Joan of Arc

by Regine Pernoud

  For any historian of the Middle Ages the hypothesis, then, at once appears in the highest degree improbable; it entails transposing the mores and state of mind of a later epoch into the past.

  Furthermore, it is unacceptable from the point of view of historic method. For history—let us not forget this—is an exact science regulated by scientific method. We cannot accept a mere supposition unsupported by any document. It is, therefore, desirable that we glance at any of the documents which might support the hypothesis in question.

  The birthdays of the various children born to Isabeau of Bavaria and Charles VI are established chiefly by reference to the Chronique du Religieux de Saint Denis, which offers to historians perfectly acceptable guarantees of authenticity. This chronicle states without prevarication that the child born on November 10, 1407, was of the male sex and was christened Philippe.

  The works of an eighteenth-century historian, the Abbé Villaret, albeit suspect since he never gives his sources, also call this child Philippe in the edition which appeared during his lifetime, that is in 1764; but in two later editions, dated respectively 1770 and 1783, this same child becomes a girl called Joan. Obviously, for the modern historian, contemporary evidence is superior to the work of an eighteenth-century writer whose posthumous editions may have contained mistakes.

  In default of documents—for in fact no other has ever been produced—those who favour the hypothesis of royal bastardy have recourse to various hints whose value we shall examine as they appear in the texts we shall be quoting. And to begin with those already quoted, these people evince surprise, for example, at the fact that Joan did not know her exact age (for, we must note, in order to be “bastard of Orleans” Joan would have had to be born in 1407 and consequently to have been twenty-five at the time of her trial). But, for the historian of the Middle Ages, the surprising thing would have been if Joan had known her age. For at that time nobody was much concerned to know how old he or she might be. The notions which have acquired such importance in the modern world—date and place of birth, civil status, authenticated by an identity card or a passport were utterly alien to the mediaeval world. In Joan of Arc’s time historiographers and chroniclers were just beginning to record the birth dates of kings and very great noblemen; at the same period parish registers were beginning to be kept here and there, and in them christenings, weddings and deaths were noted. But they were rare, and are even rarer in surviving archives: parish registers did not begin to become numerous until the sixteenth and, above all, the seventeenth centuries.

  An example of such typical uncertainties may be in place here: in 1415, one Jean Fusoris—well known to historians of the Middle Ages, for he was a famous technician in his day, a maker of astronomical instruments—was arrested on suspicion of treason in the course of the English invasion. Interrogated twice during a single year, on the first occasion, he claimed to be “fifty or thereabouts”, on the other that he was “sixty or thereabouts”. (L. Mirot, Le procès de maître Jean Fusoris, Mem. de la Soc. de l’Hist. de Paris, 1900, pp. 173 and 230.)

  Thus, in all trials and inquests, the customary formula for answering the question as to one’s age was: “X” years of age, or thereabouts, vel circiter, vel circa, vel eorcirca. In our translation of the Trial of Rehabilitation, we left out this formula, as we left out all procedural forms and repetition in general; in the present work we have restored it as it is found in the original manuscripts and in Quicherat’s Latin edition.

  It was, furthermore, to offset this want of precision that children were given several godparents of each sex who could at least swear that they had been baptised: proceedings were based on oral testimony, without expecting the exactitude which we expect nowadays from documentary evidence.

  So we do not know Joan’s age exactly; we have only what she herself said, and what was attested by the witnesses at her Trial of Rehabilitation—to wit, that at the time of her Trial of Condemnation she was nineteen or thereabouts, twenty or thereabouts.

  There is a single discordant voice, Hauviette’s, Joan’s friend. Questioned during the Trial of Rehabilitation, January 28, 1456, she replied that she was “forty-five years old or thereabouts”, which would put her birth date in the year 1411. Now in the course of her evidence she said, “Joan was older than me by three or four years, from what people said.” This would advance Joan’s date of birth and place it in the year 1407 or 1408—prerequisite if she is to be considered “bastard of Orleans”. But one hundred and fifteen witnesses were questioned during the Trial of Rehabilitation and Hauviette’s evidence cannot be allowed to outweigh that of Joan herself and the 114 other witnesses, especially since the age written down by the clerk may very well have been misheard or ill-written without anyone, at the time, bothering much about it. Moreover, note that Hauviette is not positive: “from what people said” (à ce qu’on disait); may not her remark have been inspired by the very feminine wish to make herself out younger than she was? At all events, it is obvious that the age question is quite inadequate to prove the supposition of bastardy.

