D’Alençon was filled with fear at this apparent miracle, and followed Jeanne as she flung herself forward to the attack. Reading between the lines both of his own deposition and of the accounts of other chroniclers, it is easy to perceive that the beau duc was inspired by an unusual excitement and confidence, for not only did he reject Suffolk’s attempts to parley with him as the French were scaling the walls, but, in what can only be described as a boyish mood, he summoned the notorious Jean with his culverin – he who had hidden himself beneath the bridge at Orleans and had teased the English with his pretence of a mortal wound. To this Jean, d’Alençon pointed out a huge Englishman (moult grant et groux) who was hurling great lumps of iron from the height of the walls down upon the ladders and men below him. Jean, only too glad to obey the duke’s instructions, shot the Englishman full in the chest, so that he fell dead, backwards, into the town.fn17
Jeanne herself was on a scaling-ladder, the inevitable standard in her hand, when a stone struck the flag, rebonnded on to her helmet, broke into pieces, and knocked her to the gronnd. It can have been no pleasant experience to fall backwards from a ladder in heavy armour, but she was on her feet again in an instant, crying, ‘Amis, amis, sus, sus! Our Lord has condemned the English; they will be ours within the hour; be of good heart.’ The town was almost immediately carried, Suffolk taken prisoner, and more than eleven hnndred English put to death.fn18
Suffolk is said to have surrendered himself to an Auvergnat squire named Guillaume Regnault, after first knighting him so that, according to the traditions of mediaeval chivalry, it rnigh1t be said that he had been taken by a knight.fn19 On the other hand, the greffier de la Rochelle maintains that Suffolk said he would surrender only to ‘the bravest woman in the world.’ We may take our choice between these two versions.
III
Jargeau was thus the first of the Loire towns to fall into obedience to the Dauphin. Jeanne and d’Alençon rode back to Orleans, where she received a red cloak and a green tunic as a present from the captive Duke of Orleans in England; red and green being the colours of his house.fn20 The honour was great, and Jeanne’s weakness for finery no doubt gratified. But, even with a new red cloak, which must have looked very handsome floating over her armour, she was in no mood to dally at Orleans. She had, in fact, spent no more than one night and half a day of rest in the city before she was again urging d’Alençon to be on the march. At the hour of vespers she sent for him and told him that on the following afternoon she wanted to pay a visit to Menng; he was to arrange, she said, for the army to be ready to start at that time. When we consider that d’Alençon was a royal prince and the commander-in-chief, whereas Jeanne herself still held no official position, the issuing of such arbitrary orders strikes us as rather startling. D’Alençon, however, and the other captains, sincerely believed her to have been sent by God to restore the Dauphin to his kingdom; the common people believed in her completely, attaching themselves in great number of their own accord to the company which marched out of Orleans towards Meung on June 15th.fn21 D’Alençon records briefly that he spent the night in a church near Meung, with only a handful of soldiers, running a great danger. Where Jeanne spent the night is not related.
