NICOLAS OF VENDERESSE--"It does not seem to me, at present, opportune to put the said Joan to the torture."

ANDRE MARGUERIE--"I consider the torture superfluous. The answers of the accused are sufficient to condemn her upon. I am against the torture."

WILLIAM ERARD--"It is, indeed, unnecessary to obtain new avowals from the said Joan. Those that she has made call for the chastis.e.m.e.nt of the temporal arm. Let us not go beyond that."

ROBERT BARBIER--"I share the views of my very dear brother."

DENIS GASTINEL--"I am of the opinion that we should forego the torture.

It is useless in the case at bar."

AUBERT MOREL--"I am of the opinion that the torture should be forthwith applied to the said Joan in order to ascertain whether the errors that she persists in are sincere or fraudulent."

THOMAS OF COURCELLES--"I hold that it would be well to put the said Joan to the torture."

NICOLAS OF COUPEQUESNE--"I do not think it expedient to submit Joan to bodily torture. But she should be admonished once more, in order to compel her to submit to the Church militant."

JOHN LEDOUX--"I think so, too. No torture."

ISAMBARD OF LA PIERRE--"That is my opinion."

NICOLAS LOYSELEUR--"I think it is necessary as a medicine to the soul of the said Joan that she be put to the torture.[115] For the rest I shall adhere to the opinion of my very dear brothers. The question must be decided."

WILLIAM HAITON--"I consider the torture useless. I p.r.o.nounce against its application."

The result of the deliberation is that a majority of the ecclesiastics is against applying the torture to Joan Darc, not so much through a sentiment of humanity as because the admissions made by the accused sufficiently justify her condemnation, as Canon Andre Marguerie navely put it. Nevertheless, Bishop Cauchon, who panted for the torture like a wolf at the smell of blood, seems greatly displeased with the evangelical mildness of his very dear brothers in Jesus Christ, who seem so charitably disposed as to think that the burning of Joan Darc would be glory enough to the Church of Rome, without previously lacerating her flesh or cracking her bones. Moreover, these more clement ecclesiastics consider that, weak and ailing as Joan is, the girl may expire under the torture. They aim at a striking death for their victim.

BISHOP CAUCHON (ill disguising his displeasure)--"The majority of our very dear brothers have p.r.o.nounced against submitting the said Joan to the torture. That means of obtaining her sincere avowals being discarded, I demand that before we now adjourn she be brought hither to the end that she may hear the verdict that is p.r.o.nounced against her by our very dear brother Maurice, canon of the very reverend chapter of the Cathedral of Rouen."

The ecclesiastical judges bow approval. Nicolas Loyseleur goes out to issue the orders for the carrying in of Joan before the tribunal. He, however, does not resume his seat at the session, fearing to be recognized by the prisoner. The traitor trembles before his victim.

Too feeble to walk, Joan Darc is brought in upon a chair by two jailers with her feet chained. They deposit the chair a few paces before the ecclesiastical judges. Resolved to uphold the truth until death, Joan asks herself what crimes she could have committed. She has maintained the reality of the visions that she had; she has conscientiously submitted all the acts of her life to the judgment of her sovereign master--G.o.d. Convinced though she is of the bias and perfidy of the ecclesiastical tribunal, she is still unable to believe her condemnation possible, or rather she racks her mind to fathom its motive. A feverish hue has slightly colored her pale face. She partially rises from her seat, supporting herself on its arms. Her large black eyes are anxiously fixed upon her judges. She waits in the midst of the profound silence that falls upon the a.s.sembly at her entrance.

Dressed in his canonical robes, Canon Maurice holds in his hands a parchment on which the sentence that he is about to read is written.

The virgin warrior, defending her country's soil, had proved herself the peer of the most ill.u.s.trious captains.

The Christian maid had usually kept her sword in its scabbard, and even in the heat of the most stubbornly contested battles never used it against men. She contented herself with guiding her soldiers with it and with her standard. Every day, when at all possible, she knelt in the temple and held communion with the angels. In the letters that she addressed to the foreign captains and the chiefs of the civil factions, she conjured the English in the name of the G.o.d of charity, of concord and of justice to abandon a country that they held contrary to right and that they ruled with violence, and she promised to them mercy and peace if they renounced the iniquitous conquest that rapine and ma.s.sacre had rendered still more odious. When she addressed herself to the Frenchmen in arms against the French she ever reminded them that they were of France, and conjured them to join against the common enemy.

