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Joan of Arc
 In
French Jeanne d'Arc;
by her contemporaries
commonly known as la
Pucelle (the Maid).
Born at Domremy in
Champagne, probably on
6 January, 1412; died
at Rouen, 30 May,
1431. The village of
Domremy lay upon the
confines of territory
which recognized the
suzerainty of the Duke
of Burgundy, but in
the protracted
conflict between the
Armagnacs (the party
of Charles VII, King
of France), on the one
hand, and the
Burgundians in
alliance with the
English, on the other,
Domremy had always
remained loyal to
Charles.
Jacques d'Arc, Joan's
father, was a small
peasant farmer, poor
but not needy. Joan
seems to have been the
youngest of a family
of five. She never
learned to read or
write but was skilled
in sewing and
spinning, and the
popular idea that she
spent the days of her
childhood in the
pastures, alone with
the sheep and cattle,
is quite unfounded.
All the witnesses in
the process of
rehabilitation spoke
of her as a singularly
pious child, grave
beyond her years, who
often knelt in the
church absorbed in
prayer, and loved the
poor tenderly. Great
attempts were made at
Joan's trial to
connect her with some
superstitious
practices supposed to
have been performed
round a certain tree,
popularly known as the
"Fairy Tree" (l'Arbre
des Dames), but the
sincerity of her
answers baffled her
judges. She had sung
and danced there with
the other children,
and had woven wreaths
for Our Lady's statue,
but since she was
twelve years old she
had held aloof from
such diversions.
It was at the age of
thirteen and a half,
in the summer of 1425,
that Joan first became
conscious of that
manifestation, whose
supernatural character
it would now be rash
to question, which she
afterwards came to
call her "voices" or
her "counsel." It was
at first simply a
voice, as if someone
had spoken quite close
to her, but it seems
also clear that a
blaze of light
accompanied it, and
that later on she
clearly discerned in
some way the
appearance of those
who spoke to her,
recognizing them
individually as St.
Michael (who was
accompanied by other
angels), St. Margaret,
St. Catherine, and
others. Joan was
always reluctant to
speak of her voices.
She said nothing about
them to her confessor,
and constantly
refused, at her trial,
to be inveigled into
descriptions of the
appearance of the
saints and to explain
how she recognized
them. None the less,
she told her judges:
"I saw them with these
very eyes, as well as
I see you."
Great efforts have
been made by
rationalistic
historians, such as M.
Anatole France, to
explain these voices
as the result of a
condition of religious
and hysterical
exaltation which had
been fostered in Joan
by priestly influence,
combined with certain
prophecies current in
the countryside of a
maiden from the bois
chesnu (oak wood),
near which the Fairy
Tree was situated, who
was to save France by
a miracle. But the
baselessness of this
analysis of the
phenomena has been
fully exposed by many
non-Catholic writers.
There is not a shadow
of evidence to support
this theory of
priestly advisers
coaching Joan in a
part, but much which
contradicts it.
Moreover, unless we
accuse the Maid of
deliberate falsehood,
which no one is
prepared to do, it was
the voices which
created the state of
patriotic exaltation,
and not the exaltation
which preceded the
voices. Her evidence
on these points is
clear.
Although Joan never
made any statement as
to the date at which
the voices revealed
her mission, it seems
certain that the call
of God was only made
known to her
gradually. But by May,
1428, she no longer
doubted that she was
bidden to go to the
help of the king, and
the voices became
insistent, urging her
to present herself to
Robert Baudricourt,
who commanded for
Charles VII in the
neighbouring town of
Vaucouleurs. This
journey she eventually
accomplished a month
later, but Baudricourt,
a rude and dissolute
soldier, treated her
and her mission with
scant respect, saying
to the cousin who
accompanied her: "Take
her home to her father
and give her a good
whipping."
Meanwhile the military
situation of King
Charles and his
supporters was growing
more desperate.
Orléans was invested
(12 October, 1428),
and by the close of
the year complete
defeat seemed
imminent. Joan's
voices became urgent,
and even threatening.
It was in vain that
she resisted, saying
to them: "I am a poor
girl; I do not know
how to ride or fight."
The voices only
reiterated: "It is God
who commands it."
Yielding at last, she
left Domremy in
January, 1429, and
again visited
Vaucouleurs.
