Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc (Vols. I-II) Chapter 25 At Last--Forward!
by Mark Twain
The days began to waste away--and nothing decided,nothing
done. The army was full of zeal, but it was also hungry. It got no
pay, the treasury was getting empty, it was becoming impossible to
feed it; under pressure of privation it began to fall apart and
disperse--which pleased the trifling court exceedingly. Joan's
distress was pitiful to see. She was obliged to stand helpless while
her victorious army dissolved away until hardly the skeleton of it
was left.
At last one day she went to the Castle of Loches, where the King
was idling. She found him consulting with three of his councilors,
Robert le Maçon, a former Chancellor of France, Christophe
d'Harcourt, and Gerard Machet. The Bastard of Orleans was
present also, and it is through him that we know what happened.
Joan threw herself at the King's feet and embraced his knees,
saying:
"Noble Dauphin, prithee hold no more of these long and numerous
councils, but come, and come quickly, to Rheims and receive your
crown."
Christophe d'Harcourt asked:
"Is it your Voices that command you to say that to the King?"
"Yes, and urgently."
"Then will you not tell us in the King's presence in what way the
Voices communicate with you?"
It was another sly attempt to trap Joan into indiscreet admissions
and dangerous pretensions. But nothing came of it. Joan's answer
was simple and straightforward, and the smooth Bishop was not
able to find any fault with it. She said that when she met with
people who doubted the truth of her mission she went aside and
prayed, complaining of the distrust of these, and then the
comforting Voices were heard at her ear saying, soft and low, "Go
forward, Daughter of God, and I will help thee." Then she added,
"When I hear that, the joy in my heart, oh, it is insupportable!"
The Bastard said that when she said these words her face lit up as
with a flame, and she was like one in an ecstasy.
Joan pleaded, persuaded, reasoned; gaining ground little by little,
but opposed step by step by the council. She begged, she implored,
leave to march. When they could answer nothing further, they
granted that perhaps it had been a mistake to let the army waste
away, but how could we help it now? how could we march without
an army?
"Raise one!" said Joan.
"But it will take six weeks."
"No matter--begin! let us begin!"
"It is too late. Without doubt the Duke of Bedford has been
gathering troops to push to the succor of his strongholds on the
Loire."
"Yes, while we have been disbanding ours--and pity 'tis. But we
must throw away no more time; we must bestir ourselves."
The King objected that he could not venture toward Rheims with
those strong places on the Loire in his path. But Joan said:
"We will break them up. Then you can march."
With that plan the King was willing to venture assent. He could sit
around out of danger while the road was being cleared.
Joan came back in great spirits. Straightway everything was
stirring. Proclamations were issued calling for men, a
recruiting-camp was established at Selles in Berry, and the
commons and the nobles began to flock to it with enthusiasm.
A deal of the month of May had been wasted; and yet by the 6th of
June Joan had swept together a new army and was ready to march.
She had eight thousand men. Think of that. Think of gathering
together such a body as that in that little region. And these were
veteran soldiers, too. In fact, most of the men in France were
soldiers, when you came to that; for the wars had lasted
generations now. Yes, most Frenchmen were soldiers; and
admirable runners, too, both by practice and inheritance; they had
done next to nothing but run for near a century. But that was not
their fault. They had had no fair and proper leadership--at least
leaders with a fair and proper chance. Away back, King and Court
got the habit of being treacherous to the leaders; then the leaders
easily got the habit of disobeying the King and going their own
way, each for himself and nobody for the lot. Nobody could win
victories that way. Hence, running became the habit of the French
troops, and no wonder. Yet all that those troops needed in order to
be good fighters was a leader who would attend strictly to
business--a leader with all authority in his hands in place of a tenth
of it along with nine other generals equipped with an equal tenth
apiece. They had a leader rightly clothed with authority now, and
with a head and heart bent on war of the most intensely
businesslike and earnest sort--and there would be results. No doubt
of that. They had Joan of Arc; and under that leadership their legs
would lose the art and mystery of running.
