by Eugène Sue
“She must have been waving good-bye to her uncle and aunt, the old Laxarts.”
“Yes; there they are, both of them, at the lower window of the tower; they are holding each other’s hands and weep to see their niece depart, perhaps forever! War is so changeable a thing!”
“Poor, dear girl! Her heart must bleed, as she said, to go all alone, far from her folks, and to battle at the mercy of God!”
“She will now turn around the corner of the rampart—”
“Let her at least hear our hearty adieus — Good luck, Joan the Maid! Good luck to Joan! Good luck! Good luck! Death to the English!”
“She hears us — she makes a sign — she is waving good-bye to us. Victory to Joan!”
“Mother! Mother! Take me up in your arms! Put me on your shoulders. Let me see her again.”
“Come child! Take a good look! Always remember Joan! Thanks to her, no longer will desolate mothers weep for sons and husbands massacred by the English.”
“Good luck to Joan — Good luck!”
“She has turned the corner of the rampart — she is gone!”
“Good luck to Joan the Maid! May the good God go with her!”
“May she deliver us from the English! Good luck, Joan!”
PART II. CHINON.
CHAPTER I.
THE COUNCIL OF CHARLES VII.
THREE OF THE principal members of the Council of King Charles VII — George of La Tremouille, chamberlain and a despotic, avaricious and suspicious minister; the Sire of Gaucourt, an envious and cruel soldier; and Regnault, Bishop of Chartres, a double-dealing and ambitious prelate — were assembled on the 7th of March of 1429 in a hall of the Castle of Chinon.
“May the fever carry off that Robert of Baudricourt! The man’s audacity of writing direct to the King inducing him to receive that female cowherd!” cried George of La Tremouille. “And Charles considers the affair a pleasant thing and wants to have a look at the crazy girl! The fools claim she is sent by God — I hold she has been sent by the devil to thwart my plans!”
“There is but one way of eluding the formal orders of the King,” observed the Bishop of Chartres. “That accursed John of Novelpont has made so much noise that our Sire is determined to see the vassal whom, since her arrival, we have kept confined in the tower of Coudray to await the royal audience. The brazen and vagabond minx feels greatly elated at the imbecile enthusiasm that she has been made the object of by the clouts of Lorraine, and is surprised at not having been presented to Charles VII! Blood of Christ! Our do-nothing King is quite capable, as a means both of ridding himself of us and of dropping all care on the score of the kingdom’s safety, of tempting God by accepting the aid of this Joan — In that event, my seigneurs, it will be all over with the influence of the royal council! All that will be left for us to do will be to quit our posts.”
“And I, Raoul of Gaucourt, who served under Sancerre and under the Constable of Clisson, I who vanquished the Turks at Nicopolis, I am to take orders from a woman who tended cattle! Death and massacre! I sooner would break my sword!”
“These are hollow words, Raoul of Gaucourt,” said the Sire of La Tremouille thoughtfully; “words are powerless against facts. Our Sire, indolent, fickle and cowardly, may, at the desperate pass his affairs are in, wish to try the supernatural influence of this female cowherd. Let us not deceive ourselves. Since the day that Joan was at my orders relegated to the tower of Coudray, half a league from here, the outcry raised by John of Novelpont has had its effect upon a part of the court. His enthusiasm for the said Joan, his reports of her beauty, her modesty, her military genius, have awakened a lively curiosity among a number of courtiers.”
“Mercy!” cried Raoul of Gaucourt. “The idea of pretending that peasant possesses military genius! The man must be crazy enough for a strait-jacket.”
“Raoul, collect yourself,” replied the Bishop of Chartres; “my son in God George of La Tremouille, has stated the facts. He is right. A part of the court, greedy after novelties, jealous of our power, and tired of seeing a portion of their domains in the hands of the English has given an ear to the excited reports of John of Novelpont upon the visionary girl. A goodly number of these courtiers have beset the King. He wishes to see her. It would be absurd and impolitic to try to struggle against the current that has set in.”
