A Heroine of France: The Story of Joan of Arc Chapter 13
How the Maid Won a New Name
“Entrez, entrez–de la part de Dieu–all is yours!”
Thus spoke the Maid, as we rushed the tower of the boulevard, the
English flying this way and that before us. The Maid found herself
face to face with the commander–that Sir William Glasdale, who had
called her vile names a few days before, and had promised to burn
her for a witch if once she fell into his hands.
But she had no ill words for him, as she saw him, sword in hand,
seeking to make a last stand upon the drawbridge leading to Les
“Now yield you, Classidas,” she said; “I bear you no ill will. I
have great pity for your soul. Yield you, and all shall be well.”
But he would not listen; his face was black like a thundercloud,
and with his picked bodyguard of men, he retreated backwards, sword
in hand, upon the bridge, seeking to gain the other tower, not
knowing its desperate condition, and hoping there to make a last
But he was not destined to achieve his end. Suddenly the bridge
gave way beneath his feet, and he and his men were all precipitated
into the water. It looked to us as though a miracle had been
wrought before our eyes; as though the gaze of the Maid had done
it. But the truth was afterwards told us, that a fire ship from the
city had been sent across and had burned the bridge, cutting off
the retreat of the English that way.
And now we heard the din of battle going on within Les Tourelles;
for La Hire had crossed the repaired bridge with a gallant band of
soldiers, and our men, hearing the shouts of their comrades, and
the cries of the trapped English, flung themselves into boats, or
swam over, sword in mouth, anything to get to the scene of the
fray; whilst others set to work with planks, and whatever they
could lay hands upon, to mend the broken drawbridge that they might
swarm across into Les Tourelles and join in the final act of
victory, that should free Orleans from the iron grip in which she
had been held so long.
But the face of the Maid was troubled, as she looked into the dark
water which had closed over the head of Glasdale and his men. She
had seized upon a coil of rope; she stood ready to fling it towards
them when they rose; but encased as they were in their heavy mail,
there was no rising for them. Long did she gaze into the black,
bloodstained water; but she gazed in vain; and when she raised her
eyes, I saw that they were swimming in tears.
“I would we might have saved them,” she spoke, with a little catch
in her voice, “I have such great pity for their souls!”
These were the first words I heard the Maid speak after her
wonderful victory had been won; and whilst others went hither and
thither, mad or drunk with joy, she busied herself about the
wounded, making no distinction betwixt friend or foe, sending
urgent message into the city for priests to come forth and bring
the last Sacraments with them, and so long as there were any dying
to be confessed or consoled, or wounded to be cared for and
transported into the city, she seemed to have no thought for aught
beside. Thankful joy was indeed in her heart, but her tender
woman’s pity was so stirred by sights of suffering and death that
for the moment she could think of nothing else.
Thus the daylight faded, and we began to think of return. How shall
I describe the sight which greeted our eyes in the gathering dusk,
as we looked towards the city? One might have thought that the
English had fired it, so bright was the glare in which it was
enveloped; but we knew better. Bonfires were blazing in every
square, in every open place. Nay, more, from the very roofs of
tower and church great pillars of flame were ascending to the
Joy bells had rung before this, but never with such a wild
jubilation, such a clamour of palpitating triumph. The city had
gone mad in its joy–and it was no marvel–and all were awaiting
the return of the Maid, to whom this miraculous deliverance was
due. Eight days–eight days of the Maid–and the seven-months’
siege was raised! Was it wonderful they should hunger for her
presence amongst them? Was it wonderful that every house should
seek to hang out a white banner in honour of the Angelic Maid, and
her pure whiteness of soul and body?
“I will come to you by the bridge,” had been her own word; and now,
behold, the bridge was there! Like Trojans had the men worked
beneath the eagle eyes of La Hire. An army had already crossed from
the city; now that their task was done, the Maid’s white charger
had been led across, and the cry was all for her, for her; that she
should let the people see her alive and well, now that her task was
accomplished and Orleans was free!
She let us mount her upon her horse, and D’Aulon marched in front
with the great white standard. Weary and white and wan was she,
with the stress of the fight, with the pain and loss of blood from
her wound, above all, with her deep, unfailing pity for the
sufferings she had been forced to witness, for the souls gone to
their last account without the sacred offices of the Church.
All this weighed upon her young spirit, and gave a strange,
ethereal loveliness to her pale face and shining eyes. Methought
she seemed almost more like some angelic presence in our midst than
a creature of human flesh and blood.
