Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc (Vols. I-II) Chapter 6 Joan Convinces the King
by Mark Twain
Well, anything to make delay. The King's council advised him
against arriving at a decision in our matter too precipitately. He
arrive at a decision too precipitately! So they sent a committee of
priests--always priests--into Lorraine to inquire into Joan's
character and history--a matter which would consume several
weeks, of course. You see how fastidious they were. It was as if
people should come to put out the fire when a man's house was
burning down, and they waited till they could send into another
country to find out if he had always kept the Sabbath or not, before
letting him try.
So the days poked along; dreary for us young people in some ways,
but not in all, for we had one great anticipation in front of us; we
had never seen a king, and now some day we should have that
prodigious spectacle to see and to treasure in our memories all our
lives; so we were on the lookout, and always eager and watching
for the chance. The others were doomed to wait longer than I, as it
turned out. One day great news came--the Orleans commissioners,
with Yolande and our knights, had at last turned the council's
position and persuaded the King to see Joan.
Joan received the immense news gratefully but without losing her
head, but with us others it was otherwise; we could not eat or sleep
or do any rational thing for the excitement and the glory of it.
During two days our pair of noble knights were in distress and
trepidation on Joan's account, for the audience was to be at night,
and they were afraid that Joan would be so paralyzed by the glare
of light from the long files of torches, the solemn pomps and
ceremonies, the great concourse of renowned personages, the
brilliant costumes, and the other splendors of the Court, that she, a
simple country-maid, and all unused to such things, would be
overcome by these terrors and make a piteous failure.
No doubt I could have comforted them, but I was not free to speak.
Would Joan be disturbed by this cheap spectacle, this tinsel show,
with its small King and his butterfly dukelets?--she who had
spoken face to face with the princes of heaven, the familiars of
God, and seen their retinue of angels stretching back into the
remoteness of the sky, myriads upon myriads, like a measureless
fan of light, a glory like the glory of the sun streaming from each
of those innumerable heads, the massed radiance filling the deeps
of space with a blinding splendor? I thought not.
Queen Yolande wanted Joan to make the best possible impression
upon the King and the Court, so she was strenuous to have her
clothed in the richest stuffs, wrought upon the princeliest pattern,
and set off with jewels; but in that she had to be disappointed, of
course, Joan not being persuadable to it, but begging to be simply
and sincerely dressed, as became a servant of God, and one sent
upon a mission of a serious sort and grave political import. So then
the gracious Queen imagined and contrived that simple and
witching costume which I have described to you so many times,
and which I cannot think of even now in my dull age without being
moved just as rhythmical and exquisite music moves one; for that
was music, that dress--that is what it was--music that one saw with
a the eyes and felt in the heart. Yes, she was a poem, she was a
dream, she was a spirit when she was clothed in that.
She kept that raiment always, and wore it several times upon
occasions of state, and it is preserved to this day in the Treasury of
Orleans, with two of her swords, and her banner, and other things
now sacred because they had belonged to her.
At the appointed time the Count of Vendôme, a great lord of the
court, came richly clothed, with his train of servants and assistants,
to conduct Joan to the King, and the two knights and I went with
her, being entitled to this privilege by reason of our official
positions near her person.
When we entered the great audience-hall, there it all was just as I
have already painted it. Here were ranks of guards in shining
armor and with polished halberds; two sides of the hall were like
flower-gardens for variety of color and the magnificence of the
costumes; light streamed upon these masses of color from two
hundred and fifty flambeaux. There was a wide free space down
the middle of the hall, and at the end of it was a throne royally
canopied, and upon it sat a crowned and sceptered figure nobly
clothed and blazing with jewels.
It is true that Joan had been hindered and put off a good while, but
now that she was admitted to an audience at last, she was received
with honors granted to only the greatest personages. At the
entrance door stood four heralds in a row, in splendid tabards, with
long slender silver trumpets at their mouths, with square silken
banners depending from them embroidered with the arms of
France. As Joan and the Count passed by, these trumpets gave
forth in unison one long rich note, and as we moved down the hall
under the pictured and gilded vaulting, this was repeated at every
fifty feet of our progress--six times in all. It made our good knights
proud and happy, and they held themselves erect, and stiffened
their stride, and looked fine and soldierly. They were not expecting
this beautiful and honorable tribute to our little country-maid.
