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 Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2015

https://archive.org/details/isbn_9780688143305
 S.S.F. PUBLIC LIBRARY
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HanpevCollmsPublishers
 1.

2.
3.

4.

Acrylics were used for the full-color illustrations.

The text type is 1 3. 5-point Centaur MT.

Joan of Arc
Copyright © 1998 by Diane Stanley

Printed in Hong Kong. All rights reserved.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Puhlication Data

Stanley, Diane.

Joan of Arc / Diane Stanley,

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references.

Summary: A biography of the fifteenth-century

peasant girl who led a French army to victory against

the English and was burned at the stake for witchcraft.

ISBN 0-688-14329-6 (trade) — ISBN 0-688-14330-X (lib. bdg.)

ISBN 0-06-443748-5 (pbk.)

Joan, of Arc, Saint, 1412—1431 — Juvenile literature.

Christian saints — France — Biography — Juvenile literature.

France — History — Charles VII, 1422—1461 — Juvenile literature.

1 1 Joan, of Arc, Saint,

.
1412—1431 2. Saints. 3. Women — Biography.

France— History— Charles Vll, 1 422- 1461] I. Title. DC 1 03. 5.S66

1998 940'.026 092 ,

— dc2l [B] 97-45652 CIP AC

Visit us on the World Wide Web!

www. ha rpe rchild rens. com

 A Hundred Years of War

maginc your country is at war. 7 he fighting is not at some faraway place but right

where you live. From time to time, soldiers march into your town, killing people and
taking whatever they want. They might burn your house or even the whole town.

7 here’s not enough food to eat, because the enemy has taken or destroyed the crops.
But you’re used to it, because you have never known what it is like to live in peace. Neither have
your parents or your grandparents. In fact, the war has been going on since your great-great-

grandparents were children. Sometimes it doesn’t seem to matter who wins. Soon there will be
nothing left to fight for. That was what life was like in France during the Hundred Years’ War.
The war began in 1337 when
,
the English king claimed that France should rightfully be part

of England. This was not as outrageous as it sounds, since over the course of the previous three
hundred years the two countries had become deeply connected through many royal marriages.

The true line of succession had become tangled and confusing. The English, convinced their

claim was just, invaded France. 7 he French, naturally, did not want to be part of England and
fought valiantly to drive the English out. The two countries would go on fighting about it, off

and on, until 1453 This was

. a war that truly deserved its name.
Since this was the Middle Ages, the people of France couldn’t follow events in the newspa-

per, but word spread quickly when anything important happened. Around 1392, some fifty years

into the war, they began to hear rumors that their king, Charles VI, had fallen into spells of mad-
ness and that his uncle was running things for him. 7 his uncle, known as Philip the Good, was
the duke of Burgundy, an important and powerful man, richer even than the king. The duke
thought it was better to let the English have their way than to go on fighting year after year.

Queen Isabeau agreed, and in 1420 she convinced the mad king to sign a treaty and make peace.
Having helped to arrange all this, the duke of Burgundy was assured that he would have even
more power in the new France.

7 he agreement was that Charles VI would go on ruling France until his death, but thereafter
both countries would be ruled by the English king. To make this more acceptable to the French,

Henry V of England married the French princess, Catherine. If all went well, they would pro-

duce an heir who was half French and half English.

It looked as if the war would finally end, but there was one important person who refused to

go along with the treaty. That was Catherine’s teenage brother, Charles. He was the crown prince,
or dauphin, which meant he was the rightful heir to the French throne. Now he had been rudely
shoved aside. His mother had even implied that he didn’t deserve to rule because he wasn’t really

the king’s son. Considering Isabeau’s bad reputation and the king’s mental illness, many people
believed it.

But others took Charles’s side. They wanted a real French dauphin to rule after the king. These
people hated Queen Isabeau and the duke of Burgundy, too, for handing over France to the
enemy.
The final blow to peace came two years later, when the king of France died. As fate would
have it, Henry V could not succeed him as planned, for he had died two months before. This left

two claimants to the throne of France. One was Henry VI, the nine-month-old son of Henry V
and his French bride, Catherine. The other, of course, was the dauphin, Charles VII, who was
only nineteen. The forces supporting each of them divided France in two, with the English and
Burgundians controlling the north and the French holding the territory south of the Foire River.
If there’s anything worse than foreign occupation, it’s civil war. Now the French were not only

fighting the English, they were also fighting each other.

The French cause looked grim. The dauphin was young and inexperienced, his treasury

depleted. Even if he could find the money to pay his army, there was little hope of winning.
And then the miracle occurred. It came not from the halls of wealth and power but from a

remote and humble village called Domremy. From that unexpected place an illiterate peasant girl,

still in her teens, set out on a quest that would change the course of history. She had been born

around 1412, though we don’t know the exact date for sure. Peasants in those days did not keep

records, and few of them knew their own age. Her parents, a farmer and his wife, named her
Jeannette. We know her as Joan of Arc.
 Pronunciation Guide
Prepared by Janet Vrancken of St. John’s School, Houston, Texas

Look at the French word on the left and then read the pronunciation on the right as if it were
an English word. Note, however, that there are no emphasized syllables in French.

Say j as if it were the letter 5 in pleasure.