Yes, Joan was in great spirits. She was here and there and
everywhere, all over the camp, by day and by night, pushing
things. And wherever she came charging down the lines, reviewing
the troops, it was good to hear them break out and cheer. And
nobody could help cheering, she was such a vision of young bloom
and beauty and grace, and such an incarnation of pluck and life
and go! she was growing more and more ideally beautiful every
day, as was plain to be seen--and these were days of development;
for she was well past seventeen now--in fact, she was getting close
upon seventeen and a half--indeed, just a little woman, as you may
say.
The two young Counts de Laval arrived one day--fine young
fellows allied to the greatest and most illustrious houses of France;
and they could not rest till they had seen Joan of Arc. So the King
sent for them and presented them to her, and you may believe she
filled the bill of their expectations. When they heard that rich
voice of hers they must have thought it was a flute; and when they
saw her deep eyes and her face, and the soul that looked out of that
face, you could see that the sight of her stirred them like a poem,
like lofty eloquence, like martial music. One of them wrote home
to his people, and in his letter he said, "It seemed something divine
to see her and hear her." Ah, yes, and it was a true word. Truer
word was never spoken.
He saw her when she was ready to begin her march and open the
campaign, and this is what he said about it:
"She was clothed all in white armor save her head, and in her hand
she carried a little battle-ax; and when she was ready to mount her
great black horse he reared and plunged and would not let her.
Then she said, 'Lead him to the cross.' This cross was in front of
the church close by. So they led him there. Then she mounted, and
he never budged, any more than if he had been tied. Then she
turned toward the door of the church and said, in her soft womanly
voice, 'You, priests and people of the Church, make processions
and pray to God for us!' Then she spurred away, under her
standard, with her little ax in her hand, crying 'Forward--march!'
One of her brothers, who came eight days ago, departed with her;
and he also was clad all in white armor."
I was there, and I saw it, too; saw it all, just as he pictures it. And I
see it yet--the little battle-ax, the dainty plumed cap, the white
armor--all in the soft June afternoon; I see it just as if it were
yesterday. And I rode with the staff--the personal stdaff--the staff
of Joan of Arc.
That young count was dying to go, too, but the King held him back
for the present. But Joan had made him a promise. In his letter he
said:
"She told me that when the King starts for Rheims I shall go with
him. But God grant I may not have to wait till then, but may have a
part in the battles!"
She made him that promise when she was taking leave of my lady
the Duchess d'Alençon. The duchess was exacting a promise, so it
seemed a proper ttime for others to do the like. The duchess was
troubled for her husband, for she foresaw desperate fighting; and
she held Joan to her breast, and stroked her hair lovingly, and said:
"You must watch over him, dear, and take care of him, and send
him back to me safe. I require it of you; I will not let you go till
you promise."
Joan said:
"I give you the promise with all my heart; and it is not just words,
it is a promise; you shall have him back without a hurt. Do you
believe? And are you satisfied with me now?"
The duchess could not speak, but she kissed Joan on the forehead;
and so they parted.
We left on the 6th and stopped over at Romorantin; then on the 9th
Joan entered Orleans in state, under triumphal arches, with the
welcoming cannon thundering and seas of welcoming flags
fluttering in the breeze. The Grand Staff rode with her, clothed in
shining splendors of costume and decorations: the Duke
d'Alençon; the Bastard of Orleans; the Sire de Boussac, Marshal of
France; the Lord de Graville, Master of the Crossbowmen; the Sire
de Culan, Admiral of France; Ambroise de Loré; Étienne de
Vignoles, called La Hire; Gautier de Brusac, and other illustrious
captains.
It was grand times; the usual shoutings and packed multitudes, the
usual crush to get sight of Joan; but at last we crowded through to
our old lodgings, and I saw old Boucher and the wife and that dear
Catherine gather Joan to their hearts and smother her with
kisses--and my heart ached tterso! for I could have kissed
Catherine better than anybody, and more and longer; yet was not
thought of for that office, and I so famished for it. Ah, she was so
beautiful, and oh, so sweet! I had loved her the first day I ever saw
her, and from that day forth she was sacred to me. I have carried
her image in my heart for sixty-three years--all lonely thee, yes,
solitary, for it never has had company--and I am grown so old, so
old; but it, oh, it is as fresh and young and merry and mischievous
and lovely and sweet and pure and witching and divine as it was
when it crept in there, bringing benediction and peace to its
habitation so long ago, so long ago--for it has not aged a day!