by Eugène Sue
The admirable answer disconcerts the prelates. The ingenuous and pure soul that they expected to entangle in the perfidious net of their theological subtleties, slipped from them with one stroke of its wings.
Bishop Cauchon (is the first to recover, he addresses Joan with severity)— “You answer us like an idolater. You are exposing your body and your soul to a grave peril.”
Joan Darc— “I could not answer otherwise, monseigneur.”
A Judge (harshly)— “You will then have to die an apostate.”
Joan Darc (with touching pride)— “I received baptism; I am a good Christian; I shall die a Christian.”
Bishop Cauchon— “Do you desire to receive the body of the Savior?”
Joan Darc— “Oh, I wish it with all my soul!”
Bishop Cauchon— “You will then have to submit to the Church militant.”
Joan Darc— “I serve God to the best of my ability — from Him I expect everything — nothing from the bishops, nothing from the priests, nothing from anybody.”
The Inquisitor— “If you refuse submission to the holy Roman Catholic and Apostolic Church you will be given up for a heretic, and condemned to be burned.”
Joan Darc (in a high degree of exaltation springing from her convictions and the disgust that the ecclesiastics inspire her)— “Even if the pyre stood ready I would answer no otherwise!”
Bishop Cauchon— “Joan, my dear daughter, your stiff-neckedness is execrable. Do you mean to say that if you stood before a council composed of our Holy Father, the cardinals and bishops, and they called upon you to submit to their decision—”
Joan Darc (interrupting him with pained impatience)— “Neither Pope, nor cardinals, nor bishops will draw from me other statements than those that I have made. Pray have mercy upon a poor creature! I am dying!” (She drops back upon the straw in a swoon.)
Bishop Cauchon— “Will you submit to the successor of St. Peter, our Holy Father? Answer categorically.”
Joan Darc (after a long pause and recovering)— “Have me taken to him, I shall ask him for his blessing.”
Bishop Cauchon— “What you say is insensate. Do you persist in keeping your male attire, a most blameworthy conduct?”
Joan Darc— “I would put on female clothes to go to church, if I could, in order to receive the body of my Savior. But back in my prison, I shall resume my male attire out of fear of being outraged by your people, as they have tried before now.”
The Inquisitor— “Once more and for the last time, and be careful: if you persist in your damnable error our holy mother the Church will be forced, despite her infinite mercy, to deliver you over to the secular arm, and it will then be all over with your body and soul.”
Joan Darc— “It would then be all over with your own souls — with the souls of yourselves who will have condemned me unjustly. Reflect upon that.”
Bishop Cauchon— “Joan, I must charitably declare to you that if you stubbornly persist in your ways, there are torturers near who will put you to the rack.(He points to the door, Joan shivers.) There are torturers near — they are waiting — they will put you to cruel torments, for the sole purpose of drawing less damnable answers from you.”
Joan Darc (yields at first to the terror of the thought of being tortured; the momentary weakness is, however, speedily overcome; she draws superhuman strength from the conviction of her innocence; sits up; casts a withering look upon the prelates and cries in an accent of indomitable resolution)— “Have my limbs torn one from the other! Have my soul leap out of my body! You shall be no further! And if the pain of the torture should draw from my distracted body aught that is contrary to what I have so far said, I take God for my witness, it will be pain alone that will have made me speak contrary to the truth!”
Bishop Cauchon— “Joan, your transport singularly aggravates your position.”
Joan Darc— “Listen, Oh, ye priests of Christ; listen, Oh, ye seigneurs of the Church; you are bent upon my death. If in order to make me die, if in order to execute me my clothes are to be taken off, I ask of you but a woman’s shirt to march in to the pyre.”
Bishop Cauchon (affecting astonishment)— “You pretend that you wear a man’s shirt and clothes by the command of God; why should you want a woman’s shirt to go to death in? This is a singular inconsistency.”
Joan Darc— “Because it is longer.”
The infamous ecclesiastics are determined to inflict upon the wretched young woman of hardly nineteen years all the tortures, from the rack to the pyre. A tremor, nevertheless, runs through them at the sublime modesty of the virgin, who requests of her butchers as a supreme act of mercy that she be allowed a woman’s shirt to go to death in because such a shirt was longer, because it could better conceal her figure from the public gaze. Bishop Cauchon alone remains unaffected.
Bishop Cauchon (harshly addressing his accomplices)— “My very dear brothers, we shall assemble in a room of the tower in order to deliberate upon the torture that should be inflicted upon Joan.”
The Bishop and his fellows depart from the cell, followed by the registrars.
CHAPTER V.
THE SENTENCE.
THE FULL ECCLESIASTICAL tribunal is assembled in a low, somber and vaulted apartment. The registrar reads to the ecclesiastical judges the last interrogatory, at which they had not all been present. They are to consider whether the accused shall be put to the torture.
Bishop Cauchon— “My very dear brothers, you are again assembled in the name of our holy Church.”
All the Judges— “Amen.”
Bishop Cauchon— “My very dear brothers, we Peter, Bishop of Beauvais by divine grace do, in view of the stubbornness of the said Joan, and in view of the pestilent heresy that her answers are poisoned with, consult with you, our very dear brothers, whether it is deemed expedient and urgent to submit the said Joan to the torture, to the end of obtaining from her answers and avowals that may save her poor soul from the eternal and her body from the temporal flames. Please give your opinion in the order of precedence.”
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 chastisement 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. 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 pronounce 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 naïvely put it. Nevertheless, Bishop Cauchon, who panted for the torture like a wolf at the smell of blood, seems greatly dis
pleased 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 pronounced 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 pronounced 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 — God. 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 assembly 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 illustrious 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 God 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 massacre 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 chastity 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 God; infallible as God; divine as God; eternal as God! — 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 pronounced 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 pronounces 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 God, 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 pronounces 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 pronounces 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 assembled 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: Joa
n, you said that by the advice of God 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 sex 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 God.
“‘The Church pronounces you upon that head a blasphemer of God, a contemner of its sacraments, a transgressor of divine law, of Holy Writ and of canonical sanction. The Church pronounces 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 assume 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 God 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 pronounces you a traitor, mendacious, cruel, desirous of shedding human blood, seditious, a provoker of tyranny and a blasphemer of God 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 massacre 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!