M and n after certain vowels are not really pronounced at all in French. To say these sounds,

imagine you have , a bad cold and your nose is blocked; now say n or m. You will see a triangle a
after the vowel to indicate that you need to use this sound.

a blanc a bio a Jeanne jan

Alenyon a-loA-soA Jeannette jan-et

Augustins oh-gew-staA La Hire la eer

beau due boh dewk La Pucelle la pew-sel

Beaugency boh-joA-see Loire lwar

Beauvais boh-vay Orleans or-lay-oA

Chinon shee-noA Pierre Cauchon pee-air koh-shoA

Compiegne kom-pee-en-yuh Poitiers pwat-ee-ay

dauphin doh-faA Reims raAs

Domremy doA-ray-mee Robert de Baudricourt ro-bair duh boh-dree-koor

Dunois dew-nwa Rouen roo-oA
Durand Laxart dew-roA laks-ar Saint-Denis saA-duh-nee
Fierbois fee-air-bwa Saint-Loup saA-loo

Isabeau ee-za-boh Saint-Ouen SaA-tOO-OA

Jacques d’Arc jak dark Seme sayn

Jargeau jar-joh Tourelles too-rel

Jean Lemaitre joa luh-maytr Vaucouleurs voh-koo-ler

 ENGLAND

ENGLISH CHANNEL

Rouen
Reims
Saint-Denis

Vaucouleurs
Domrenr
Seine R.

Orleans
'• Jargeau
Loire R. BURGUNDY
inon
Fierbois
HOLY
Poitiers
ROMAN
EMPIRE

ATLANTIC OCEAN

MEDITERRANEAN SEA

Territory controlled by England and Burgundy

Territory controlled by Charles VII

 I BBBHi

— iHp ^ He future savior of France was much like all the other little girls in the village of

Domrcmy. She was an ordinary peasant child, sunburned and strong, used to hard
work. Sometimes she helped her father out in the fields or in the garden. On other
JsL days, she looked after the animals. But mostly, she stayed at home with her mother

and did housework. She was especially proud of her skill at spinning and sewing.

Jacques d’Arc, loan’s father, was something of a leader in the village, and the family lived in a

stone house next door to the church. But do not imagine anything grand. It had a dirt floor, and
the rooms were musty and damp. I here were no bathrooms, and no one in the village was likely

to be very clean.

Her mother and father were strict with their five children, raising them to be good Catholics.
Like her parents, Joan could neither read nor write. The only education she ever had was from
her mother, Isabelle, who taught all the children to say their prayers and to understand the teach-

ings of the Church. Joan learned her lessons well and was so pious that her friends sometimes
teased her about it.

7 he people of Domrcmy were intensely loyal to Charles. The village lay in a narrow strip of

land hemmed in by Burgundian territory on one side and the duchy of Lorraine on the other.
Because the villagers were cut off from the main part of France, they had no protection from
the English and Burgundian soldiers, who burned their houses and stole their livestock. The war
was very real to Joan, as it was to everyone in Domrcmy, and they all knew who the enemy was.
O
ne day, when Joan was about thirteen, she was working alone in the garden. At noon,
the church bells began to ring. Suddenly she heard a voice. Turning to see who it was,

she saw only a brilliant light, loan did not tell anyone about the voice, and soon it

came again. By the third visit, she saw through the light that it was Saint Michael the
Archangel. Later, others came to her, especially Saint Margaret and Saint Catherine. She knew
them both, d here was a statue of Saint Margaret in her parish church. Saint Catherine was the

patron saint of the village of Maxey, just across the river. All of them told her to be a good girl

and go to church often. She came to love her visions so much that she cried each time they left.

d hough Joan was amazed by these visions, she did not question them as we would today. It

is important to remember that she lived in the Middle Ages, a time when even educated people
believed in fairies, curses, prophecies, witches, and magic. In addition, they were deeply religious

and viewed the world not from a scientific point of view but rather a spiritual one. They accepted
the unexplainable much more readily than we would today.

As Joan grew older, her visions began telling her distressing things. They spoke of “the great

misery there was in the kingdom of France” and said God had a mission for her. She was to leave

Domremy and travel through enemy territory to the dauphin at Chinon. Then she must some-
how convince him to follow her on the dangerous journey north to the cathedral at Reims, where
he would be crowned king, loan was overwhelmed by this stunning request. She didn’t under-
stand how she could fulfill it, for she was just “a poor girl who did not know how to ride or lead

in war.”

At about this time, her father had a troubling dream in which Joan ran away with soldiers.

Jacques took it seriously and began watching her with extra care. He even told her brothers that

if Joan ever did such a scandalous thing, they should drown her. On a more loving note, he seems

to have decided that marriage was the solution and tried to arrange one. But Joan had made a

secret vow never to marry, and she refused, even when the young man took her to court for break-

ing the promised arrangement. Here is our first glimpse of Joan’s strong and steadfast nature.
 - s\.. 3
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 L

oan’s voices told her to go to the town of Vaucouleurs and ask the governor for an
armed escort to protect her on the journey to Chinon. Conveniently,. joan had a

cousin, Jeanne Laxart, who lived near Vaucouleurs. She decided to visit her.

Jeannes husband, Durand, agreed to take joan into town and arrange a meeting
with the governor, Robert de Baudricourt. I his worldly man listened with irritation as she

God had sent her there to save France and crown the king. He reacted exactly as
explained that

you might expect. He told Durand to take the girl back to her father’s house “after having
thrashed her soundly.”

