Joan of Arc (Southey)/Book 5

by Robert Southey

JOAN of ARC.

 

BOOK THE FIFTH.

ARGUMENT.

 

The Maid receives a consecrated Banner from the Archbishop. The troops under the command of JOAN and Dunois march towards Orleans. They meet with one of the female outcasts from that City. Her history previous to taking refuge there. Preparations for the ensuing siege. Encampment of the besiegers. Their progress, and the subsequent distresses of Orleans.

JOAN of ARC

 

BOOK THE FIFTH.

 

SCARCE had the earliest ray from Chinon's towersMade visible the mists that curl'd alongThe winding waves of Vienne, when from her couchStarted the martial Maid. She mail'd her limbs;The white plumes nodded o'er her helmed head; 5She girt the temper'd falchion by her side,And, like some youth that from his mother's arms,For his first field impatient, breaks away,Poising the lance went forth.Twelve hundred men, Rearing in order'd ranks their well-sharp'd spears, 10Await her coming. Terrible in arms Before them towered Dunois. His manly face Dark-shadow'd by the helmet's iron cheeks.The assembled court gaz'd on the marshall'd train,And at the gate the aged Primate stoodTo pour his blessing on the chosen host. 15And now a soft and solemn symphonyWas heard; and chaunting high the hallow'd hymnFrom the near convent came the vestal maids.A holy banner, woven by virgin hands, 20Snow-white they bore. A mingled sentimentOf awe, and eager ardor for the fight,Thrill'd thro' the troops, as he the reverend manTook the white standard, and with heav'n-ward eyeCall'd on the God of Justice, blessing it. 25The Maid, her brows in reverence unhelm'd,Her dark hair floating on the morning gale,Knelt to his prayer, and stretching forth her handReceiv'd the mystic ensign. From the hostA loud and universal shout burst forth, 30As rising from the ground, on her white brow,She placed the plumed casque, and waved on high The banner'd lillies. On their way they march, And dim in distance, soon the towers of Chinon Fade from the eye reverted. The third sun, 35Purpling the sky with his dilated light, Sunk westering; when embosom'd in the depth Of that vast forest, whose prodigious track^[1] Shadows the hills and vales of Orleannois, They pitch their tents. The hum of occupation 40 Sounds ceaseless. Waving to the evening gale, The streamers wanton; and, ascending slow Beneath the foliage of the forest trees, With many a light hue tinged, the curling smoke Melts in the impurpled air: leaving her tent, 45The martial Maiden wander'd thro' the wood. There, by a streamlet, on its mossy bank Reclined, she saw a damsel: her long locks Engarlanded, and as she nearer came, The Virgin knew it for the willow weed. 50 Resting his head upon her lap, there layA dark-hair'd man, listening as she did singSad ditties, and enwreathe to bind his browThe melancholy rue. Scar'd at the soundOf one in arms approaching, she had fled; 55But Conrade, looking upward, recogniz'dThe Maid of Arc. "Fear not, poor Isabel,"He said, "for this is one of gentle kind,Whom even the wretched need not fear to love."