  Experience teaches us that there is a certain difference between a girl of nineteen or twenty and a girl of twenty-five. If the vast majority of witnesses and Joan herself agree that she was nineteen or twenty years old, let us admit that, in default of absolute precision, there is a strong presumption that she was born in 1412 “or thereabouts”. This would, moreover, agree with other testimony, since Joan declared that she was about thirteen when she had the first of her revelations, and that these revelations persisted during four or five years.

  * curé.

  * remplie de bonnes moeurs.

  * In this and other testimony, Joan is described as “allant à la charrue”. The term may not mean literally that she ploughed; it may refer to such works of cultivation as hoeing.—E.H.

  * hau, not hêtre.

  † An old Celtic rite, apparently.—E.H.

  * Possibly an old ballad.—E.H.

  * Le Moyen Age, May/June 1895.

  2

  VOCATION AND DEPARTURE

  JOAN: When I was thirteen years old, I had a voice from God to help me govern my conduct. And the first time I was very fearful. And came this voice, about the hour of noon, in the summer-time, in my father’s garden; I had not fasted on the eve preceding that day. I heard the voice on the right-hand side, towards the church; and rarely do I hear it without a brightness. This brightness comes from the same side as the voice is heard. It is usually a great light. When I came to France, often I heard this voice. . . . The voice was sent to me by God and, after I had thrice heard this voice, I knew that it was the voice of an angel. This voice has always guarded me well and I have always understood it clearly.

  Question: What sort of help say you that this voice has brought you for the salvation of your soul?

  JOAN: It has taught me to conduct myself well, to go habitually to church. It told me that I, Joan, should come into France. . . . This voice told me, twice or thrice a week, that I, Joan, must go away and that I must come to France and that my father must know nothing of my leaving. The voice told me that I should go to France and I could not bear to stay where I was. The voice told me that I should raise the siege laid to the city of Orleans. The voice told me also that I should make my way to Robert de Baudricourt in the fortress of Vaucouleurs, the Captain of that place, that he would give me people to go with me. And me, I answered it that I was a poor girl who knew not how to ride nor lead in war. (C.47–48)

  Question: Have you some other sign that these voices are good spirits?

  JOAN: Saint Michael assured me of it before the voices came.

  Question: How did you know it was Saint Michael?

  JOAN: I knew it by his speech and by the language of the Angels, and I believe firmly that they were Angels.

  Question: How did you know that they were Angels?

  JOAN: I believed it quite quickly (soon) and I had the will to believe it. Saint Michael, when he came to me, told me that Sain
t Catherine and Saint Margaret would come to me and that I should act by their advice, that they were bidden to lead me in what I had to do and that I should believe in what they would say to me and that it was by God’s order.

  Question: If the devil put himself into the form or figure of a good Angel, how would you know that it is a good or bad Angel?

  JOAN: I should certainly know if it was Saint Michael or some other thing which had put itself into his resemblance. The first time I had great doubt if it was Saint Michael who came to me, and that first time I was very much afraid; and I saw him afterwards several times before knowing that it was Saint Michael.

  Question: How was it that you recognized Saint Michael rather on that occasion when you did believe (it to be him), than the first time he appeared to you?

  JOAN: The first time I was a child and was afraid, and afterwards Saint Michael taught me and showed me and proved to me that I must believe firmly that it was him.

  Question: What doctrines did he teach you?

  JOAN: Before all things he told me to be a good child and that God would help me. And, among other things he told me to come to the help of the King of France. . . . And the Angel told me the pity (pitiful state) that was in the Kingdom of France. (C.162–163)

  Question: Of these visions which you say you had, did you mention them to your parish priest or to any other churchman?

  JOAN: No, but to Robert de Baudricourt only, and to my King. My voices did not oblige me to hold this secret, but I feared greatly to reveal it for fear of the Burgundians, lest they prevent my journey; and above all I greatly feared my father, that he might prevent me from making my journey.

  Question: Did you think you were doing well in going away without the permission of your father and your mother, since we must honour our father and our mother?