Joan returned home but grew even more determined as the months passed. Once again, Bur-

gundian soldiers threatened her village, sending everyone scurrying to a nearby fortified town,
together with their sheep and cattle. When the villagers returned, they found Domremy devas-

tated. Even the church was burned. Three months later, there was more bad news. The great city

of Orleans, gateway to loyal France, was surrounded by the English. Now Joan’s voices added a

new mission: She was to rescue Orleans!

Shortly after her seventeenth birthday, Joan went to see her cousin again. She spent the next

month and a half in Vaucouleurs, talking of her quest and pestering the governor. Though he
continued to snub her, she began to cause quite a stir among the people. There was a prophecy,
widespread at the time, that France would be lost by a woman and saved by a virgin. Everybody

knew who the woman was —Queen Isabeau, who had urged the poor mad king to sign away his
country. Could it be this pious country girl who was destined to save France?

Among her supporters were two of Baudricourt’s soldiers, lively young men of high birth.

Perhaps they had a part in convincing the governor to change his mind. Or maybe the French

situation had come to seem so hopeless that he was willing to try anything.

But there was one event that may finally have tipped the scales. At their last meeting, foan had
told Baudricourt urgently that, at that very moment, the French were losing another battle to the

English, somewhere near Orleans. Sure enough, a few days later, messengers arrived with news of
the disastrous battle. It had been just as she had foretold. The governor gave her his blessing.
’ “ T ’ lN -
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 /\

oan now began to consider some practical questions, such as how she should dress. A
woman riding across dangerous country would be a target for attack. And besides,

J
They
if she was to ride with an army, she

people of Vaucouleurs soon pitched

also gave her a horse,
must
in,

and Robert de Baudricourt provided

dress appropriately, in men’s clothes.

giving her a tunic, hose, boots,

a sword. To complete
and
The
spurs.

the pic-

ture, joan cut her long hair.

She began now to refer to herself as la Pucelle, or “the Maid.” This word meant “maiden,” or

“virgin." Perhaps she hoped to remind people of the prophecy of the virgin who would save

France.

On a cold evening in February, Joan’s great journey began. She rode out of the city with an

escort of six men, including the two young noblemen who had become her supporters. One of
them even paid for the trip. It was three hundred and fifty miles to Chinon, the first part of it

through Burgundian territory. To avoid enemy soldiers, they traveled by night, skirting towns and
villages. But the dangers didn’t end when they reached France. There were still robbers to fear and

icy rain-swollen rivers to cross. ]oan had never ridden anything but a cart horse around her

village, yet she proved to be a natural horsewoman. It’s a good thing, too, because for the next

two years she would rarely be out of the saddle.

Nearing Chinon, Joan stopped at the little town of Fierbois, where she sent a letter to Charles,

saying she would soon arrive and asking for an interview. While there, she prayed at the Chapel
of Saint Catherine, a shrine for prisoners of war where the walls were covered with swords,

chains, and armor, left there by soldiers grateful for their release. Finally, after eleven days on the
road, the small band continued on the short distance to Chinon, arriving there about noon. The
people poured out of their houses to stare at them, for the town had talked of little else for days.

In fact, by then, the story of the miraculous Maid had already spread throughout France.
 * t

t was evening when Joan was escorted up the steep cobblestone streets of Chinon,

T across the drawbridge, and into the castle grounds.

one of the guards made a

There is a story that as she passed,

crude remark. Joan snapped back that he was mocking God

J9L with his insult. “And,” she added, “you so near your death!” Within the hour, so the
story goes, this same man fell into the moat and drowned. It is easy to imagine how such a tale

made the rounds of Chinon before morning.

Entering the grand chamber, Joan was dazzled by a spectacle of color and light. Over three

hundred nobles filled the hall, their brilliant silks and velvets glowing in the torchlight. All of

them watched her with fascination, for she had boasted that she would know Charles instantly,

though she had never seen him. Now she was being tested. Somewhere in that splendid crowd
hid the dauphin. His clothes did not set him apart from the others. Nor did he look kingly, with
his large nose and small, sleepy eyes. Yet loan headed straight for Charles as if he were an old and
familiar friend. “God give you life, gentle king,” she said. He answered, "I am not the king, loan.
Th ere is the king!” and lie pointed to another man. But she was not fooled. “By God, gentle
prince, it is you and none other!”
Now Joan got straight to the point. She said her voices had revealed that Charles was indeed
the “true heir of France and the king’s son.” But until he had been anointed with sacred oil and

given the blessing of God, Charles would never truly be king, and that was why she had come.
Joan would lead him to Reims, where all French kings had been crowned for almost a thousand
years.

1 hen, withdrawing from the others, Joan gave Charles a sign to prove she came from God.
No one really knows what the sign was, but witnesses said that as she spoke, his face grew radi-

ant and he was much changed.

 efore the king; could ride north to be crowned, however, something had to be done
about the English still surrounding Orleans. Not only could they threaten the king’s

safe passage to Reims, but with the French army gone north with the king, the Eng-
lish might choose to cross the Loire and capture the French stronghold in the south.

Joan was anxious to get started.

