Joan of Arc
Summary
Domremy’s meadows, once fragrant with clover and sheep-bells, become the anvil on which history forges a trembling girl into a comet of righteousness. Joan hears luminous polyphony—angelic bells that slice through war-drums—until archangelic silhouettes erupt in noon-bright halation, commanding her to trade pastoral innocence for blood-bright banners. She wrests a retinue from sneering knights, pierces the Loire’s mist, and hurls a sun-tipped spear into the siege-locked heart of Orléans, turning English steel into rust and panic. Rheims’ cathedral vaults echo with her pennant’s snap while Charles’ crown gleams, yet jealousy coils like smoke among courtiers; her sword is laid upon cold altars, her voices hushed by craven diplomacy. Ambushed at Compiègne, bartered for ten thousand silver pieces, she endures ecclesiastical interrogations that twist scripture into snares, before flames—orange as Pentecost—devour the Maid’s flesh but not the myth.
Synopsis
At Domremy, a town situated close to the river Meuse, little Joan, the daughter of Jacques d'Arc, heard the tales of the war which was then devastating her country. Mercenary troops of the Duke of Armagnor fought in defense of King Charles VII. They were opposed by the soldiers of the Duke of Burgundy, allied with the English. Devastation and pillage followed in their wake. The peasantry passed their days in wretchedness and terror, hanging round the castles imploring aid and assistance. It was a constant din of battle, galloping horses and the clash of arms. All houses were solidly barred. Joan lived thus in the midst of trouble and anxiety. At times the sound of distinct and melodious bells reached her ears when tending her sheep and cattle in the meadows. She knelt for hours, listening to those mysterious and sweet sounds. One evening she heard a voice calling her in the sweetest tone imaginable. The maiden knelt; a great flood of light dazzled her. St. Michael was standing before the bewildered girl and spoke to her. His words sounded like music to her ear, "Beloved Joan, hearken to the duty that lies before thee. Go to Lord Baudricourt and then to the King. Ask for arms and soldiers, and fight the enemies of France." Some days later, St. Margaret and St. Catharine appeared to Joan and confirmed St. Michael's order, encouraging her and recommending, at the same time, virtue and resolution. Joan was now firmly assured of her mission. The Lord of Baudricourt receives Joan's supplication with derision. "I do not believe a word of all this," says he to Joan's uncle, who has accompanied her, "She is dismissed." Bertrand de Poulangy, a young man secretly in love with Joan, entreats her not to despair. He accompanies her on a second visit to the Lord of Vaucouleur and she finally succeeds. Baudricourt consents to furnish Joan with a small body of knights who will accompany her to the King. Joan, accompanied by Bertrand, puts on a coat of mail, girds her sword and mounting her steed rides at the head of her squires to the castle of Chinon, the actual residence of the King. More than three hundred barons and feudal lords of the realm were then assembled at the King's Court. Desirous of judging for himself whether Joan's mission was really inspired, the King disguises as a courtier, among whom he mixes. Joan enters amid the assemblage. Her rustic beauty causes quite a flutter; the ladies whisper, the knights admire her. Without the least hesitation, she walks straight up to the King, before whom she kneels and says, "Kindly Dauphin, I am Joan the Virgin, from Domremy. The King of Heaven has sent me to say that through my humble offices you will truly become King of France." Joan not only convinces the King of her heavenly mission, but also the King's councilors, all learned prelates, who ply her with numerous and intricate questions. The brilliant career of the Virgin Warrior has begun. At the head of ten thousand men Joan starts for Orleans. The French array was defending the city heroically, but has been reduced to extremities through lack of provisions. Joan crosses the Loire, gives battle, and on the evening of May 1, 1429, the glorious Virgin makes a triumphant entry into the beleaguered city. The next day she discusses with Dunois, commander of the city and the officers of the garrison, her plan of defense and studies the position of the enemy. Anxious and filled with pity for the many lives which must necessarily be lost through warfare, Joan shoots a missive into the English camp. She implores the Englishmen in the name of Heaven not to shed blood ruthlessly, but to raise the siege and depart in peace. This message is received with jeers and taunts, which affect Joan to tears. For fourteen hours the battle raged. One after the other the strong towers on the bridge were taken, and finally the English were forced to raise the siege. Joan, following up her advantage, pursues the flying horde and completely routs the English at the battle of Patay. Talbot was taken prisoner. Night falls on the field of battle. The heroic maiden helps the wounded. The tidings of Joan's magnificent victory stirs the Court and the vacillating King. Joan is received with unusual honors and succeeds in persuading Charles to go to Rheims, there to be crowned King of France in the sacred cathedral of that ancient city. The imposing pageant of the Dauphin Charles' triumphal procession, led by Joan holding aloft her standard, fills the population with enthusiasm and joy. As Joan proceeds, women and girls kiss the hem of her mantle; her path is strewn with roses. On July 11, 1429, the Dauphin Charles is duly crowned King of France, and thus it came to pass that the second part of Joan's mission was fulfilled. Joan is on the eve of returning to her native home when renewed activities of the English convince her that her task is not yet completed and cannot be until she has driven them all from French soil. However, the King's inborn pusillanimity, fostered by the envy, malice and hatred of both the Court and the Clergy, causes him to take an unwise and undignified course. He commands Joan to lay down her arms and retire in one of the royal residences. With intense sorrow, Joan places her sword and spurs and armor on the altar of Saint Denis. Many of her companions and soldiers are in tears. The people hold her in veneration and accompany her, singing hymns and acclaiming her frantically. Mothers bring their sick children to her; she blesses and restores them to health. Joan frets over her inactivity; the Duke of Burgundy's troops are still active and Joan longs to go out and meet them. One morning she starts at the head of her army and leads it under the walls of Paris. Despite the fact that she has been wounded, she again leads her forces to the attack, but is again repulsed. Finally she retires to Compiegne, when, falling into a trap, she is taken prisoner by John of Luxembourg. Joan's star is fading. She is kept a prisoner; her faithful Bertrand succeeds in reaching her in prison and endeavors to make a way for her escape. Joan of Arc heeds not the divine "voices" that remonstrate with her. In her rash attempt she falls on the rocks at the foot of the tower where she was imprisoned and is once more a captive. John of Luxembourg, greatly terrified, the effect of a demoralizing dream, delivers Joan into the hands of the English for the paltry sum of $10,000. Joan is accused of witchcraft. In her prison she is subjected to the insults of her guards and noblemen. Her confessor, the priest Loyseleur, betrays her. She is taken before the inquisition tribunal, which cross-examines her severely. Her replies to the subtle questions of the judges are dignified. The tribunal is confused, but inexorable. Joan is condemned to death by fire. Joan, dressed in white, is led to her doom. Loyseleur, the groveling monk, implores her forgiveness for his treachery. Bertrand, her faithful attendant, showers roses to her as a last tribute of love and respect. She ascends to the scaffold and is tied to the stake. She asks for a cross, which is given to her and which she kisses, praying at the same time for her enemies and invoking the saints. The flames surround Joan; her head droops, her lips faintly murmur the name of the Crucified and her noble and immortal soul appears to be home up to heaven by heavenly messengers. Even her enemies wept and were heard to say, "We have burned a saint."
