Ardennes; and nearly all present-day Belgium and Holland—Brabant, Limbourg, Hainaut, Zeeland, Frisia, etc.
Charles VII was still under the influence of his favourite La Trémoille, whose kinsman Jean de la Trémoille was in very good odour at the Burgundian court. This influence, combined with that of Regnault de Chartres, archbishop of Rheims, was used to make Charles think solely in terms of diplomatic action, negotiation at any cost. To make peace with Burgundy was the general wish; not least of Joan who “with clasped hands” implored Philippe to make peace as we have seen. But she was well aware that they ought not to be satisfied with misleading promises; the peace she asked for was “a good, firm one”, and she knew that they would not get such a real peace excepting by virtue of courage and by proving their valour on the field of battle. Charles, on the other hand, preferred to make do with ridiculous promises which coddled his natural apathy; he hoped to conquer by diplomacy, and did not perceive until it was too late that he himself had been the Burgundian’s dupe. From this it was that stemmed the ambiguity of his conduct from this point in his career.
His want of resolution was betrayed by the itinerary chosen for the return from the coronation; a glance at the map will show his goings and comings, his sudden changes of direction which were a torment to Joan and her followers, whose one idea was to make straight for Paris and take advantage of the general uncertainty and of the confusion in the Anglo-Burgundian ranks. But in signing the truce the King had signed away his chance, and without anything to show for it. Yet he should surely have been animated by the complete change in the spirit of the people which the sacring at Rheims had brought about:
“The burgesses of the city of Soissons brought him the keys and so did those of the city of Laon to whom he had sent heralds demanding that they open to him; he went away to Soissons where he was received with great joy by all those of the city who much loved him and desired his coming. And there came to him the very joyous news that Chateau-Thierry, Crécy-en-Brie, Provins, Coulommiers and many other towns had returned to their obedience. . . . And the King went towards Crépy-en-Valois, whence he sent his heralds to summon and require them of Compiègne that they place themselves under obedience to him, who sent answer that they would do so very willingly. At about this time . . . certain French lords went into the city of Beauvais of which was bishop and count master Pierre Cauchon, much inclined to the English side although he was a native of Rheims. But, however, the people of that city placed themselves in full obedience to the King as soon as his heralds came bearing his arms, and they cried all in great joy, ‘Long live Charles, King of France!’ and sang Te Deum and made great rejoicing. And that done they dismissed all those who would not stay under that obedience and let them go in peace carrying their chattels with them.” (J.S.O. 187 and 190)
Dunois, giving evidence at the Trial of Rehabilitation, recalled the happy days of that armed excursion whose incidents roused strong feelings of tenderness in Joan: “And when the King came to La Ferté and to Crépy-en-Valois, the people came out to meet the King, exulting and crying ‘Noel’. Then the Maid, riding between the archbishop of Rheims and myself, spoke these words: ‘There is a good folk. I have never seen other people so greatly rejoice at the coming of so noble a King. May I be so fortunate, when my days shall be done, as to be buried in this ground.’ The which hearing, the archbishop of Rheims said: ‘O Joan, in what place do you hope to die?’ To which she answered: ‘Where it shall please God, for I am not sure either of the time or of the place, any more than you are. And please God, my Maker, that I may now withdraw myself, leave off arms, and go and serve my father and my mother by keeping the sheep with my sister and my brothers who will rejoice so greatly to see me again.’ “ (R.137)
The regent Bedford, meanwhile, was taking advantage of the unhoped-for respite. He was having Paris fortified and trying to diminish the prestige which the coronation had given Charles by discrediting (a foretaste of what was to be done at Rouen) Joan, who had accomplished that coronation. From Montereau he sent Charles a letter in the following terms:
“We, John of Lancaster, regent of France and Duke of Bedford, make known to you Charles of Valois who call yourself Dauphin of Viennois and now without cause call yourself King because you have abusively made enterprise against the crown and lordship of the very high and excellent prince, my sovereign lord, Henry by the grace of God true, natural and rightful King of France and England. . . . You who cause to be abused the ignorant people and take to yourself the aid of people superstitious and reproved, as that of a woman disordered and defamed, being in man’s clothes and of dissolute conduct . . . who by force and power of arms have occupied in the country of Champagne and elsewhere cities, towns and castles belonging to my said lord and King . . . summon and require you that . . . taking pity on the poor Christian people . . . choose in the country of Brie where you and we are, or in the Ile de France, some place in the fields, convenient and reasonable, or one day soon and fitting . . . at which day and place, if you would appear there in person with the aforesaid defamed and apostate woman, we, at Our Lord’s pleasure, will appear in person. . . .”
It was a formal challenge which Bedford was thus proclaiming, in the letter which is dated August 7, 1429. (Q. iv, 384.) A meeting between the two men was expected at an early date.
Back in Paris, Bedford had the cleverness to name the Duke of Burgundy as governor of the city; the Parisians could no longer complain of being under foreign tutelage; Philippe the Good was of the blood royal of France. Bedford took command of the army of reinforcement—seven hundred Picards—which the Duke of Burgundy had sent him in mid-July, and on August 14th the English army marched off towards Senlis. On the following day at dawn it halted at the village of Montepilloy where, on the evening of the same day, the French arrived. Was there to be a decisive battle? In his letter of challenge Bedford seemed to have been referring the outcome to a veritable “judgment of God”.
“Sunday, fourteenth day of the month of August, the Maid, the Duke of Alençon, the Count of Vendome, the marshals and other captains, accompanied by six or seven thousand fighting men, were at the hour of vespers camped in a wood in the fields near Montepilloy, at about two leagues from the city of Senlis. The Duke of Bedford, the English captains, accompanied by eight or nine thousand English, were camped at half a league from Senlis, between our people and the said town on a little river, in a village called Nôtre-Dame de la Victoire. That evening our men went out skirmishing against the English, near their camp, and in that skirmish were men taken on both sides, and there died on the English side the captain d’Orbec and ten or twelve others and were men wounded on both sides. Night fell. All withdrew to their camp.
“Monday 15th day of this month of August 1429, the Maid, the Duke of Alençon and the company, thinking that day to join battle, all of the company, each for himself, put themselves in the best state which each in his conscience could do. And they heard mass as early in the morning as it could be done and thereafter to horse. And went to place their battle near to the battle of the English who had not moved from their camp where they had slept, and all night long had fortified themselves with stakes, ditches, and set their carts before them, and the river fortified them in the rear. There was still great skirmishing between one side and the other. The English never made any attempt at sallying out of their place excepting to skirmish. And when the Maid saw that they came not out, she went, standard in hand, and placed herself in the van and went striking at the very fortifications of the English . . . and she summoned them, with the Duke of Alençon and the captains, that if they would come out of their place and give battle, our people would withdraw and give them room to place themselves in (battle) order. Which they would not do and all day remained without coming forth excepting to skirmish. Night falling, our people returned to their camp. And the King was all that day at Montepilloy. The Duke of Bar (René of Anjou), who had come to the King at Provins, was in his company, the count of Clermont and other captains with them, and when the King saw that they could not make the English come out of their place and that night was falling, he returned to his billet in the place of Crépy.” (Chronicle of Perceval de Cagny, Q. iv, 21–23)
“All day they were one before the other, without wood or thicket, near to each other a culverin shot (i.e., within culverin-shot) and fought not. . . .” Thus another eye-witness, the herald Berry, who concludes, “And that evening the King departed and went away with his army to Crépy and the Duke of Bedford went to Senlis.” (Q. iv, 47)
The battle had not taken place.
At the same time negotiations had been started. On August 16th Philippe the Good received the archbishop of Rheims, Regnault de Chartres, who led the French delegation, which was closely watched by a Burgundian observer, Hugues de Lannoy, a member of the Royal Council of England. The French side declared themselves ready to make every concession, going so far as to offer to waive the homage and oath of loyalty due from the Duke of Burgundy, for the duration of Philippe’s reign. There is a strange contrast between that offer, for which nothing was asked in exchange, and the enthusiasm for the King’s cause which was manifest throughout the kingdom and is noted even by the Burgundian chroniclers themselves.