 So saying, he arose and took her hand, 60And held it to his bosom. "My fond heart, Tho' school'd by wrongs to loath at human kind,Beats high, a rebel to its own resolves.Come hither outcast One! and call her friend,And she shall be thy friend more readily 65Because thou art unhappy."Isabel Saw a tear starting in the Virgin's eye, And glancing upon Conrade, she too wept, Wailing his wilder'd senses. "Missioned Maid!"The warrior cried, "be happy! for thy power 70Can make this wanderer so. From Orleans driven,Orphan'd by war, and torn away from oneHer only friend, I found her in the wilds,Worn out with want and wretchedness. Thou, JOAN,Wilt his beloved to the youth restore. 75And, trust me Maid! the miserable feelWhen they on others bestow happinessHigh joys and soul-ennobling."She replied,Pressing the damsel's hand, in the mild toneOf equal friendship, solacing her cares. 80"Soon shall we enter Orleans," said the Maid;A few hours in her dream of victoryEngland shall triumph; then to be awak'dBy the loud thunder of Almighty wrath!Irksome meantime the busy camp to me 85A solitary woman. Isabel,Wert thou the while companion of my tent, Lightly the time would pass. Return with me, I may not long be absent."So she spake. The Wanderer in half-uttered words express'd 90 Grateful assent. Art thou, astonish'd Maid,"That one tho' pow'rful is benevolent?In truth thou well mayest wonder!" Conrade cried."But little cause to love the mighty onesHas the low cottager! for with its shadeDoes Power, a barren death-dew-dropping tree,Blast ev'ry herb beneath its baleful boughs!Tell thou thy sufferings Isabel! RelateHow warr'd the chieftains, and the people died.The mission'd Virgin hath not heard thy woes, 100And pleasant to my ear the twice-told taleOf sorrow." Gazing on the martial Maid She read her wish and spake. "Of lowly lineNot distant far from Jenville, dwelt my sire.Two brethren form'd our family of love. 105e Humble we were, but happy. Honest toilProcur'd our homely sustenance. Our herdsDuly at morn and evening to my handGave their full stores. The vineyard he had rear'dPurpled its clusters in the southern sun; 110And plenteous produce of my father's toilThe yellow harvest billowed o'er the plain.We were content and envied not the great;We fear'd them not, for we were innocent.How chearful seated round the blazing hearth 115When all the labour of the day was done,We past the ev'ning hours! for they would singOr chearful roundelay, or ditty sadOf maid forsaken and the willow weed,Or of the doughty Douzeperes of France, 120Some warlike fit, the while my spinning wheelHumm'd not unpleasing round!""Thus long we lived,And happy. To a neighbouring youth my handIn holy wedlock soon to be combin'd Was plighted. My poor Francis!" Here she paus'd, 125"And here she wept awhile. "We did not dream The desolating sword of War would stoop To us. But soon as with the whirlwind's speed Ruin rush'd round us. Mehun, Clery, fell,^[2] The banner'd Lion waved on Gergeau's wall, 130Baugenci yielded: soon the foe approach'd The towers of Jenville." "Fatal was the hour To luckless Isabel. For from the wall The rusty sword was taken, and the shield That long had mouldered on the mouldering nail, 135To meet the war repair'd. No more was heard The ballad, or the merry roundelay. The clattering hammers clank, the grating file Harsh sounded thro' the day a dismal din. I never shall forget their mournful sound! 140

"My father stood encircling his old limbsIn long forgotten arms. "Come boys," he cried, I did not think that this grey head again Should bear the helmet's weight! but in the field Better to boldly die a soldier's death, 145Than here be tamely butcher'd. My dear girl, Go to the Abbey. Here is gold to buy The kind protection of the holy church.Fare thee well Isabel! if we surviveAnd conquer, we shall meet again: if not, 150There is a better world!""In broken words Lifting his looks to Heav'n! my father breath'd His blessing on me. As they strode away,My brethren gazed on me and prest my handIn silence, for they lov'd their Isabel. 155From the near cottage Francis join'd the troop. Then did I look on our forsaken home, And almost sob my very soul away! For all my hopes of happiness were fled, Like a vain dream!"

"Perish these mighty ones," 160Cried Conrade, "these prime ministers of death,Who stalk elated o'er their fields of fame,And count the thousands they have massacred,And with the bodies of the innocent, rearTheir pyramid of glory! Perish these, 165The epitome of all the pestilent plagues That Egypt knew! who pour their locust swarmsO'er ravaged realms, and bid the brooks run blood.Fear and Destruction go before their path,And Famine dogs their footsteps. God of Justice, 170Let not the innocent blood cry out in vain!"