The Generals formed an advance guard before her. The soldiers followed,
rank behind rank, in the rear. We of her household rode immediately in
her wake, ready to protect her, if need be, from the too great pressure
of the crowd. And so we crossed the hastily-repaired bridge, and entered
by the Bride Gate–or St. Catherine’s gate, as it was equally called;
for a figure of St. Catherine stands carved in a niche above the porch,
and I saw the Maid glance upwards at it as she passed through, a smile
upon her lips.
Shall I ever forget the thunder of applause which fell upon our
ears as we passed into the city through the bridge? It was like the
“sound of many waters"–deafening in volume and intensity. And was
it wonder? Had not something very like a miracle been wrought? For
had not rumours reached the city many times that day of the death
of the Deliverer in the hour of victory? None well knew what to
believe till they saw her in their midst, and then the cry which
rent the heavens was such as methinks is heard but once in a
I know not who first spoke the words; but once spoken, they were
caught up by ten thousand lips, and the blazing heavens echoed them
back in great waves of rolling sound:
“THE MAID OF ORLEANS! THE MAID OF ORLEANS! Welcome, honour, glory,
praise to THE MAID OF ORLEANS!”
The people were well-nigh mad with joy; they rushed upon her to
kiss her hands, her knees, the folds of her banner, the neck or the
flanks of her horse. In the red glare of the hundred bonfires the
whiteness of her armour seemed to take a new lustre. The rent upon
the shoulder could be plainly seen, showing where the arrow had
torn its way. Women sobbed aloud as they looked; men cursed the
hand which had shot the bolt; all joined in frantic cheers of joy
to see her riding alone, erect and smiling, though with a dreamy
stillness of countenance which physical lassitude in part accounted
“I thank you, my friends, I thank you,” she kept saying, as though
no other words would come, save when now and again she would add,
“But to God must you give your thanks and blessings. It is He who
has delivered you.”
It was not far to the house of the Treasurer, and there in the
threshold stood the little Charlotte, a great wreath of bay and
laurel in her tiny hands. She was lifted up in her father’s strong
arms, and ere the Maid was able to dismount from her horse the
little one had placed the triumphal wreath upon her fair head.
O, what a shout arose! It was like the mighty burst of some great
thunderstorm. The Maid, blushing now at the tumult of applause,
stretched out her arms, took the little one into them, and held her
in a close embrace whilst she bowed her last graceful thanks to the
joy-maddened crowd. Then she slipped from her horse, and holding
the little one fast by the hand, disappeared into the house, whilst
the people reluctantly dispersed to hear the story all over again
from the soldiers pouring in, each with some tale of his own to
tell of the prowess of THE MAID OF ORLEANS.
Yes, that was the name by which she was henceforth to be known. The
city was wild with joy and pride thus to christen her. And she,
having crossed by the bridge, as she had said, sat down for a brief
while to that festal board which had been spread for her. But
fatigue soon over-mastering her, she retired to her room, only
pausing to look at us all and say:
“Tomorrow is the Lord’s own day of rest. Remember that, my friends.
Let there be no fighting, no pursuit, no martial exercise, whatever
the foe may threaten or do. Tomorrow must be a day of thanksgiving
and praise. Look to it that my words are obeyed.”
They said she slept like a child that night; yet with the early
light of day she was up, kneeling in the Cathedral with her
household beside her, listening to the sound of chant and prayer,
receiving the Holy Sacrament, the pledge of her Lord’s love.
Not until we had returned from that first duty did she listen to
what was told her anent the movements of the English. They were
drawn up in battle array upon the north side of the river, spoke
those who had gone to the battlements to look. Thinned as were
their ranks, they were still a formidable host, and from the menace
of their attitude it might be that they expected the arrival of
reinforcements. Would it not be well, spoke La Hire, to go forth
against them at once, whilst the soldiers’ hearts were flushed with
victory, whilst the memory of yesterday’s triumphs was green within
But the Maid, hitherto all in favour of the most dashing and daring
policy, answered now, with a shake of the head:
“It is Sunday, my Generals,” she replied; “the day of my Lord. The
day He has hallowed to His service.”
She paused a moment, and added, quite gently, and without reproach,
“Had you acted as I did counsel, the English would now have had no
footing on the north side of the river; they must needs have fled
altogether from the neighbourhood of the city. Nevertheless, my
Lord is merciful. He helps, though men hinder His designs. Let no
man stir forth with carnal weapons against the foe this day. We
will use other means to vanquish them.”