As a woman, Joan Darc ever gave the example of the most generous and most angelic virtues. Her chast.i.ty inspired her with sublime words that will remain the admiration of the centuries.

How could the ecclesiastical judges formulate against the warrior, the Christian and the virgin a single accusation that does not cause common judgment to revolt? an accusation that is not a heinous outrage, a despicable insult, a sacrilegious challenge cast at all that ever has been and ever will be the object of man's admiration?

These infamous ecclesiastics, these bishops sold to the English, ransacked the canons of the Church and the decretals of the Inquisition, and with the aid of these found twelve capital charges against the warrior, the Christian and the virgin.

Twelve capital charges! And what is still more abominable, in the eyes of the orthodox judges, the charges are well founded and legitimate.

They are the "complete, absolute, irrevocable and infallible" expression of the Roman Church. They flow in point of right, from the legal application of the jurisdiction of a church that is infallible, eternal and divine--one as G.o.d; infallible as G.o.d; divine as G.o.d; eternal as G.o.d!--according to the claims of the ecclesiastics!

The sentence of Joan is supposed to be the summary of the life of the Maid, now present before her judges, and though broken and feverish, yet with a soul full of faith and of energy.

The session is re-opened.

BISHOP CAUCHON (addressing the accused in a grave voice)--"Joan, our very dear brother Maurice will read to you the sentence that has been p.r.o.nounced upon you." (The Bishop devoutly crosses himself.)

ALL THE JUDGES (crossing themselves)--"Amen."

CANON MAURICE (reading in a sepulchral and threatening voice)--"'First: You said, Joan, that at thirteen years you had revelations and apparitions of angels and saints to whom you give the name of St.

Michael, of St. Marguerite and of St. Catherine. You said you frequently saw them with the eyes of your body. You said that you frequently conversed with them.

"'Upon this point, and considering the aim and final object of these revelations and apparitions, the nature of the matters revealed, and the quality of your person, the Church p.r.o.nounces your revelations and visions to be fraudulent, seductive, pernicious, and proceeding from the evil spirit of the devil.'"

Canon Maurice stops for a moment in order that the gravity of the first charge be properly weighed and appreciated by Joan Darc. But the words that she has just heard carry her back to the days of her childhood, days of peace that flowed in the midst of the sweet enjoyments of her family. She forgets the present and becomes absorbed in the recollection of her infancy, a recollection at once sweet and bitter to her.

CANON MAURICE (proceeds to read)--"'Secondly: Joan, you said that your King, having recognized you by your signs as truly sent by G.o.d, gave you men of arms to do battle with. You said that St. Marguerite and St.

Catherine accompanied you to Chinon and other places, where they guided you with their advice.

"'The Church p.r.o.nounces this declaration mendacious and derogatory to the dignity of the saints and the angels.

"'Thirdly: Joan, you said that you recognized the angels and the saints by the advice that they gave you. You said that you believed the apparitions to be good, and that you believe that as firmly as you do in the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ. This is an outrage to the Divinity.

"'The Church declares that those are not determining signs to recognize the saints by; that your belief is temerarious, your claim braggard, and that you err in the faith. You are outside of the pale of the communion of the faithful.'"

Recalled from her revery, Joan Darc listens to this new accusation without understanding it. In what did she brag? In what was she temerarious? In what did she lie? She recognized the saints by the wisdom of their counsel when they said to her: "Joan, be pious, behave as a wise girl; heaven will support you in driving the foreigners from Gaul." The promise of her saints is verified. She has won brilliant victories over the enemy of France. Where is the lie, the temerariousness, the bragging?

CANON MAURICE (reads)--"'Fourthly: Joan, you said you were endowed with the faculty of knowing certain things that lay in the future, and that you recognized your King without ever having seen him before.

"'The Church p.r.o.nounces you convicted of presumption, arrogance and witchcraft.'"

