It must not be forgotten, in the history of this strange trial, that the
prisoner was brought from the other side of France expressly that she
might be among a people who were not of her own party, and who had no
natural sympathies with her, but a hereditary connection with England,
which engaged all its partialities on that side. For this purpose it was
that the _venue_, the town expected the coming of the Witch, and all the
dark revelations that might be extracted from her, her spells, and the
details of that contract with the devil which was so entrancing to
the popular imagination, with excitement and eagerness. Such a _Cause
Célèbre_ had never taken place among them before; and everybody no doubt
looked forward to the pleasure of seeing it proved that it was not by
the will of Heaven, but by some monstrous combination of black arts,
that such an extraordinary result as the defeat of the invincible
English soldiers had been brought about. The litigious and logical
Normans no doubt looked forward to it as to the most interesting
entertainment, ending in the complete vindication of their own side and
the exposure of the nefarious arms used by their adversaries.
But when the proceedings had been opened, and in place of some
dark-browed and termagant sorceress, with the mark of every evil passion
in her face, there appeared before the spectators crowding into every
available corner, the slim, youthful figure--was it boy or girl?--the
serene and luminous countenance of the Maid, the flower of youth raising
its whiteness and innocence in the midst of all those black-robed,
subtle Doctors, it is impossible but that the very first glance must
have given a shock and thrill of amazement and doubt to what may be
called the lay spectators, those who had no especial bias more than
common report, and whose credit or interest were not involved in
bringing this unlikely criminal to condemnation. "A girl! Like our own
Jeanne at home," might many a father have said, dismayed and confounded.
She had, they all say, those eyes of innocence which it is so impossible
not to believe, and that virginal voice, _assez femme_, which a
sentimental Frenchman insists upon as belonging only to the spotless.
At all events she had the bearing of honesty, purity, and truth. She was
not afraid though all the powers of hell--or was it only of the
Church and the Law?--were arrayed against her: no guilty mystery to be
discovered, was in her countenance. But it must have been plain to the
keen and not too charitable Normans that such semblances are not always
to be trusted, and that the devil himself even, on occasion, can take
upon himself the appearance of an angel of light; so that after the
first shock of wonder they no doubt settled themselves to listen,
believing that soon they would have their imaginations fed with tales
of horror, and would discover the hoofs and the horns and unveil
with triumph the lurking demon. The French historians never take into
consideration the fact that it was the belief of Rouen and Normandy, as
well as of any similar town or province in England, that the child
Henry VI. was lawful king, and that whatever was on the other side was
a hateful adversary, to be brought to such disaster and shame as was
possible, without mercy and without delay.
But after a few days of the examination which we have just reported,
public opinion was greatly staggered, and knew not how to turn.
Gradually the conviction must have been forced upon every mind which had
any candour left, that Jeanne, at that dreadful bar, with the stake
in sight, and all the learning of Paris--the entire power of one great
national and half of another, all England and half France against--(many
more than half France, for the other part had abandoned her
cause),--showed nothing of the demon, but all--if not of the angel, yet
of the Maid, the emblem of perfection to that rude world, though
often so barbarously handled. It might almost be said of the age,
notwithstanding its immorality and rampant viciousness, that in its eyes
a true virgin could do no harm. And hers was one if ever such a thing
existed on earth. The talk in the streets began to take a very different
tone. Massieu the clerical sheriff's officer saw nothing in her answers
that was not good and right. Out of the midst of the crowd of listeners
would burst an occasional cry of "Well said!" An Englishman, even a
knight, overcome by his feelings, cried out: "Why was not she English,
this brave girl!" All these were ominous sounds. Still more ominous was
the utterance of Maître Jean Lohier, a lawyer of Rouen, who declared
loudly that the trial was not a legal trial for the reasons which
follow:
"In the first place because it was not in the form of an ordinary trial;
secondly, because it was not held in a public court, and those present
had not full and complete freedom to say what was their full and
unbiassed opinion; thirdly, because there was question of the honour of
the King of France of whose party Jeanne was, without calling him,
or any one for him; fourthly, because neither libel nor articles were
produced, and this woman who was only an uninstructed girl, had no
advocate to answer for her before so many Masters and Doctors, on such
grave matters, and especially those which touched upon the revelations
of which she spoke; therefore it seemed to him that the trial was worth
nothing. For these things Monseigneur de Beauvais was very indignant
against the said Maître Lohier, saying: 'Here is Lohier who is going to
make a fine fuss about our trial; he calumniates us all, and tells the
world it is of no good. If one were to go by him, one would have to
begin everything over again, and all that has been done would be of no
use.' Monseigneur de Beauvais said besides: 'It is easy to see on which
foot he halts (_de quel pied il cloche_). By St. John, we shall do
nothing of the kind; we shall go on with our trial as we have begun
it.'"
A day or two later Manchon, the Clerk of the Court (he who refused to
take down Jeanne's conversation with her Judas), met this same lawyer
Lohier at church, and asked him, as no doubt every man asked every
other whom he met, how did he think the trial was going? to which Lohier
answered: "You see the manner in which they proceed; they will take her,
if they can, in her words--that is to say, the assertions in which she
says _I know for certain_, things that concern her apparitions. If she
would say, 'It seems to me' instead of 'I know for certain,' I do not
see how any man could condemn her. It appears that they proceed against
her rather from hate than from any other cause, and for this reason I
shall not remain here. I will have nothing to do with it." This I think
shows very clearly that Lohier, like the bulk of the population, by no
means thought at first that it was "from hate" that the trial proceeded,
but honestly believed that he had been called to try Jeanne as a
professor of the black arts; and that he had discovered from her own
testimony that she was not so, and that the motive of the trial was
entirely a different one from that of justice; one in fact with which an
honest man could have nothing to do.