Monstrelet enumerates all the cities which have submitted their obedience to the King and he adds: “In truth, if, with all his power (forces), he had gone to Saint-Quentin, Corbie, Amiens, Abbeville and many other strong towns and castles, the greater part of their inhabitants were ready to receive him as lord, and desired in the world no other thing than to make their obedience to him and open fully to him. Nevertheless he was not advised to go so far forward on the Duke of Burgundy’s frontiers, as much because some felt it strong in men-at-arms, as for the hope he had that a good treaty would be made between them.” (Q. iv, 391)
The Bourgeois de Paris echoes the fears which were felt in that city on the Burgundian side: “Towards the end of the month Beauvais and Senlis went over to the Armagnacs who took Saint-Denis on August 25th. On the morrow they were up to the gates of Paris and nobody dared to go out to harvest the wine-grapes or the verjuice, nor to go and harvest anything at all in the marshes. In consequence everything soon became very dear.” (P.93)
He goes on to mention the fortification hastily carried out by Bedford: “In the first week of September the quarteniers (heads of quarters or wards of the city), began, each in his quarter, to fortify the gates of the boulevards and the houses which were on the walls, to place canon on their carriages, to place tubs full of stones on the walls, to repair the outside moats and to construct barriers outside and in the town.” (P.93)
In short everyone was expecting Paris to be attacked. Subsequently, at her Trial of Condemnation, Joan stated that though her voices had had nothing to say about the attack against the city, she herself had wanted to make that attack and that, probably, immediately after the coronation:
Question: When you went up before the town of Paris had you had a revelation from your voices to go there?
JOAN: No, but I went there at the request of noblemen at arms who wanted to make a skirmish or some valliance in arms against Paris and I had every intention to go further and to cross the moats of the town of Paris. (C.141)
And again:
Question: Did you do anything without the command of your voices?
JOAN: You are answered. Read well your book and you will find it. It was at the request of the men of war that was made a valiance in arms against Paris and also against La Charité at the request of my King. But it was neither against nor at the command of my voices. (C.160–161)
What is certain is that in the royal entourage the military men were all impatient to storm the city; the encounter at Montepilloy had made it quite clear that henceforth the Anglo-Burgundians were in no hurry to fight. We can see the events of September 7th and 8th from the Burgundian side by reference to the Bourgeois of Paris:
“In September, on the eve of the Nativity of Our Lady, the Armagnacs came and assailed the walls of Paris which they hoped to take, but won there only grief, shame and misfortune. Many among them were wounded for the remainder of their lives who, before the assault, were in good health. But a fool fears nothing so long as he is successful. I say this for them who sweated ill-luck and bad faith and who, on the word of a creature in the form of a woman who accompanied them—who was it? God knows—had conspired and agreed together to assail Paris on the day of the Nativity of Our Lady. They assembled to the number of more than twelve thousand and came with their Maid about the time of high mass between eleven and noon, accompanied by a rabble of carts, barrows and horses bearing great faggots with three ties, destined to fill the moats of Paris. Their assault, which was very cruel, began against the Saint-Honoré gate and the Saint-Denis gate and during the attack they shouted many insults at the Parisians. Their Maid was there, on the edge of the moat, and said: ‘Yield to us quickly, for Jesus’ sake, for if you yield not before night, we shall enter by force whether you will or no, and you will all be put to death without mercy.’ ‘Here’s for you!’ cried one. ‘Cackling bawd!’ and he shot straight at her with his cross-bow, transpierced her leg and she fled. Another transfixed her standard-bearer’s foot, who, feeling himself wounded, raised his visor to try to draw the bolt from his foot, but another shot and wounded him mortally between the eyes. The Maid and the Duke of Alençon swore that they would rather have lost forty of their men at arms. The assault, which was very cruel on both sides, lasted until four in the evening without it being known who would get the better. A little after four o’clock the Parisians took heart and overwhelmed their adversaries with so many canon balls and arrows that the latter were forced to retreat, to abandon the assault, and go away.” (B. de P., pp. 93–94)
At the same time Clément de Fauquembergue, Clerk to the Parliament, noted in his register: “Thursday, eighth day of September, Feast of the Nativity of the Mother (of) God, the people of Messire Charles of Valois, assembled in great number near the walls of Paris, near to the Saint-Honoré gate, hoping by commotion of people to stop the business of and damage to the town and people of Paris rather than by power or force of arms, at about two o’clock in the afternoon began to appear as if they would assail the town of Paris. And at that time there were inside Paris some (dis)affected or corrupted people who raised voice throughout the city on the hither and yon side of the bridges, crying that all was lost, that the enemy was inside Paris, and that every man should retreat and use deligence to save himself.” (Q. iv, 457)
Which makes it clear that even in the town itself Charles VII had partisans who would not have failed to play their part had the business been managed with a little firmness. For the “Armagnac” version of what happened, we have the account written by the Duke of Alençon’s chronicler, Perceval de Cagny:
“When the King was at the place of Compiègne,” he writes, “the Maid was very vexed at his wanting to stay there, and it seemed from his manner that he was satisfied at that time with the mercies which God had granted him, without undertaking anything else. She called the Duke of Alençon and said to him: ‘My handsome (fine) Duke, call your men and the other captains to arms. By my martin, I would go and see Paris closer than I have seen it.’
“And on the Tuesday twenty-third day of the Month of August, the Maid and the Duke of Alençon left this place of Compiègne and the King, with a fine company of men. . . . And the Friday following, twenty-sixth day of this month, were the Maid, the Duke of Alençon, and their company camped (billeted) in the town of Saint-Denis. And when the King learned that they were thus camped in the town of Saint-Denis, he went very reluctantly as far as the town of Senlis and it seemed that he was advised against the (course) wanted by the Maid, the Duke of Alençon, and those of their company.
“When the Duke of Bedford saw that the city of Senlis was French, he left Paris to the government of the burgesses, of the sire de l’Isle-Adam and of the Burgundians of his company, and were left there hardly any English. He went away to Rouen, very vexed, and in great fear that the Maid might restore the King to his lordship. Since she had arrived in the place of Saint-Denis, every day, two or three times, our men were out skirmishing up to the gates of Paris, now in one place, now in another, and sometimes at the windmill near the Saint-Denis gate and La Chapelle. And no day passed but the Maid had raids made by skirmishers. And eagerly studied the situation of the town of Paris and what place would seem to her best for launching the assault. The Duke of Alençon was most often with her, but because the King was not yet come to Saint-Denis, what message soever the Maid and the Duke of Alençon had sent him, the said Duke of Alençon went to him on the first day of September following, and was told that on the second day of the month the King would leave. D’Alençon returned to his company, and, because the King did not come, the Duke of Alençon went again to him on the Monday fifth day following. He so wrought that the King set out and on the Wednesday dined at Compiègne. At which the Maid and all the company were mighty rejoiced and there was not a man, of whatever condition, but said, ‘She will put the King in Paris if it be left to her.’
“Thursday, day of Our Lady, eighth day of the month of September 1429, the Maid, the Duke of Alençon, the marshals de Boussac and de Rais and other captains and great numbers of men-at-arms and baggage men (hommes de trait) set out at about eight in the forenoon from La Chapelle near Paris, in good order. Some to go into battle, the others to guard and supply those who would make the assault. The Maid, the marshal de Rais, the sire de Gaucourt, called by order of the Maid, as seemed good to her, were given the (task of the) assault on the Saint-Honoré gate. The Maid took her standard in hand and among the first entered the ditches (moat) near to the pigmarket. The attack was hard and long and it was a marvel to hear the noise and din of the canon and culverins which those within fired at those without, and all manner of missiles in such great abundance as (to be) innumerable. And although the Maid and great number of knights and esquires and other men of war had gone down into the ditches at the edge or thereabouts, very few were wounded, and there were many on foot or mounted who were struck and thrown to the ground by blows from canon stones. . . . The assault lasted from about the hour of noon to about the hour of nightfall, and after sunset the Maid was struck by a cross-bow bolt in the thigh. And since being struck forced herself to cry louder than ever that every man should approach the walls and that the place would be taken. But because it was night and she was wounded and that the men at arms were weary from the long assault which they had made, the sire de Gaucourt and others went to fetch the Maid and against her will took her out of the moat and so ended the attack. And she was very sorry indeed to leave in that way, saying, ‘By my martin, the place would have been taken.’ They put her on a horse and took her to her billet in the place of La Chapelle near all the rest of the King’s company: the Duke of Bar, the Count of Clermont, who that day were come from Saint-Denis.”