Charles, on the other hand, was always cautious. Before he put French troops in Joan’s hands,

he wanted to be sure her voices came from God and not from the devil. He took her to the town
of Poitiers and asked the council of church scholars there to examine her. Week after week, the

questioning dragged on. Joan grew increasingly restless. Could she not give them some sign, they

asked, that her mission was a holy one? Exasperated, she gave her famous reply, “I have not come
to Poitiers to make signs! Take me to Orleans, and I will show you the sign for which I have been

sent!"

In the end, the church fathers found nothing but good in her. 1 heir advice was that, consid-

ering "the peril in which the town of Orleans stood..., the king could well use her help.’’

Preparations now began in earnest. Charles raised an army with the financial help of his

mother-in-law. Joan was given a suit of armor, described in the records as “a blanc.” This did not

mean, as some have supposed, that it was white, but that the armor was plain, having no orna-
mentation or coat of arms.
Joan already had a sword, but there was another one she wanted. She sent a message to bier-

bois, where she had stopped to pray at the Chapel of Saint Catherine. She asked if she might

have the sword they would find buried behind the altar there. Though no one had ever heard of

such a sword, they began digging just the same. To everyone’s amazement, they found it. It came
to be called the “miraculous sword of Fierbois.”
Much as she loved her sword, she loved her standard more. 1 his banner was always carried

ahead of her by a standard-bearer, to show the soldiers where she was. It had great symbolic
meaning to Joan. She thought it protected her from ever killing anyone in battle, a tender con-

cern for someone going to war.

 he people of Orleans rejoiced: An army was coming to their rescue, led by the saintly

T
them
Maid of God. The truth was

spiritual well-being.

to swear, [oan told the men

She made
that Joan was not really the

captains. But she was the true heart

all the soldiers go to confession and

commander, only one of the
and soul of the army, and she looked

to be merciful conquerors, never burning villages or stealing

from the people. They must do nothing to displease the King of Heaven because, she
after

would not allow

said, the
its

army would fight the battle, but God would grant the victory.

Among the men who rode with Joan to Orleans were two who had traveled a long way to join

th e army of the Maid. They were Joan’s brothers, Pierre and Jean, once ordered to drown her if

she ever ran off with soldiers!

Under normal circumstances, the duke of Orleans would have led the defense of his city. But
he could not do so now, for he was a prisoner of war in England. Instead, it was his half-brother,
Jean, the count of Dunois, who would be in command. As the army neared the city, he rode out
to greet it.

Though he and Joan would soon become friends, they got off to a bad start. At this first

meeting Joan lost her temper. She had expected to attack the English right away. But Dunois
explained that the fighting was to be put off until more soldiers arrived. Joan rudely accused him

of deceiving her. One can only imagine what he thought of her insolence.
1 he army, with cartloads of food and a herd of cattle, successfully entered the city. This was
possible because the English had too few men to surround Orleans completely, leaving the east
gate unchallenged much of the time. 1 hough it was late in the evening, the streets were filled with
joyous citizens. 1 hey cheered as Joan passed by, reaching out to touch her. A spirit of hope was
in the air.
 ORLEANS

hile waiting for reinforcements, Joan sent several letters to the English, urging

them to go back to their own country and threatening great peril if they did

not. Joan dictated these letters and someone else wrote them for her, since she

never learned to read, nor could she write anything but her own name, which
she spelled Jehanne. The English, not surprisingly, thought her letters were total rubbish and

responded that Joan ought to go home and mind the cows.

Still determined to prevent bloodshed if she could, Joan decided on a more personal appeal.

She rode through the south gate of the city and out onto the bridge that spanned the Loire River.
Guarding the far side of the bridge was a stone fort called the Tourelles, now in the hands of the
English. To keep them from crossing, the French had destroyed a section of the bridge. Now,
from the Orleans side, Joan shouted across that the English should abandon the fort immedi-
ately and save their lives. They hooted back, “Cowgirl!”

I he French high command didn’t take her very seriously either. They saw her as a kind of

mascot, or good-luck charm. One officer called her “a little saucebox of low birth." When rein-

forcements arrived and Dunois began planning his assault, he didn’t bother to include Joan. The
next day, the army rode out to attack the fortress at Saint-Loup while Joan was taking a nap. Sud-
denly she woke in a state of agitation, crying out that French blood was being spilled. Arming
quickly, she hurried to join the battle. Things had been going poorly for the French, but when
the soldiers saw her, they gave a great cheer. With the army’s spirits lifted, the tide turned, and

Saint-Loup fell.

Two days later, the English abandoned a second fort, south of the river, and fled to the for-

tified abbey of the Augustins. The French expected no more action that day, so they turned back
toward Orleans. Suddenly, the English came darting out of the abbey to attack the unsuspecting
French from the rear. Seeing the danger, Joan and a daring captain called Fa Hire set their lances
and, all by themselves, charged the English. Inspired by their courage, the French turned and
joined the charge, taking the fort of the Augustins.
 oan was often able to predict future events, and that night she told her priest what
would happen the next day. She would be wounded “above the breast’ but would sur-

vive, and the French would take the Tourelles.

The battle began in the early morning of May 7, 1429, with an assault on the
fortification that guarded the Tourelles. Joan was the first to set a ladder against the wall, but nei-

ther she nor any of the others succeeded in getting over. They climbed beneath a rain of arrows,

only to be repelled at the top by English swords and battle-axes. About midday Joan was struck
by an arrow in the shoulder, just as she had predicted. Her men carried her to safety, where, it is

said, she pulled the arrow out herself. She rested only a short time, then returned to the action.