It is very significant also that the number of judges present in
court on the sixth day, the last of the public examination, was only
thirty-eight, as against the sixty-two of the second day, which seems to
prove that a general disgust and alarm was growing in the minds of those
most closely concerned. Warwick and the soldiers, impatient of all
such business, striding in noisily from time to time to give a careless
glance at the proceedings, might not stay long enough to share the
impression--or might, who can say? Their business was to get this
pestilent woman, even if by chance she might be an innocent fanatic,
cleared off the face of the earth and out of their way.
After the sixth day, however, it would seem that the Bishop and his
tools had taken fright at the progress of public opinion. Before
dismissing the court on that occasion, Cauchon made an address to the
disturbed and anxious judges, informing them that he would not tire them
out with prolonged sittings, but that a few specially chosen assistants
would now examine into what further details were necessary. In the
meantime all would be put in writing; so that they might think it over
and deliberate within themselves, so as to be able each to make a
report either to himself, the Bishop, or to some one deputed by him.
The assessors, thus thrown out of work, were however forbidden to leave
Rouen without the Bishop's permission--probably because of the threat
of Lohier. Repeated meetings were held in Cauchon's house to arrange
the details of the proceedings to follow; and during this time it was
perhaps hoped that any excitement outside would quiet down. The Bishop
himself had in the meantime other work in hand. He had to receive
certain important visitors, one of them the man who held the appointment
of Chancellor of France on the English side, and who was well acquainted
with the mind of his masters. We have no information whatever whether
Cauchon ever himself wavered, or allowed the possibility of acquitting
Jeanne to enter his mind; but he must have seen that it was of the last
necessity to know what would satisfy the English chiefs. No doubt he was
confirmed and strengthened in the conviction that by hook or by crook
her condemnation must be accomplished, by the conversation of these
illustrious visitors. To save Jeanne was impossible he must have been
told. No English soldier would strike a blow while she lived. England
itself, the whole country, trembled at her name. Till she was got rid of
nothing could be done.
There was of course great exaggeration in all this, for the English had
fought desperately enough in her presence except on the one occasion
of Patay, notwithstanding all the early prestige of Jeanne. But at all
events it was made perfectly clear that the foregoing conclusion must
be carried out, and that Jeanne must die: and, not only so, but she must
die with opprobrium and disgrace as a witch, which almost everybody out
of Rouen now believed her to be. The public examination which lasted six
days was concluded on the third of March, 1430. On the following days,
the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth of March, meetings
were held, as we have said, in the Bishop's house to consider what
it would be well to do next, at one of which a select company of
Inquisitors was chosen to carry on the examination in private. These
were Jean de la Fontaine, a lawyer learned in canon law; Jean Beaupère,
already her interrogator; Nicolas Midi, a Doctor in Theology; Pierre
Morice, Canon of Rouen and Ambassador from the English King to the
Council of Bâle; Thomas de Courcelles, the learned and excellent young
Doctor already described; Nicolas l'Oyseleur, the traitor, also already
sufficiently referred to; and Manchon, the honest Clerk of the court:
the names of Gerard Feuillet, also a distinguished man, and Jean
Fecardo, an advocate, are likewise also mentioned. They seem to have
served in their turn, three or four at a time. This private session
began on the 10th of March, a week after the conclusion of the public
trial, and was held in the prison chamber inhabited by the Maid.
We shall not attempt to follow literally those private examinations,
which would take a great deal more space than we have at our command,
and would be fatiguing to the reader from the constant and prolonged
repetitions; we shall therefore quote only such parts as are new or so
greatly enlarged from Jeanne's original statements as to seem so. At the
first day's examination in her prison she was questioned about Compiègne
and her various proceedings before reaching that place.(1) She was
asked, for one thing, if her voices had bidden her make the sally in
which she was taken; to which she answered that had she known the time
she was to be taken she would not have gone out, unless upon the express
command of the saints. She was then asked about her standard, her
arms, and her horses, and replied that she had no coat-of-arms, but her
brothers had, who also had all her money, from ten to twelve thousand
francs, which was "no great treasure to make war upon," besides five
chargers, and about seven other horses, all from the King. The examiners
then came to their principal object, and having lulled her mind with
these trifles, turned suddenly to a subject on which they still hoped
she might commit herself, the sign which had proved her good faith to
the King. It is scarcely possible to avoid the feeling, grave as all
the circumstances were, that a little _malice_, a glance of mischievous
pleasure, kindled in Jeanne's eye. She had refused to enter into further
explanations again and again. She had warned them that she would give
them no true light on the subjects that concerned the King. Now she
would seem to have had sudden recourse to the mystification that is dear
to youth, to have tossed her young head and said: "_Have then your own
way_"; and forthwith proceeded to romance, according to the indications
given her of what was wanted, without thought of preserving any
appearance of reality. Most probably indeed, her air and tone would make
it apparent to her persistent questioners how complete a fable, or at
least parable, it was.
Asked, what sign she gave to the King, she replied that it was a
beautiful and honourable sign, very creditable and very good, and rich
above all. Asked, if it still lasted; answered, "It would be good to
know; it will last a thousand years and more if well guarded," adding
that it was in the treasure of the King. Asked, if it was of gold or
silver or of precious stones, or in the form of a crown; answered: "I
will tell you nothing more; but no man could devise a thing so rich as
this sign; but the sign that is necessary for you is that God should
deliver me out of your hands, and that is what He will do." She also
said that when she had to go to the King it was said by her voices: "Go
boldly; and when you are before the King he will have a sign which will
make him receive and believe in you." Asked, what reverence she made
when the sign came to the King, and if it came from God; answered, that
she had thanked God for having delivered her from the priests of her own
party who had argued against her, and that she had knelt down several
times; she also said that an angel from God, and not from another,
brought the sign to the King; and she had thanked the Lord many times;
she added that the priests ceased to argue against when they had seen
that sign. Asked, if the clergy of her party (_de par delà_) saw the
above sign; answered yes, that her King if he were satisfied; and he
answered yes. And afterwards she went to a little chapel close by, and
heard them say that after she was gone more than three hundred people
saw the said sign. She said besides that for love of her, and that they
should give up questioning her, God permitted those of her party to see
the sign. Asked, if the King and she made reverence to the angel when
he brought the sign; answered yes, for herself, that she knelt down and
took off her hood.