They contented themselves with giving the English a mere fright at Meung, taking only the bridge from them, and letting the town itself go free.fn22 They had a more important objective ahead of them: Beaugency, a major stronghold of the English, lying on the Loire between Meung and Blois. Talbot, who had been there in command, had already removed himself to a safer place at Janville. The garrison he left behind him seemed little disposed to meet the then triumphant French in open battle. Retiring into the castle, they allowed the French to enter Beaugency unopposed, save by a few ambushes concealed within houses and behind masonry, harrying the French by surprise as they sought their billets, combien qu’ilz ne se logèrent pas a leur ayse du tout.fn23
All the following day (June 16th) the battle raged, ending by the capitulation of the English at midnight. They were allowed to retire to Meung on condition that they should not fight again for ten days. Here, again, it is difficult to understand why the French should voluntarily have allowed a large garrison to escape capture, when they might have held them all to ransom. Another event had occurred during the day which perhaps absorbed most of Jeanne’s attention. This was the approach of Artus, Count of Richemont, Constable of France and brother of the Duke of Brittany, with a large following. Owing to previous difficulties with the Dauphin and La Trémoïlle, which had left Richemont with a justifiable grievance, there was some doubt ind’Alençon’s mind as to whether the Constable should be received in a friendly spirit or not; it seems, in fact, that Jeanne was of the opinion that they must go out to fight him. This was going rather too far, and the French captains remarked that, if she insisted, she might well discover that many in the army would prefer the Constable to all the pucelles in France. It was not for Jeanne to be disconcerted by such an answer. D’Alençon, the Bastard, young Gui de Laval and his brother, were all constrained to accompany her to meet the Constable in the open, though no one knew what was to come of such a meeting. When the two companies came within sight of one another, both Jeanne and the Constable dismounted and advanced. Jeanne, according to her custom, kndt and embraced his knees. One may suppose, although it is not recorded, that the Constable made the sign of the cross, for he spoke to her, saying, ‘Jehanne, I have been told that you want to fight me. I do not know whether you come from God or not. If your come from God, I do not fear you in any way, for God knows my good intentions; if you come from the Devil, I fear you even less.’ They then appear to have composed their differences, for they all rode peaceably back to JBeaugency together, and the sentinels that night were drawn from among the Constable’s men, according to the usual custom of drawing the sentinels from the ranks of the latest arrivals.fn24
IV
At dawn (June 17th) the English took their humiliating departure from Beaugency, but, even as they were evacuating the town, one of La Hire’s men arrived with the news that Talbot and Fastolf were rapidly approaching with a large army (i.e. about 5,000 men) to the succour of their friends at Beaugency. This piece of news appears to have dismayed the French captains, some of whom said that they had better send for their horses. Jeanne, however, took her usual point of view, so curiously compounded of common sense and religious inspiration. Her common sense suggested that, since Richemont was there and had been accepted, she had better make use of him. Ah, beau Connétable,’ she said to him, ‘I was not responsible for your coming, but since you have come, you shall be welcome.’ To the captains she said that even if the English dangled from the skies they should be caught, since God had sent them for their chastisement. She went further. The Dauphin, she said, should gain the greatest victory he had gained for a long time, ‘et m’a dit mon conseil qu’ils sont tous nostres.’fn25
She was right. The result was the battle of Patay (June 18th, 1429), the most serious blow the English had sustained since Orleans.
V
Descriptions of mediaeval battles are wearisome and unreal in the extreme, but it so happens that a Burgundian follower of Fastolf has left us an account of the battle of Patay which, supplemented by the accounts of d’Alençon and the Bastard, lifts the dead old story into the vivid light of actuality. This Burgundian follower was a certain Jean de Wavrin du Forestel, the illegitimate son of a father who had been killed at his side at the battle of Agincourt. A soldier of repute and skill, he had assembled a company of mercenaries whose services were engaged now by the Dulce of Burgundy, now by the English. In later life he took up his pen for the benefit of a nephew, and to this desire to inform the younger generation of the dramatic events which had taken place in the earlier half of the century we owe one of the most astute, though not always accurate, commentaries that we possess.fn26 The interest is increased by the fact that we are for once reading a version given from the English point of view, exhibiting their difficulties an
d perplexities, as a change from the note of triumph habitually sounded by the French contemporary witnesses and chroniclers.
Following Jean de Wavrin, we learn that the English commanders at Janville were much distressed on receiving the news of the capture of Jargeau, of the semi-submission of Meung, and of the siege laid to Beaugency (lesquelles nouvelles leur furent en moult grant desplaisance). We learn, also, that they were greatly cheered by the arrival of Talbot, and that, after they had all dined together, the tables were cleared so that they might hold a council to discuss the situation. This discussion proved both argumentative and acrimonious, largely owing to the insistence of Fastolf, who got up in his place to address the most bitter remonstrances to Talbot, saying that they were all well aware of the losses the English had sustained at Orleans, Jargeau, and other places, which rather suggests that the English authorities had attempted to falsify and diminish the news of these defeats. Fastolf, to whose discourse Talbot listened with a most disapproving and anxious ear, went on to say that in his opinion they had better leave the garrison of Beaugency to its fate and conclude the most favourable treaty they possibly could with the French, until the Duke of Bedford could supply them with his promised reinforcements.
