The Story of Rouen

by Theodore Andrea Cook

CHAPTER IX

Jeanne d'Arc and the English Occupation

"Je sçay bien que les Angloys me feront mourir, croyant qu' après ma mort ils gagneront le royaume de France; mais quand même ils seraient cent mille godons de plus qu'ils ne sont présentement, ils n'auraient pas ce royaume."

OF the many interesting processions which must have taken place in the fifteenth century on the occasion of the great ceremony of the Fierte St. Romain, surely few can have been more impressive than that in which the Duke of Bedford, in his capacity as Canon of the Cathedral, walked among the ecclesiastics towards the little chapel in the Place de la Haute Vieille Tour where the freedom of the prisoner was declared before the assembled people. For in him all might see the outward and visible proof of an English occupation in its most intimate connection with the ancient traditions begun under his ancestors the Dukes of Normandy. But his presence is not the only sign that can be clearly traced of the interest which the English inevitably felt in the most extraordinary privilege of their new possession. As usual on every occasion when a new set of officials came in touch with this astonishing and deeply-rooted custom, their contact is marked by fresh expressions of dissent. So, just as Philip-Augustus had to uphold, against his own officials, the custom which every prince before him had sanctioned, in exactly the same way we find Henry V. affirming that the Privilege of St. Romain was of right to be exercised by the canons of the Cathedral according to their ancient precedents. And it is instructive that though his verdict was first pronounced in a case by which a native prisoner benefited, it was only in the next year, and again on some other occasions, that an Englishman was chosen to bear the holy shrine and win pardon for his sins. So strangely, indeed, and so strongly was the privilege exercised during these years of foreign dominion, that I cannot avoid the reflection—humiliating to Rouen as it is—that an attempt at least might have been made to exercise it in the case of the most famous prisoner ever in the donjons of the city, of the woman who would have been most worthy of those upon the roll of mercy to benefit by the protection of the Church. But if any attempt was made in favour of Jeanne d'Arc, it has not been recorded, and this is one of the strongest reasons for my regret that, full as they are, these records of the Privilege are often only too obviously imperfect.

The case in which objection was first raised was very naturally the first which occurred after the English flag had been unfurled above the city. In great surprise at the confidence shown by the good canons, the new bailli, Gauthier de Beauchamp, demanded an enquiry which was promptly held in his presence before the Cardinal Bishop of Winchester. On learning of the dispute Henry V. at once wrote to declare his reverence for the privilege established "En l'onneur et révérence du dict glorieux confesseur monsieur sainct Rommaing"; so Jehan Anquetil was duly delivered to mercy, after a crime to which modern civilisation is very rightly and unswervingly severe, and his accomplice was claimed by the Chapterhouse and delivered also. I confess it is beyond my powers to suggest the reason for so solemn a prerogative having been exercised by the highest dignitaries of the city's Cathedral in favour of a prisoner convicted of rape.[47] If a privilege that can only have resisted official competition for so long because it was based on deeply-rooted popular support, could survive a choice of this kind, it is one of the strongest proofs of the changes in society and in public opinion which have fortunately appeared in civilised communities since the fifteenth century.

In 1420 a still more interesting case arose, which is the first that suggests to my mind the possibility of the canons' choice being occasionally influenced by those in authority, and if by them, then it is only too probable that other suggestions (not strictly religious in their nature) may have been made in other years when "equity," according to our notions, does not explain their triumph over "law." For in this year the manuscript records, "Pierre Lamequin, de la paroisse de Vize, en Angleterre, diocèse de Salisbéry;" an entry which inevitably suggests to English ears that Peter Lambkin of Devizes was the lucky prisoner. He killed a merchant at an outlying village, with a French friend to help him. Other instances occur in which the foreign army profited by the native privilege. In 1429 the entry reads: "Thomas Grandon, anglais, de la paroisse de Hanniquem, diocèse d'York," who killed two Scotchmen at Chambroix. In 1434 we find: "Guillaume Banc, anglais, de la paroisse de Saint-Bin, diocèse de Carlisle," who slew one Saunders in a brawl, helped by a friend named William Peters. In 1437, "Jehan Hotot, laïque, de la paroisse de Sainte-Marie de Helnyngan, diocèse de Norfolk," who killed a pair of Englishmen in the country. In 1438, "Jennequin Benc ou Bent, anglais, de la paroisse de Bosc-Châtel, diocèse d'Héréford, dans le pays de Galles," who killed an Englishman. In 1439, "Jehan Helys, anglais, de la paroisse de Hest-Monceaulz, diocèse de Cantorbéry," who had stolen goods in Rouen, in company with one John Johnson and Thomas "Kneet."[48] In 1447, "Jean Houcton, anglais, de la paroisse de Langthon, en Clindal, diocèse de Dublin," who was charged with stealing a horse, alleging, in defence, that foraging was a common privilege of soldiers, and was subsequently convicted of robbing an innkeeper near the bridge of a silver cup six ounces in weight. Now that these names are brought to the knowledge of English antiquaries with more science and leisure at their disposal than are mine, I await with interest to hear whether any traces of these freebooters exist in the parish records of their native towns.[49]