Then turning to me, she bid me go to the Bishop, and ask him to
give her audience; and shortly she was ushered into his presence,
and we waited long for her to reappear.
How shall I tell of the wonderful scene which the sun looked down
upon that bright May morning, when the purpose of the Maid became
fully revealed to us? Even now it seems rather as a dream, than as
an incident in a terrible war.
Out upon the level plain, in full sight of the city, in full view
of the serried ranks of the English army, a great white altar was
set up. The army from Orleans marched out and stood bareheaded
beneath the walls, unarmed by order of the Maid, save for the small
weapon every man habitually carried at his belt, citizen as well as
soldier. The townspeople flocked to the walls, or out into the
plain, as pleased them best; and from the Renart Gate there issued
forth a grave and sumptuous procession; the Bishop in his
vestments, accompanied by all the ecclesiastics within the city
walls, each of them robed, attended by acolytes swinging censers,
the incense cloud ascending through the sunny air, tapers swaying
in the breeze, their light extinguished by the brilliance of the
The Maid in her white tunic, with a white mantle over her
shoulders, followed with bent head, leading the little Charlotte by
the hand succeeded by her household.
And there, in the sight of the rival armies, High Mass was
celebrated by the Bishop, both armies kneeling devoutly, and
turning towards the Altar as one man. Never have I witnessed such a
scene. Never shall I witness such another.
The Mass over, the procession filed back through the gate, both
armies kneeling motionless till it had disappeared. Then the Maid
rose, and we with her, and followed her in its wake, and the French
army, in perfect order, re-entered the city by the appointed gates,
as had been ordered.
One hour later and the Maid sent D’Aulon up to the battlements to
look what the English army was doing. He returned to say that they
were still drawn up in rank as before.
“Which way are their faces?” she asked.
“Their faces are turned away from the city,” was the reply.
The countenance of the Maid brightened with a great light.
“Then let them go, a part de Dieu!” she answered. “My God, I thank
Thee for this great grace!”
And so, without further battle or bloodshed, the English army
marched away from Orleans; and upon the next morning not a man of
the foe was left; and the citizens pouring out from the town,
destroyed, with acclamations of joy, those great bastilles, which
had so long sheltered the foe and threatened the safety of the
It was a day ever to be remembered. The bells pealed ceaselessly,
the houses were decked with garlands, white banners or silken
pennons floated everywhere, the townsfolk arrayed themselves in
holiday garb, and poured out through the gates to wander at will
over the plain, so lately held by the English. Gladness and the
wonder of a great relief was stamped upon every face, and
constantly songs of triumph arose or thunders of applause, of which
the burden always was–THE MAID OF ORLEANS! THE MAID OF ORLEANS!
They would have kept her with them for ever, if it might so have
been. They talked wildly, yet earnestly, of building her a palace,
where she should live at ease all the rest of her days, the object
of universal admiration and homage.
But the Maid listened to such words, when repeated to her, with a
dreamy smile. Her wound required rest; and for two days she
consented to remain quiet in the house of the Treasurer, lying for
the most part upon a couch in a great cool chamber, with the little
Charlotte for her companion and playfellow. She sometimes rose and
showed herself at a window in answer to the tumultuous shoutings of
the crowd without; and she received with pleasure some great
baskets and bouquets of flowers which the wives and children of the
citizens had culled for her. But she gently put aside all
suggestions of rewards for herself, which some would fain have
bestowed upon the Deliverer, and which men of all ranks were but
too ready to claim and receive for service rendered.
“I have all that I want, myself–and more,” she said; “if any would
offer gifts, let them be thank offerings to the Lord. Let the poor
receive alms, let Masses be sung for the souls of those killed in
the war; but for me–I want nothing but the love of the people of
France. I am come to do the will of my Lord. I ask only His
And all the while she was eagerly desirous to return to the King,
and urge upon him the need to repair instantly to Rheims, and there
receive his crown. To her he was not truly King till he had been
anointed as such. She knew that the blow to the English arms just
struck must have a paralysing effect upon their forces, and that a
rapid march with even a small army would be accomplished without
resistance, if only it were quickly made.
I need not say that the city of Rheims lay in the very heart of
territory owning the English sway. To reach that city we must
perforce march right through a hostile country, garrisoned by the
enemy. But of that the Maid made light.
“The hearts of the people will turn towards us,” she said. “They
have submitted to the English yoke; but they are Frenchmen still.