What Jeanne meant by this strange romance can only, I think be explained
by this hypothesis. She was "dazed and bewildered," say some of the
historians, evidently not knowing how to interpret so strange
an interruption to her narrative; but there is no other sign of
bewilderment; her mind was always clear and her intelligence complete.
Granting that the whole story was boldly ironical, its object is very
apparent. Honour forbade her to betray the King's secret, and she had
expressly said she would not do so. But her story seems to say--_since
you will insist that there was a sign, though I have told you I could
give you no information, have it your own way; you shall have a sign and
one of the very best; it delivered me from the priests of my own party
(de par delà)_. Jeanne was no milk-sop; she was bold enough to send a
winged shaft to the confusion of the priests of the other side who had
tormented her in the same way. One can imagine a lurking smile at the
corner of her mouth. Let them take it since they would have it. And we
may well believe there was that in her eye, and in the details heaped up
so lightly to form the miraculous tale, which left little doubt in the
minds of the questioners, of the spirit in which she spoke: though to us
who only read the record the effect is of a more bewildering kind.
Two days after, on Monday, the 12th of March, the Inquisitors began by
several additional questions concerning the angel who brought the
sign to the King; was it the same whom she first saw, or another? She
answered that it was the same, and no other was wanted. Asked, if this
angel had not deceived her since she had been taken prisoner; answered,
that SHE BELIEVED SINCE IT SO PLEASED OUR LORD THAT IT WAS BEST THAT SHE
SHOULD BE TAKEN. Asked, if the angel had not failed her; answered, "How
could he have failed me, when he comforts me every day?" This comfort
is what she understands to come through St. Catherine and St. Margaret.
Asked, whether she called them, or they came without being called, she
answered, that they often came without being called, and if they did
not come soon enough, she asked our Saviour to send them. Asked, if St.
Denis had ever appeared to her; answered, not that she knew. Asked,
if when she promised to our Lord to remain a virgin she spoke to Him;
answered, that it ought to be enough to speak to those who were sent by
Him that is to say, St. Catherine and St. Margaret. Asked, what induced
her to summon a man to Toul, in respect to marriage; answered, "I did
not summon him; it was he who summoned me"; and that on that occasion
she had sworn before the judge to speak the truth, which was that she
had not made him any promise. She also said that the first time she had
heard the voices she made a vow of virginity so long as it pleased God,
being then about the age of thirteen.
It was the object of the judges by these questions to prove that,
according to a fable which had obtained some credit, Jeanne during her
visit to La Rousse, the village inn-keeper at Neufchâteau, had acted as
servant in the house and tarnished her good fame--so that her betrothed
had refused to marry her: and that he had been brought before the
Bishop's court at Toul for his breach of promise, as we should say.
Exactly the reverse was the case, as the reader will remember.
Jeanne was further asked, if she had spoken of her visions to her
curé or to any ecclesiastic: and answered no, but only to Robert de
Baudricourt and to her King; but added that she was not bidden by her
voices to conceal them, but feared to reveal them lest the Burgundians
should hear of them and prevent her going. And especially she had much
doubt of her father, lest he should hinder her from going. Asked, if she
thought she did well to go away without the permission of her father
and mother, when it is certain we ought to honour our father and mother;
answered, that in every other thing she had fully obeyed him, except
in respect to her departure; but she had written to them, and they had
pardoned her. Asked, if when she left her father and mother she did not
think it was a sin; answered, that her voices were quite willing that
she should tell them, if it were not for the pain it would have
given them; but as for herself, she would not have told them for any
consideration; also that her voices left her to do as she pleased, to
tell or not.
*****
Having gone so far the reverend fathers went to dinner, and Jeanne we
hope had her piece of bread and her _eau rougie_. In the afternoon these
indefatigable questioners returned, and the first few questions throw
a fuller light on the troubled cottage at Domremy, out of which this
wonderful maiden came like a being of another kind.
She was questioned as to the dreams of her father; and answered, that
while she was still at home her mother told her several times that her
father said he had dreamt that Jeanne his daughter had gone away with
the troopers, that her father and mother took great care of her and held
her in great subjection: and she obeyed them in every point except that
of her affair at Toul in respect to marriage. She also said that her
mother had told her what her father had said to her brothers: "If I
could think that the thing would happen of which I have dreamed, I wish
she might be drowned first; and if you would not do it, I would drown
her with my own hands"; and that he nearly lost his senses when she went
to Vaucouleurs.
How profound is this little village tragedy! The suspicious, stern, and
unhopeful peasant, never sure even that the most transparent and pure
may not be capable of infamy, distracted with that horror of personal
degradation which is involved in family disgrace, cruel in the intensity
of his pride and fear of shame! He has been revealed to us in many
lands, always one of the most impressive of human pictures, with
no trust of love in him but an overwhelming faith in every vicious
possibility. If there is no evidence to prove that, even at the moment
when Jeanne was supreme, when he was induced to go to Rheims to see the
coronation, Jacques d'Arc was still dark, unresponsive, never more sure
than any of the Inquisitors that his daughter was not a witch, or worse,
a shameless creature linked to the captains and the splendid personages
about her by very different ties from those which appeared--there is at
least not a word to prove that he had changed his mind. She does not add
anything to soften the description here given. The sudden appearance of
this dark remorseless figure, looking on from his village, who probably
in all Domremy--when Domremy got to hear the news--would be the only
person who would in his desperation almost applaud that stake and
devouring flame, is too startling for words.