For her and those of her company the game was not yet over:
“Friday, ninth day of this month, although the Maid had been wounded in the assault on Paris, she rose very early in the morning and sent for her fine Duke of Alençon, who was always her escort, and asked him to have the trumpets sound to horse to return before Paris and said that by her martin never would she leave until she had the town. The said d’Alençon and other captains were of the same wish to undertake to return, others not. And while they were still talking about it, the baron of Montmorency, who had always held to the party contrary to the King’s, came from within the town, accompanied by fifty or sixty gentlemen, to join the Maid’s company, whereby the heart and courage of those who were right willing to return to (the attack on) the town were more sustained. And when they were drawing near, came the Duke of Bar and the Count of Clermont from the King who was at Saint-Denis, and begged the Maid that, without advancing any further, she return to the King at Saint-Denis and also, on behalf of the King, begged Alençon and commanded all the other captains that they were to come and bring the Maid to him. The Maid and most of her company were very vexed at it and nevertheless obeyed the King’s will, hoping to find their way to take Paris from the other side and cross the Seine by a bridge which the Duke of Alençon had had built across the river towards Saint-Denis; and so came to the King. . . . The Saturday following, some of those who had been before Paris, thought to go and cross the river of Seine early in the morning by this bridge, but they could not because the King, who had learned of the intention of the Maid, the Duke of Alençon and others of good will, during the night had the bridge demolished, and thus were they prevented from crossing. That day the King held council at which several opinions were voiced and he stayed in that place until Tuesday the thirteenth, still inclining to return to the (region) of the River Loire, to the Maid’s great displeasure.” (Q. iv, 25–29)
Before this retreat Joan hung up, as an ex-voto, a suit of armour taken from a prisoner she had captured before Paris.
Question: What arms did you offer in the church of Saint-Denis in France?
JOAN: A white harness entire for gentleman-at arms with a sword which I won before the town of Paris.
Question: Why did you offer these arms?
JOAN: It was in devoutness, as is the custom among men of war when they are wounded; and because I had been wounded before the town of Paris, I gave them to Saint-Denis because that is the (war)-cry of France. (C.170)
Today there is a plaque on the façade of the café de la Régence in the place du Palais-Royal, marking the spot where Joan was wounded near to the Saint-Honoré gate which opened unto the suburb of the same name, that of the bakers. As for the “white harness entire for gentleman-at-arms” it has been removed from the basilica of Saint-Denis and is preserved in the Musée de l’armée at the Invalides.
It is impossible to understand the sum of events and the incredible attitude of Charles VII, his changes of mind, that inexplicable halt at Senlis where the Duke of Alençon was twice obliged to return and urge him to rejoin his own army, without reference to the text of certain negotiations which, unknown to the Maid, had been conducted at Arras. A truce had been signed on August 21—initially of four months’ duration but subsequently to be extended until April 16, 1430. The terms were altogether unfavourable to the King of France. The status quo was confirmed as regards all the towns important as communication links on the banks of the Seine; the truce applied to those regions on the right bank which lay between Nogent-sur-Seine and Honfleur, which prevented any French offensive against Normandy. But, on the other hand, the Duke of Burgundy, henceforth governor of Paris, was authorised to defend the city and moreover was to receive from the King the principal towns of the Oise-Compiègne, Pont Saint-Maxence, Créil and Senlis. Let us add that two memoirs of slightly later date than this treaty, drawn up in September or October by the King of England’s counsellor, Hugues de Lannoy, show that an English offensive for the following spring had already been planned. The important things for the Regent of England were to strengthen the ties with his powerful ally of Burgundy; to ensure the Duke of Brittany’s benevolent neutrality and, if possible, the Constable de Richemont’s; and to detach the Scots from their French alliance since their military aid was redoubtable. Meanwhile, preparations for war were to be pushed along actively, while the King of France was to be kept amused with the promise of a peace conference to be held at Auxerre in the spring.
In point of fact, on October 13th Philippe the Good received from Bedford the title of Lieutenant-General of the King of England for the Kingdom of France; which meant that he held, after the Regent himself, the highest office in the kingdom.
A chronicle—actually it is hardly a chronicle but an account in verse more nearly related to a Chanson de Geste than to a historical narrative—gives an account of events as Charles VII’s partisans would have liked them to happen. Written during the reign of Charles VIII, at the end of the fifteenth century, it is pure fantasy and of no historical value. In it Joan is depicted taking Bordeaux and Bayonne after Orleans! After the sacring at Rheims,* the Maid, seeing all accomplished, said to the King, “ ‘Now, let us go to Paris, there you shall be crowned.’ Straight to Paris the road they took. When at Paris they appeared, all churchmen and noblemen to him presented themselves, received him in (et se l’ont bouté), the little children crying ‘Long live the King!’ The Maid always near him, by them of Paris much regarded was, saying ‘Here is a maid greatly to be praised, God grants her the great mercy of making herself feared.’ All the King’s nobility to their lodging taken. Beside him the Maid did they house to serve God and make her welcome did they not delay. The morrow all the princes, Bourbon, Orleans, Nemours, Alençon, took the crown, on the King’s head set it, saying, ‘Long live the King.’ They led him to Saint-Denis, eight days during were jousts, tourney and great bouts, dames and demoiselles set dancing, it was great pleasure.
“After that done, the Maid said to the King, ‘Sire, since these English are all into Normandy retreated, all the army should be ready, should undertake driving them out, and that they return into England.’ And said the King, ‘My daughter, since you made a good beginning, must you make a good ending.’ The King ordered all the army to be ready, and thanked them for the obedience and service which to the Maid they had given. ‘I trust in you that with the Maid you will persevere, into Normandy she would lead you.’ All the army promised him always to obey and to do so they prepared, the King to God commended them, and they set out.” (Q. iv, 336)
It was thus that an optimistic imagination reordered events into a might-have-been. The reality is very different, and Perceval de Cagny seems to give us the right note when he shows the King in a hurry to get back to the banks of the Loire, where his personal safety would be assured and where it would be possible, without for ever chasing about battle-fields, to construct elaborate diplomatic devices. “We are not of the court and council, we are of the field of battle,” said one of the people who played an active part in Joan’s saga, Poton de Xaintrailles. But it is easy to see that Charles VII was surrounded by both sorts: those who were “de l’exploit des champs” . . . of battle-field prowess—Alençon, La Hire, Dunois, Joan herself; and those who preferred to be “of the court and council”—the diplomats—men like Georges de la Trémoille and Regnault de Chartres whose influence is to be traced in events. And it was they who won the King over, thus wrecking the victory gained by the others. This situation was to last until the moment when Arthur de Richemont thrust de la Trémoille abruptly out of the picture, and by force rather than favour silenced the men of court and council and enabled the warriors to act; but by that time Joan had been sacrificed.
A part of that sacrifice was accomplished when, at Gien on September 21, 1429, the King gave orders to disband the fine army of the coronation adventure and condemned his war captains to inaction. “And thus,” wrote de Cagny, “were the will of the Maid and King’s army broken.”
“I shall last a year, hardly longer,” Joan had declared when she arrived at Chinon, adding that “it was necessary during that year to toil mightily.” But from the moment that the man who was contemptuously known as “the little King of Bourges” became King of France, he seems to have had but a single care: to prevent Joan from “toiling”. He began by separating her from the Duke of Alençon, whose warlike ardour accorded too well with hers. “The Duke of Alençon had been in the Maid’s company and always escorted her on the road to the King’s crowning at Rheims, and thence in coming to Paris; when the King was come to the place of Gien, Alençon went away to his wife and his viscounty of Beaumont, and the other captains each to his own frontiers. The Maid remained at the King’s side, very vexed at their going and above all at the Duke of Alençon’s whom she well loved and did for him what she would not have done for any other. A short time after, Alençon gathered together his men to return to the country of Normandy near the Breton and Maine marches, and to do so he requested and petitioned the King that it might please him to give him the Maid and that with her many (or several) would place themselves in his company who would not leave them if she set out with him. Messire Regnault de Chartres, the lord de la Trémoille, the sire de Gaucourt, who at that time governed the King’s council and matters of war, would never consent, nor permit, nor suffer that the Maid and the Duke of Alençon be together, and since then he has not been able to recover her.” (P. de Cagny, Q. iv, 30)
We rather lose track of Joan at this point. It is certain that she stayed for about three weeks at Bourges with Marguerite La Touroulde, and it is also known that she resided for some time at the castle of Sully-sur-Loire which belonged to La Trémoille. Another residence was Montfaucon-en-Berry; it was there that she met Catherine de La Rochelle, an “illuminata” who claimed, like Joan herself, to see visions and receive revelations.