Talbot, a fiery man, taking a leaf out of Jeanne’s book, declared that, with the aid of God and Saint George, he would go and fight with anyone who was willing to follow him. Fastolf, seeing his remonstrances disregarded, rose and left the cow1cil table in a huff. The meeting, in short, broke up, all its members retiring into their own lodgings. A sulky and uncomfortable afternoon must have ensued. Nevertheless Talbot held firm: Fastolf, after all, was nothing but his second in command; he might protest, but, in the last resort, he was obliged to obey: Talbot had every right to hold to his own opinion. Orders were issued that the army should be ready to march on the following morning, to go wherever their commanders should ordain. As bidden, they turned out in full array, with standards and pennons, only to be kept waiting while their leaders withdrew into further council and Fastolf renewed his argument. His argument was even more urgently advanced dian before. They were only a handful, he said, to oppose die French; if fortune went against diem, all die conquests of Henry V would be undone; they would be far better advised to restrain themselves and to wait until they might be reinforced. Neither Talbot nor the odiers would listen. Fastolf had to give way; willynilly he had to order his men to march with die rest upon the road towards Meung. Patay lay between Janville and Meung, but even Fastolf for all his wisdom, even Talbot for all his daring, could not know what Patay was to mean to them as a name in history.
The English had no idea diat Beaugency had already fallen. The French, better informed, knew bodi diat the English garrison of Beaugency was in retreat, and that Talbot’s army was advancing towards diem. They were already perched at an advantage on a small rise of the ground – in Wavrin’s words a petite montagnette – when Talbot’s army came into sight across the plains of la Beauce – celle Beauce qui est ample et large. The ensuring conduct of both parties is typical of the mediaeval methods which make warfare look like a game of chess rather than like ferocious business. The English, perceiving the French upon their monticule, drew rein, and disposed their archers into their accustomed formation (i.e. with their pikes stuck into the ground, the points sloped towards the enemy, in a sort of sharp stockade), and in this arrangement the two forces contemplated one another. Neither side seemed disposed to move. The English, at length, seeing the French quietly ensconced above them, sent two heralds with an offer to say that they had three knights willing to fight them if they had the courage to come down. It was an arrogant challenge, which was probably not intended to be taken seriously – a mere gambit, to which the French returned an equally conventional reply. ‘Go and find lodging for yourselves tonight,’ they said, ‘for it is already late; but tomorrow, God and Our Lady willing, we shall see you at closer quarters’ (de plus prez).
The English thereupon retired to Meung, and spent the night bombarding the bridge which had previously been taken by the French.
They still had no information of the fall of Beaugency, and next morning were busily assembling shields and doors, as protection for their attacking party, when a courier arrived with the news that the town and castle of Beaugency were already occupied by the French, and that even as he, the courier, was starting out on his errand, the French were on their way to offer battle.
On the reception of this news, orders were hastily given to abandon any renewal of the attack on the bridge at Meung, and to proceed instantly into the country, where every man according to his own position was to range himself en ordonnance de belle bataille. Laquelle chose, Wavrin adds complacently, fut faite moulte agréablement, and the English were able to take up their position in a narrow passage between two hedges in the vicinity of Patay.