But, after all, the privilege was not always exercised in one direction. Occasionally the feelings of the conquered population had evidently to be consulted, as in 1425, when Geoffroy Cordebœuf was chosen to bear the shrine, who had murdered an Englishman at Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer. There was a lengthy discussion over this, during which it is recorded that the year before, the disputing canons in their ecclesiastical costume had gone to the tavern of the Lion d'Or to drink with Lieutenant Poolin, their opponent, in flat disobedience to the Cathedral statute of 1361. It came out in the evidence presented that the canons were actually allowed to keep the keys of the prisons during Ascension Day and the three Rogation Days before it, and that they questioned the prisoners alone, without the jailers being present. In 1448 the same cause evidently suggested the liberation of no less than eighteen prisoners at once, who had banded together in the village of St. Trinité-de-Tankerville, and killed four Englishmen. The soldiers thoroughly deserved their fate, for they had brutally ill-treated two women, and killed one of their husbands, before the villagers took vengeance into their own hands.

There is but space to notice very briefly the other more interesting cases in this period. In 1428 a woman, named Estiennote Présart, who had stolen a silver cup from a priest, was pardoned. In 1441 some workmen on the Palace of the English King near "Mal s'y Frotte," who had thrown some troublesome brawlers into the Seine, bore the shrine. The next year the privilege was enjoyed by a husband who had several times discovered his wife's infidelity with a neighbouring knight, and had killed her on finding that she also extended her favours to a priest. This is one of the most intelligible instances of all; and in 1454 its circumstances are almost exactly repeated in the case of Michel Manant, who also slew his unfaithful wife. Indeed, a French jury even of to-day is never very hard upon the "crime passionel," with which that nation has always had so much sympathy. A similar case of the "equity" I have sometimes fancied I could trace occurs in 1446, when Nicolas Hébert stole four cups of silver, two belts studded with silver, twelve silver and ten gold spoons, having been unable to get any wages paid him after nine years of service with an advocate of Falaise. He was condemned to death and pardoned by the canons.

I have already mentioned the famous Talbot (see [p. 203]) in connection with the Fierte. He appears again in its records (as the Comte de Sursbérik) in 1444 with a refusal to allow the canons to visit the prisons of the castle, because they contained Armagnacs and other treasonable enemies to the King's Majesty. But the usual processions and popular enthusiasm with which the canons replied soon made him change his mind, and the prisoners were duly visited both in "La Grosse Tour" or donjon, and in every other jail. His refusal had been particularly ill-advised, because in May of 1430 the canons had appealed from an obstinate jailer to the Duke of Bedford, and had obtained his permission to visit the donjon according to their ancient custom. That very winter the castle of Philip Augustus in the Place Bouvreuil was to hold its most famous prisoner. For when Jeanne d'Arc was brought to Rouen in December 1430, the prison of the Baillage (called "les prisons ou la geôle du roi"), whose archways you may still see near the stairway of the Rue du Baillage, had been destroyed by fire in 1425; and it is particularly mentioned that she was not placed either in the cells of the Hôtel de Ville, where I have already recorded that an English jailer had been placed, or in the "Ecclesiastical Prisons" of the Rue St. Romain near the Cathedral, although her whole trial was conducted by ecclesiastics, but in the "Château de Rouen," where (in Talbot's words) "prisoners of war and treasonable felons" were especially guarded.