Question: Did you know or meet Catherine de La Rochelle?
JOAN: Yes, at Jargeau or at Montfaucon-en-Berry.
Question: Did Catherine show you a certain lady dressed in white who she said sometimes appeared to her?
JOAN: No.
Question: What did Catherine say to you?
JOAN: Catherine told me that there came to her a certain lady clad in cloth of gold, telling her that she should go to the good towns and that the King would give her heralds and trumpets to make proclamation that all gold, all silver and all hidden treasure be at once brought to her, and that if those who had treasures hidden brought them not, she, Catherine, would know them well and that she would know where to find these treasures and that with them she would pay the men-at-arms in Joan’s service. To this I answered this Catherine that she return to her husband and do her housework and feed her children. And to have certainty in the matter of this Catherine, I spoke with Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret and they told me that as for the matter of Catherine de la Rochelle, it was nothing but folly and nullity. And I wrote to my King telling him what he should do about it and when I went to him I told him that it was folly and nullity, this matter of Catherine. However, Brother Richard wanted Catherine to be set to work and they were very ill content with me, Brother Richard and this Catherine.
Question: Did you not talk with Catherine de la Rochelle in the matter of going to La Charité-sur-Loire?
JOAN: Catherine did not advise me to go there and said that it was too cold and that I should not go. I told her, when she wanted to go to the Duke of Burgundy to make peace, that it seemed to me we should find no peace but at the lance-point; and I asked Catherine whether this white lady who appeared to her came to her every night, telling her that I should like to sleep with her in her bed, to see her. And, in fact, I lay down and watched until about midnight and I saw nothing, and then I fell asleep. And when morning came I asked this Catherine whether the white lady had come to her. She answered me, yes, while I slept and that she had been unable to awaken me. And I asked her if this lady would come the following night, and this Catherine answered me, yes. Therefore that day I slept in the daytime to be able to watch all the following night, and I lay down that night with Catherine and I watched all night long, but I saw nothing, although often I questioned Catherine to know if the lady was going to come or not. And Catherine answered me, “Yes, presently.” (C.104–106)
The siege of La Charité-sur-Loire, referred to in the above exchange, seems to have been suggested to Joan more or less by way of a distraction, inspired by La Trémoille.
Jean d’Aulon: “A certain time after the return from the King’s sacring, he was advised by his council, being then at Mehun-sur-Yevre, that it was very necessary to recover the town of La Charité which was held by the enemy; but that it was first necessary to take the town of Saint-Pierre-les-Moutiers which was also held by the enemy.
“To do this and assemble the men, went the Maid to the town of Bourges in which she made her assembly, and from there, with a certain quantity of men-at-arms of which my lord d’Albret was chief, went to besiege the town of Saint-Pierre-les-Moutiers.
“After the Maid and her people had maintained the siege of the town for some time, it was ordered to storm the town. And so was it done and to take it did those who were there do their duty. But, because of the great number of men-at-arms being in the town, and of the great strength and also the great resistance which those within did make, the French were constrained and forced to retreat, and at the time I, who was wounded by an arrow in the heel, so that without crutches could I not stand or move, I saw that the Maid remained but very slightly accompanied by her men or others, and fearing lest some evil transpire, I mounted a horse and immediately made my way to her and asked her what she was doing thus alone, and why she did not retreat like the others. After she had removed her light helmet (salade), she answered me that she was not alone, and that still had she in her company fifty thousand of her men and that she would not leave there until she had taken the town.
“At that time, whatever she might say, she had not with her more than four or five men, and this I know certainly and many others who likewise saw her: for which cause I told her once more that she must come away and retreat as the others did. Then she told me to have them bring faggots and hurdles to make a bridge over the town moats so that we could better get at it. And as she spoke thus to me, she cried in a loud voice: ‘Faggots and hurdles, everyone, to build a bridge!’ which immediately was done. At this thing I marvelled greatly, for immediately the town was taken by storm without encountering too much resistance.” (R. 165–6)
As was usual, Joan had written to the good towns in the neighbourhood to get from them help in the siege of Saint Pierre-les-Moutiers and in the attempt made on La Charité. One of these letters has been preserved, the one she wrote to the inhabitants of Riom; it is still in the archives of that town. The scholar Quicherat, who had had the letter in his hands, saw its red wax seal in better condition than it is now. He wrote: “One can see the mark of a finger and the remains of a black hair which seems to have been originally put into the wax.” It was a common custom at the time to put some personal mark into the seal, a finger-print or a hair. Was this one of Joan’s own hairs? There would be nothing surprising in this, and from it we might deduce that she was a brunette.
But this letter is remarkable for another detail: it is the earliest in date which bears Joan’s own signature. By this time, November 9, 1429, it is probable that she had learned, if not to read and write, at least to sign her name. Two other, later letters (March and April, 1430), bear her signature. In the case of the Riom letter the handwriting is, it must be confessed, very clumsy and the vertical strokes of the N badly executed; on the later letters the signature is written with far more assurance. Joan would have conformed to the custom of the time which was to dictate one’s letters, but signed them herself, for the holograph signature was then beginning to replace the seal which, until that time, had been the usual personal mark. All contemporary letters from captains or other high personages, including the King and Queen, are likewise written by chancellery clerks but bear the author’s holograph signature (see Q. v, 147).
The siege of La Charité-sur-Loire was a failure.
The herald Berry sums up the event as follows: “The sire de la Trémoille sent Joan with her brother, the sire d’Albret, in the depths of winter, and the marshal de Boussac with very few men, before the town of La Charité, and there they were for about a month and withdrew themselves shamefully without aid coming to them from inside and there lost bombards and artilleries.” (Q. iv, 49)
“When Joan had been there a space of time, because the King made no diligence to send her victuals nor money to maintain her company, she was obliged to raise her siege and depart from it in great displeasure,” adds Perceval de Cagny. Later Joan was to deny having been sent there by her voices:
Question: What did you do on the moats of the town of La Charité?
JOAN: I had an assault made there . . .
Question: Why did you not enter into the town of La Charité since you had God’s commandment to do so?
JOAN: Who told you that I had God’s commandment?
Question: Did you have council from your voices?
JOAN: Me, I wanted to go into France, but the men of war said that it was better to go first before the town of La Charité. (C.106)
It is of course possible that she was anxious to avoid any implication that her voices might have made a mistake. But it is perfectly clear that this operation was not one which she would have wanted to undertake; ever since Rheims she had lost her grip on the conduct of events for want of that acquiescence of the royal will in her own wishes which had been indispensable to the accomplishment of her earlier exploits.
Yet the King—who was nothing if not a good politician—was not grudging with his favours at the end of that year which had been so rich in events. In December 1429 he ennobled Joan and her family, making it clear that their nobility was to be transmitted to their posterity through either the male or female lines. (Q. v, 150–153) It is worth noting that the only favour which seems to have been asked for by Joan was that exemption from taxes which she had obtained for the people of Greux and Domremy, which had been granted on the morrow of the sacring, at the end of July 1429; it was enjoyed by the two towns until the Revolution.
Meanwhile, time was passing and even the blindest began to get a gleam of light on the true state of affairs. Philippe the Good, now all-powerful in “France” (the term meant, at that time, only the Ile de France, of course) and in all the region directly under his rule, was busy strengthening his territory. He was then at the zenith of his power. Having been widowed, on January 8th, 1430, he married the Princess Isabel of Portugal at Bruges, and his marriage feast was celebrated with unheard-of luxury. It was on this occasion that he founded the famous Order of the Golden Fleece, thus gathering round himself, like Arthur his “peers” in the romances of chivalry, the flower of the Burgundian Knighthood. Significantly Hugues de Lannoy, the negotiator who had rendered him such valuable service in his dealings with France, was one of their number. In February his States held a parliament at Dijon, and from them he obtained a war subsidy; and he persuaded the Duke of Bedford to grant him the counties of Champagne and Brie, their conquest to be carried out by himself. His attention, however, was first turned to the problem of those towns of the Oise which had been delivered up to him by the King of France and which, especially Compiègne, were refusing to recognize his authority. The much-talked-of peace conference which was to have been held in Auxerre was repeatedly postponed, and Burgundian troops established themselves firmly along the course of the Oise.
At last, in a letter dated May 6, 1430, and signed by his Chancellor Regnault de Chartres, Charles VII was forced publicly to recognize his mistake and admit that he had been duped by “the Burgundian adversary”.