 Thus whilst he spake the murmur of the camp Rose on their ear. First like the distant sound When the full-foliaged forest to the storm Shakes its hoarse head. Anon with louder din; 175And thro' the opening glade gleamed many a fire. The Virgin's tent they enter'd. There the board Was spread. The Wanderer, of the fare partook, Then thus her tale renew'd."Slow o'er the hillWhose rising head conceal'd our cot I past, 180Yet on my journey paus'd awhile, and gaz'd,And wept—for often had I crost the hillWith chearful step, and seen the rising smokeOf hospitable fire. Alas! no smokeCurl'd o'er the melancholy chimneys now. 185Orleans I reach'd. There in the suburbs stoodThe Abbey—and ere long I learnt the fallOf Jenville."On a day, a soldier ask'dFor Isabel. Scarce could my faltering feetSupport me. It was Francis, and alone— 190The sole survivor of the fatal fight!  "And soon the foes approach'd. Impending War Soon sadden'd Orleans. There the bravest chiefs^[3]Assemble. Gallant D'Orval shines in arms,And Xaintrailles ransom'd from the captive chain. 195Graville, La Hire, and Thouars, and preserv'dWhen fall'n and faint, Alencon on the field;Verneuil to France so fatal, and releas'd,La Fayette from his hard captivity,Boussac, Chabannes, and over all renown'd 200The Bastard Orleans."These within the townExpect the foe. Twelve hundred chosen menWell tried in war, uprear the guardian shieldBeneath their banners. Dreadful was the sightOf preparation. The wide suburbs stretch'd 205 Along the pleasant borders of the Loire,Late throng'd with multitudes, now feel the handOf Ruin. These preventive Care destroys,^[4]Lest England, shelter'd by the friendly walls,Securely should approach. The monasteries 210Fell in the general waste. The holy MonksUnwillingly their long-accustom'd hauntsAbandon, haunts where every gloomy nookCall'd to awakened Memory some traceOf vision seen, or sound miraculous. 215Trembling and terrified, their noiseless cells For the rude uproar of a world unknown, The Nuns desert. Their Abbess, more composed, Collects her maids around, and tells her beads, And pours the timid prayer of piety. 220The citizens with strong and ceaseless stroke Dug up the violated earth, to impede The foe. The hollow chambers of the deadEchoed beneath. The brazen-trophied tombThrown in the furnace, now prepares to give 225The death it late recorded. It was sadTo see so wide a waste; the aged onesHanging their heads, and weeping as they wentO'er the fall'n dwellings of their happier years;The stern and sullen silence of the men 230Musing on vengeance: and but ill represtThe mother's fears as to her breast she clasp'dHer ill-doom'd infant. Soon the suburbs layOne ample ruin; the huge stones remov'd,Wait in the town to rain the storm of death." 235

 "And now without the walls the desolate plain Stretch'd wide, a rough and melancholy waste.With uptorn pavements and foundations deep Of many a ruined dwelling—horrid scene!Nor was within less drear. At evening hour 240No more the merry tabor's note was heard, No more the aged matron at her doorHumm'd cheery to her spinning wheel, and mark'd Her children dancing to the roundelay.It was a hurried, melancholy scene! 245The chieftains strengthening still the massy walls,Survey them with the prying eye of fear.The eager youth in dreadful preparationStrive in the mimic war. Silent and sternThey urge with fearful haste their gloomy work. 250All day the armourer's busy beat was heard,All night it sounded. In the city dweltSuch a dead silence of all pleasant sounds,As in the forest when the lowering cloudsMeet, and the deep and hollow wind is heard 255That omens tempest: trembles to its voiceThe grove, and casts a darker gloom around."

 "At length the foe approach. The watchman soundsHis dreadful warning. From the lofty tower Of old cathedral I beheld the scene. 260 Trembling as when upon some little rockIslanded from the not-far-distant shore,The shipwreck'd seamen difficultly escap'dStands, and beholds the tide fast rising round."

 "With standards proudly waving to the breeze, 265Onward they move. The clarions breathe aloudTheir martial clangor, and the chearful fife,According to the thundering drum's deep sound,Directs their measur'd march. Before the ranksStalks the stern form of Salisbury, the scourge 270Of France; and Talbot towered by his side,Talbot, at whose dread name the froward childClings mute and trembling to his nurse's breast.Suffolk was there, and Hungerford, and Scales,And Fastolffe, victor in the frequent fight. 275Dark as the autumnal storm they roll'd along,That big with ruin chills tire blacken'd vale;A countless host! From the high tower I mark'dThe dreadful scene.—I saw the iron blaze Of javelins sparkling to the noontide sun, 280Their banners tossing to the troubled gale,And—fearful music—heard upon the windThe modulated step of multitudes."