  JOAN: In all other things I did obey my father and my mother, save in this leaving them, but afterwards I wrote to them about it and they gave me their forgiveness.

  Question: When you left your father and your mother, did you think you were committing a sin?

  JOAN: Since God commanded it, it had to be. Since God commanded it, had I had a hundred fathers and a hundred mothers, had I been a King’s daughter, I should have departed.

  Question: Did you ask your voices whether you could tell your father and your mother of your setting forth?

  JOAN: As for my father and my mother, my voices would have been satisfied that I tell them, had it not been for the pain it would have caused them if I had announced my departure. As for me, I would not have told them for anything in the world. The voices left it to me to tell my father and my mother, or to keep silent. . . . And them within so little of going out of their senses the time I left to go to the town of Vaucouleurs. (C.124–125–127)

  It was, then, in secret that Joan left Domremy. The nearest she came to giving her plans away was in allusions made to certain people who were unable to understand her.

  Hauviette: “I did not know when Joan went away and because of that I wept a great deal for I loved her dearly for her sweet nature and I was her companion.” (R.77)

  Mengette: “On going away she bade me adieu, then passed on her way commending me to God, and went away to Vaucouleurs. (R.78)

  Gerardin d’Epinal: “I know nothing (of her leaving) save that when she was wishing to go away she said to me, ‘My good friend*, if you were not a Burgundian†, I should tell you something.’ Me, I thought she was talking about some companion she wanted to marry.” (R.81)

  Michel Lebuin: “I know nothing, save that once Joan herself told me, on the eve of St. John Baptist’s Day, that there lived a maid between Coussey and Vaucouleurs who, before the year was out, would have the King of France crowned. And in the year which followed, the King was crowned at Rheims; I know nothing else.” (R.80)

  How did Joan set about leaving Domremy without alerting her parents?

  JOAN: I went to my uncle’s and I told him that I wanted to stay with him for a time and there I stayed about eight days. And I then told my uncle that I must go to the town of Vaucouleurs and my uncle took me there. And when I came to this town of Vaucouleurs I recognized Robert de Baudricourt, whereas never before had I seen him and by my voice I knew this Robert, for the voice told me that it was him. And I told this same Robert that I must go into France. This Robert twice refused and repulsed me. (C.48–49)

  Isabelette, wife of Gérardin d’Epinal: “I have heard Durand Laxart, who took her to the lord Robert de Baudricourt, say that she told him that she would tell her father that she was going to help his wife at her confinement, so that he could take her to the lord Robert” (R.82)

  Durand Laxart: “I went myself to fetch Joan at her father’s house and I took her to my house. And she told me that she wanted to go to France, to the Dauphin, to have him crowned, saying, ‘Has it not been said that France will be lost by a woman and shall thereafter be restored by a virgin?’ And she told me also that I was to go to Robert de Baudricourt that he might have her taken to the place where the lord Dauphin was to be found. This Robert several times told me that I should return her to her father’s house after having cuffed her soundly.”

  Gérard Guillemette: “When Joan left her father’s house, I saw her pass in front of the house with her uncle who was called Durand Laxart. At which time Joan said to her father, ‘God be with you, I am going to Vaucouleurs.’ Then I heard it said that Joan was going away into France.”

  One of those who were to be her companions on the “journey” from Vaucouleurs to Chinon, remembered the first encounter between Joan and de Baudricourt. Bertrand de Poulengy, esquire to the King of France, sixty-three years of age or thereabouts: “According to report, Joan was from Domremy, and her father was Jacques d’Arc of that town. I know not her mother’s name, but I was several times in their house and I know that they were worthy farmers. . . . Joan the Maid came to Vaucouleurs at the time of the Ascension of Our Lord, as I recall it, and there I saw her speak with Robert de Baudricourt who was then captain of the town. She told him that she was come to him, Robert, sent by her Lord to bring word to the Dauphin that he hold himself prepared but make no war on his enemies, for the Lord would aid him before mid-Lent. Joan said that the kingdom did not belong to the Dauphin but to her Lord, and that the Lord wanted the Dauphin to be made King and he was to place his kingdom at her command, saying that despite his enemies the Dauphin would be made King and that she would lead him to his coronation. Robert asked her who was her Lord. She answered: ‘The King of Heaven’. That done, she returned to her father’s house with her uncle called Durand Laxart of Bureyle-Petit. And thereafter, towards the end of Lent, Joan came again to Vaucouleurs, asking for a company to go to the lord Dauphin. Which perceiving, myself and Jean de Metz together offered to lead her to the King, at that time Dauphin.” (R.98)