“So, then, we are to yield, are we?” cried Raoul of Gaucourt, wrathfully striking the table at which they were seated. “Yield before this sorceress who should be roasted on fagots!”
“We may avail ourselves of the fagots later on, my brave Raoul; but at present we must yield. — You know it better than I in your capacity of an experienced captain, Sire of La Tremouille; the position that can not be carried by a front attack, may yet be flanked.”
“Your words are golden, dear tonsured companion. Among friends agreed upon the same end and having identical interests, the full truth is due to each by all. I shall, accordingly, open my mind to you upon the present situation. I have for some time succeeded in removing the princes of the blood from the councils of the King. We reign. Moreover, as regards myself, I am, just at present, far from desiring to see the war with the English and Burgundians come to an end. I have need of its continuance. My brother, who is on familiar terms with the Regent of England and the Duke of Burgundy, has obtained from both protection for my domains. Only this year, when the enemy pushed forward as far as the walls of Orleans, my lands and my seigniory of Sully were spared. That is not all. Thanks to the civil troubles and to the numerous partisans whom I keep in pay in Poitou, that province is at my mercy. I do not lose the hope of annexing it to my possessions, provided the war is prolonged a little. You see, I have a powerful interest in thwarting the projects of this female envoy of God, should they ever be realized. I do not wish for the expulsion of the English, I do not wish for the end of the war, for the reason that the war serves my purposes. Such, in all sincerity, are my personal motives. Now, let us see whether your interests, Regnault, Bishop of Chartres, and yours, Raoul of Gaucourt are not of the same nature as mine. As to you, Bishop of Chartres, should the war end suddenly by force of arms, what becomes of all the negotiations that for a long time you have been secretly conducting with the Regent of England on one side, and the Duke of Burgundy on the other — negotiations that have cost so much toil and that, justly so, give the King so high an opinion of your importance? What becomes of the guarantees and the pecuniary advantages that, like a shrewd negotiator, you demand and know how to obtain from the princes that you negotiate with?”
“All my hopes will be shattered if our troops, fanaticized by this girl, should gain but one victory in a single encounter with the English,” cried the Bishop of Chartres. “The Regent of England wrote to me only recently that he was not disinclined to entertain my propositions for a treaty, in which case, added the Duke of Bedford, I could be sure of obtaining all that I have demanded of him. But if the fires of war should flare up again under the inspiration of this bedeviled peasant girl, all negotiations will be broken off, and then good-bye to the profits that I sought to derive. So that you were right, George of La Tremouille, when you said that our interests command us to join hands against Joan.”
“And as to you, Raoul of Gaucourt,” replied the Sire of La Tremouille, “I hope you are not ignorant of the fact that Dunois, Lahire, Xaintrailles, the Constable of Richemont, the Duke of Alençon, and other leading commanders, are all jealous of your ability and of your seat in the royal council, and that they will rank themselves on the side of the girl, whom they will turn into a docile instrument to overthrow you. If the royal army wins but one victory, your influence and military prestige will be eclipsed by the success of your rivals. Our King, fickle, ungrateful and irresolute as we know him to be, will sacrifice you at the first suspicion of treason or incompetence.”
“Thunder and blood!” cried Raoul of Gaucourt, “I have a good mind to go straight to the tower of Coudray and order the execution of the sorceress without th
e formality of a trial! We shall find priests enough to affirm that Satan carried her off.”
“The method is violent and clumsy, dear captain!” replied George of La Tremouille. “The same end can be reached by other methods. It is understood that I, you, and the Bishop of Chartres have common interests which bind us against the girl. What we must now do is to consider how to ruin her. Let’s begin with you, holy Bishop of Chartres, the spiritual director of our Sire. However debauched he is, occasionally he is afraid of the devil. Could you not insinuate to the good King that he would endanger the salvation of his soul if he were, precipitately and without a previous inquest, to attach faith to the creature that calls herself a deputy of the Lord, but who is more likely a deputy of Satan?”