Once let them see that the power of the enemy is broken, and they
will rally to our standard. But precious time should not be lost.
The Dauphin should place himself at the head of such an army as he
can spare for the march, and journey forthwith to Rheims. There
shall the crown be set upon his head–the pledge and earnest that
one day he shall rule the whole realm of France, as his fathers did
And so, before a week had passed, we set forth with the Maid to go
to the King, who had by this time moved his Court from Chinon to
Loches, another fortress upon the Loire, where there was space for
his train, and which could, if necessary, be fortified against a
It was a strange journey–more like a triumphal progress than
anything we had yet met with. The fame of the Maid and her
miraculous exploit in the matter of the siege of Orleans had gone
before her, and from every town or village through which she passed
the people flocked out to see her, bearing garlands and banners,
crowding about her, asking her blessing, seeking to touch her,
pouring out blessings and praises, so that the heart of anyone less
filled with the humility which comes from above must needs have
been altogether puffed up and filled with pride.
But it was never so with the Maid. Her gentle courtesy and devout
humility never failed her. Lovingly and gratefully she received
love and affection, but praise and honour she set aside, bidding
all remember that to God alone belonged the issues from death, and
that she was but an instrument in His mighty hands.
We wondered how she would be received at the Court, and whether La
Tremouille and her other adversaries had been convinced of her
divine mission, and would now remove all opposition. As we
approached the fortress we saw that flags were floating from every
tower; that the place wore a festive aspect, and that the town was
pouring out to welcome us and gaze upon the Maid.
Then, with a great fanfare of trumpets, the gates of the fortress
were flung wide open, and forth came a gay procession, in the midst
of which, we could not doubt, rode the King himself.
Yes, there was no doubt of it. The crowd parted this way and that,
and we saw how the young King himself was marching towards us, and
at the sight of the Maid, not only did every courtier in the train
uncover, but the King himself bared his head, and bowed low to the
MAID OF ORLEANS.
She was off her horse in a moment, kneeling at his feet; but he
raised her instantly, held her hands in his, gave her thanks with
true emotion in face and voice, and, turning to her brothers, who
rode amongst us of her household, he cried to them in loud tones,
saying how he had decreed that the family of the D’Arcs should
henceforth have the right to quarter the hues of France on their
arms! An empty honour, perhaps, to simple peasants; and yet an
honour that the proudest families in the land might envy!
They carried her into the fortress. The two Queens and the ladies
of the Court knew not how to make enough of her. They seemed to
think that our coming must be regarded as the signal for an
outburst of merrymaking and carousing, such as the King found so
much to his liking.
It amazed us to find him still wrapped in idle luxury, joyful, it
is true, over the relief of Orleans, over the discomfiture of the
English; but as indisposed as ever to take the field himself, or to
put himself at the head of an army and march to his coronation as
the Maid instantly urged him.
“Gentle Dauphin, the Lord would have you King of your realm; He
would set the crown upon your head. He has smitten your enemies and
scattered them. Then wherefore not do His will and march to the
appointed spot? All will be well if you but follow His counsels.”
“But, Maiden, I have so few troops; and I have no money; and the
way lies through a hostile land,” the King would urge, when day
after day she pleaded with him. “All my counsellors advise delay.
Is it not right that I should listen to them as well as to you?
Wherefore such haste? Is it not wiser to act with deliberation and
“It is right to follow the voice of the Lord,” spoke the Maid with
grave and forceful earnestness, “and to put your trust in Him
rather than in any child of man.”
But the King could not be persuaded; indolence and fear held him
captive, whilst his traitorous advisers sought by every means to
undermine the influence of the Maid. And although in this they were
not successful, for he believed in her mission, admired her
prowess, and looked to her for guidance and help, he must needs
listen also to these others who were of contrary mind, and so the
weary days dragged on, and nothing was done.
“Noble Dauphin,” pleaded the Maid at last, “hold not such long or
so many councils; or if, indeed, these be needful to you, let me, I
pray you, go forth again with a small army and clear the way. And
when all the country betwixt this place and Rheims has submitted to
your power, then follow yourself, and take your kingdom!”
Ah me!–to think that he, a King, could consent again to let her go
thus, whilst he remained in ease and indolence surrounded by his
Court! But so it was. What she could not persuade him to do
himself, she at last obtained leave to do for him, and with a
joyful face she came to us with the news:
“Gentlemen and my good comrades, be ready for a speedy march; we
will go forward and clear the way; and afterwards the Dauphin shall
follow and be made King!”
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