Baudricourt was still
skeptical, but, as she
stayed on in the town,
her persistence
gradually made an
impression on him. On
17 February she
announced a great
defeat which had
befallen the French
arms outside Orléans
(the Battle of the
Herrings). As this
statement was
officially confirmed a
few days later, her
cause gained ground.
Finally she was
suffered to seek the
king at Chinon, and
she made her way there
with a slender escort
of three men-at-arms,
she being attired, at
her own request, in
male costume —
undoubtedly as a
protection to her
modesty in the rough
life of the camp. She
always slept fully
dressed, and all those
who were intimate with
her declared that
there was something
about her which
repressed every
unseemly thought in
her regard.
She reached Chinon on
6 March, and two days
later was admitted
into the presence of
Charles VII. To test
her, the king had
disguised himself, but
she at once saluted
him without hesitation
amidst a group of
attendants. From the
beginning a strong
party at the court —
La Trémoille, the
royal favourite,
foremost among them —
opposed her as a crazy
visionary, but a
secret sign,
communicated to her by
her voices, which she
made known to Charles,
led the king, somewhat
half-heartedly, to
believe in her
mission. What this
sign was, Joan never
revealed, but it is
now most commonly
believed that this
"secret of the king"
was a doubt Charles
had conceived of the
legitimacy of his
birth, and which Joan
had been
supernaturally
authorized to set at
rest.
Still, before Joan
could be employed in
military operations
she was sent to
Poitiers to be
examined by a numerous
committee of learned
bishops and doctors.
The examination was of
the most searching and
formal character. It
is regrettable in the
extreme that the
minutes of the
proceedings, to which
Joan frequently
appealed later on at
her trial, have
altogether perished.
All that we know is
that her ardent faith,
simplicity, and
honesty made a
favourable impression.
The theologians found
nothing heretical in
her claims to
supernatural guidance,
and, without
pronouncing upon the
reality of her
mission, they thought
that she might be
safely employed and
further tested.
Returning to Chinon,
Joan made her
preparations for the
campaign. Instead of
the sword the king
offered her, she
begged that search
might be made for an
ancient sword buried,
as she averred, behind
the altar in the
chapel of
Ste-Catherine-de-Fierbois.
It was found in the
very spot her voices
indicated. There was
made for her at the
same time a standard
bearing the words
Jesus, Maria, with a
picture of God the
Father, and kneeling
angels presenting a
fleur-de-lis.
But perhaps the most
interesting fact
connected with this
early stage of her
mission is a letter of
one Sire de Rotslaer
written from Lyons on
22 April, 1429, which
was delivered at
Brussels and duly
registered, as the
manuscript to this day
attests, before any of
the events referred to
received their
fulfilment. The Maid,
he reports, said "that
she would save Orléans
and would compel the
English to raise the
siege, that she
herself in a battle
before Orléans would
be wounded by a shaft
but would not die of
it, and that the King,
in the course of the
coming summer, would
be crowned at Reims,
together with other
things which the King
keeps secret."
Before entering upon
her campaign, Joan
summoned the King of
England to withdraw
his troops from French
soil. The English
commanders were
furious at the
audacity of the
demand, but Joan by a
rapid movement entered
Orléans on 30 April.
Her presence there at
once worked wonders.
By 8 May the English
forts which encircled
the city had all been
captured, and the
siege raised, though
on the 7th Joan was
wounded in the breast
by an arrow. So far as
the Maid went she
wished to follow up
these successes with
all speed, partly from
a sound warlike
instinct, partly
because her voices had
already told her that
she had only a year to
last. But the king and
his advisers,
especially La
Trémoille and the
Archbishop of Reims,
were slow to move.
However, at Joan's
earnest entreaty a
short campaign was
begun upon the Loire,
which, after a series
of successes, ended on
18 June with a great
victory at Patay,
where the English
reinforcements sent
from Paris under Sir
John Fastolf were
completely routed. The
way to Reims was now
practically open, but
the Maid had the
greatest difficulty in
persuading the
commanders not to
retire before Troyes,
which was at first
closed against them.
They captured the town
and then, still
reluctantly, followed
her to Reims, where,
on Sunday, 17 July,
1429, Charles VII was
solemnly crowned, the
Maid standing by with
her standard, for — as
she explained — "as it
had shared in the
toil, it was just that
it should share in the
victory."
The principal aim of
Joan's mission was
thus attained, and
some authorities
assert that it was now
her wish to return
home, but that she was
detained with the army
against her will. The
evidence is to some
extent conflicting,
and it is probable
that Joan herself did
not always speak in
the same tone.
