is required, and that same clear eye has noted where it must go,
and has marked it out for us. The man does not live, never has
lived, never will live, that can improve upon it! The old state of
things was defeat, defeat, defeat–and by consequence we had
troops with no dash, no heart, no hope. Would you assault stone
walls with such? No–there was but one way with that kind: sit
down before a place and wait, wait–starve it out, if you could. The
new case is the very opposite; it is this: men all on fire with pluck
and dash and vim and fury and energy–a restrained conflagration!
What would you do with it? Hold it down and let it smolder and
perish and go out? What would Joan of Arc do with it? Turn it
loose, by the Lord God of heaven and earth, and let it swallow up
the foe in the whirlwind of its fires! Nothing shows the splendor
and wisdom of her military genius like her instant comprehension
of the size of the change which has come about, and her instant
perception of the right and only right way to take advantage of it.
With her is no sitting down and starving out; no dilly-dallying and
fooling around; no lazying, loafing, and going to sleep; no, it is
storm! storm! storm! and still storm! storm! storm! and forever
storm! storm! storm! hunt the enemy to his hole, then turn her
French hurricanes loose and carry him by storm! And that is my
sort! Jargeau? What of Jargeau, with its battlements and towers, its
devastating artillery, its seven thousand picked veterans? Joan of
Arc is to the fore, and by the splendor of God its fate is sealed!”
Oh, he carried them. There was not another word said about
persuading Joan to change her tactics. They sat talking
comfortably enough after that.
By and by Joan entered, and they rose and saluted with their
swords, and she asked what their pleasure might be. La Hire said:
“It is settled, my General. The matter concerned Jargeau. There
were some who thought we could not take the place.”
Joan laughed her pleasant laugh, her merry, carefree laugh; the
laugh that rippled so buoyantly from her lips and made old people
feel young again to hear it; and she said to the company:
“Have no fears–indeed, there is no need nor any occasion for
them. We will strike the English boldly by assault, and you will
see.” Then a faraway look came into her eyes, and I think that a
picture of her home drifted across the vision of her mind; for she
said very gently, and as one who muses, “But that I know God
guides us and will give us success, I had liefer keep sheep than
endure these perils.”
We had a homelike farewell supper that evening–just the personal
staff and the family. Joan had to miss it; for the city had given a
banquet in her honor, and she had gone there in state with the
Grand Staff, through a riot of joy-bells and a sparkling Milky Way
of illuminations.
After supper some lively young folk whom we knew came in, and
we presently forgot that we were soldiers, and only remembered
that we were boys and girls and full of animal spirits and long-pent
fun; and so there was dancing, and games, and romps, and screams
of laughter–just as extravagant and innocent and noisy a good time
as ever I had in my life. Dear, dear, how long ago it was!–and I
was young then. And outside, all the while, was the measured
tramp of marching battalions, belated odds and ends of the French
power gathering for the morrow’s tragedy on the grim stage of war.
Yes, in those days we had those contrasts side by side. And as I
passed along to bed there was another one: the big Dwarf, in brave
new armor, sat sentry at Joan’s door–the stern Spirit of War made
flesh, as it were–and on his ample shoulder was curled a kitten
asleep.
Chapter 27 How Joan Took Jargeau
WE MADE a gallant show next day when we filed out through the