“An excellent idea!” exclaimed the Bishop of Chartres. “I shall convince Charles VII that it is imperative to have Joan examined by the clerks of theology, they being alone qualified to ascertain and solemnly declare whether she is obeying a divine inspiration, or whether, on the contrary, she is not a brazen impostor possessed of the evil spirit, in which case, by placing confidence in the girl, our Sire would then render himself the accomplice in a sorcery. I shall then empanel a canonical college that shall be charged with pronouncing finally and infallibly upon the degree of faith that may be accorded to the alleged divine mission of Joan. Obedient to my secret instructions she shall be pronounced a heretic, a sorceress and possessed of the evil spirit. The fagots will soon be in full flare to receive her to the heart’s content of our brave Gaucourt. We shall have her burned alive.”
“Blood of God!” cried the soldier. “I shall myself set fire to the pyre. There is the infamous female serf, who meant to command noble captains, burnt to a crisp!”
“She is not yet roasted, dear Gaucourt!” observed the Sire of La Tremouille. “Let us suppose that the plan of our friend the Bishop of Chartres fails; let us suppose that by some fatal accident and contrary to the instructions issued to it by our worthy bishop, the canonical council declares the said Joan truly and duly inspired by God—”
“I answer for the clerks whom I shall choose for the examination! They will all be men entirely devoted to me.”
“Dear Bishop, it sometimes happens that the soldiers we think we can answer for man for man, slip us at the moment of action. It may happen that way with your clerks. Let us proceed from the theory that King Charles, finding himself in extremis, is inclined to take the risk of placing the said Joan at the head of his armies. It will then rest with you, Raoul of Gaucourt, more than with anyone else, to ruin the insolent girl, who has but one fixed thought — to raise the siege of Orleans. You must then demand of the King the command of the town of Orleans, and you must consent to serve under her orders.”
“May hell confound me if ever, even for a single hour, I should consent to receive orders from that she-cowherd!”
“Be not all tempest and flame, brave Gaucourt. Remember that the bulk of the troops would then be under your immediate orders. Joan will issue orders to you, but you can disregard them, you can cross and thwart all her plans of battle; you can cause well calculated delays in the movements of the troops; above all you could — well — manoeuvre in such a way as to have the crazy girl fall into the hands of the English. In short, it would lie with you, more than with us, to prevent her from winning her first battle.”
“At the first check that she meets,” added the Bishop of Chartres insinuatingly to Raoul of Gaucourt, “the enthusiasm that she now excites will change into contempt. The people will feel ashamed of having allowed themselves to be duped by so clumsy an imposition. The revulsion against her will be immediate. If, contrary to all expectations — I should say certainty — the canonical council appointed by myself should declare Joan truly inspired by God; — if the King then places her at the head of his troops — then, brave Gaucourt, the loss of her first battle, brought on by your skilful manoeuvres, will deal a fatal blow to the adventuress! Victorious, she would be the envoy of God; vanquished, she becomes the envoy of Satan! — Then we may proceed against her in regular form under the pretext of heresy and sorcery — then will the fagots that you are in such a hurry to set fire to soon be kindled to receive her. It depends upon you whether she shall be burned alive by us, or allowed to be taken by the English, who will execute her.”
“Well,” answered Raoul of Gaucourt meditatively, “let us suppose the she-cowherd orders a sally against the besiegers; the bridge is lowered; the bedeviled girl rushes out over it; a few of our men follow her; — I give the signal to retreat; my people hasten to re-enter the town; the bridge is raised — and the wench remains in the power of the enemy! Is that it?”
“Yes; can we rely upon you?”
“Yes; I perceive the way, either by a false sally or some other manoeuvre, to settle the she-devil!”
“And now,” resumed the Sire of La Tremouille, “let us feel hopeful; our plot is well laid; our nets are skilfully spread. It will be impossible for the visionary to escape; either you, Gaucourt, or you, worthy Bishop, will prevent it. As to me, I shall not be idle. But first of all, holy Bishop, is it not an established fact that a demon can not possess the body of a virgin?”
“It is an unquestionable fact, according to the formula of exorcism — We shall attend to that.”