  The chronological hints here given by Bertrand de Poulengy allow us to place Joan’s first attempt in the month of May 1428: it took place, therefore, about one month before the Sire de Vergy’s attack on Vaucouleurs. The second attempt took place at the beginning of the year 1429. Lent began very early that year since Ash Wednesday fell on February 9. This second residence in Vaucouleurs was, as we shall see, longer than the first, and we know more about it, Robert de Baudricourt first refusing to yield to Joan’s demand, then letting himself be convinced.

  JOAN: Robert twice refused and repulsed me, and the third time he received me and gave me men. The voice had told me that it would so happen.

  Durand Laxart: “When the Maid saw that Robert did not want to send her to the place where the Dauphin was, she herself handed me my cloak and told me that she wished to withdraw. And, withdrawing, I took her to Saint-Nicholas, and when she was there she went with a safe-conduct to the lord Charles, Duke of Lorraine, and when the lord Charles saw her, he spoke with her and gave her four francs, which she showed me. Then Joan went back to Vaucouleurs, and the inhabitants of the town of Vaucouleurs bought for her men’s clothes, hose,
leggings, and all that she needed. And myself and Jacques Alain of Vaucouleurs, bought her a horse for the price of twelve francs at our own expense. However, thereafter the lord Robert de Baudricourt caused us to be reimbursed. And that done, Jean de Metz, Bertrand de Poulengy, Colet de Vienne and Richard Larcher, with the two servants of Jean de Metz and Bertrand, took Joan to the place where the Dauphin was.” (R.83)

  It was thus that Durand Laxart, in curt phrases proper to a far from garrulous peasant, summed up the events. Other witnesses gave more details.

  Jean de Novellompont or de Metz, esquire, ennobled by Charles VII in 1448, fifty-seven years old or thereabouts: “When Joan the Maid came to the place and town of Vaucouleurs, in the diocese of Toul, I saw her, dressed in poor clothes, women’s clothes, red; she lodged at the house of one Henri Le Royer of Vaucouleurs. I spoke to her, saying, ‘My dear girl, what are you doing here? Must it not be that the King be cast out of the kingdom and we become English?’ And the Maid answered me, ‘I am come here to a King’s Chamber’ (i.e., to a royalist place) ‘to talk with Robert de Baudricourt that he may be willing to lead me or send me to the King, but he pays no attention to me nor to my words. And yet, before we are in mid-Lent, I must be at the King’s side, though I wear my feet to the knees. For indeed there is nobody in all the world, neither king nor duke, nor daughter of the King of Scotland, nor any other who can recover the kingdom for France. And there will be no help (for the kingdom) if not from me. Although I would rather have remained spinning at my mother’s side, for it is not my condition, yet must I go and must I do this thing, for my Lord wills that I do so.’ I asked her who was her Lord. And she told me that it was God. Whereupon I, Jean, who bear witness here, promised the Maid, putting my hand in hers in a gesture of good faith, that, God helping, I would lead her to the King. And I asked her when she wished to set out. She said to me, ‘Rather today than tomorrow and tomorrow than later.’ Then I asked her if she wanted to go in her own clothes. She replied that she would rather have men’s clothes. Then I gave her clothes and hose of my servants that she might don them. And that done, the inhabitants of Vaucouleurs had men’s clothes made for her and shoes and all things necessary to her and they delivered to her a horse which cost about sixteen francs. When she was dressed and had a horse, with a safe conduct from the lord Charles, Duke of Lorraine, the Maid went to speak with that lord and I went with her to the city of Toul. And when she returned to Vaucouleurs, it being about Bures Sunday*—twenty-seven years ago come next Bures Sunday, that would be—myself and Bertrand de Poulengy and two of his servants and Colet de Vienne, King’s Messenger, and one Richard, an archer, we conducted the Maid to the King who was at Chinon, at my expense and Bertrand’s.” (R.91–92)