The end of this day's examination was remarkable also for a sudden light
upon the method she had intended to adopt in respect to the Duke
of Orleans, then in prison in England, whom it was one of her most
cherished hopes to deliver.
Asked, how she meant to rescue the Duc d'Orléans: she answered, that by
that time she hoped to have taken English prisoners enough to exchange
for him: and if she had not taken enough she should have crossed the
sea, in power, to search for him in England. Asked, if St. Catherine
and St. Margaret had told her absolutely and without condition that she
should take enough prisoners to exchange for the Duc d'Orléans, who was
in England, or otherwise, that she should cross the sea to fetch him and
bring him back within three years; she answered yes: and that she had
told the King and had begged him to permit her to make prisoners. She
said further that if she had lasted three years without hindrance, she
should have delivered him. Otherwise she said she had not thought of so
long a time as three years, although it should have been more than one;
but she did not at present recollect exactly.
There is a curious story existing, though we do not remember whence
it comes and there is not a scrap of evidence for it, which suggests a
rumour that Jeanne was not the child of the d'Arc family at all, but
in fact an abandoned and illegitimate child of the Queen, Isabel of
Bavaria, and that her real father was the murdered Duc d'Orléans. This
suggestion might explain the ease with which she fell into the way of
Courts, a sort of air _à la Princesse_ which certainly was about her,
and her especial devotion to Orleans, both to the city and the duke. A
shadow of a supposed child of our own Queen Mary has also appeared
in history, quite without warrant or likelihood. It is a little
conventional and well worn even in the way of romance, yet there are
certain fanciful suggestions in the thought.
After the above, Jeanne was again questioned and at great length upon
the sign given to the King, upon the angel who brought it, the manner of
his coming and going, the persons who saw him, those who saw the crown
bestowed upon the King, and so on, in the most minute detail. That the
purpose of the sign was that "they should give up arguing and so let
her proceed on her mission," she repeated again and again; but here is a
curious additional note.
She was asked how the King and the people with him were convinced that
it was an angel; and answered, that the King knew it by the instruction
of the ecclesiastics who were there, and also by the sign of the crown.
Asked, how the ecclesiastics (_gens d'église_) knew it was an angel she
answered, "By their knowledge (science), and because they were priests."
Was this the keenest irony, or was it the wandering of a weary mind?
We cannot tell; but if the latter, it was the only occasion on which
Jeanne's mind wandered; and there was method and meaning in the strange
tale.
She was further questioned whether it was by the advice of her voices
that she attacked La Charité, and afterwards Paris, her two points of
failure; the purpose of her examiners clearly being to convince her that
those voices had deceived her. To both questions she answered no.
To Paris she went at the request of gentlemen who wished to make a
skirmish, or assault of arms (_vaillance d'armes_); but she intended to
go farther, and to pass the moats; that is, to force the fighting and
make the skirmish into a serious assault; the same was the case before
La Charité. She was asked whether she had no revelation concerning Pont
l'Evêque, and said that since it was revealed to her at Melun that she
should be taken, she had had more recourse to the will of the captains
than to her own; but she did not tell them that it was revealed to her
that she should be taken. Asked, if she thought it was well done
to attack Paris on the day of the Nativity of our Lady, which was a
festival of the Church; she answered, that it was always well to keep
the festivals of our Lady: and in her conscience it seemed to her that
it was and always would be a good thing to keep the feasts of our Lady,
from one end to the other.
In the afternoon the examiners returned to the attempt at escape or
suicide--they seemed to have preferred the latter explanation--made at
Beaurevoir; and as Jeanne expresses herself with more freedom as to her
personal motives in these prison examinations and opens her heart more
freely, there is much here which we give in full.
She was asked first what was the cause of her leap from the tower of
Beaurevoir. She answered that she had heard that all the people of
Compiègne, down to the age of seven, were to be put to the sword, and
that she would rather die than live after such a destruction of good
people; this was one of the reasons; the other was that she knew that
she was sold to the English and that she would rather die than fall into
the hands of the English, her enemies. Asked, if she made that leap
by the command of her voices; answered, that St. Catherine said to her
almost every day that she was not to leap, for that God would help her,
and also the people of Compiègne: and she, Jeanne, said to St. Catherine
that since God intended to help the people of Compiègne she would fain
be there. And St. Catherine said: "You must take it in good part, but
you will not be delivered till you have seen the King of the English."
And she, Jeanne, answered: "Truly I do not wish to see him. I would
rather die than fall into the hands of the English." Asked, if she had
said to St. Catherine and St. Margaret, "Will God leave the good people
of Compiègne to die so cruelly?" answered, that she did not say "so
cruelly," but said it in this way: "Will God leave these good people
of Compiègne to die, who have been and are so loyal to their lord?" She
added that after she fell there were two or three days that she would
not eat; and that she was so hurt by the leap that she could not eat;
but all the time she was comforted by St. Catherine, who told her to
confess and ask pardon of God for that act, and that without doubt the
people of Compiègne would have succour before Martinmas. And then she
took pains to recover and began to eat, and shortly was healed.