Joan walked two yards behind the Count, we three walked two
yards behind Joan. Our solemn march ended when we were as yet
some eight or ten steps from the throne. The Count made a deep
obeisance, pronounced Joan's name, then bowed again and moved
to his place among a group of officials near the throne. I was
devouring the crowned personage with all my eyes, and my heart
almost stgood still with awe.
The eyes of all others were fixed upon Joan in a gaze of wonder
which was half worship, and which seemed to say, "How
sweet--how lovely--how divine!" All lips were parted and
motionless, which was a sure sign that those people, who seldom
forget themselves, had forgotten themselves now, and were not
conscious of anything but the one object they were gazing upon.
They had the look of people who are under the enchantment of a
vision.
Then they presently began to come to life again, rousing
themselves out of the spell and shaking it off as one drives away
little by little a clinging drowsiness or intoxication. Now they fixed
their attention upon Joan with a strong new interest of another
sort; they were full of curiosity to see what she would do--they
having a secret and particular reason for this curiosity. So they
watched. This is what they saw:
She made no obeisance, nor even any slight inclination of her
head, but stood looking toward the throne in silence. That was all
there was to see at present.
I glanced up at De Metz, and was shocked at the paleness of his
face. I whispered and said:
"What is it, man, what is it?"
His answering whisper was so weak I could hardly catch it:
"They have taken advantage of the hint in her letter to play a trick
upon her! She will err, and they will laugh at her. That is not the
King that sits there."
Then I glanced at Joan. She was still gazing steadfastly toward the
throne, and I had the curious fancy that even her shoulders and the
back of her head expressed bewilderment. Now she turned her
head slowly, and her eye wandered along the lines of standing
courtiers till it fell upon a young man who was very quietly
dressed; then her face lighted joyously, and she ran and threw
herself at his feet, and clasped his knees, exclaiming in that soft
melodious voice which was her birthright and was now charged
with deep and tender feeling:
"God of his grace give you long life, O dear and gentle Dauphin!"
In his astonishment and exultation De Metz cried out:
"By the shadow of God, it is an amazing thing!" Then he mashed
all the bones of my hand in his grateful grip, and added, with a
proud shake of his mane, "Now, what have these painted infidels
to say!"
Meantime the young person in the plain clothes was saying to
Joan:
"Ah, you mistake, my child, I am not the King. There he is," and
he pointed to the throne.
The knight's face clouded, and he muttered in grief and
indignation:
"Ah, it is a shame to use her so. But for this lie she had gone
through safe. I will go and proclaim to all the house what--"
"Stay where you are!" whispered I and the Sieur Bertrand in a
breath, and made him stop in his place.
Joan did not stir from her knees, but still lifted her happy face
toward the King, and said:
"No, gracious liege, you are he, and none other."
De Metz's troubles vanished away, and he said:
"Verily, she was not guessing, she knew. Now, how could she
know? It is a miracle. I am content, and will meddle no more, for I
perceive that she is equal to her occasions, having that in her head
that cannot profitably be helped by the vacancy that is in mine."
This interruption of his lost me a remark or two of the other talk;
however, I caught the King's next question:
"But tell me who you are, and what would you?"
"I am called Joan the Maid, and am sent to say that the King of
Heaven wills that you be crowned and consecrated in your good
city of Rheims, and be thereafter Lieutenant of the Lord of
Heaven, who is King of France. And He willeth also that you set
me at my appointed work and give me men-at-arms." After a slight
pause she added, her eye lighting at the sound of her words, "For
then will I raise the siege of Orleans and break the English power!"
The young monarch's amused face sobered a little when this
martial speech fell upon that sick air like a breath blown from
embattled camps and fields of war, and this trifling smile presently
faded wholly away and disappeared. He was grave now, and
thoughtful. After a little he waved his hand lightly, and all the
people fell away and left those two by themselves in a vacant
space. The knights and I moved to the opposite side of the hall and
stood there. We saw Joan rise at a sign, then she and the King
talked privately together.