Night came, and after thirteen hours of fierce fighting, the men were exhausted. But Joan was

sure of victory and begged Dunois to keep trying. He agreed, and while the men rested and ate,

Joan found a quiet place to pray.

When she returned, Joan picked up her standard and carried it to the edge of the moat, where

all could see her. 4 he sight inspired the French to make one last, ferocious attack. By then, the

English were convinced that Joan was a witch and was using sorcery on them. Their defenses

broke down, allowing the French to pour over the walls unhindered, d he terrified English hur-
ried toward the drawbridge leading to the Tourelles, unaware that the French had stationed a boat
underneath it that they set on fire. As the English crossed the bridge, it caught fire and collapsed.
Unable to swim in their armor, the English — including Glasdale, the commander — were
drowned.
Meanwhile, the citizens of Orleans spanned the broken part of the bridge with ladders,
boards, and gutter pipes. Over this wobbly structure the citizens crossed to attack the Tourelles

from the rear, setting it on fire with flaming arrows.

1 he victory was so stunning that on the following morning, the English commander Lord
Talbot abandoned all the remaining forts around Orleans. From that time on, the people of

Orleans have celebrated every seventh of May with festivities and torchlight processions in mem-
ory of that glorious day.
 * W'

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 Orleans

Ft-* next morning, Joan rode to the dauphin’s castle. Charles was so pleased to see her

that one witness thought “he would readily have kissed her in his joy.” She stayed
there for almost two weeks while the king and his counselors debated their next move.
JIL “Noble dauphin,” she pleaded, “do not hold such long council, but go to Reims as

soon as possible and receive your worthy crown!”

Eventually, she won him over, and the army set off to clear the way for the march to Reims,
d he command for this expedition went to the duke of Alen^on, who had also fought at Orleans.

Joan admired him greatly, for his charm as much as his courage. She called him her beau due ,
her

“handsome duke.”
1 he Loire campaign was as short as it was successful. Over the period of one remarkable
week, the French army captured several occupied towns along the Loire. The first to fall was
Jargeau, where the English had retreated from Orleans. Next, Beaugency surrendered. By then,

however, Lord Talbots English forces had been reinforced by the army of Sir John Fastolf (
later

immortalized in two plays by Shakespeare as the colorful Sir John Falstaff). This combined army
was now advancing toward the French. Alenfon, worried that they might be outmanned, asked
Joan’s advice. “Do you all have good spurs?” she asked.

In disbelief, the men cried, “Arc we going to turn our backs on them?”

Of course they were not. “You will need good spurs,” Joan said, "to run after them.”

And, indeed, on that day in the woods of Patay, according to Dunois’s estimation, more than
four thousand English were killed or captured while the French lost only three men. Lord Tal-

bot himself was taken prisoner.

At last the time had come to go to Reims. As the royal army moved north, they found that

Joan’s reputation had cleared the way for them. Towns opened their gates without a fight.

Throughout the occupied territory, enemy soldiers began to desert in fear of the Maid. Two
weeks later, Charles arrived unscathed at the gates of Reims, where the people offered him their
“full and entire obedience as their sovereign.”
 r-i ag and his army reached Reims on a Saturday, and it was traditional to hold
coronations on Sundays. Since the people didn’t want to feed the entire army for a

week, they began hurried preparations to crown Charles the next day.

At nine o’clock on the morning of July 17, 1429, the grand procession made its

way to Reims Cathedral for the coronation, a ceremony that would last most of the day. It began
with prayers and music. I hen, with his hand on the Bible, Charles swore an oath to uphold the
Catholic faith, defend the Church, and rule his kingdom with justice and mercy. Then the king
was knighted by the duke of Alengon.
Next, the archbishop took a golden needle and withdrew a drop of holy oil from a sacred vial.

This vial was almost a thousand years old, dating back to the baptism of Clovis, the first Chris-

tian king of France. Legend held that, on that occasion, it was brought down from heaven by a

dove. Since then, all French kings had been anointed with its holy oil, as Charles now was, on his

head, chest, back, shoulders, and elbows.

Charles then received the scepter, a symbol of authority, which he held in his right hand, and
the rod of justice, which he held in his left. I he belt and spurs of chivalry were strapped on.
Finally, the archbishop laid the crown of France on the head of this timid and homely young
man for whom so many had fought and died. Joan knelt proudly and wept with joy. In her hand

she held her standard. Later, when asked why it had been given such a place of prominence in

the ceremony, she answered, “It had borne the burden; it deserved the honor.”
I he king later rewarded loan by raising her family to the nobility. He also granted the only

favor she asked, that her little village be forever exempt from taxes.

That day was the finest moment of her life. And there to witness it were her mother and
father and two brothers. Several others came from Domremy, too. Even Durand Laxart was there
to see the grand climax of that journey he had helped her begin only six months before.
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 ow the great moment of decision arrived on which so much depended. Joan’s mirac-

ulous victories were the talk of France. Charles had been properly crowned at Reims.

Throughout the north, cities that had long lain under Anglo-Burgundian control

were ready to submit to him. The army, under the command of the duke of Alengon,

was eager to fight. Had Charles been a bolder man, he would have seized this moment to take

Paris and drive the English out of France altogether.