Asked, whether, when she threw herself down, she wished to kill herself,
she answered no; but that in throwing herself down she commended herself
to God, and hoped by means of that leap to escape and to avoid being
delivered to the English. Asked, if, when she recovered the power of
speech, she had denied and blasphemed God and the saints, as had been
reported; answered, that she remembered nothing of the kind, and that,
as far as she knew, she had never denied and blasphemed God and His
saints there nor anywhere else, and did not confess that she had done
so, having no recollection of it. Asked, if she would like to see the
information taken on the spot, answered: "I refer myself to God, and not
another, and to a good confession." Asked, if her voices ever desired
delay for their replies; answered, that St. Catherine always answered
her at once, but sometimes she, Jeanne, could not hear because of
the tumult round her (_turbacion des personnes_) and the noise of her
guards; but that when she asked anything of St. Catherine, sometimes
she, and sometimes St. Margaret asked of our Lord, and then by the
command of our Lord an answer was given to her. Asked, if, when they
came, there was always light accompanying them, and if she did not
see that light when she heard the voice in the castle without knowing
whether it was in her chamber or not: answered, that there was never
a day that they did not come into the castle, and that they never came
without light: and that time she heard the voice, but did not remember
whether she saw the light, or whether she saw St. Catherine. Also she
said she had asked from her voices three things: one, her release: the
other, that God would help the French, and keep the town faithful: and
the other the salvation of her soul. Afterwards she asked that she might
have a copy of these questions and her answers if she were to be taken
to Paris, that she may give them to the people in Paris, and say to
them, "This is how I was questioned in Rouen, and here are my replies,"
that she might not be exhausted by so many questions.
Asked, what she meant when she said that Monseigneur de Beauvais put
himself in danger by bringing her to trial, and why Monseigneur de
Beauvais more than others, she answered, that this was and is what she
said to Monseigneur de Beauvais: "You say that you are my judge. I know
not whether you are so; but take care that you judge well, or you will
put yourself in great danger. I warn you, so that if our Lord should
chastise you for it, I may have done my duty in warning you." Asked,
what was that danger? she answered, that St. Catherine had said that she
should have succour, but that she knew not whether this meant that
she would be delivered from prison, or that, when she was before the
tribunal, there might come trouble by which she should be delivered;
she thought, however, it would be the one or the other. And all the more
that her voices told her that she would be delivered by a great victory;
and afterwards they said to her: "Take everything cheerfully, do not
be disturbed by this martyrdom: thou shalt thence come at last to the
kingdom of Heaven." And this the voices said simply and absolutely--that
is to say, without fail; she explained that she called It martyrdom
because of all the pain and adversity that she had suffered in prison;
and she knew not whether she might have still more to suffer, but waited
upon our Lord. She was then asked whether, since her voices had said
that she should go to Paradise, she felt assured that she should be
saved and not damned in hell; she answered, that she believed firmly
what her voices said about her being saved, as firmly as if she were
so already. And when it was said to her that this answer was of great
weight, she answered that she herself held it as a great treasure.
We have said that Jeanne's answers to the Inquisitors in prison had a
more familiar form than in the public examination; which seem to
prove that they were not unkind to her, further, at least, than by the
persistence and tediousness of their questions. The Bishop for one thing
was seldom present; the sittings were frequently presided over by the
Deputy Inquisitor, who had made great efforts to be free of the business
altogether, and had but very recently been forced into it; so that we
may at least imagine, as he was so reluctant, that he did what he could
to soften the proceedings. Jean de la Fontaine, too, was a milder man
than her former questioners, and in so small an assembly she could not
be disturbed and interrupted by Frère Isambard's well-meant signs and
whispers. She speaks at length and with a self-disclosure which seems to
have little that was painful in it, like one matured into a kind of
age by long weariness and trouble, who regards the panorama of her life
passing before her with almost a pensive pleasure. And it is clear that
Jeanne's ear, still so young and keen, notwithstanding that attitude of
mind, was still intent upon sounds from without, and that Jeanne's
heart still expected a sudden assault, a great victory for France, which
should open her prison doors--or even a rising in the very judgment hall
to deliver her. How could they keep still outside, Dunois, Alençon,
La Hire, the mighty men of valour, while they knew that she was being
racked and tortured within? She who could not bear to be out of the
conflict to serve her friends at Compiègne, even when succour from on
high had been promised, how was it possible that these gallant knights
could live and let her die, their gentle comrade, their dauntless
leader? In those long hours, amid the noise of the guards within and the
garrison around, how she must have thought, over and over again, where
were they? when were they coming? how often imagined that a louder clang
of arms than usual, a rush of hasty feet, meant that they were here!
But honour and love kept Jeanne's lips closed. Not a word did she say
that could discredit King, or party, or friends; not a reproach to those
who had abandoned her. She still looked for the great victory in which
Monseigneur, if he did not take care, might run the risk of being
roughly handled, or of a sudden tumult in his own very court that would
pitch him form his guilty seat. It was but the fourteenth of March
still, and there were six weary weeks to come. She did not know the hour
or the day, but yet she believed that this great deliverance was on its
way.
And there was a great deliverance to come: but not of this kind. The
voices of God--how can we deny it?--are often, though in a loftier
sense, like those fantastic voices that keep the word of promise to the
ear but break it to the heart. They promised her a great victory: and
she had it, and also the fullest deliverance: but only by the stake and
the fire, which were not less dreadful to Jeanne than to any other girl
of her age. They did not speak to deceive her, but she was deceived;
they kept their promise, but not as she understood it. "These all died
in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar
off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them." Jeanne too was
persuaded of them, but was not to receive them--except in the other way.
On the afternoon of the same day (it was still Lent, and Jeanne fasted,
whatever our priests may have done), she was again closely questioned
on the subject, this time, of Franquet d'Arras, who, as has been above
narrated, was taken by her in the course of some indiscriminate fighting
in the north. She was asked if it was not mortal sin to take a man as
prisoner of war and then give him up to be executed. There was evidently
no perception of similarities in the minds of the judges, for this was
precisely what had been done in the case of Jeanne herself; but even she
does not seem to have been struck by the fact. Their object, apparently,
was by proving that she was in a state of sin, to prove also that her
voices were of no authority, as being unable to discover so simple a
principle as this.