All that host had been consumed with curiosity to see what Joan
would do. Well, they had seen, and now they were full of
astonishment to see that she had really performed that strange
miracle according to the promise in her letter; and they were fully
as much astonished to find that she was not overcome by the
pomps and splendors about her, but was even more tranquil and at
her ease in holding speech with a monarch than ever they
themselves had been, with all their practice and experience.
As for our two knights, they were inflated beyond measure with
pride in Joan, but nearly dumb, as to speech, they not being able to
think out any way to account for her managing to carry herself
through this imposing ordeal without ever a mistake or an
awkwardness of any kind to mar the grace and credit of her great
performance.
The talk between Joan and the King was long and earnest, and held
in low voices. We could not hear, but we had our eyes and could
note effects; and presently we and all the house noted one effect
which was memorable and striking, and has been set down in
memoirs and histories and in testimony at the Process of
Rehabilitation by some who witnessed it; for all knew it was big
with meaning, though none knew what that meaning was at that
time, of course. For suddenly we saw the King shake off his
indolent attitude and straighten up like a man, and at the same
time look immeasurably astonished. It was as if Joan had told him
something almost too wonderful for belief, and yet of a most
uplifting and welcome nature.
It was long before we found out the secret of this conversation, but
we know it now, and all the world knows it. That part of the talk
was like this--as one may read in all histories. The perplexed King
asked Joan for a sign. He wanted to believe in her and her mission,
and that her Voices were supernatural and endowed with
knowledge hidden from mortals, but how could he do this unless
these Voices could prove their claim in some absolutely
unassailable way? It was then that Joan said:
"I will give you a sign, and you shall no more doubt. There is a
secret trouble in your heart which you speak of to none--a doubt
which wastes away your courage, and makes you dream of
throwing all away and fleeing from your realm. Within this little
while you have been praying, in your own breast, that God of his
grace would resolve that doubt, even if the doing of it must show
you that no kingly right is lodged in you."
It was that that amazed the King, for it was as she had said: his
prayer was the secret of his own breast, and none but God could
know about it. So he said:
"The sign is sufficient. I know now that these Voices are of God.
They have said true in this matter; if they have said more, tell it
me--I will believe."
"They have resolved that doubt, and I bring their very words,
which are these: Thou art lawful heir to the King thy father, and
true heir of France. God has spoken it. Now lift up they head, and
doubt no more, but give me men-at-arms and let me get about my
work."
Telling him he was of lawful birth was what straightened him up
and made a man of him for a moment, removing his doubts upon
that head and convincing him of his royal right; and if any could
have hanged his hindering and pestiferous council and set him
free, he would have answered Joan's prayer and set her in the field.
But no, those creatures were only checked, not checkmated; they
could invent some more delays.
We had been made proud by the honors which had so
distinguished Joan's entrance into that place--honors restricted to
personages of very high rank and worth--but that pride was as
nothing compared with the pride we had in the honor done her
upon leaving it. For whereas those first honors were shown only to
the great, these last, up to this time, had been shown only to the
royal. The King himself led Joan by the hand down the great hall
to the door, the glittering multitude standing and making reverence
as they passed, and the silver trumpets sounding those rich notes of
theirs. Then he dismissed her with gracious words, bending low
over her hand and kissing it. Always--from all companies, high or
low--she went forth richer in honor and esteem than when she
came.
And the King did another handsome thing by Joan, for he sent us
back to Courdray Castle torch-lighted and in state, under escort of
his own troop--his guard of honor--the only soldiers he had; and
finely equipped and bedizened they were, too, though they hadn't
seen the color of their wages since they were children, as a body
might say. The wonders which Joan had been performing before
the King had been carried all around by this time, so the road was
so packed with people who wanted to get a sight of her that we
could hardly dig through; and as for talking together, we couldn't,
all attempts at talk being drowned in the storm of shoutings and
huzzas that broke out all along as we passed, and kept abreast of us
like a wave the whole way.