But Charles still hoped to end the war by winning the duke of Burgundy away from his

English alliance. So now, without telling Joan, he agreed to a truce of fifteen days, after which

Burgundy promised to give up Paris. Of course, he did not. He was just stalling for time, well

aware that thirty-five hundred knights and archers had already left England to reinforce Paris. By
the time Charles reluctantly agreed to attack, three precious weeks had been wasted.

I his was to prove far more difficult than the battle of Orleans had been. Paris was well for-
tified, and the walls were protected by a moat. Before the French could even set up their ladders,

they had to pile bundles of branches into the water to get across, loan, ever hoping to prevent

bloodshed, called up to the defenders, urging them to yield quickly or face the consequences. An
English archer, seeing what an easy target she made, called back, “Here’s for you!” and let loose

an arrow from his crossbow, piercing her thigh. Joan watched helplessly as, once again, the archer
took aim and her standard-bearer fell. Her banner, which had borne such burdens and won such
honor, now lay in the dust.

Joan was carried from the field, and the French withdrew for the night. The following morn-
ing, before the battle could resume, a message came from the king. He ordered them to abandon

the fight and return to the town of Saint-Denis, where he was in residence. This was a terrible

blow, but there was still hope, for Alengon had a backup plan.

Earlier, he had ordered a bridge to be built across the Seine at Saint-Denis. They would
retreat, but then they would cross the river and come around for a surprise attack from the south.
Imagine their dismay when they learned that the king had ordered the bridge destroyed! Beguiled
by Burgundy’s promise of new peace talks, Charles had decided to retreat. So the army of the

king left Saint-Denis and headed south

— “without,” it was recorded, “paying their lodging.”
 -y harles disbanded his army and spent the next six months hoping that the duke of Bur-
gundy would play fair this time. While Charles did nothing, a thousand more soldiers
crossed the English Channel to take back everything he had gained. At the same time,

Burgundy used the threat of peace talks to goad the English into buying his loyalty

w ith more money and territory. Joan did not wait for Charles to realize his mistake. She joined
a small band of freelance soldiers and headed north to fight.

At the beginning of her mission, Joan’s voices had told her that she would last only a year,

perhaps a little more. Now, the voices said, her time was up. She would soon be captured. With
this new weight on her young shoulders, Joan learned that the duke of Burgundy had laid siege

to the important city of Compiegne. As part of a truce, Charles had given the city hack to Bur-
gundy, but the people had refused, saying they would “rather lose their lives, and that of their

wives and children, than to expose them to the mercy of the duke.” Deeply moved by this story,

Joan rushed to their defense. With about four hundred men, she slipped through enemy lines by
night and entered the city.

The next afternoon, Joan rode out the north gate with a small force of soldiers to attack a

Burgundian encampment on the far side of the drawbridge. The enemy, caught by surprise,
retreated hastily. As the French galloped in pursuit, they suddenly found themselves ambushed

and in danger of being cut off from the town. Joan tried valiantly to convince her men to take

heart and fight, but they had already turned and were racing back, the Burgundians at their heels.

1 he governor of Compiegne watched with horror as the pursuers came closer and closer to the

bridge. When he could wait no longer, for fear of losing the town, the governor ordered the

drawbridge raised and the gate closed.

Joan, who had been guarding the retreat, was slwit out. Soldiers surrounded her, shouting

wildly, "Yield to me! Yield to me!” Then an archer, “a rough man and sour,” grabbed hold of her
cloak and pulled Joan from her horse. She was now a prisoner.
 oan was a great prize, and the English wanted her badly. They had come to believe
that “they would never in her lifetime win glory or prosperity in deeds of war.” Now
the English were determined to put an end to her. Over the next few weeks, they pres-

sured the duke ol Burgundy to turn her over. Burgundy finally accepted an offer of

ten thousand francs ransom, plus an additional six thousand for the men who had captured her.
Though she was ransomed by the English, Joan would be tried by the Inquisition. This was a

special court appointed to deal with heretics, people who opposed the established beliefs of the

Church. She was accused of many things, but the case boiled down to two charges. The first was
that she dressed in men’s clothes, which was considered an "abomination to God.” The second
was that she claimed God guided her personally, through voices and visitations. This was a sin

because only the Church, as God’s representative on earth, could tell ordinary Christians what

He wanted them to do. But the English were more interested in the political angle: If loan was

found guilty of witchcraft and sorcery, then Charles, by association, would be discredited.
When Joan learned from her jailers that she had been sold to the English, she grew distraught.

In her despair, she threw herself from the prison tower, a fall of sixty or seventy feet. Hours later,

the guards found her lying unconscious in a ditch. It was incredible that she survived at all. More
amazing still, she was not even injured, though for a few days she was unable to eat.

Joan had been captured in the spring. From her various prisons she watched summer come,
then fade into autumn. Finally, just after Christmas, she was brought to the city of Rouen for

her trial. Joan expected to be kept in a church prison, guarded by priests and nuns, as was cus-
tomary in religious trials. Instead, the English put her in a dark cell in the castle of Rouen, where

she was put in chains and guarded by brutish English soldiers.

 -r
oan’s case would be decided by two judges. Pierre Cauchon, bishop of Beauvais,
really ran the trial. The other judge was [can Lemaitre, deputy inquisitor of France.
He either disapproved of or was not interested in the proceedings, for he rarely

attended the court, and when he did, said nothing. The judges were advised by as

many as sixty eminent scholars of theology and church law. Against the weight of all this knowl-
edge and authority stood a peasant girl of nineteen, unable to read or write and without a lawyer

to help her.