When they spoke to her of "one named Franquet d'Arras, who was executed
at Lagny," she answered that she consented to his death, as he deserved
it, for he had confessed to being a murderer, a thief, and a traitor.
She said that his trial lasted fifteen days, the Bailli de Senlis and
the law officers of Lagny being the judges; and she added that she had
wished to have Franquet, to exchange him for a man of Paris, Seigneur de
Lours (corrected, innkeeper at the sign of l'Ours); but when she heard
that this man was dead, and when the Bailli told her that she would
go very much against justice if she set Franquet free, she said to the
Bailli: "Since my man is dead whom I wished to deliver, do with this one
whatever justice demands." Asked, if she took the money or allowed it to
be taken by him who had taken Franquet, she answered, that she was not a
money changer or a treasurer of France, to deal with money.
She was then reminded that having assaulted Paris on a holy day, having
taken the horse of Monseigneur de Senlis, having thrown herself down
from the tower of Beaurevoir, having consented to the death of Franquet
d'Arras, and being still dressed in the costume of a man, did she not
think that she must be in a state of mortal sin? She answered to the
first question about Paris: "I do not think I was guilty of mortal sin,
and if I have sinned it is to God that I would make it known, and in
confession to God by the priest." To the second question, concerning the
horse of Senlis, she answered, that she believed firmly that there was
not mortal sin in this, seeing it was valued, and the Bishop had due
notice of it, and at all events it was sent back to the Seigneur de la
Trémouille to give it back to Monseigneur de Senlis. The said horse was
of no use to her; and, on the other hand, she did not wish to keep it
because she heard that the Bishop was displeased that his horse should
have been taken. And as for the tower of Beaurevoir: "I did it not to
destroy myself, but in the hope of saving myself and of going to the aid
of the good people who were in need." But after having done it, she had
confessed her sin, and asked pardon of our Lord, and had pardon of Him.
And she allowed that it was not right to have made that leap, but that
she did wrong.
The next day an important question was introduced, the only one as
yet which Jeanne does not seem to have been able to answer with
understanding. On points of fact or in respect to her visions she was
always quite clear, but questions concerning the Church were beyond
her knowledge. It is only indeed after some time has elapsed that we
perceive why such a question was introduced.
After admonitions made to her she was required, if she had done anything
contrary to the faith, to submit herself to the decision of the Church.
She replied, that her answers had all been heard and seen by clerks,
and that they could say whether there was anything in them against the
faith: and that if they would point out to her where any error was,
afterwards she would tell them what was said by her counsellors. At
all events if there was anything against the faith which our Lord had
commanded, she would not sustain it, and would be very sorry to go
against that. Here it was shown to her that there was a Church militant
and a Church triumphant, and she was asked if she knew the difference
between them. She was also required to put herself under the
jurisdiction of the Church, in respect to what she had done, whether it
was good or evil, but replied, "I will answer no more on this point for
the present."
Having thrown in this tentative question which she did not understand,
they returned to the question of her dress, which holds such an
important place in the entire interrogatory. If she were allowed to
hear mass as she wished, having been all this time deprived of religious
ordinances, did not she think it would be more honest and befitting that
she should go in the dress of a woman? To this she replied vaguely, that
she would much rather go to mass in the dress of a woman than to retain
her male costume and not to hear mass; and that if she were certified
that she should hear mass, she would be there in a woman's dress. "I
certify you that you shall hear mass," the examiner replied, "but you
must be dressed as a woman." "What would you say," she answered as with
a momentary doubt, "if I had sworn to my King never to change?" but
she added: "Anyhow I answer for it. Find me a dress, long, touching the
ground, without a train, and give it to me to go to mass; but I will
return to my present dress when I come back." She was then asked why
she would not have all the parts of a female dress to go to mass in; she
said, "I will take counsel upon that, and answer you," and begged again
for the honour of God and our Lady that she might be allowed to hear
mass in this good town. Afterwards she was again recommended to assume
the whole dress of a woman and gave a conditional assent: "Get me
a dress like that of a young _bourgeoise_, that is to say, a long
_houppelande_; I will wear that and a woman's hood to go to mass." After
having promised, however, she made an appeal to them to leave her free,
and to think no more of her garb, but to allow her to hear mass without
changing it. This would seem to have been refused, and all at once
without warning the jurisdiction of the Church was suddenly introduced
again.
She was asked, whether in all she did and said she would submit herself
to the Church, and replied: "All my deeds and works are in the hands of
God, and I depend only on Him; and I certify that I desire to do nothing
and say nothing against the Christian faith; and if I have done or said
anything in the body that was against the Christian faith which our
Lord has established, I should not defend it but cast it forth from
me." Asked again, if she would not submit to the laws of the Church she
replied: "I can answer no more to-day on this point; but on Saturday
send the clerk to me, if you do not come, and I will answer by the grace
of God, and it can be put in writing."
A great many questions followed as to her visions, but chiefly what had
been asked before. One thing only we may note, since it was one of the
special sayings all her own, which fell from the lips of Jeanne, during
this private and almost sympathetic examination. After being questioned
closely as to how she knew her first visitor to be St. Michael, etc.,
she was asked, how she would have known had he been "l'Anemy" himself
(a Norman must surely have used this word), taking the form of an angel:
and finally, what doctrine he taught her?
She answered; above all things he said that she was to be a good child
and that God would help her: and among other things that she was to go
to the succour of the King of France. But the greater part of what the
angel taught her, she continued, was already in their book; and THE
ANGEL SHOWED HER THE GREAT PITY THERE WAS OF THE KINGDOM OF FRANCE.