Without concerning herself about the imputation of witchcraft, that seems to her senseless, Joan Darc sighs at the recollection of her first interview at Chinon with "the gentle Dauphin of France," when, drawn towards him out of commiseration for his misfortunes and devoted to the royalty, Charles VII received her with a miserable buffoonery, thereupon imposed upon her, upon so chaste a girl, an infamous examination, and then sent her to a council of ecclesiastics a.s.sembled in Poitiers, who, struck by the sincerity of her responses, declared her divinely inspired. And, now, here is another set of priests, speaking in the name of the same Church, and treating her as a witch!

CANON MAURICE (reads)--"'Fifthly: Joan, you said that by the advice of G.o.d you wore and continue to wear male attire--a short jacket, hose fastened with hooks, cap, and hair cut short down to your ears--preserving nothing that denotes your s.e.x except what nature itself betrays. Before being taken prisoner, you frequently partook of the holy Eucharist in manly costume; and despite all our efforts to induce you to renounce such a costume, you obstinately persevere in keeping it, pretending to act by the advice of G.o.d.

"'The Church p.r.o.nounces you upon that head a blasphemer of G.o.d, a contemner of its sacraments, a transgressor of divine law, of Holy Writ and of canonical sanction. The Church p.r.o.nounces you astray and errant in the faith, and idolatrous after the fashion of the gentiles.'"

With her mind upon the chaste motives that had decided her to a.s.sume male attire so long as her divine mission compelled her to live in camps near soldiers; remembering also with what zeal priests had admitted her to communion when, clad in her martial outfit, she came to thank G.o.d for having granted her victory, Joan Darc asks herself by what mental aberration another set of priests of Christ can see in her a blasphemer and an idolatress after the fashion of the gentiles!

CANON MAURICE (reads)--"'Sixthly: Joan, you said that often you caused the divine names of Jesus and Mary to be placed at the head of the letters, which you addressed to captains and others, and that afterwards, at the bottom of the said letters, you drew the revered sign of the cross. In those homicidal letters, you boasted that you would cause the death of those who should dare resist your insolent orders.

You affirmed that you spoke and acted thus by divine inspiration and suggestion.

"'The Church p.r.o.nounces you a traitor, mendacious, cruel, desirous of shedding human blood, seditious, a provoker of tyranny and a blasphemer of G.o.d in His holy commandments and revelations.'"

At this stupid and iniquitous accusation, Joan Darc is unable to resist a tremor of indignation. They accuse her of cruelty, of causing the shedding of human blood--her who on the very day of her triumphal entry into Orleans, seeing an English prisoner fall under the blows of a brutal mercenary, was so moved with pity that she precipitated herself from her horse and knelt down beside the wounded soldier, whose head she raised, and for whom she implored help! She, desirous of the effusion of human blood! She who on many occasions saved English prisoners from ma.s.sacre and set them free! She who, under the invocation of Christ, wrote so many letters making ardent pleas for peace! She who dictated the touching missive to the Duke of Burgundy imploring him to put an end to the disasters of civil war! She who ever marched into battle, confronting death with no weapon in her hand other than her banner of white satin! She whose own blood ran on the field of battle and who never shed the blood of any!

CANON MAURICE (reads)--"'Seventhly: Joan, you said that, as a result of your revelations, you left the paternal roof at the age of seventeen years, against the will of your parents, who were plunged by your departure into a sorrow that verged upon distraction; that you then went to a captain named Robert of Baudricourt, who had you escorted to Chinon to your King, to whom you said that you came in the name of G.o.d to drive away the English and restore him his crown.

"'The Church p.r.o.nounces you impious towards your parents; a transgressor of the commandment of G.o.d--"Thou shalt honor thy father and mother;" a blasphemer of the Lord; erring in your faith; and the maker of presumptuous and temerarious promises in defiance of our mother the Church.'"

This accusation is as unjust as the preceding ones. What heartrending agonies did not Joan undergo when, beset by her voices that daily said to her: "March to the deliverance of France!" she felt compelled to resign herself to the idea of leaving her dearly beloved and revered parents! How many times, overcoming the intoxication of her victories, has she not felt and declared: "I would prefer to be sewing and spinning near my dear mother!" And when, become the arbiter of the destiny of France, she received a letter from her father who whelmed her with blessings and pardoned her departure, did she not cry out, less delighted at her triumphs than at the paternal clemency, "My father has pardoned me!" And yet, despite the saintly absolution, these ecclesiastics accuse her of trampling under foot the commandments of G.o.d!