Jeanne and her little party were eleven days on the road,but do not seem to have encountered any special peril.They lodged sometimes in the security of a convent,sometimes in a village hostel,pursuing the long and tedious way across the great levels of midland France,which has so few features of beauty except in the picturesque towns with their castles and churches,which the escort avoided.At length they paused in the village of Fierbois not far from Chinon where the Court was,in order to announce their arrival and ask for an audience,which was not immediately accorded.Charles held his Court with incredible gaiety and folly,in the midst of almost every disaster that could overtake a king,in the castle of Chinon on the banks of the Vienne.
The situation and aspect of this noble building,now in ruins,is wonderfully like that of Windsor Castle.The great walls,interrupted and strengthened by huge towers,stretch along a low ridge of rocky hill,with the swift and clear river,a little broader and swifter than the Thames,flowing at its foot.The red and high-pitched roofs of the houses clustered between the castle hill and the stream,give a point of resemblance the more.The large and ample dwelling,defensible,but with no thought of any need of defence,a midland castle surrounded by many a level league of wealthy country,which no hostile force should ever have power to get through,must have looked like the home of a well-established royalty.There was no sound or sight of war within its splendid enclosure.Noble lords and gentlemen crowded the corridors;trains of gay ladies,attendant upon two queens,filled the castle with fine dresses and gay voices.There had been but lately a dreadful and indeed shameful defeat,inflicted by a mere English convoy of provisions upon a large force of French and Scottish soldiers,the former led by such men as Dunois,La Hire,Xaintrailles,etc.the latter by the Constable of Scotland,John Stuart--which defeat might well have been enough to subdue every sound of revelry:yet Charles's Court was ringing with music and pleasantry,as if peace had reigned around.
It may be believed that there were many doubts and questions how to receive this peasant from the fields,which prevented an immediate reply to her demand for an audience.From the first,de la Tremoille,Charles's Prime Minister and chief adviser,was strongly against any encouragement of the visionary,or dealings with the supernatural;but there would no doubt be others,hoping if not for a miraculous maid,yet at least for a passing wonder,who might kindle enthusiasm in the country and rouse the ignorant with hopes of a special blessing from Heaven.The gayer and younger portion of the Court probably expected a little amusement,above all,a new butt for their wit,or perhaps a soothsayer to tell their fortunes and promise good things to come.
They had not very much to amuse them,though they made the best of it.
The joys of Paris were very far off;they were all but imprisoned in this dull province of Touraine;nobody knew at what moment they might be forced to leave even that refuge.For the moment here was a new event,a little stir of interest,something to pass an hour.Jeanne had to wait two days in Chinon before she was granted an audience,but considering the carelessness of the Court and the absence of any patron that was but a brief delay.
The chamber of audience is now in ruins.A wild rose with long,arching,thorny branches and pale flowers,straggles over the greensward where once the floor was trod by so many gay figures.From the broken wall you look sheer down upon the shining river;one great chimney,which at that season must have been still the most pleasant centre of the large,draughty hall,shows at the end of the room,with a curious suggestion of warmth and light which makes ruin more conspicuous.The room must have been on the ground floor almost level with the soil towards the interior of the castle,but raised to the height of the cliffs outside.It was evening,an evening of March,and fifty torches lighted up the ample room;many noble personages,almost as great as kings,and clothed in the bewildering splendour of the time,and more than three hundred cavaliers of the best names in France filled it to overflowing.The peasant girl from Domremy in the hose and doublet of a servant,a little travel-worn after her tedious journey,was led in by one of those splendid seigneurs,dazzled with the grandeur she had never seen before,looking about her in wonder to see which was the King--while Charles,perhaps with boyish pleasure in the mystification,perhaps with a little half-conviction stealing over him that there might be something more in it,stood among the smiling crowd.
The young stranger looked round upon all those amused,light-minded,sceptical faces,and without a moment's hesitation went forward and knelt down before him."Gentil Dauphin,"she said,"God give you good life.""But it is not I that am the King;there is the King,"said Charles."Gentil Prince,it is you and no other,"she said;then rising from her knee:"Gentil Dauphin,I am Jeanne the Maid.I am sent to you by the King of Heaven to tell you that you shall be consecrated and crowned at Rheims,and shall be lieutenant of the King of Heaven,who is King of France."The little masquerade had failed,the jest was over.There would be little more laughing among the courtiers,when they saw the face of Charles grow grave.He took the new-comer aside,perhaps to that deep recess of the window where in the darkening night the glimmer of the clear,flowing river,the great vault of sky would still be visible dimly,outside the circle of the blazing interior with all its smoky lights.