During the trial, three notaries recorded everything that was said. These notes were later trans-

lated into Latin and copied in formal handwriting. 1 his transcript still exists today, giving us an

accurate picture of the proceedings. We can see, for example, how the questioners tried to con-

fuse Joan by jumping around from subject to subject or interrupting her in the middle of an-
swers. They frequently repeated questions, in hopes that she would contradict herself, and tried

to trip her up on points of theology.

To their surprise, they discovered that this ignorant girl was not easily intimidated and was
remarkably clever in her answers. They asked, for example, if she was in a state of grace. This was

a trick question, because if she said yes, she would be claiming knowledge belonging only to God.

If she said no, that meant she was in a state of sin. With characteristic common sense she
answered, “If I am not, may God put me there; if I am, may God keep me there." The court,
according to one witness, was “stupefied.”

loan was also quick with a bold and saucy answer. “Does God hate the English?” she was

asked. “Of the love or hate which God has for the English. .
.,” she replied, “I know nothing; but

I do know that they will be driven out of France, except for those who will die here, and that
God will send victory to the French over the English.”
 CV^V> \\(3 /

^ -y auchon had promised a “beautiful trial,” one in which

Anyone sympathetic
all the correct procedures were

followed. In truth, it was just the opposite. to Joan was sent away,

documents were falsified, and the judges were hardly impartial. There was never any
doubt that she would be found guilty. Still, the trial was not swift or ruthless enough
to suit the English, for the goal of the Church was to save souls, not to burn heretics. Church
officials spent weeks urging her to give up her false beliefs and win forgiveness. They even threat-

ened her with torture, but loan stood firm. Cauchon finally declared the trial finished.

The next day, Joan was led through a jostling crowd to the walled cemetery of the Abbey of

Saint-Ouen to hear the verdict. First, she was subjected to a sermon in which she was berated as

a “useless, infamous, dishonored woman” and King Charles was called a heretic. Ever loyal, Joan
broke in to defend the king. He was the “noblest Christian of all,” she declared. “Make her be

quiet,” said Cauchon.

The verdict followed. Cauchon declared Joan a heretic, cut off forever from the Church and
abandoned to English justice. At that moment, she panicked. Her voices had assured her that she

would be rescued. But Charles had neither offered to pay her ransom nor tried to exchange her
for English prisoners. No hosts of angels had come to open her prison door. She knew, suddenly,
that she was about to die. Terrified of the fire, she broke down and signed the document that

had been prepared. She agreed to put on women’s clothes and to obey the Church in all things.

The English were furious, and some began throwing stones. They had spent a lot of money
for her ransom and more on the trial, and now she had escaped with her life. But Cauchon reas-
sured them; they would catch her yet.

Joan did not win her freedom by repenting. Instead, she was sentenced to life in prison, where

she would live “on the bread of sorrow and the water of affliction.” She begged to be moved to
a church prison, but even this was denied. Cauchon responded coldly, “Tike her to where you
found her." And so the guards returned Joan to her cell, where, to mark her penitence, they shaved

off her hair. 1 hen they put her back in chains.

 oan was given a dress to wear, but men’s clothing was left- in her cell, as if her captors

were daring her to put it back on. Indeed, four days later, Joan defied the Church and

doomed herself by once again dressing as a man. She supposedly told Cauchon that
she had done it willingly, preferring death to life in an English prison. Others
explained it differently: either that the guards forced her into it by taking her dress away or that
she thought men’s clothes, with their leggings and tight laces, protected her from the crude

advances of her jailers. Either way, as Joan said several times, it would not have happened had
they put her in a church prison.

Early in the morning of May 30, 1431, two priests came to Joan’s cell to hear her last con-

fession and to tell her that, within the hour, she was to be burned at the stake. Joan burst into

tears. It was such a dreadful way to die!

Joan was to go to her death in proper women’s clothes, but on her head she was forced to wear

a tall paper cap with the words heretic, relapsed, apostate, idolatress written on it. Under close guard, she

was brought to the Old Market Square, where a restless crowd awaited the spectacle. There,

frightened and heartsick, she endured yet another sermon. Then she knelt and began to pray

aloud, begging God’s mercy and forgiving those who had wronged her. Her terrible grief and de-
vout words moved the crowd so deeply that “even several Englishmen. .most bitterly wept . at it.

Others with harder hearts grew impatient. “Do you mean to have us dine here?” one shouted.
Finally, for the second time, Cauchon pronounced Joan cast out of the Catholic Church and
turned over to the state for justice. Then, without waiting for the sheriff of Rouen to sentence

her, the guards hastily took her to the scaffold and bound her to the stake.

Joan asked for a cross, so someone in the crowd tied two sticks together for her. A sympa-
thetic priest hurried into the church and brought out the crucifix, which he held up to comfort
her in her last, dreadful moments. When it was all over, the English had her ashes gathered and
thrown into the Seme.
Many who were there that day went home unnerved by what they had seen. The executioner

said he feared for his soul. Even the secretary to the king of England wept. “We are all lost,” he
cried, “for we have burnt a saint!”
 fesr her Joans death, the tide began to turn in France. When little King Henry VI was
Ink brought to Paris to be crowned king of France ( Reims was still controlled by the

II i -% French), the duke of Burgundy did not attend. Instead, he began negotiations with

-^-Charles lor a real truce. In 1435, Burgundy acknowledged his old enemy as king of
France, and peace was concluded between them. The war dragged on lor another eighteen years,

but by 1453, the English were gone and the war was over. By then, Charles was well on his way
to becoming the good and serious king Joan had always believed him to be.