The pity of it! That which has always gone most to the tender heart: a
country torn in pieces, brother fighting against brother, the invader
seated at the native hearth, and blood and fire making the smiling land
a desert: "_la pitie qui estoit au royaume de France_."
Did the Inquisitor break down here? Could no one go on? or was it mere
human incompetence to feel the divine touch? Some one broke into a
foolish question about the height of the angel, and the sitting was
hurriedly concluded. Monseigneur might well be on his mettle; that
very pity, was it not stealing into the souls of his private committee
deputed for so different a use?
*****
Next day the questions about St. Michael's personal appearance were
resumed, as a little feint we can only suppose, for the great question
of the Church was again immediately introduced; but in the meantime
Jeanne had described her visitor in terms which it is pleasant to dwell
on. "He was in the form of a _très vrai prud' homme_." The term is
difficult to translate, as is the Galantuomo of Italy. The "King-Honest
Man," we used to say in English in the days of his late Majesty Victor
Emmanuel of Italy; but that is not all that is meant--_un vrai prud'
homme_, a man good, honest, brave, the best man, is more like it.
The girl's honest imagination thought of no paraphernalia of wings or
shining plumes. It was not the theatrical angel, not even the angel of
art whom she saw--whom it would have been so easy to invent, nay to take
quite truthfully from the first painted window, radiating colour and
brightness through the dim, low-roofed church. But even with such
material handy, Jeanne was not led into the conventional. She knew
nothing about wings or emblematic scales. He was in the form of a brave
and gentle man. She knew not anything greater, nor would she be seduced
into fable however sacred. Then once more the true assault began.
She was asked, if she would submit all her sayings and doings, good or
evil, to the judgment of our Holy Mother, the Church. She replied, that
as for the Church, she loved it and would sustain it with all her might
for our Christian faith; and that it was not she whom they ought to
disturb and hinder from going to church or from hearing mass. As to the
good things she had done, and that had happened, she must refer all to
the King of Heaven, who had sent her to Charles, King of France; and it
should be seen that the French would soon gain a great advantage which
God would send them, so great that all the kingdom of France would
be shaken. And this, she said, that when it came to pass, they might
remember that she had said it. She was again asked, if she would submit
to the jurisdiction of the Church, and answered, "I refer everything
to our Lord who sent me, to our Lady, and to the blessed Saints of
Paradise"; and added her opinion was that our Lord and the Church meant
the same thing, and that difficulties should not be made concerning
this, when there was no difficulty, and they were both one. She was then
told that there was the Church triumphant, in which are God, the saints,
the angels, and all saved souls. The Church militant is our Holy Father
the Pope, vicar of God on earth, the cardinals, the prelates of the
Church, and the clergy and all good Christians and Catholics, which
Church properly assembled cannot err, but is guided by the Holy Spirit.
And this being the case she was asked if she would refer her cause to
the Church militant thus explained to her. She replied that she had
come to the King of France on the part of God, on the part of the Virgin
Mary, the blessed Saints of Paradise, and the Church victorious in
Heaven, and at their commandment; and to that Church she submitted all
her good deeds, and all that she had done and might do. And if they
asked her whether she would submit to the Church militant, answered,
that she would now answer no more than this.
Here again the argument strayed back to the futile subject of dress,
always at hand to be taken up again, one would say, when the judges were
non-plussed. Her first reply on this subject is remarkable and shows
that dark and terrible forebodings were already beginning to mingle with
her hopes.
Asked, what she had to say about the woman's dress that had been offered
to her, to hear mass in: she answered, that she would not take it yet,
not until the Lord pleased; but that if it were necessary to lead her
out to be executed, and if she should then have to be undressed, she
required of the Lords of the Church that they would give her the grace
to have a long chemise, and a kerchief for her head; that she would
prefer to die rather than to alter what our Lord had directed her to do,
and that she firmly believed our Lord would not let her descend so low,
but that she should soon be helped by God and by a miracle. She was then
asked, if what she did in respect to the man's costume was by command of
God, why she asked for a woman's chemise in case of death? answered, _It
is enough that it should be long_.
The effect of these words in which so much was implied, must have made
a supreme sensation among the handful of men gathered round the helpless
girl in her prison, bringing the stake in all its horror before the
eyes of the judges as before her own. No other thing could have been
suggested by that piteous prayer. The stake, the scaffold, the fire--and
the shrinking figure all maidenly, helpless, exposed to every evil gaze,
must have showed themselves at least for a moment against that dark
background of prison wall. It was enough that it should be long--to hide
her as much as was possible from those dreadful staring eyes.
The interrogatory goes on wildly after this about the age and the dress
of the saints. But a tone of fate had come into it, and Jeanne herself,
it was evident, was very serious; her mind turned to more weighty
thoughts. Presently they asked if the saints hated the English, to which
she replied that they hated what God hated and loved what He loved. She
was then asked if God hated the English. She replied that of the love or
hate that God had for the English, or what God did for their souls,
she knew nothing; but she knew well that they should be driven out of
France, except those who died there; and that God would send victory
to the French against the English. Asked, if God was for the English so
long as they were prosperous in France: she answered, that she knew not
whether God hated the French, but believed He had allowed them to be
beaten because of their sins.
Jeanne was then brought to a test which, had she been a great statesman
or a learned doctor, would have been as dangerous, as the question
concerning John the Baptist was to the priests and scribes. "If we shall
say: From heaven, he will say, Why then believed ye him not? but if we
shall say of men we fear the people." And she was only a peasant girl
and the event of which they spoke had been before her little time.
Asked, if she thought and believed firmly that her King did well to kill
Monseigneur de Bourgogne, she answered that IT WAS A GREAT MISFORTUNE
FOR THE KINGDOM OF FRANCE: but that however it might be among
themselves, God had sent her to the succour of the King.
