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Joan of Arc

Page 2

by Regine Pernoud


  Durand Laxart or Lassois, farmer of Burey, Joan’s uncle-by-marriage: “Joan was of my wife Jeanne’s kinsfolk. I knew Jacques d’Arc and Isabelette well, the parents of Joan the Maid, good and true Catholics, and of good repute, and I believe that Joan was born in the town of Domremy and that she was baptised at the font of St. Remy in that town. Joan was of good behaviour, devout, patient, going readily to church, willingly to confession, and gave alms to the poor when she could, as I witnessed, both in the town of Domremy and at Burey, at my house, where Joan resided during a period of six weeks. Willingly did she work, spinning, ploughing,* keeping the cattle, and did other work suitable for women.” (R.82)

  Isabelette, wife of Gerardin d’Epinal, about fifty: “Willingly did she give alms and gathered in the poor and she would sleep beneath the hood of the hearth that the poor might sleep in her bed. She was not to be seen loitering about the streets, but was much in church at prayer. She did not dance, so that we, the other girls and young men, even talked about it. She was always working, spinning, cultivating the earth with her father, doing the housework and sometimes she guarded the cattle. She went readily and often to confession, as I witnessed, for Joan the Maid was my gossip, and carried Nicholas, my son, at the baptismal font. And often I went with her and saw her confess in church, to Messire Guillaume who was the priest at that time.” (R.81)

  Michel Lebuin, of Domremy, farmer at Burey, forty-four years old or thereabouts: “Joan went readily to church and very often to (other) sacred places. I know this because myself, on several occasions, when I was young, I went with her on pilgrimage to Notre Dame de Bermont, the hermitage. She went almost every Saturday to that hermitage, with her sister, and put candles there. For the love of God she gave away willingly all that she could get. She busied herself actively about women’s work and helping the other girls, doing it very well and properly; she confessed frequently; I know, for I was a companion and I often saw her confess.” (R.79)

  Dominique Jacob, priest of a neighbouring parish (Montiers-sur-Saulx in the diocese of Toul), about thirty-five years old: “Joan was from Domremy and as far as I know she was baptised in the church of St. Remy in that town. For her parents, they were Jacques d’Arc and Isabelette, joined in wedlock, who were good Catholics and of good repute: I always heard them spoken of as such. . . . Joan was older than me. I saw and knew her three or four years before she left the house of her father and mother; she was brought up in goodly ways and decent habits and went often to church and sometimes, when the bell was tolled for Compline at the town church, she fell upon her knees and, so it seemed to me, said her prayers piously.” (R.73)

  Etienne de Sionne, priest of Roncessay near Neufchâteau, about fifty-four years old: “I often heard it said by Messire Guillaume Front, parish priest during his lifetime at the town of Domremy, that Joan, called the Maid, was a good and simple girl, pious, well brought up, fearing God, so much so that she had not her equal in the town. She often confessed her sins to him, and he said that had Joan had money of her own she would have given it to her priest for the saying of Masses. This priest told me that every day when he celebrated she was at the Mass.” (R.73)

  Perrin Drappier, churchwarden of Domremy, about sixty years old: “Joan the Maid, in the time of her youth until she left her father’s house, was a good, chaste and simple girl, modest in manner, taking not the name of God nor of his saints in vain, fearing God. She went frequently to church and frequently confessed. The cause of my knowing this is that I was, in those days, churchwarden at the church of Domremy and often did I see Joan come to church, to Mass and to Compline. And when I did not ring the bells for Compline, Joan would catch me and scold me, saying that I had not done well; and she even promised to give me some wool if I would be punctual in ringing for Compline. And Joan went often with her sister and other people to a church and hermitage of Bermont, founded in honour of the Blessed Virgin Mary. She gave much in alms; she worked with a will, spinning and doing the necessary tasks; and sometimes she went to plough and took her turn at keeping the cattle.” (R.70–75)

  A childhood like any other, with, like any other in this too, a few features recalling the appalling background of events which made themselves felt even in that forgotten corner at the limits of Barrois and Lorraine.

  Question: Did the people of Domremy take the Burgundian side or that of their opponents?