With Rouen back in French hands, Charles finally had access to the transcript of Joan’s trial.

Though he had not tried to save her, the king now set about clearing her name. A royal com-
mission concluded that the trial had been fraudulent and driven by political aims. Since Joan had
been convicted by the Inquisition, only the pope could order a Trial of Rehabilitation and only
the Inquisition could hear it. An official request was presented to Pope Cahxtus III in the name
of Joan’s elderly mother and two brothers. It begins, touchingly, “I had a daughter,” and tells how
good and devoted Joan was. Although Joan had never done anything to deserve it, the letter went

on, her enemies “without any assistance given to her innocence. . .did condemn her. . .and put her

to death very cruelly by fire.”

The request set in motion a serious investigation in which one hundred and fifteen witnesses

were examined. 4 he judges traveled to Domremy, where they heard from Joan’s childhood friends.

4 hey went to Vaucouleurs, where Durand Laxart told how he had taken Joan to speak with the
governor. Baudricourt was no longer alive, but the two noblemen who had first supported her
were still there. They told the court how they had traveled with Joan to Chinon to see the king

all those years before. In Paris, the judges questioned the count of Dunois and Joan’s beau due ,

Alengon, who both described the battle of Orleans, the Loire campaign, and the grand march to

Reims. At Rouen they got a chance to read the original transcript and interviewed, among
others, one of the notaries and several of the advisers from the first trial.

A hearing was held at which anyone who opposed the rehabilitation of Joan the Maid could
come and speak. No one did.

Finally, on July 7, 1456, more than six years after Charles began to look into the matter, and
twenty-five years after Joan’s death, a second verdict was announced. “The trial and sentence
being tainted with fraud,” the conviction of heresy was considered “null, invalid, worthless, with-
out effect and annihilated,” and Joan was “washed clean. .absolutely.” .

The document was read at the cemetery of Saint-Ouen, where Joan had recanted out of fear.

The next day, it was read again in the Old Market, where she gave up her life. There, the king
erected a stone cross in her memory.
In 1920, almost five hundred years after her death, Joan of Arc was made a saint by the
Catholic Church.

The transcript of Joan’s trial for heresy is much more than just the record of a judicial proceed-
ing; it is the autobiography of Joan of Arc. Through her answers, in her own simple words, she

gives us a first-person account of her childhood, her visions, and her extraordinary career. In the

same way, the Trial of Rehabilitation can be read as Joan’s biography, as told by people who were
there to see and participate in the great events of her life. Because of these two remarkable doc-
uments, we know more about Joan of Arc than about any other woman who lived before mod-
ern times. All of the quotes in this book were taken from the transcripts of the trials.

But now that we have the story, what are we to make of it? How, in reading a historical

account that is based on hard facts and documentary evidence, are we supposed to make sense
of miraculous visions and voices? Depending on our point of view, we can account for them in

one of three ways. First, they were exactly what Joan said they were: divine revelations. Second,

they were hallucinations produced by some illness of mind or body. And third, seeing the terri-

ble state of her country and having heard the prophecy about the young girl who would save

France, she began to wish, and then actually to believe, that she was the chosen one. To this day,

however, no historian has been able to do more than spin the occasional theory. Sometimes, in

studying history, we have to accept what we know and let the rest remain a mystery.
 ) .

Bibliography
Barrett, W. P. The Trial of Jeanne d’Are. London: George Routledge & Sons, 1931

Gies, Frances. Joan of Are: The Legend and the Reality. New York: Harper & Row, 1981.
Lightbody, Charles Wayland. The Judgments of Joan: Joan of Are, a Study in Cultural History.

Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1961.

Michelet, Jules. Joan of Arc Translated, with an introduction by Albert Guerard. Ann Arbor:
University of Michigan Press, 1957.

Pernoud, Reginc. Joan of Are: By Herself and Her Witnesses.New York: Stein and Day, 1966.
Sackville-West, V Saint Joan of Arc. Boston: G. K. Hall & Company, 1984.
Trask, Willard. Joan of Arc: Self Portrait. New York: Stackpole Sons, 1936.
Warner, Marina. Joan of Are: The Image of Temale Heroism. New York: Knopf, 1981.

Recommended for Younger Readers

Banfield, Susa n. Joan of Are. New York: Chelsea House, 1988.
Boutet De Monvel, Maurice. Joan of Arc. New York: Viking, 1980.
(Reprint of original 1896 French edition.)
Brooks, Polly Schoyer. Beyond the Myth: The Story of Joan of Are. New York: Lippincott, 1990.

Christopher, Tracy. Joan of Are: Soldier Saint. New York: Chelsea House, 1993.
Garden, Nancy. Dove and Sword: A Novel of Joan of Are. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1995.
(Fictionalized

Twain, Mark. Personal Recollections of Joan of Are. New York: Harper & Row, 1886. (Fictionalized)
Williams, Jay. Joan of Are. New York: American Heritage Publishing Company, 1963.
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