One or two other questions of some importance followed amid perpetual
changes of the subject: one of which called forth as follows her last
deliverance on the subject of the Pope.
Asked, if she had said to Monseigneur de Beauvais that she would answer
as exactly to him and to his clerks as she would have done before our
Holy Father the Pope, although at several points in the trial she would
have had to refuse to answer, if she did not answer more plainly than
before Monseigneur de Beauvais--she said that she had answered as
much as she knew, and that if anything came to her memory that she had
forgotten to say, she would say it willingly. Asked, if it seemed to her
that she would be bound to answer the plain truth to the Pope, the vicar
of God, in all he asked her touching the faith and her conscience, she
replied that she desired to be taken before him, and then she would
answer all that she ought to answer.
Here we seem to perceive dimly that there was beginning to be a second
party among those examiners, one of which was covertly but earnestly
attempting to lead Jeanne into an appeal to the Pope, which would have
conveyed her out of the hands of the English at least, and gained time,
probably deliverance for her, could Jeanne have been made to understand
it.
This, however, was by no means the wish of Cauchon, whose spy and
whisperer, L'Oyseleur, was working against it in the background. Jeanne
evidently failed to take up what they meant. She did not understand the
distinction between the Church militant and the Church triumphant: that
God alone was her judge, and that no tribunal could decide upon the
questions which were between her Lord and herself, was too firmly fixed
in her mind: and again and again the men whose desire was to make her
adopt this expedient, were driven back into the ever repeated questions
about St. Catherine and St. Margaret.
One other of her distinctive sayings fell from her in the little
interval that remained, in a series of useless questions about her
standard. Was it true that this standard had been carried into the
Cathedral at Rheims when those of the other captains were left behind?
"It had been through the labour and the pain," she said, "there was good
reason that it should have the honour."
This last movement of a proud spirit, absolutely disinterested and
without thought of honour or advancement in the usual sense of the word,
gives a sort of trumpet note at the end of these wonderful wranglings
in prison, in which, however, there is a softening of tone visible
throughout, and evident effect of human nature bringing into immediate
contact divers human creatures day after day. Jeanne is often at her
best, and never so frequently as during these less formal sittings
utters those flying words, simple and noble and of absolute truth to
nature, which are noted everywhere, even in the most rambling records.
*****
The private examination, concluding with that last answer about the
banner, came to an end on the 17th March, the day before Passion Sunday.
Several subsequent days were occupied with repeated consultations in
the Bishop's palace, and the reading over of the minutes of the
examinations, to the judges first and afterwards to Jeanne, who
acknowledged their correctness, with one or two small amendments. It is
only now that Cauchon reappears in his own person. On the morning of the
following Sunday, which was Palm Sunday, he and four other doctors with
him had a conversation with Jeanne in her prison, very early in the
morning, touching her repeated application to be allowed to hear
mass and to communicate. The Bishop offered her his ultimatum: if she
consented to resume her woman's dress, she might hear mass, but not
otherwise; to which Jeanne replied, sorrowfully, that she would have
done so before now if she could; but that it was not in her power to
do so. Thus after the long and bitter Lent her hopes of sharing in the
sacred feast were finally taken from her. It remains uncertain whether
she considered that her change of dress would be direct disobedience
to God, which her words seem often to imply; or whether it would mean
renunciation of her mission, which she still hoped against hope to be
able to resume; or if the fear of personal insult weighed most with
her. The latter reason had evidently something to do with it, but, as
evidently, not all.
The background to these curious sittings, afterwards revealed to us,
casts a hazy side-light upon them. Probably the Bishop, never present,
must have been made aware by his spies of an intention on the part of
those most favourable to Jeanne to support an appeal to the Pope; and
L'Oyseleur, the traitor, who was all this time admitted to her cell by
permission of Cauchon, and really as his tool and agent, was actively
employed in prejudicing her mind against them, counselling her not to
trust to those clerks, not to yield to the Church. How he managed to
explain his own appearance on the other side, his official connection
with the trial, and constant presence as one of her judges, it is hard
to imagine. Probably he gave her to believe that he had sought that
position (having got himself liberated from the imprisonment which he
had represented himself as sharing) for her sake, to be able to help
her.
On the other hand her friends, whose hearts were touched by her candour
and her sufferings, were not inactive. Jean de la Fontaine and the two
monks--l'Advenu and Frère Isambard--also succeeded in gaining admission
to her, and pressed upon her the advantage of appealing to the Church,
to the Council of Bâle about to assemble, or to the Pope himself, which
would have again changed the _venue_, and transferred her into less
prejudiced hands. It is very likely that Jeanne in her ignorance and
innocence might have held by her reference to the supreme tribunal
of God in any case; and it is highly unlikely that of the English
authorities, intent on removing the only thing in France of which their
forces were afraid, should have given her up into the hands of the Pope,
or allowed her to be transferred to any place of defence beyond their
reach; but at least it is a relief to the mind to find that all these
men were not base, as appears on the face of things, but that pity and
justice and human feeling sometimes existed under the priest's gown and
the monk's cowl, if also treachery and falsehood of the blackest kind.
The Bishop, who remained withdrawn, we know not why, from all these
private sittings in the prison (probably busy with his ecclesiastical
duties as Holy Week was approaching), heard with fury of this visit and
advice, and threatened vengeance upon the meddlers, not without effect,
for Jean de la Fontaine, we are told--who had been deep in his councils,
and indeed his deputy, as chief examiner--disappeared from Rouen
immediately after, and was heard of no more.
(1) Compiègne was a strong point. Had she proclaimed a
promise from St. Catherine, of victory? Chastelain says so,
long after date and with errors in fact. Two Anglo-
Compiègnais were at her trial. The Rehabilitation does not
go into this question.--(From Mr. Lang.)