Probably she saw
clearly how much might
have been done to
bring about the speedy
expulsion of the
English from French
soil, but on the other
hand she was
constantly oppressed
by the apathy of the
king and his advisers,
and by the suicidal
policy which snatched
at every diplomatic
bait thrown out by the
Duke of Burgundy.
An abortive attempt on
Paris was made at the
end of August. Though
St-Denis was occupied
without opposition,
the assault which was
made on the city on 8
September was not
seriously supported,
and Joan, while
heroically cheering on
her men to fill the
moat, was shot through
the thigh with a bolt
from a crossbow. The
Duc d'Alençon removed
her almost by force,
and the assault was
abandoned. The reverse
unquestionably
impaired Joan's
prestige, and shortly
afterwards, when,
through Charles'
political counsellors,
a truce was signed
with the Duke of
Burgundy, she sadly
laid down her arms
upon the altar of
St-Denis.
The inactivity of the
following winter,
mostly spent amid the
worldliness and the
jealousy of the Court,
must have been a
miserable experience
for Joan. It may have
been with the idea of
consoling her that
Charles, on 29
December, 1429,
ennobled the Maid and
all her family, who
henceforward, from the
lilies on their coat
of arms, were known by
the name of Du Lis. It
was April before Joan
was able to take the
field again at the
conclusion of the
truce, and at Melun
her voices made known
to her that she would
be taken prisoner
before Midsummer Day.
Neither was the
fulfilment of this
prediction long
delayed. It seems that
she had thrown herself
into Compiègne on 24
May at sunrise to
defend the town
against Burgundian
attack. In the evening
she resolved to
attempt a sortie, but
her little troop of
some five hundred
encountered a much
superior force. Her
followers were driven
back and retired
desperately fighting.
By some mistake or
panic of Guillaume de
Flavy, who commanded
in Compiègne, the
drawbridge was raised
while still many of
those who had made the
sortie remained
outside, Joan amongst
the number. She was
pulled down from her
horse and became the
prisoner of a follower
of John of Luxemburg.
Guillaume de Flavy has
been accused of
deliberate treachery,
but there seems no
adequate reason to
suppose this. He
continued to hold
Compiègne resolutely
for his king, while
Joan's constant
thought during the
early months of her
captivity was to
escape and come to
assist him in this
task of defending the
town.
No words can
adequately describe
the disgraceful
ingratitude and apathy
of Charles and his
advisers in leaving
the Maid to her fate.
If military force had
not availed, they had
prisoners like the
Earl of Suffolk in
their hands, for whom
she could have been
exchanged. Joan was
sold by John of
Luxembourg to the
English for a sum
which would amount to
several hundred
thousand dollars in
modern money. There
can be no doubt that
the English, partly
because they feared
their prisoner with a
superstitious terror,
partly because they
were ashamed of the
dread which she
inspired, were
determined at all
costs to take her
life. They could not
put her to death for
having beaten them,
but they could get her
sentenced as a witch
and a heretic.
Moreover, they had a
tool ready to their
hand in Pierre Cauchon,
the Bishop of
Beauvais, an
unscrupulous and
ambitious man who was
the creature of the
Burgundian party. A
pretext for invoking
his authority was
found in the fact that
Compiègne, where Joan
was captured, lay in
the Diocese of
Beauvais. Still, as
Beauvais was in the
hands of the French,
the trial took place
at Rouen — the latter
see being at that time
vacant. This raised
many points of
technical legality
which were summarily
settled by the parties
interested.
The Vicar of the
Inquisition at first,
upon some scruple of
jurisdiction, refused
to attend, but this
difficulty was
overcome before the
trial ended.
Throughout the trial
Cauchon's assessors
consisted almost
entirely of Frenchmen,
for the most part
theologians and
doctors of the
University of Paris.
Preliminary meetings
of the court took
place in January, but
it was only on 21
February, 1431, that
Joan appeared for the
first time before her
judges. She was not
allowed an advocate,
and, though accused in
an ecclesiastical
court, she was
throughout illegally
confined in the Castle
of Rouen, a secular
prison, where she was
guarded by dissolute
English soldiers. Joan
bitterly complained of
this. She asked to be
in the church prison,
where she would have
had female attendants.