  JOAN: I knew only one Burgundian there and I could have wished his head cut off—however, only if it pleased God.

  Question: In the town of Maxey, were they Burgundians or enemies of the Burgundians?

  JOAN: They were Burgundians. . . .

  Question: Were you ever with little children who fought for the side which is yours?

  JOAN: No. I have no memory of that; but I did see that certain people of the town of Domremy had fought against those of Maxey, whence they came back sometimes much wounded and bleeding.

  Question: In your extreme youth had you great wish to go out against the Burgundians?

  JOAN: I had a great will and desire that my King have his kingdom. . . .

  Question: Did you take the animals out to pasture?

  JOAN: I answered that elsewhere. When I was quite big and had reached the years of reason, I did not generally guard the animals, but I did help to take them to the meadows and also to a fortified place which was called the Isle, for fear of men-at-arms; but I do not remember whether in my childhood I guarded them or not. (C.63–65)

  The above exchange gives us something of the atmosphere of a France divided against itself, in which opinion aligned people against each other, and in which the approach of armed men alarmed the peasants and sent them and their beasts into refuge. At Domremy the place called the Isle, mentioned by Joan, was the only fortified place. And it was a refuge which sometimes turned out to be inadequate. In 1428 Antoine de Vergy, governor of Champagne for the King of England, received orders to go and besiege the city of Vaucouleurs, the only one in the whole bailiwick of Chaumont which had not yet made submission; all the others, Chaumont itself as well as Nogent-le-Roi, Coiffy, Audelot, Montigny-le-Roi, had rallied to the English crown.

  JOAN: For fear of the Burgundians, I left my father’s house and went to the town of Neufchâteau in Lorraine, to the house of a woman named La Rousse where I stayed for about fifteen days. (C.46)

  Isabelette, wife of Gérardin d’Epinal: “Joan went to Neufchâteau with her father, her mother, her brothers and sisters who, because of the soldiers (gens de guerre), took their animals to Neufchâteau. But she did not stay there long and she came back to Domremy with her father, as I witnessed; for she did not like living there and said that she preferred to live at Domremy.” (R.82)

  Dominique Jacob, parish priest of Montiers-sur-Saulx: “All the inhabitants of Domremy took to flight, because of the men-at-arms, and came to Neufchâteau, and among them came also Joan with her father and mother and always in their company.” (R.74)

  Hauviette: “I, too, was also in Neufchâteau at the time and was seeing Joan all the time.” (R.77)

  Gérard Guillemette, farmer, of Greux, about forty years of age: “I who am speaking was myself at Neufchâteau with Joan, her father and her mother, and I always saw her with her father and mother, excepting that during three or four days Joan, her mother and father being present, helped the hostess with whom they lodged, called La Rousse, a worthy woman of that town. I know well that they did not stay in Neufchâteau more than four or five days, until the soldiers had gone away. Then she came back to Domremy with her father and her mother.” (R.85)

  Meanwhile, hard times notwithstanding, the young people of the country still managed to enjoy themselves sometimes.

  JOAN: Quite close to the town of Domremy there is a tree called the Ladies’ Tree, and others call it the Fairies’ Tree, near which is a spring of water; and I have heard tell that those who are sick and have the fever drink the water of this spring and ask for its waters to recover their health. I have witnessed this myself b
ut I do not know if it cures them or not. It is a big tree called beech* from which fine Maypoles are made; it belonged to Messire Pierre de Bourlemont, Knight. Sometimes I went out with the other girls and by the tree made garlands (of flowers) for the image of Our Lady of Domremy; . . . I have seen the girls put such garlands on the tree’s branches and sometimes I myself put some on, with the others; sometimes we took them away with us and sometimes we left them there. . . . I do not know whether, since I reached the age of discretion (l’âge de raison), I ever danced about this tree; I may well have danced there with the children but I sang there more than I danced. (C.65–66)