“After that he has, for some time, amused and deceived us by truces and otherwise, under the shadow of good faith, because he said and affirmed that he wished to arrive at the well-being of peace, the which, for the relief of our poor people who, to the displeasure of our heart, has suffered and every day suffer so much for the matter of the war, we greatly desired and do desire, he has set himself with certain forces to make war upon us and upon our countries and loyal subjects.”
Which was a fact; for, at this date, Philippe the Good was laying siege to Compiègne.
Joan had not waited for the King to admit himself deceived before resuming the struggle. It cannot have been without emotion that she heard of the attitude of the people of Compiègne who, rather than surrender themselves to the Duke of Burgundy in accordance with the Arras agreement, had “resolved to lose their lives, their own, their wives’ and their children’s”. And she must have been seething with impatience, for it was known that here and there—in Melun, Saint-Denis, even in Paris itself—partisan movements were coming into existence. Moreover, at the same time, the English, resolved to play all their trumps under Bedford’s leadership, had landed an army of two thousand men in Calais, at which port there also arrived, on April 23, the boy-King Henry VI. On November 6 of the previous year he had been crowned King of England at Westminster; and it was now hoped to crown him King of France by way of riposte to the sacring of Charles VII at Rheims.
“The King being in the town of Sully-sur-Loire, the Maid, who had seen and heard all the matter and manner which the King and his council held for the recovery of his kingdom, very ill content with that, found means to separate herself from them and, unknown to the King and without taking leave of him, she pretended to go about some business and, without returning, went away to the town of Lagny-sur-Marne because they of that place were making good war on the English of Paris and elsewhere.” (P. de Cagny, Q. iv, 32)
The date of this departure is not exactly known; it was probably towards the end of March or beginning of April. With her Joan had her intendant Jean d’Aulon, her brother Pierre and a small escort estimated at about two hundred men led by a Piedmontese condottieri, captain of freelance mercenaries, Bartolomew Baretta.
It was at Lagny that the incident of the child baptised on Joan’s intervention took place:
Question: What age had the child which you held at the baptismal font?
JOAN: The child was three days old and it was carried before the image of Our Lady of Lagny; the maidens of the town were before the image and me, I wanted to go and pray to God and Our Lady that life be given to the child. I went there with the other maidens and I prayed, and at last life appeared in this child who yawned three times and was immediately baptised; it died thereafter and was buried in holy ground. Three days had passed, so they said, during which no life had appeared in this child. It was as black as my coat, but when it yawned colour began returning to it. I was with the maidens, praying on my knees before Our Lady. (C.103)
There, too, occurred the incident of Franquet d’Arras which the judges tried to exploit against Joan in the course of her trial.
Question: Is it not mortal sin to receive a man to be ransomed and, once he is a prisoner, to bring about his death?
JOAN: I did not do that.
Question: Was there not the matter of one Franquet d’Arras whom you had killed as an enemy?
JOAN: I consented that he be put to death if he had deserved it, because he had admitted to being murderer, thief and traitor. His trial lasted fifteen days and the judge was the bailiff of Senlis and the justiciars of Lagny. I had asked to have this Franquet to have in exchange a man of Paris, master of the Hotel de l’Ours. And when I heard that this man was dead and when the bailiff told me that I was doing justice a great injury in liberating this Franquet, then I said to the bailiff: “Since that man is dead whom I wanted to have, do with this one what in justice you must do.” (C.150–151)
Joan had gone first to Melun where her stay can be precisely dated thanks to a memory of her own; she was there in Easter week and Easter fell that year on April 22nd.
JOAN: In Easter week last, being upon the moat at Melun, it was told me by the voices of Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret that I should be taken before Saint John’s Day, and that so it must be and that I be not dismayed, and take all in good part and that God would help me. (C.112)
And, in reply to other questions, she gave more details of her state of mind: “Since I received revelation at Melun that I should be taken, I submitted myself above all in the matter of war to the will of the captains, meanwhile however I did not tell them that I had had revelation that I should be taken.” (C.141)
There are traces of Joan’s passing through Senlis on April 24, then of her being at Compiègne on May 14. Meanwhile, Philippe the Good, having arrived on May 6 at Noyon, on the following day laid siege to Choisy-au-Bac and took the town on May 16. He then undertook the siege of Compiègne, disposing his forces along the course of the Oise. He set up his own G.H.Q. in the small fortress of Coudun-sur-l’Aronde, John of Luxembourg and Baudot de Noyelle being camped, respectively, at Clairoix and Margny, while Montgomery occupied Venette. On May 22, having learned of these dispositions, Joan and her small troop hastened to make their way, by night, into Compiègne.
Question: When you went for the last time to Compiègne, from what place did you set out?
JOAN: From Crépy-en-Valois.
Question: Did you remain some days in Compiègne before making any sortie or sally?
JOAN: I came in the morning at a secret hour and entered into the town without the enemy knowing much about it, as I believe, and the same day towards eventide I made that sally in which I was taken. . . .
Question: If the voices had ordered you to go out of Compiègne while signifying that you would be taken, would you have gone?
JOAN: If I had known the hour, and that I must be taken, I should not have gone willingly; nevertheless, I should have done their commandment in the end, whatever was to happen to me.
Question: When you went out of Compiègne, did you have voice or revelation to go and to make that sortie?
JOAN: That day I did not know that I should be taken and did not have precept to go out; but still it had been told me that I must be made prisoner.
Question: When you made that sortie, did you cross by the bridge of Compiègne?
JOAN: I crossed by the bridge and the boulevard and went with company of my men against the men of the lord John of Luxembourg and twice drove them back to the Burgundians’ camp. And then the English who were there cut the road behind me and my men. And me, in retreating I was caught in the fields, on the Picardy side, near the boulevard; and was the river between Compiègne and the place where I was taken. (C.112–113)
Perceval de Cagny gives some details of this capture: “The year 1430, the 23rd day of the month of May, the Maid being at the place of Crépy, heard that the Duke of Burgundy with great number of men at arms and others, and the Earl of Arundel, were come to besiege the town of Compiègne. At about midnight she left Crépy in company with about three or four hundred soldiers, and although her people told her that she had but few men to pass through the army of the Burgundians and the English, she said: ‘By my martin, we are enough; I shall go and see my good friends of Compiègne.’ She arrived at that place at about sunrise and without loss or damage to herself or her men entered into the town. . . . And about nine o’clock in the morning the Maid heard say that there was great and strong skirmishing on the meadows before the town. She put on her armour and ordered her men to arms and horse, and went out to join in the mêlée. As soon as she came the enemy fell back and was put to flight. The Maid charged hard against the Burgundian side. They of the ambush warned their people who fell back in great disorder.* Then they uncovered their ambush and spurring hard they went and placed themselves between the bridge into the town (and) the Maid and her company, and some of them turned straight upon the Maid in such great number that not well could they of her company hold them back and they said to the Maid: ‘Take pains to (do your best to) get back to the town, or you and we are lost.’ When the Maid heard them speak thus, very angry she said to them: ‘Be silent. Their discomfiture depends on you. Think only of striking hard at them.’ Whatever she might say, her men would not believe her and by force made her return directly to the bridge. And when the Burgundians and the English saw that she was coming back to get into the town, with a great effort they gained the end of the bridge. . . . The captain of the place, seeing the great multitude of Burgundians and English about to enter upon the bridge, for the fear he had lest he lose the town, had the bridge into the town raised and the gates closed, and thus remained the Maid shut out and few of her men with her.” (Q. iv, 32–34)
This shutting of the gates was long considered as having been an act of treachery; the governor of Compiègne, Guillaume de Flavy, was held responsible by historians who branded him as a traitor. But it now seems that he was no such thing: de Flavy had given and was still to give sufficient proof of his loyalty to the King of France to acquit him of any such imputation. The town gates were closed on his orders because the enemy was getting too close; Joan, as usual, was at the point where the danger was greatest; she had always been in the vanguard when it was a question of making an attack; and in the rearguard when a retreat had to be covered; her company had been thrown back upon Compiègne; and she happened to be one of the handful of combatants whom it was absolutely necessary to sacrifice if the town was to be saved.
