The sad story that is still to tell shall be shortly told. There is no
word nor deed of the Maid's, in captivity as in victory, that is not to
her immortal honour. But the sight of the wickedness of men, their
cowardice, cruelty, greed, ingratitude, is not a thing to linger over.
The Maid, as a prisoner of the Bastard of Wandomme, himself a man of
Jean de Luxembourg, was led to Margny, where the Burgundian and English
captains rejoiced over her. They had her at last, the girl who had
driven them from fort and field. Luxembourg claimed her and carried her
to Beaulieu. Not a French lance was laid in rest to rescue her; not a
sou did the king send to ransom her. Where were Dunois and d'Alencon,
Xaintrailles and La Hire? The bold Buccleugh, who carried Kinmont Willie
out of Carlisle Castle, would not have left the Maid unrescued at
Beaulieu. 'What is there that a man does _not_ dare?' he said to the
angry Queen Elizabeth. But Dunois, d'Alencon, Xaintrailles, La Hire,
dared all things. Something which we do not know of must have held
these heroes back, and, being ignorant, it does not become us to blame
them.
Joan was the very spirit of chivalry, but in that age of chivalry she
was shamefully deserted. As a prisoner of war she should properly have
been held to ransom. But, within two days of her capture, the
Vicar-General of the Inquisition in France claimed her as a heretic and
a witch. The English knights let the priests and the University of Paris
judge and burn the girl whom they seldom dared to face in war. The
English were glad enough to use French priests and doctors who would
sell themselves to the task of condemning and burning their maiden
enemy. She was the enemy of the English, and they did actually believe
in witchcraft. The English were hideously cruel and superstitious: we
may leave the French to judge Jean de Luxembourg, who sold the girl to
England; Charles, who moved not a finger to help her; Bishop Cauchon and
the University of Paris, who judged her lawlessly and condemned her to
the stake; and the Archbishop of Reims, who said that she had deserved
her fall. There is dishonour in plenty; let these false Frenchmen of her
time divide their shares among themselves.
From Beaulieu, where she lay from May to August, Luxembourg carried his
precious prize to Beaurevoir, near Cambrai, further from the French
armies. He need not have been alarmed, not a French sword was drawn to
help the Maid. At Beaurevoir, Joan was kindly treated by the ladies of
the Castle. These ladies alone upheld the honour of the great name of
France. They knelt and wept before Jean de Luxembourg, imploring him not
to sell Joan to Burgundy, who sold her again to England. May their names
ever be honoured! One of the gentlemen of the place, on the other hand,
was rude to Joan, as he confessed thirty years later.
Joan was now kept in a high tower at Beaurevoir, and was allowed to walk
on the leads. She knew she was sold to England, she had heard that the
people of Compiegne were to be massacred. She would rather die than fall
into English hands, 'rather give her soul to God, than her body to the
English.' But she hoped to escape and relieve Compiegne. She, therefore,
prayed for counsel to her Saints; might she leap from the top of the
tower? Would they not bear her up in their hands? St. Catherine bade her
not to leap; God would help her and the people of Compiegne.
Then, for the first time as far as we know, the Maid wilfully disobeyed
her Voices. She leaped from the tower. They found her, not wounded, not
a limb was broken, but stunned. She knew not what had happened; they
told her she had leaped down. For three days she could not eat, 'yet was
she comforted by St. Catherine, who bade her confess and seek pardon of
God, and told her that, without fail, they of Compiegne should be
relieved before Martinmas.' This prophecy was fulfilled. Joan was more
troubled about Compiegne, than about her own coming doom. She was
already sold to the English, like a sheep to the slaughter; they bought
their French bishop Cauchon, he summoned his shavelings, the doctors of
the University and of the Inquisition.
[Illustration: Joan at Beaurevoir]
The chivalry of England locked up the Maid in an iron cage at Rouen. The
rest was easy to men of whom all, or almost all, were the slaves of
superstition, fear, and greed. They were men like ourselves, and no
worse, if perhaps no better, but their especial sins and temptations
were those to which few of us are inclined. We, like Charles, are very
capable of deserting, or at least of delaying to rescue, our bravest and
best, like Gordon in Khartoum. But, as we are not afraid of witches, we
do not cage and burn girls of nineteen. If we were as ignorant as our
ancestors on this point, no doubt we should be as cowardly and cruel.
V