 "There in the midst, shuddering with fear, I sawThe dreadful stores of death. Tremendous roll'd 285Over rough roads the harsh wheels. The brazen tubesFlash'd in the sun their fearful splendor far,And last the loaded waggons creak'd along.An awful scene! that chill'd me as I gaz'd.Thus from the black womb of the mutinous sky, 290When the red lightning rushes, and illumesWith lurid light the cloud-clad hemisphere,The traveller speeds across the plain, yet marksAll fearful as he is, with strange delight,The forked flash.""Meantime, a pensive train, 295The fearful Nuns in sad solemnityPass to the temple. In this hour of ill,Earnest of soul they pray to Heav'n for aid."

 And now Dunois. for he had seen the camp Well-order'd, enter'd. "One night more in peace 300"England shall rest," he cried, "ere yet the storm "Bursts on her guilty head! then their proud vaunts "Forgotten or remember'd to their shame, "Vainly her chiefs shall curse the hour, when first "They pitch'd their tents round Orleans." "Of that siege," 310The Maid of Arc replied, "gladly I hear "The detail. Isabel proceed; for soon "Destin'd to rescue that devoted town, "All that has chanced, the ills she has endur'd, "I listen, sorrowing for the past, and feel 315"High satisfaction at the saviour power "To me commission'd." Thus the Virgin spake, Nor Isabel delayed. "And now more near "The hostile host advancing pitch their tents. "Unnumber'd streamers wave, and clamorous shouts, 320"Anticipating conquest, rend the air With universal uproar. From their campA Herald comes. His garb emblazon'd o'erWith British lions, and foul blot to France!The lilies from the field of Azincour 325In slaughter pluck'd. The summons of the foeHe brought."The Bastard interrupting cried, "I was with Gaucour and the assembled chiefs,When by his office privileged and proudThat Herald spake, as certain of success 330As he had made a league with Victory.""Nobles of France rebellious! from the chief Of yon victorious host, the mighty Earl Of Salisbury, now there in place of himYour Regent John of Bedford: in his name 335I come, and in our sovereign Lord the King's, Henry. Ye know full well our master's claim, Incontrovertible to this good realm, By right descent, and solemnly confirm'd By your late Monarch and our mighty King 340 Fifth Henry, in the treaty ratifiedAt Troyes, wherein your Monarch did disclaim^[5]All future right and title to this crown,His own exempted, for his son and heirsDown to the end of time. This sign'd and seal'd 345At the holy altar, and by nuptial knotOf Henry and your Princess, yields the realm,Charles dead and Henry, to his infant sonHenry of Windsor. Who then dares opposeMy master's title, in the face of God 350Of wilful perjury, most atrocious crimeStands guilty, and of flat rebellion 'gainstThe Lord's anointed. He at Paris crown'd,With loud acclaim from duteous multitudeThus speaks by me. Deliver up your town 355To Salisbury, and yield yourselves and arms,So shall your lives be safe. And—mark his grace! If of your free accord, to him you payDue homage as your sovereign Lord and King,Your rich estates, your houses shall be safe, 360And you in favour stand, as is the Duke,Philip of Burgundy. But—mark me well—If obstinately wilful, you persistTo scorn his proffer'd mercy; not one stoneUpon another of this wretched town 365Shall then be left. And when the English hostTriumphant in the dust have trod the towersOf Orleans, who survive the dreadful warShall die like traitors by the hangman's hand.Ye men of France, remember Caen and Rouen!" 370