The Burgundian Georges Chastellain has left us a very lively account of Joan’s capture: “The French, with their Maid, were beginning to retreat very slowly, as finding no advantage over their enemies but rather perils and damage. Wherefore the Burgundians, seeing that and being flowing with blood, and not satisfied with having repulsed them in defence, since they could do them no more great harm than by pursuing them closely, struck among them valiantly both afoot and mounted, and did great damage among the French. Of which the Maid, passing the nature of women, took all the brunt, and took great pains to save her company, remaining behind as captain and bravest of her troop. And there Fortune allowed that her glory at last come to an end and that she bear arms no longer; an archer, a rough man and a sour, full of spite because a woman of whom so much had been heard should have overthrown (broken the bones of) so many valiant men, dragged her to one side by her cloth-of-gold cloak and pulled her from her horse, throwing her flat on the ground; never could she find recourse or succour in her men, try though they might to remount her, but a man of arms called the Bastard of Wandomme, who arrived at the moment of her fall, pressed her so hard that she gave him her faith (word, parole), for he declared himself to be a nobleman. He, more joyful than if he had had a King in his hands, took her hastily to Margny, and there held her in his keeping until that day’s work was done. And there were taken with her also Poton the Burgundian, a gentleman-at-arms on the French side, the Maid’s brother (Pierre), the master of her household (Jean d’Aulon) and others in small number, who were taken to Margny and placed under good guard.” (Q. iv, 446–447)
Chastellain wrote his account only from hearsay, but another Burgundian chronicler, Enguerrand de Monstrelet, took part in the battle himself and gives us a clear impression of the effect of this unexpected news in both camps.
“The French entered into Compiègne, doleful and wroth at their losses, and above all had great displeasure at the taking of the Maid. And on the contrary, they of the Burgundian side and the English were very joyous at it, more than had they taken five hundred combatants, for they feared and redoubted no other captain or chief in war as much as they had always done, until that day, this Maid.
“Quite soon after came the Duke of Burgundy with his power (forces) to his camp of Coudun where he was camped in a meadow before Compiègne, and there gathered the English, the Duke and those of the other camps, in very great number, making together great outcry and jollity for the taking of the Maid. The Duke went to see her in the lodge (tent) where she was and spoke some words to her which I do not well remember, although I was present. After that the Duke retired, and all other people, each to his tent (logis) for the night. And the Maid remained in the keeping and governance of messire John of Luxembourg. He, some days thereafter, sent her under his safe-conduct to the castle of Beaulieu.” (Q. iv, 402)
It is curious that Monstrelet, whose memory was so good, did not remember very well the details of so striking an encounter as that between the grand-duke of the West and Joan the Maid; but it is not the only time he can be faulted when dealing with Joan. Chronicler of the House of Luxembourg, he tends to slide over anything which might not be to the honour of that illustrious family, whence some surprising gaps: thus, he was not to mention the sale of Joan to the English, and he has not one word to say about her trial: he contented himself with inserting into his chronicle the letter which the King of England sent to diverse princes and prelates announcing the sentence of the court, and with mentioning the execution of that sentence.
Great, at all events, was the joy in the Burgundian ranks. Another chronicler, who was likewise an eye-witness, Jean Lefèvre de Saint-Remy, councillor to the Duke of Burgundy and king-at-arms of the Golden Fleece, echoes the feeling: “The Maid was taken with great joy to the Duke who was coming with all diligence to the aid and succour of his men. He was very joyous at her taking, for the great renown that she had, for it seemed to many of his side that her works could not but be miraculous.” (Q, iv, 349)
Philippe the Good hastened to make his capture of Joan widely known; of the letters which were written to that end, we still have the one sent to the burgesses of Saint-Quentin. It is dated on the same day as the capture, May 23, 1430, and “at Coudun near Compiègne”. The Duke writes thus:
“Very dear and well-beloved, knowing that you desire to have news of us, we signify to you that this day, twenty-third of May, at about six hours after noon the adversaries of my lord the King (of England) and ourselves, who had come together in very great force and had thrown themselves into the town of Compiègne before which we and the men of our army are camped, came out of the town against the camp of our vanguard nearest to them. In this sortie was she whom they call the Maid with several of their principal captains, in the encounter with whom our cousin, messire John of Luxembourg who was present and others of our people and some men of my lord the King whom he had sent to pass on and go to Paris, made very great and bitter resistance, and presently we arrived there in person and found that the adversaries had been repulsed already. And by the pleasure of our blessed Creator the thing thus came about and such mercy was vouchsafed us that she who is called the Maid was taken, and with her many captains, knights and esquires and others taken, drowned or dead, of whom at this time we know not yet the names.” (Q. v, 166–167)
Official and private documents record the fact: Clément de Fauquembergue’s register, for example, on May 25 when the news reached Paris; and the Journal d’un Bourgeois de Paris which notes: “The 23 May, dame Joan, the Maid of the Armagnacs, was taken before Compiègne by messire John of Luxembourg, his men, and a thousand English on their way to Paris. Four hundred at least of the Maid’s men were killed or drowned.” (P.99)
After some time spent in the fortress of Beaulieu-en-Vermandois Joan, who had tried to escape, was transferred to the castle of Beaurevoir, situated in the midst of woods between Cambrai and Saint-Quentin. In the course of her trial she was to be questioned about her two attempts to escape.
Question: How did you think to escape from the castle of Beaulieu between two pieces of wood?
JOAN: I have never been a prisoner in any place but I would try to escape from it. Being in that castle, I had shut up my keepers in the tower, excepting the porter who saw me and encountered me. It seems to me that it did not please God that I should escape that time and that I must see the King of the English, as my voices had told me. (C.155)
Question: Were you long in the tower of Beaurevoir?
JOAN: I was there for four months or thereabouts. When I heard that the English were coming to take me, I was very wroth at it, and however my voices forbade me often to leap from that tower. And at last, for fear of the English, I leapt and commended myself to God and the Virgin Mary and I was injured in that leap. And after I had leapt, the voice of Saint Catherine told me that I should be of good countenance and that they of Compiègne would receive succour. (C.107)
Question: What was the cause for which you leapt from the tower of Beaurevoir?
JOAN: I had heard say that all they of Compiègne down to the age of seven years were to be put to fire and to blood, and I preferred to die rather than live after such destruction of good people, and that was one of the causes of my leaping. And the other was that I knew that I was sold to the English and I would rather have died than to be in the hands of the English, my adversaries.
Question: Did you make that leap on the advice of your voices?
JOAN: Catherine told me almost every day that I must not leap and that God would help me and also them of Compiègne. And I said to Saint Catherine that since God would help them of Compiègne, I myself would (like to) be there. Then Saint Catherine said to me: “Without fail, you must accept your lot (be resigned, take what is happening in good part), and you will not be delivered until you have seen the king of the English.” And I answered her: “Truly, I would rather not see him, and I would rather die than be put into the hands of the English.”
Question: Did you say, to Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret, these words: “Will God let the good people of Compiègne die in so wicked a way (si mauvaisement)”?
JOAN: I did not say the word “si mauvaisement”, but I said: “How can God let the good people of Compiègne die, who have been so faithful to their Lord?” After I had fallen from the tower I was, during two or three days, without will to eat. And I was so hurt in that leap that I could neither eat nor drink. And meanwhile I had comfort from Saint Catherine who told me that I should confess and ask forgiveness of God for having leapt, and that without fail the people of Compiègne would have succour before the feast of Saint Martin of the winter. Then I began to return to health and I began to eat and soon I was cured.
Question: When you leapt did you think to kill yourself?
JOAN: No, in leaping I commended myself to God, and I thought in making that leap to escape so that I should not be delivered over to the English. (C.143–145)
Of the time when she was a prisoner we have but little evidence. However, in the course of the Trial of Rehabilitation a Burgundian knight gave evidence. This was Haimond de Macy who was in John of Luxembourg’s service:
“I saw Joan for the first time when she was shut up in the castle of Beaurevoir for the lord count of Ligny (John of Luxembourg). I saw her several (many) times in prison and on several occasions conversed with her. I tried several times, playfully, to touch her breasts, trying to put my hand on her chest, the which Joan would not suffer but repulsed me with all her strength. Joan was, indeed, of decent conduct (honnête tenue) both in speech and act.
“Joan was taken to the castle of Crotoy where was held prisoner a man altogether notable, called master Nicholas de Queuville, chancellor of the church of Amiens, doctor of both civil and canon law, who often celebrated mass in the prison, and Joan, the most often, heard his mass. I later heard this master Nicholas say that he had heard Joan’s confession and that she was a good Christian and very pious. He spoke much good of Joan.” (R.186)
At Beaurevoir lived John of Luxembourg’s wife, Jeanne de Béthune, and his aunt, the aged Demoiselle de Luxembourg, who was to die before Joan herself, on November 13, 1430. These two women seem to have shown Joan some kindness and she remembered them with affection.