The French, meanwhile, had lost the English host. La Beauce, that large and ample plain, thickly wooded, was a place in which anybody might be excused for losing sight of any army. Encouraged as usual by Jeanne, they had been quite ready to receive the enemy; they had, in fact, offered the enemy that bellicose appointment on the preceding evening. Nor had they gone back on their decision. D’Alençon him-self, on the morning of Patay, had asked Jeanne, in the presence of the Bastard and the Constable, what he should do. Jeanne gave an WJwontedly oracular reply: ‘Have, all of you, good spurs’ – a reply which surprised her hearers into asking what she meant. Did she mean that they were to tum their backs, i.e. run away? ‘No,’ she answered, with a return of her habitual plain confidence, ‘it will be the English who will tum their backs. They will not defend themselves and will be defeated, and you will need spurs to pursue them.’fn27
Spurs, however, were of very little use against an invisible enemy. The French scouts ranged about, sixty to eighty of them, mounted on the pick of the horses (fleurs de coursiers), and, as ill luck would have it for the English, put up a stag, who bounded off immediately into the English lines, a sight which the English evidently could not resist, especially in this game of hide-and-seek over the wide area of la Beauce, where neither army knew where to look for the other. It was scarcely to be expected that Englishmen, seeing a stag, should not set up a shout of delight. They set it up, with the result that for once the English love of sport turned against the hunter instead of against the hunted. The French, thus advised of their presence, were able to engage them before they could organise themselves into sufficient order of resistance, and the battle of Patay was won almost before it had begun. The whole thing was over by two o’clock in the aftemoon.fn28
Fastolf was in flight, demanant le plus grant deuil que jamais veisse faire à homme. He succeeded in reaching the Duke of Bedford, who incontinently, and quite unjustly, deprived him of his Order of the Garter.fn29 The English lost a number of killed and prisoners, which varied between two and four thousand.fn30 Lord Scales, Sir Thomas Ramston, Lord Hungerford, were taken prisoners; and so, more importantly, was Talbot himself, who surrendered to the men of Poton de Saintrailles. This was the supreme triumph, and even the generous d’Alençon could not resist a slight gibe when ‘brave Talbot, the terror of the French,’ was brought before him. Jeanne and the Constable were present. ‘You did not think this morning,’ he said, ‘that such a thing would befall you?’ D’Alençon himself, it must be remembered, had but recently tasted the displeasures of captivity among the English. Talbot gave a soldier’s answer: ‘It is the fortune of war.’fn31
Jeanne, according to Louis de Contes, her devoted but rather muddled little page, was characteristically and femininely moved by the inevitable results of the battle she had advised. She was always ready to encourage the more prudent captains to battle; she was always ready to say that God was on their side; she was always ready to throw herself into danger with the best of them, but, once the heat and excitement were over, she was by no means ready to face the incidental consequences in a spirit of detachment. Either she wept for the unshriven souls of her vanq
uished enemies, or else she wept for their broken heads. On this occasion she wept for a broken English head to the extent of taking it on her knees and of obliging its owner to confess his sins before he died.fn32
VI
Jeanne slept at Ligneroles that night, and on the following day returned to her own Orleans. She ought, of course, to have insisted on marching straight against Paris.fn33 With Talbot a prisoner, Fastolf in flight, the English army routed and their morale gone, as even the Anglo-Burgundian Wavrin observes (considérant que par la renommée de Jehanne la Pucelle les courages anglois estoient fort altérés et faillis), the opportunity was in her hands, if only she had chosen to take it. Even Bedford saw that the Dauphin ought to march on Paris. Even Bedford saw the advisability of bringing the little English King over to France to be crowned. But the career of Jeanne d’Arc, triumphant in so many ways, was also a career of missed opportunities. The common sense which ought to have guided her, had her intellect been of the more masculine instead of the more feminine type, frequently failed her at critical moments. Perhaps we should state it differently. Perhaps, instead of using the terms masculine and feminine, we should use mundane as opposed to spiritual; balanced as opposed to fanatical. She could be common-sensible enough in immediate crises; but over the larger issues she appears all too frequently to have been the victim of her own idées fixes. She strikes me all too often as a person of inspiration but of unequal judgment; as a person with an objective but with no reasoned policy; as a person galloping headlong down a narrow road never lifting her eyes over the landscape beyond; as a person whose very weakness was her strength, her very strength her weakness. Thus, on this occasion, when she ought to have ridden straight to Paris, carrying d’Alençon, the Bastard, and her devoted army with her, she lost time because of her conviction that her first duty was to get the Dauphin crowned King of France. She would have been better advised to present him with a united France of which to get himself crowned King. Any real military genius and strategist would have perceived it.
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