The Failed Assault on Paris: A Turning Point in the Hundred Years’ War
In September 1429, the tide of the Hundred Years’ War seemed to be turning in favor of France. Joan of Arc, the peasant girl turned military leader, had already achieved the miraculous liberation of Orléans and secured Charles VII’s coronation at Reims. Yet the decisive moment came when French forces, led by Joan and the Duke of Alençon, attempted to retake Paris—a city long held by the Anglo-Burgundian alliance.
The attack began with chaos. Secret supporters of Charles VII within the city tried to sow panic, shouting warnings of an imminent French breakthrough. Some citizens fled to churches, while others barricaded themselves indoors. However, the disturbance was quickly suppressed. By 4 PM, Parisians rallied, reinforcing their defenses. The cannons mounted on the Saint-Denis gate proved devastating, repelling repeated French charges. Hundreds fell, and by nightfall, the French commanders—including Raoul de Gaucourt—ordered a retreat. Joan, still fighting fiercely, had to be forcibly removed from the battlefield. The withdrawal was disorderly; supplies were abandoned and burned near the Pig Market.
Charles VII’s Reluctance and the Fractured French Court
The next morning, Joan and the Duke of Alençon prepared a fresh assault, buoyed by a newly constructed bridge over the Seine. But their plans were abruptly halted by the Count of Guise and the Count of Clermont, who carried orders from Charles VII to stand down. The king, haunted by the disastrous Paris siege of 1417—when Burgundian forces had outmaneuvered the French—refused to risk another prolonged campaign.
A heated council followed. The pro-peace faction, led by Georges de La Trémoille, argued that holding territory near Paris was unsustainable. The English, under the Duke of Bedford, lurked in Normandy, ready to strike. Worse, France’s treasury was depleted. A national assembly meant to raise taxes had been repeatedly postponed, and the funds eventually secured—50,000 livres—were insufficient. By mid-September, Charles VII ordered a full retreat to the Loire Valley, leaving behind a skeletal garrison under the Count of Clermont.
Joan’s Winter Campaign: The Siege of Saint-Pierre-le-Moûtier
Disillusioned but undeterred, Joan refused to fade into obscurity. That October, she joined a campaign against Perrinet Gressart, a mercenary turned warlord who terrorized the Loire region. Gressart, a former Burgundian ally, had carved out a personal fiefdom, extorting towns and even imprisoning La Trémoille years earlier. His stronghold, La Charité-sur-Loire, was a thorn in France’s side.
The campaign began at Saint-Pierre-le-Moûtier, a fortified town under Gressart’s kin. The siege faltered; by November 4, French troops were retreating under heavy fire. Jean d’Aulon, Joan’s squire, recalled her defiance: “I will not leave until the town is taken!” Rallying a handful of soldiers, Joan improvised a bridge from bundles of wood, leading a final charge that broke the defenders. The victory was bittersweet—lacking supplies, the French failed to take La Charité weeks later, abandoning their artillery in a humiliating withdrawal.
Legacy: Joan’s Nobility and the War’s Unfinished Struggle
That Christmas, Joan received news: Charles VII had ennobled her, an unprecedented honor for a peasant. Yet the title meant little to her. While the court celebrated half-victories, Joan yearned to return to the field. By 1430, she would be captured at Compiègne, but her winter campaign—often overshadowed by her earlier triumphs—revealed her unyielding resolve.
The 1429 campaigns exposed France’s fragile unity. Charles VII’s caution, La Trémoille’s politicking, and logistical failures undermined Joan’s zeal. Yet her legacy endured: the sieges of Paris and La Charité underscored the war’s brutal stalemate, a prelude to France’s eventual resurgence under a more decisive crown.
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