Question: Were you required at Beaurevoir (to wear women’s clothes)?
JOAN: Yes, truly, and I answered that I would not change clothes without the permission of Our Lord. The demoiselle of Luxembourg and the lady of Beaurevoir offered me a woman’s dress or the stuff to make one, asking me to wear that habit, and I answered that I had not permission from God and that it was not yet time. . . . Had it been that I was to wear women’s clothes, I should have done so more willingly at the request of those women than of any other woman in all France excepting my queen. . . . The lady of Luxembourg had requested my lord of Luxembourg that I be not delivered up to the English.
Joan was to remain in the fortress of Beaurevoir until the end of November 1430. In the meantime the English had not been inactive; they wanted the prisoner handed over to them. To handle the negotiations they applied to a man whose antecedents rendered him particularly apt for the work, the Bishop of Beauvais, Pierre Cauchon. In 1430 he was about sixty years of age, and he had had a brilliant career both as a diplomat and as a university man. He had been Rector of the University of Paris as early as 1403, and he had played a leading role throughout the troubles as a result of which the university had taken the Burgundian side against the Armagnacs. In 1419, at the time when the theory of the double monarchy was being worked out at the university, which placed the two kingdoms of France and England under the single crown of England, Cauchon was conservator of the university privileges. He was one of the negotiators appointed for the famous Treaty of Troyes, and immediately thereafter, on August 21, 1420, he was made Bishop of Beauvais. In 1424 he received the capitulation of the town of Vitry on behalf of the King of England; the town had succumbed despite the defence put up by La Hire, one of the captains who was to find himself fighting at Joan’s side five years later. It is not difficult to imagine what Cauchon must have felt about the year 1429, in which he had been forced to flee first from Rheims, where he was living just before the coronation and where he had conducted the Fête-Dieu ceremonies, then from Beauvais when that town opened its gates to Charles VII. The negotiations entrusted to him would enable him both to avenge himself for that double humiliation and to vindicate the political theories dear to the heart of the Paris University men, and which he maintained throughout the whole course of his life. Checked in its progress by Joan’s dazzling campaign and by the sacring of Charles VII at Rheims, the double-monarchy theory would recover all its prestige if it could be shown that the instrument of the French cause was nothing but a wretched heretic and a witch. There was another and still secret stimulus to his activity as a negotiator: the archbishopric of Rouen had recently fallen vacant and he, driven out of his own diocese, had good hopes of obtaining the preferment as a reward for his good offices.
The news of Joan’s capture was, as we have seen, known in Paris on May 25 and recorded under that date in the Register of the Parliament. On the following day, May 26, the University of Paris sent a letter to the Duke of Burgundy, in the name of the Inquisitor of France, asking that Joan be handed over to him.
“Whereas all faithful Christian princes and all other true Catholics are required to extirpate all errors arising against the faith and the scandals which they entail among the simple Christian people, and that it be now of common renown that by a certain woman named Joan whom the adversaries of this kingdom call the Maid, have been in several cities, good towns and other places of this kingdom, broadcast* and published . . . diverse errors . . . we implore you of good affection, you, most puissant prince . . . that the soonest and most safely and conveniently it can be done, be sent and brought prisoner to us the said Joan, vehemently suspected of many crimes smacking of heresy, to appear before us and a procurator of the Holy Inquisitor, to answer and proceed as in reason bound with the good council, favour and aid of the good doctors and masters of the University of Paris and other notable councillors.” (C.8–9)
On July the 14th following the university wrote, this time in its own name, to John of Luxembourg and to the Duke of Burgundy himself. And Pierre Cauchon appeared in person before John of Luxembourg, in the camp outside Compiègne, with letters of summons from the University requiring Joan to be delivered to him.
“It is by this (these presents) that it is required by the Bishop of Beauvais of my lord the Duke of Burgundy and of my lord John of Luxembourg and of the Bastard of Wandomme, in the name and on behalf of the King our sire and on his own behalf as Bishop of Beauvais: that the woman who is commonly called Joan the Maid, prisoner, be sent to the King to be delivered over to the Church to hold her trial because she is suspected and defamed to have committed many crimes, sortileges, idolatry, invocations of enemies (devils) and other several cases touching our faith and against that faith.” (C.90)
He offered, on behalf of the King of England, a sum of six thousand francs to those who had captured Joan, and to the Bastard of Wandomme a pension of between three and four hundred livres; for her actual ransom the sum of ten thousand francs was offered.
As we can see, neither time nor money were spared. And to this activity on the part of the English government the King of France opposed only a complete inertia. It is true that in Antonio Morosini’s Journal we find references to a rumour passed on to him by a kinsman living in Bruges that Charles VII had instructed the Burgundians “that they should not for anything in the world lend themselves to such a transaction or, if they did, he would inflict similar treatment on those of their party whom he had in his hands”. (Herval, p. 14) And in the university’s letter to John of Luxembourg we read that it could happen “that this woman be delivered or lost, for it is said that some of the adversaries (i.e., of the King of England) are doing all in their power to accomplish and apply to that end all their understanding by extraordinary means and what is worse by money or ransom”. (C.7) These are the only allusions, remote and indirect, to any effort the King of France might be making to save the girl to whom he owed his crown.
But need we be surprised? Contemporary accounts of Charles VII agree in showing him to have been of weak character and in telling us that he was “of a changeable condition”. “There were frequent and diverse changes about his person, for it was his custom . . . when a man had raised himself high beside him, to the summit of the wheel, then he began to be troubled by it, and, on the first occasion which might give it countenance, readily reversed the wheel from high to low.” Georges Chastellain, to whom we owe this portrait, adds that he “savoured of the fruit all he could suck from it”. Moreover, it can be seen that the King was very careful to foster his own fame whenever he had a chance to do so: after the recovery of his kingdom he had innumerable medals struck on which he is entitled “Charles the Victorious”. It may be, after all, that once, contrary to all expectation, he had received that crown and sacring which made him King of France, he was not sorry to see her to whom he owed them put out of the way.
Furthermore, there were not wanting envious persons in his entourage who might even go so far as to rejoice over Joan’s capture. Most notable among these was the Archbishop of Rheims, Regnault de Chartres, who was hand-in-glove with La Trémoille and who was, as we have noted, at the head of the delegation which had presented itself to the Duke of Burgundy exactly one month after the sacring, at Arras, and, unknown to Joan, to sign the truces, which were a betrayal of the Maid. Events had shown his policy to have been wrong, and one may well wonder whether he did not bear Joan a grudge because he had been forced, willy nilly, to recognize that he had been duped in those negotiations and to come round to her view when it again became apparent that armed force alone would be effective. We have a reference to a letter which he had written to his diocesans in which he insinuates that “God had suffered that Joan the Maid be taken because she had puffed herself up with pride and because of the rich garments which she had adopted, and because she had not done what God had commanded her, but had done her own will”. (Q. v, 169)
The negotiations touching Joan were to keep Cauchon busy for more than four months as we know from the receipt which he signed for Pierre Surreau, Receiver General of Normandy, declaring that he had received the sum of seven hundred and sixty-five pounds tournois “for seven score and thirteen days which we affirm to have spent in the service of the King our lord for his business, both in the town of Calais and in several journeys going to my lord the duke of Burgundy or to messire John of Luxembourg in Flanders, to the siege before Compiègne, to Beaurevoir, for the matter of Joan called the Maid, as for several other tasks and business of the King, our sire”. Cauchon was, in fact, one of those men who know how to get their services well paid for: the diverse prebends and benefices which he accumulated represent about two thousand livres per annum.
One of the very few clerics of Rouen who had persisted in resistance to all political pressure, Nicholas de Houppville deposed, at the Trial of Rehabilitation, how he had seen Cauchon return from his various embassies and with what joy he had given an account of his transactions:
“I know very well,” he said on that occasion, “that Joan was brought to this city of Rouen by the English and that she was put in prison in the castle of Rouen; the trial was held at the expense of the English, as I believe. As to fears and pressures, I believe no such thing as far as the judges are concerned; I think that on the contrary they did it voluntarily, and above all the Bishop of Beauvais whom I saw return after he had been to fetch her, and give an account of his embassy to the King and the lord of Warwick, saying with joy and exultation words which I did not understand. Then he spoke later in secret with the lord of Warwick; what he said to him I know nothing about.” (R.261-262)
Joan’s last long journey was to take her from the castle of Beaurevoir to Rouen, where she was to stand trial for heresy. The University of Paris would have liked this trial to be held in Paris, but Paris was much too exposed, too close to territory recently given back to the King of France. Whereas in Rouen the English felt quite sure of themselves, for Normandy had been a fief of the English crown for two centuries. The town had been in their possession for ten years, and it was there that the King of England resided with his tutor, Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick.