 "He ceased. Nor Gaucour for a moment paus'd To form reply."Herald! to all thy vaunts Of English sovereignty let this suffice For answer: France will only own as King Him whom the people chuse. On Charles's brow 375 Transmitted thro' a long and good descentThe crown remains. We know no homage dueTo English robbers, and disclaim the peaceInglorious made at Troyes by factious menHostile to France. Thy master's proffer'd grace 380Meets the contempt it merits. Herald, yes,We shall remember Meaux, and Caen, and Rouen.Go tell the mighty Earl of Salisbury,That as like Blanchard, Gaucour dares his power;Like Blanchard, he can mock his cruelty, 385And triumph by enduring. Speak I wellYe men of Orleans?""Never did I hear A shout so universal as ensued Of approbation. The assembled host As with one voice pour'd forth their loyalty, 390And struck their sounding shields. The towers of Orleans Echoed the loud uproar. The Herald went.The work of war began.""A fearful scene," Cried Isabel. "The iron storm of deathClash'd in the sky. From the strong engines hurl'd 395Huge rocks with tempest force convuls'd the air.Then was there heard at once the clang of arms,The bellowing cannon's, and the soldier's shout,The female's shriek—the affrighted infant's cry:The groan of death.—Discord of dreadful sounds 400That jarr'd the soul!Nor while the encircling foe Leager'd the walls of Orleans, idly slept Our friends. For winning down the Loire its way The frequent vessel with provision fraught, And men, and all the artillery of death, 405Cheer'd us with welcome succour. At the bridge These safely stranded mock'd the foeman's force. This to prevent, Salisbury their watchful chief,^[6] Prepares the amazing work. Around our walls,Encircling walls he builds, surrounding thus 410The city. Firm'd with massiest buttresses, At equal distance, sixty forts protect The pile. But chief where in the sieged town The six great avenues meet in the midst, Six castles there he rear'd impregnable, 415With deep-dug moats and bridges drawn aloft, Where over the strong gate suspended hung The dread portcullis. Thence the gunner's eye From his safe shelter could with ease survey Intended sally, or approaching aid, 420And point destruction.It were long to tell And tedious, how with many a bold assaultThe men of Orleans rush'd upon their foes;How fell the Tournelles (where in time of peaceJustice had held her seat), and that strong tower^[7] 425That shadowed from the bridge the subject Loire;Tho' numbering now three thousand daring men, Frequent and fierce the garrison repell'dTheir far out-numbring foes. From ev'ry aidIncluded, they in Orleans groan'd beneath 430All ills accumulate. The shatter'd roofsGave to the midnight dews free passage there.And ever and anon with hideous crashSome house fell; starting from his scanty restThe wearied soldier. Thro' the streets were seen 435The frequent fire, and heaps of dead, in hastePiled up and steaming to infected Heaven. For ever the incessant storm of deathShowers down, and shrouded in unwholesome vaultsThe wretched females hide, not idle there, 440Wasting the hours in tears, but all employ'd,Or to provide the hungry soldier's meal,Or tear their garments to bind up his wounds:A sad equality of wretchedness!"

 "Now came the worst of ills, for Famine came! 445The provident hand deals out its scanty dole, Yielding so little a supply to life As but protracted death. The loathliest food Hunted with eager eye, and dainty deem'd.The dog is slain, that at his master's feet 450Howling with hunger lay. With jealous fear, Hating a rival's look, each man conceals His miserable meal. The famish'd babe Clings closely to his dying mother's breast; And—horrible to tell!—where, thrown aside 455There lay unburied in the open streets Huge heaps of carcasses. The soldier standsEager to seize the carrion crow for food."

 "Oh peaceful scenes of childhood! pleasant fields! Haunts of my infancy, where I have stray'd 460Tracing the brook along its winding way, Or pluck'd the primrose, or with giddy speed Chaced the gay butterfly from flower to flower! Oh days in vain remember'd! how my soul Sick with calamity, and the sore ills 465Of hunger, dwelt upon you! quiet home! Thinking of you amid the waste of war.I could in bitterness have curs'd the Great Who made me what I was! a helpless one, Orphan'd, and wanting bread!""And be they curst," 470 Conrade exclaim'd, his dark eye flashing rage; "And be they curst! Oh groves and woodland shades, How blest indeed were you, if the iron rod Should one day from Oppression's hand be wrench'd By everlasting Justice! come that hour 475When in the Sun the Angel of the Lord^[8]Shall stand and cry to all the fowls of Heaven,Gather ye to the supper of your God,That ye may eat the flesh of mighty men,Of Captains, and of Kings! Then shall be peace 480When—Author of all ills that flesh endures,Oppression, in the bottomless abyssShall fall to rise no more!"