It was undoubtedly for
the better protection
of her modesty under
such conditions that
she persisted in
retaining her male
attire. Before she had
been handed over to
the English, she had
attempted to escape by
desperately throwing
herself from the
window of the tower of
Beaurevoir, an act of
seeming presumption
for which she was much
browbeaten by her
judges. This also
served as a pretext
for the harshness
shown regarding her
confinement at Rouen,
where she was at first
kept in an iron cage,
chained by the neck,
hands, and feet. On
the other hand she was
allowed no spiritual
privileges — e.g.
attendance at Mass —
on account of the
charge of heresy and
the monstrous dress (difformitate
habitus) she was
wearing.
As regards the
official record of the
trial, which, so far
as the Latin version
goes, seems to be
preserved entire, we
may probably trust its
accuracy in all that
relates to the
questions asked and
the answers returned
by the prisoner. These
answers are in every
way favourable to
Joan. Her simplicity,
piety, and good sense
appear at every turn,
despite the attempts
of the judges to
confuse her. They
pressed her regarding
her visions, but upon
many points she
refused to answer. Her
attitude was always
fearless, and, upon 1
March, Joan boldly
announced that "within
seven years' space the
English would have to
forfeit a bigger prize
than Orléans." In
point of fact Paris
was lost to Henry VI
on 12 November, 1437 —
six years and eight
months afterwards. It
was probably because
the Maid's answers
perceptibly won
sympathizers for her
in a large assembly
that Cauchon decided
to conduct the rest of
the inquiry before a
small committee of
judges in the prison
itself. We may remark
that the only matter
in which any charge of
prevarication can be
reasonably urged
against Joan's replies
occurs especially in
this stage of the
inquiry. Joan, pressed
about the secret sign
given to the king,
declared that an angel
brought him a golden
crown, but on further
questioning she seems
to have grown confused
and to have
contradicted herself.
Most authorities
(like, e.g., M. Petit
de Julleville and Mr.
Andrew Lang) are
agreed that she was
trying to guard the
king's secret behind
an allegory, she
herself being the
angel; but others —
for instance P.
Ayroles and Canon
Dunand — insinuate
that the accuracy of
the procès-verbal
cannot be trusted. On
another point she was
prejudiced by her lack
of education. The
judges asked her to
submit herself to "the
Church Militant." Joan
clearly did not
understand the phrase
and, though willing
and anxious to appeal
to the pope, grew
puzzled and confused.
It was asserted later
that Joan's reluctance
to pledge herself to a
simple acceptance of
the Church's decisions
was due to some
insidious advice
treacherously imparted
to her to work her
ruin. But the accounts
of this alleged
perfidy are
contradictory and
improbable.
The examinations
terminated on 17
March. Seventy
propositions were then
drawn up, forming a
very disorderly and
unfair presentment of
Joan's "crimes," but,
after she had been
permitted to hear and
reply to these,
another set of twelve
were drafted, better
arranged and less
extravagantly worded.
With this summary of
her misdeeds before
them, a large majority
of the twenty-two
judges who took part
in the deliberations
declared Joan's
visions and voices to
be "false and
diabolical," and they
decided that if she
refused to retract she
was to be handed over
to the secular arm —
which was the same as
saying that she was to
be burned. Certain
formal admonitions, at
first private, and
then public, were
administered to the
poor victim (18 April
and 2 May), but she
refused to make any
submission which the
judges could have
considered
satisfactory. On 9 May
she was threatened
with torture, but she
still held firm.
Meanwhile, the twelve
propositions were
submitted to the
University of Paris,
which, being
extravagantly English
in sympathy, denounced
the Maid in violent
terms. Strong in this
approval, the judges,
forty-seven in number,
held a final
deliberation, and
forty-two reaffirmed
that Joan ought to be
declared heretical and
handed over to the
civil power, if she
still refused to
retract. Another
admonition followed in
the prison on 22 May,
but Joan remained
unshaken. The next day
a stake was erected in
the cemetery of St-Ouen,
and in the presence of
a great crowd she was
solemnly admonished
for the last time.
After a courageous
protest against the
preacher's insulting
reflections on her
king, Charles VII, the
accessories of the
scene seem at last to
have worked upon mind
and body worn out by
so many struggles. Her
courage for once
failed her. She
consented to sign some
sort of retraction,
but what the precise
terms of that
retraction were will
never be known. In the
official record of the
process a form of
retraction is in
inserted which is most
humiliating in every
particular. It is a
long document which
would have taken half
an hour to read. What
was read aloud to Joan
and was signed by her
must have been
something quite
different, for five
witnesses at the
rehabilitation trial,
including Jean Massieu,
the official who had
himself read it aloud,
declared that it was
only a matter of a few
lines. Even so, the
poor victim did not
sign unconditionally,
but plainly declared
that she only
retracted in so far as
it was God's will.