  Gerardin d’Epinal, farmer, sixty years old or thereabouts: “This tree is called the Ladies’ Tree. I have seen the lords temporal and the ladies of Domremy, once or twice, in the spring, take bread and wine and go out to eat under this tree; it is then as beautiful as lilies and immense. Its leaves and its branches reach down to the ground. On Springs Sunday (Dimanche des Fontaines) the boys and girls of Domremy are accustomed to go out under this tree; their mothers make loaves for them and, young men and girls, off they go to celebrate Springs (faire fontaine) under this tree.† There they sing and dance and come back to the Spring at Rains, eat their bread and drink of its waters, as I have witnessed. Joan went there with the other girls and did all that the others did.” (R.80)

  Hauviette: “This tree, since ancient times, has been called the Ladies’ Tree, and it used to be said that the ladies who are called fairies went there. However, I never heard it said that anyone had ever seen one. The boys and girls of the town are accustomed to go to this tree and to the Rains Spring on the Sunday of Laetare Jerusalem called (Sunday) of the Springs, and they take bread with them. I went with Joan the Maid, for she was my comrade, and other girls and young men to the Fairies’ Tree on Springs Sunday. There we ate, we danced, we played; I have seen nuts (walnuts) taken to the tree and to the Springs.” (R.77)

  Jeannette, widow of Tiercelin: “The tree which is called the Ladies’ Tree—it is said that in past times a lord, Messire Pierre Granier, Knight, lord of Bourlemont, and a lady called (a) fairy, used to meet each other under this tree and talk together; this I heard read out of a romance.* And girls and young men of the town go there every year on Laetare Sunday, called ‘Of the Springs’, for an outing. And there they eat, dance and go off to drink at the Rains Spring.” (R.72)

  The foregoing suffices to suggest the tales which were told on the long winter evenings, and to recall youthful revels, dances and picnics under the tree which was several centuries old. Joan was in all things “like the others” and, like the others, she had her love affair.

  Question: What made you cause a certain man at the city of Toul to be summoned for (breach of promise of) marriage?

  JOAN: I did not have him summoned, it was he who had me summoned. And there I swore before the judge to speak the truth and in the end he roundly said that I had made the man no promise whatever.

  In the Middle Ages a promise of marriage had contractual force. It would seem that Joan had a suitor who, rejected, tried to revenge himself by haling her before the court of justice at Toul, which found against him—incidentally to the consternation of her father and mother who would have preferred to see her wed.

  Question: What was the dream which your father said he had had about you before you had left his house?

  JOAN: When I was still in the house of my father and mother, I was several times told by my mother that my father had told her that he had dreamt that I, Joan, his daughter, would go away with some men-at-arms. And much care did my father and mother have about it and they kept me close and in great subjection; and for my part I obeyed them in all things save only in that lawsuit I had in the city of Toul in the matter of marriage. And I have heard my mother say that my father told my brothers, “Truly, if I knew that that must happen which I fear in the matter of my daughter, I had rather you drowned her. And if you did not do it, I would drown her myself.”

  But why this refusal of marriage on Joan’s part?

  JOAN: The first time that I heard the voice, I promised to keep my virginity for as long as it should please God, and that was at the age of thirteen or thereabouts. (C.123–127)

  For in this childhood, “like the others”, something had happened concerning which Joan had said not a word to anybody.

  COMMENTARY

  It might at first sight seem superfluous to argue about Joan of Arc’s birth and origins after reading the testimony which establishes them so clearly. The worth of the texts in question raises no doubts in the historian’s mind; they emanate from eye-witnesses and bear the best sign of authenticity in that, agreeing about the real point in question, they differ sufficiently from each other to do away with any fear that one may be dealing with “faked” documents (copied from each other, for instance). The texts are taken from the trial of condemnation (C) and the trial of rehabilitation (R) and we shall see later (Chapters 7 and 9) how they were composed and in what form they still survive.

  It should be noted that all the above declarations, whether made by Joan herself or by the witnesses of her childhood, were made on oath and registered as such by the clerks of the two trial courts. Joan refused to take the oath and made clear and definite reservations when making statements touching her voices or the person of the King; but in what concerned her father and mother and place of birth she did not raise even the slightest difficulty and immediately swore to speak the truth. Let us also mark, in passing, the expressions she employed (see next chapter) when the question of her leaving Domremy was raised: the idea of being a “king’s daughter” was as fantastic to her as that of having “one hundred fathers and one hundred mothers”.