The Maid pursued,"And now, lest all should perish, was decreed That from the town the females and the infirm 485Should, out-cast, seek their fate.""I may not now Recall the moment, when on my poor Francis, With a long look I hung! At dead of night, Made mute by fear, we mount the secret bark, And glide adown the stream with silent oars: 490Thus thrown upon the mercy of mankind. I wandered reckless where, till wearied outAnd cold at heart, I laid me down to die:So by this warrior found. Him I had knownAnd loved, for all loved Conrade who had known him. 495Nor did I feel so pressing the hard handOf want in Orleans, ere he parted thence On perilous envoy. For of his small fare"—"Of this enough," said Conrade, "Holy Maid!One duty yet awaits me to perform. 500Orleans her envoy sent me, claiming aid From her inactive sovereign. Willingly Did I atchieve the hazardous enterprize, For Rumour had already made me fear The ill that had fallen on me. It remains 505Ere I do banish me from human kind, That I re-enter Orleans, and announce Thy march. 'Tis night—and hark! how dead a silence!Fit hour to tread so perilous a path!"

 So saying Conrade from the tent went forth. 510

1. Line 38. The forest of Orleans contains even now fourteen thousand acres of various kinds of wood.
2. Line 129. "To succeed in the siege of Orleans, the English first secured the neighbouring places, which might otherwise have annoyed the besiegers. The months of August and September were spent in this work. During that space they took Mehun, Bangenci, Gergeau, Clery, Sully, Jenville, and some other small towns, and at last appeared before Orleans on the 12th of October." Rapin.
3. Line 193. "The French King used every expedient to supply the city with a garrison and provisions, and enable it to maintain a long and obstinate siege. The Lord of Gaucour, a brave and experienced captain, was appointed governor. Many officers of distinction threw themselves into the place. The troops which they conducted were inured to war, and were determined to make the most obstinate resistance: and even the inhabitants, disciplined by the long continuance of hostilities, were well qualified, in their own defence, to second the efforts of the most veteran forces. The eyes of all Europe were turned towards this scene; where, it was reasonably supposed, the French were to make their last stand for maintaining the independance of their monarchy, and the rights of their sovereign."Hume.
4. Line 208. "They pulled down all the most considerable buildings in the suburbs, and among the rest twelve churches and several monasteries; that the English might not make use of them in carrying on the siege." Rapin. Monstrellet.
5. Line 342. By the treaty of Troyes, Charles was to remain in quiet possession of the royal dignity and revenues. After his death the crown, with all its rights and dominions, devolved to Henry and his heirs. The imbecillity of Charles was so great that he could not appear in public, so that the Queen and Burgundy swore for him.Rapin.
6. Line 408. The besiegers received succours in the very beginning of the siege; but the Earl of Salisbury, who considered this enterprize as a decisive action for the King his master, and his own reputation, omitted nothing to deprive the besieged of that advantage. He run up round the city sixty forts. How great soever this work might be, nothing could divert him from it, since the success of the siege entirely depended upon it. In vain would he have pursued his attack, if the enemies could continually introduce fresh supplies. Besides, the season, now far advanced, suggested to him, that he would be forced to pass the winter in the camp, and during that time be liable to many insults. Among the sixty forts, there were six much stronger than the rest, upon the six principal avenues of the city. The French could before with ease introduce convoys into the place, and had made frequent use of that advantage. But after these forts were built, it was with extreme difficulty that they could, now and then, give some assistance to the besieged. Upon these six redoubts the general erected batteries, which thundered against the walls. Rapin.
7. Line 425. "The bulwark of the Tournelles being much shaken by the besiegers cannon, and the besieged thinking it proper to set it on fire, the English extinguished the flames, and lodged themselves in that post. At the same time they became masters of the tower on the bridge, from whence the whole city could be viewed."Rapin.
8. Line 476. Revelations, chap, xix. 17. 18.