“Now, then, Joan claims to be a virgin. Her fanatical and imbecile followers call her Joan the Maid. Either the street-walker, indecently clad in man’s clothes, is the concubine of John of Novelpont, to judge by the interest he takes in her, or she is really chaste and a virgin. It shall be my part to prick the libertine curiosity of the King on the subject by proposing to him to assemble a council of matrons. Such a council, presided over, let us suppose, by the King’s mother-in-law, Yolande of Sicily, will be commissioned to ascertain whether Joan is really a virgin. If she is none, the most violent suspicions of imposture and sorcery immediately rise against her. Then she no longer is the alleged saint whom God has inspired, but an audacious cheat, a worthy companion of the easy wenches who follow the encampments. She will then be shamefully whipped, and then driven away, if not burned for a sorceress.”
“I am ready to accept your theory that she is a ribald,” replied the Bishop of Chartres, “and, with you, I feel sure that John of Novelpont, who is so fascinated with her, is her lover. Nevertheless, if by accident she does not lie and is justified in allowing herself to be called the Maid, and if it is solemnly established that she is still pure, would not that greatly redound to her advantage? Would not then the presumption of her divine mission be strengthened? On the other hand, by not submitting Joan to any such trial, the field remains free for suspicions, which it would then be an easy thing for us to fan; we could easily set calumny afloat.”
“Your objection is serious,” answered the Sire of La Tremouille. “Nevertheless, just supposing the girl to be chaste, what must not be her shame at the thought of so humiliating an investigation! The more conscious she be of the chastity of her life, that they say has been irreproachable until now, all the more will the creature feel grieved and indignant at a suspicion that so outrages her honor! The chaster she is, all the more will she revolt at the shamefulness of the verification! She will scorn the proposition as an unbearable insult, and will refuse to appear before the council of matrons! — Skilfully exploited, her refusal will turn against her.”
“Upon the word of a soldier, the idea is ingenious and droll! I foresee that our wanton Sire will himself want to preside over the council that is to do the examining!”
“And yet, should Joan submit to the trial, and come out triumphant, she will then have a great advantage over us.”
“No greater than if she is believed to be a maid upon her own word. The convocation of a council of matrons offers us two chances: if Joan submits to the disgraceful examination she may be declared a strumpet; if she refuses, her refusal makes against her!”
“There is nothing to answer to that,” said Raoul of Gaucourt; “I adhere to the plan of
a council of matrons to pass upon her virginity.”
“Now, let us sum up and lay down our plan of conduct. First, to obtain from the King that a council of matrons be summoned to pass and publicly pronounce itself upon the maidenhood of our adventuress; secondly, in case she issues triumphant from that trial, to convoke a canonical council, instructed to put to the girl the most subtle, the hardest, the most perplexing theological questions, and to announce from her answers whether or not she is inspired by God; thirdly, and lastly, in the next to impossible event that this second examination also result in her favor, to manoeuvre in such manner that she lose her first battle and remain a prisoner in the hands of the English — one way or another she is bound to go down.”
At this moment the equerry of Charles VII knocked at the door of the council hall, and entered to announce to the Sire of La Tremouille that the King demanded his minister’s immediate presence.
CHAPTER II.
ALOYSE OF CASTELNAU.
CHARLES VII — the “gentle Dauphin” of France and object of the fervent adoration of Joan, who now for several days lay sequestered in the tower of Coudray — soon tired of the interview to which he had summoned his minister, and sought recreation elsewhere. He found it in the company of his mistress, Aloyse of Castelnau. Indolently stretched upon a cushion at her feet he chatted with her. Frail and slight of stature, the prince, although barely twenty-three years of age, was pale, worn-out and unnerved by excesses. Aloyse, on the other hand, in the full splendor of her beauty, soon found occasion to answer a joke of her royal lover on the subject of Joan the Maid. She said smiling:
“Fie, Charles! Fie, you libertine! To hold such language about an inspired virgin who wishes to restore to you the crown of France!”
“If it is to be that way, the ways of the Lord are strange and inscrutable, as our tonsured friends say. To have the crown and kingdom of France turn upon the maidenhood, upon the virginity of a cowherd!”