The moment of Joan’s delivery to the English coincided with the death of “the lady of Luxembourg” whom her nephew, John, Count of Luxembourg-Ligny, had probably hesitated to offend. It was at Arras that she was put into the charge of an English escort; she was then taken to the strong castle of Crotoy. A contemporary chronicle, Jean de la Chapelle’s, says that she spent one night at the castle of Drugy near Saint-Riquier abbey. He was himself almoner of the abbey at the time, and he went with the provost of the same abbey, master Nicholas Bourdon, to visit Joan. (Q. v, 360). Studies of the tidal movements in the Somme bay have made it possible to determine when it was possible to cross the bay: Joan must have crossed it at about nine in the morning on December 20, 1430, to land at Saint Valery. The two gates of the town, the porte du Bas now called the porte de Nevers, and the porte du Haut now called the porte Guillaume, are still there. From there she must have been taken to the castle of Eu, going thence by way of Dieppe and Bosc-le-Haut to arrive at night-fall of December 23 in Rouen. There she was imprisoned in the castle of Bouvreuil under the guard of English gaolers.
On November 21st, when Joan was handed over to the English, the University of Paris had sent another letter to the King of England, signifying the joy felt by the worthy masters of that University on hearing that she was at last in the King’s hands:
“To the most excellent prince, King of France and England. . . . We have newly heard that into your power is now delivered the woman called the Maid, at which are we mighty joyous, confident that by your good order this woman will be brought to justice for the repairing of the great malifices and scandals notoriously come about in this kingdom on her account, to the great prejudice of the divine honour, of our holy faith and of all your good people.”
They ask that the mission of judging her be given to the Bishop of Beauvais and the Inquisitor of France, and it is at this point that they express the wish that she be judged in Paris. The King of England, as we have seen, was to decide otherwise, but was in agreement that the Bishop of Beauvais should be her judge. In principle a heretic was supposed to be judged by the bishop of his or her place of birth, or in the diocese where the heresy had been committed. The pretext, in this case, whereby it was possible to make Cauchon her judge, was that she had been taken at Compiègne which came into the diocese of Beauvais. But there was a difficulty: Cauchon, as Bishop of Beauvais, had no right to act as a judge in Rouen. But on the twenty-eighth of the previous December Bedford had made the chapter of Rouen grant him a “commission of territory” which enabled him to get round this rule.
A letter of January 3rd, written in the name of the king of England, stated: “It is our intention to recover and take back to ourselves that Joan if so be that she be not convicted or attainted of the case (of heresy) or other touching or regarding our faith.” (C.15) This makes it quite clear that whatever the outcome of the trial the English intended to keep the prisoner. The duplicity of the trial is thus exposed: in theory Joan was judged by the Church in a matter of heresy; in point of fact she was simply a prisoner-of-war whose fate depended on the English government.
For that matter the political character of the Rouen trial was not doubted even at the time. When, during the later Trial of Rehabilitation, lips were unsealed—Rouen having at last been liberated after thirty years of occupation by the English—the evidence on that subject was unanimous. We will, to begin with, quote the evidence given by the notaries, or as we should say, clerks, appointed to make a written record of the Trial of Condemnation.
Guillaume Manchon: “Whether the judges proceeded from hate or otherwise, I leave to their conscience. I know however and firmly believe that had she been on the English side they would not have treated her so and would not have brought such proceedings against her. She was, indeed, brought to the town of Rouen and not to Paris because, as I believe, the King of England was in the town of Rouen as were the principal men of his council, and she was placed in the prisons of the castle of Rouen. I was forced, in that business, to act as notary, and I did it in spite of myself, for I would not have dared to go against the order of the lords of the King’s council. And the English pursued this trial and it was at their expense that it was prepared. I believe, however, that the Bishop of Beauvais was not obliged to conduct this trial against Joan, nor was the promoter Jean d’Estivet. But it was voluntarily that they did it. As for the assessors and other councillors, I believe that they would not have dared contradict (refuse), and there was nobody who went not in fear.” (R.193–197)
Boisguillaume, second notary: “I know well that the lord Bishop of Beauvais undertook the proceedings against her because he said that she had been made prisoner within the limits of the diocese of Beauvais; whether it was in hate or otherwise I leave to his conscience. I know, however, that all was done at the expense of the King of England and on the initiative of the English, and I know well that the bishop himself and the others who meddled with this trial obtained from the King of England letters of guarantee, for I saw them.” (R.197)
One of the assessors, who was to play a great part in what remained of Joan’s life, Brother Isambart de la Pierre, a Dominican of the convent of Saint Jacques at Rouen, sums up the situation as follows: “Some of them who took part in the proceedings were pushed to it, like the Bishop of Beauvais, by their partiality. Some others, like some of the English doctors, by appetite for vengeance. Others, the doctors of Paris, by the lure of gain. Others, again, were driven by fear, like the sub-inquisitor and some others whom I do not recall; and all this was done on the initiative of the King of England, of the cardinal of Winchester, of the Earl of Warwick and of other English who paid the expenses incurred on account of this trial.” (R.199)
The exposition of military events takes, in the nature of things, more room in this chapter that in any other. For the sake of the reader who wishes to follow up points which we could not here treat in detail, here is a short bibliography.
On the military events in general:
Ed. Perroy, La Guerre de Cent Ans. Paris 1945.
Calmette et Deprez, La France et l’Angleterre en conflit. In Histoire
Générale published under the direction of G. Glotz, Vol. VIII.
Paris 1937.
On the military events of the year 1430 in particular:
A. Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart et François de Surrienne, Agents de
l’Angleterre. Paris 1936.
On the Compiègne episode:
P. Champion, Guillaume de Flavy. Paris 1906.
J. M. Mestre, Guillaume de Flavy, n’a pas trahi Jeanne d’Arc.
On Joan’s letters:
C. de Maleissye, Les Lettres de Jehanne d’Arc. Paris 1911.
In addition, of course, reference can be made to the diverse histories of Joan of Arc, the most reliable from the historical point of view still being Hanotaux’s (1911); P. H. Dunand’s, the most thorough, in three volumes (1899). There is also the excellent little résumé written by J. Calmette for the Que sais-je? series, Jeanne d’Arc, No. 211 of that collection.
A word must be said here touching the claim that the arms granted to Joan and her family contain “proof” of her “bastardy”. (Though why, in that case, they were granted to the whole family is not clear. Is it claimed that her brothers were also Isabeau of Bavaria’s bastards?) It is claimed that if Joan was permitted to display fleurs-de-lys on her arms, that was to affirm that she was of the blood royal. This misconception derives from the same ignorance as that which we pointed out in the matter of the “Orleans livery”. The King, on this as on many other occasions, granted the right to bear the royal emblem to those he was particularly anxious to honour because their exploits had been outstandingly glorious. Examples are not far to seek: the arms granted, at the same period and for the same reasons to Gilles de Rais in September 1429, were “fleurs-delys semées en orle” (see the original deed preserved in the Archives nationales and to be seen in the Musée de l’Histoire de France, A.E. 11, 1715).
It is further claimed that the sword which appears on these arms constitutes a “brisure” (bar, bend sinister), the sign indicating bastardy. This is false: in heraldry the sword has never been a “brisure”; it is a “meuble” exactly like the crown, fleurs-de-lys, etc. But every bastard did invariably bear the customary “brisure” on his arms, that is to say the bar of bastardy which can be seen, for example, on the arms of Dunois, Bastard of Orleans. Reference can be made to the principal works on heraldry, among others Remy Mathieu’s Le système heraldique français, Meurgey de Tupigny’s work, and others.
* No attempt to reproduce the lame metre of the following doggerel has been made.—E.H.
* It appears that the Burgundians had formed an ambush towards Clairoix. The falling back in great disorder was presumably to draw Joan and her company after them.
* As of seeds in sowing: not an anachronism!—E.H.
