Mark Twain's Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc
Chapter 33
    YES, ORLEANS was in a delirium of felicity. She invited the King, and
made sumptuous preparations to receive him, but--he didn't come. He was
simply a serf at that time, and La Tremouille was his master. Master and
serf were visiting together at the master's castle of Sully-sur-Loire.
   
At Beaugency Joan had engaged to bring about a reconciliation between the
Constable Richemont and the King. She took Richemont to Sully-sur-Loire
and made her promise good.
   
The great deeds of Joan of Arc are five:
   
1. The Raising of the Siege.
   
2. The Victory of Patay.
   
3. The Reconciliation at Sully-sur-Loire.
   
4. The Coronation of the King.
   
5. The Bloodless March.
   
We shall come to the Bloodless March presently (and the Coronation). It
was the victorious long march which Joan made through the enemy's country
from Gien to Rheims, and thence to the gates of Paris, capturing every
English town and fortress that barred the road, from the beginning of the
journey to the end of it; and this by the mere force of her name, and
without shedding a drop of blood--perhaps the most extraordinary campaign
in this regard in history--this is the most glorious of her military
exploits.
   
The Reconciliation was one of Joan's most important achievements. No one
else could have accomplished it; and, in fact, no one else of high
consequence had any disposition to try. In brains, in scientific warfare,
and in statesmanship the Constable Richemont was the ablest man in
France. His loyalty was sincere; his probity was above suspicion--(and it
made him sufficiently conspicuous in that trivial and conscienceless
Court).
   
In restoring Richemont to France, Joan made thoroughly secure the
successful completion of the great work which she had begun. She had
never seen Richemont until he came to her with his little army. Was it
not wonderful that at a glance she should know him for the one man who
could finish and perfect her work and establish it in perpetuity? How was
it that that child was able to do this? It was because she had the
"seeing eye," as one of our knights had once said. Yes, she had that
great gift--almost the highest and rarest that has been granted to man.
Nothing of an extraordinary sort was still to be done, yet the remaining
work could not safely be left to the King's idiots; for it would require
wise statesmanship and long and patient though desultory hammering of the
enemy. Now and then, for a quarter of a century yet, there would be a
little fighting to do, and a handy man could carry that on with small
disturbance to the rest of the country; and little by little, and with
progressive certainty, the English would disappear from France.
   
And that happened. Under the influence of Richemont the King became at a
later time a man--a man, a king, a brave and capable and determined
soldier. Within six years after Patay he was leading storming parties
himself; fighting in fortress ditches up to his waist in water, and
climbing scaling-ladders under a furious fire with a pluck that would
have satisfied even Joan of Arc. In time he and Richemont cleared away
all the English; even from regions where the people had been under their
mastership for three hundred years. In such regions wise and careful work
was necessary, for the English rule had been fair and kindly; and men who
have been ruled in that way are not always anxious for a change.
   
Which of Joan's five chief deeds shall we call the chiefest? It is my
thought that each in its turn was that. This is saying that, taken as a
whole, they equalized each other, and neither was then greater than its
mate.
   
Do you perceive? Each was a stage in an ascent. To leave out one of them
would defeat the journey; to achieve one of them at the wrong time and in
the wrong place would have the same effect.
   
Consider the Coronation. As a masterpiece of diplomacy, where can you
find its superior in our history? Did the King suspect its vast
importance? No. Did his ministers? No. Did the astute Bedford,
representative of the English crown? No. An advantage of incalculable
importance was here under the eyes of the King and of Bedford; the King
could get it by a bold stroke, Bedford could get it without an effort;
but, being ignorant of its value, neither of them put forth his hand. Of
all the wise people in high office in France, only one knew the priceless
worth of this neglected prize--the untaught child of seventeen, Joan of
Arc--and she had known it from the beginning as an essential detail of
her mission.
   
How did she know it? It was simple: she was a peasant. That tells the
whole story. She was of the people and knew the people; those others
moved in a loftier sphere and knew nothing much about them. We make
little account of that vague, formless, inert mass, that mighty
underlying force which we call "the people"--an epithet which carries
contempt with it. It is a strange attitude; for at bottom we know that
the throne which the people support stands, and that when that support is
removed nothing in this world can save it.
   
Now, then, consider this fact, and observe its importance. Whatever the
parish priest believes his flock believes; they love him, they revere
him; he is their unfailing friend, their dauntless protector, their
comforter in sorrow, their helper in their day of need; he has their
whole confidence; what he tells them to do, that they will do, with a
blind and affectionate obedience, let it cost what it may. Add these
facts thoughtfully together, and what is the sum? This: The parish priest
governs the nation. What is the King, then, if the parish priest
withdraws his support and deny his authority? Merely a shadow and no
King; let him resign.
   
Do you get that idea? Then let us proceed. A priest is consecrated to his
office by the awful hand of God, laid upon him by his appointed
representative on earth. That consecration is final; nothing can undo it,
nothing can remove it. Neither the Pope nor any other power can strip the
priest of his office; God gave it, and it is forever sacred and secure.
The dull parish knows all this. To priest and parish, whatsoever is
anointed of God bears an office whose authority can no longer be disputed
or assailed. To the parish priest, and to his subjects the nation, an
uncrowned king is a similitude of a person who has been named for holy
orders but has not been consecrated; he has no office, he has not been
ordained, another may be appointed to his place. In a word, an uncrowned
king is a doubtful king; but if God appoint him and His servant the
Bishop anoint him, the doubt is annihilated; the priest and the parish
are his loyal subjects straightway, and while he lives they will
recognize no king but him.
   
To Joan of Arc, the peasant-girl, Charles VII. was no King until he was
crowned; to her he was only the Dauphin; that is to say, the heir. If I
have ever made her call him King, it was a mistake; she called him the
Dauphin, and nothing else until after the Coronation. It shows you as in
a mirror--for Joan was a mirror in which the lowly hosts of France were
clearly reflected--that to all that vast underlying force called "the
people," he was no King but only Dauphin before his crowning, and was
indisputably and irrevocably King after it.
   
Now you understand what a colossal move on the political chess-board the
Coronation was. Bedford realized this by and by, and tried to patch up
his mistake by crowning his King; but what good could that do? None in
the world.
   
Speaking of chess, Joan's great acts may be likened to that game. Each
move was made in its proper order, and it as great and effective because
it was made in its proper order and not out of it. Each, at the time
made, seemed the greatest move; but the final result made them all
recognizable as equally essential and equally important. This is the
game, as played:
   
1. Joan moves to Orleans and Patay--check.
   
2. Then moves the Reconciliation--but does not proclaim check, it being a
move for position, and to take effect later.
   
3. Next she moves the Coronation--check.
   
4. Next, the Bloodless March--check.
   
5. Final move (after her death), the reconciled Constable Richemont to
the French King's elbow--checkmate.
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