  Nevertheless the hypothesis of a “Joan of Arc bastard of Orleans” has so often been repeated that one is obliged to examine it.

  Who started it?

  It appeared for the first time in an article by one Pierre Caze, sub-prefect of Bergerac, who was not an historian but was under the mistaken impression that he was a dramatist. He expounded his theory in 1805, in the Observations which prefaced a tragedy of his composition published in Libourne and entitled The Death of Joan of Arc or The Maid of Orleans. In 1819 he returned to the subject, in two volumes: The Truth about Joan of Arc or enlightenment on her origin.

  Since then books and articles taking up the same hypothesis have appeared periodically, so that in 1895 the learned Lefevre-Pontalis was already describing it as an “old attempt at mystification”.* It should be noted that all the writers who have successively expounded this thesis of Joan’s bastardy have done no more than resume the same arguments supported by the same documentation as those of P. Caze; during 150 years no new document which might reinforce the theory has come to light. All those which have been put forward as “new” have been shown on analysis to be documents already well known to historians and well studied by them.

  According to this hypothesis Joan was the daughter of Isabeau of Bavaria and Louis, Duke of Orleans, brother of King Charles VI.

  As Louis d’Orleans was assassinated on the night of November 23, 1407, it follows that any child of his must have been conceived before that date. Now contemporary documents (among others the Chronique du Religieux de Saint Denis) establish that Isabeau of Bavaria gave birth, on November 10, 1407, to a son who died within a few hours, having been hastily baptised with the name of Philippe. Since, for reasons no longer historical but gynaecological, it is impossible to suppose Isabeau again pregnant between November 10 and 23, we are obliged to suppose that the child was really a girl for whom a still-born boy was substituted. Offspring of Isabeau’s and Louis’ guilty passion, the child it seems was first hidden and subsequently entrusted to some peasants of the village of Domremy to whom she was taken on the night of Epiphany: for those who hold this theory, this would explain why the village cockerels, roused by the noise of the royal suite, all crowed in the middle of the night, as described in a letter written by Perceval de Boulainvilliers
(see Chapter 4).

  And the reason for this removal and substitution? They were because the child was illegitimate.

  The liaison between Isabeau of Bavaria and her brother-in-law Louis of Orleans has never been formally established but it is a possibility; some historians consider it as probable even as early as 1404. What, on the other hand, is altogether impossible in the eyes of any historian tolerably familiar with the mores, domestic and juridical customs, and mentality of the Middle Ages is the notion of concealing the birth of a bastard. This idea alone is sufficient to expose a profound ignorance of the period. The fact is that during the Middle Ages bastards were admitted to the family circle and acknowledged without shame; this state of mind persisted, indeed, until relatively recent times; one has only to recall Louis XIV’s bastards. It was in the eighteenth and above all the nineteenth century that the distinction between legitimate and “natural” children began to be made and that some effort was made to dissimulate the latter: the reasons for this evolution in manners are too numerous to be set out here—growing influence of Roman law, fear of dispersing the family heritage by division, in a word all that characterises bourgeois civilization.

  To believe that anyone could, in Joan of Arc’s time, seek to conceal an illegitimate birth is simply to perpetrate an anachronism. Bastards, we repeat, were brought up as members of the family: if the family happened to be noble they bore its arms, to which was added what heraldists call a brisure, the “bar of bastardy”. Examples abound: one might begin with Dunois himself, known as and called the Bastard of Orleans in Joan of Arc’s day; it was thus that he signed his letters in fact: he was the son of Louis of Orleans and Yolande d’Enghien. A few years later the royal accounts carry an entry at regular intervals for the fees paid to “the wet-nurse for My Lord the Count of Maine’s bastard”, the child being a daughter of Charles du Maine, Queen Marie’s brother and Charles VII’s brother-in-law. Two chroniclers of the period, Enguerrand de Monstrelet and Jean de Wavrin, were bastards. Philippe the Good, Duke of Burgundy, had, despite his three marriages, sixteen bastards, of whom one, Antoine, was called The Great Bastard, and bore that nickname without, as we should say nowadays, developing a complex.

 

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