However, in virtue of
this concession, Joan
was not then burned,
but conducted back to
prison.
The English and
Burgundians were
furious, but Cauchon,
it seems, placated
them by saying, "We
shall have her yet."
Undoubtedly her
position would now, in
case of a relapse, be
worse than before, for
no second retractation
could save her from
the flames. Moreover,
as one of the points
upon which she had
been condemned was the
wearing of male
apparel, a resumption
of that attire would
alone constitute a
relapse into heresy,
and this within a few
days happened, owing,
it was afterwards
alleged, to a trap
deliberately laid by
her jailers with the
connivance of Cauchon.
Joan, either to defend
her modesty from
outrage, or because
her women's garments
were taken from her,
or, perhaps, simply
because she was weary
of the struggle and
was convinced that her
enemies were
determined to have her
blood upon some
pretext, once more put
on the man's dress
which had been
purposely left in her
way. The end now came
soon. On 29 May a
court of thirty-seven
judges decided
unanimously that the
Maid must be treated
as a relapsed heretic,
and this sentence was
actually carried out
the next day (30 May,
1431) amid
circumstances of
intense pathos. She is
said, when the judges
visited her early in
the morning, first to
have charged Cauchon
with the
responsibility of her
death, solemnly
appealing from him to
God, and afterwards to
have declared that
"her voices had
deceived her." About
this last speech a
doubt must always be
felt. We cannot be
sure whether such
words were ever used,
and, even if they
were, the meaning is
not plain. She was,
however, allowed to
make her confession
and to receive
Communion. Her
demeanour at the stake
was such as to move
even her bitter
enemies to tears. She
asked for a cross,
which, after she had
embraced it, was held
up before her while
she called
continuously upon the
name of Jesus. "Until
the last," said
Manchon, the recorder
at the trial, "she
declared that her
voices came from God
and had not deceived
her." After death her
ashes were thrown into
the Seine.
Twenty-four years
later a revision of
her trial, the procès
de réhabilitation, was
opened at Paris with
the consent of the
Holy See. The popular
feeling was then very
different, and, with
but the rarest
exceptions, all the
witnesses were eager
to render their
tribute to the virtues
and supernatural gifts
of the Maid. The first
trial had been
conducted without
reference to the pope;
indeed it was carried
out in defiance of St.
Joan's appeal to the
head of the Church.
Now an appellate court
constituted by the
pope, after long
inquiry and
examination of
witnesses, reversed
and annulled the
sentence pronounced by
a local tribunal under
Cauchon's presidency.
The illegality of the
former proceedings was
made clear, and it
speaks well for the
sincerity of this new
inquiry that it could
not be made without
inflicting some degree
of reproach upon both
the King of France and
the Church at large,
seeing that so great
an injustice had been
done and had so long
been suffered to
continue unredressed.
Even before the
rehabilitation trial,
keen observers, like
Eneas Sylvius
Piccolomini
(afterwards Pope Pius
II), though still in
doubt as to her
mission, had discerned
something of the
heavenly character of
the Maid. In
Shakespeare's day she
was still regarded in
England as a witch in
league with the fiends
of hell, but a juster
estimate had begun to
prevail even in the
pages of Speed's
"History of Great
Britaine" (1611). By
the beginning of the
nineteenth century the
sympathy for her even
in England was
general. Such writers
as Southey, Hallam,
Sharon Turner,
Carlyle, Landor, and,
above all, De Quincey
greeted the Maid with
a tribute of respect
which was not
surpassed even in her
own native land. Among
her Catholic
fellow-countrymen she
had been regarded,
even in her lifetime,
as Divinely inspired.
At last the cause of
her beatification was
introduced upon
occasion of an appeal
addressed to the Holy
See, in 1869, by Mgr
Dupanloup, Bishop of
Orléans, and, after
passing through all
its stages and being
duly confirmed by the
necessary miracles,
the process ended in
the decree being
published by Pius X on
11 April, 1909. A Mass
and Office of St.
Joan, taken from the
"Commune Virginum,"
with "proper" prayers,
have been approved by
the Holy See for use
in the Diocese of
Orléans.
St. Joan was canonized
in 1920 by Pope
Benedict XV.
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