by Eugène Sue
The door of the cell closes behind the canon. Silence and darkness resume their empire in Joan’s dungeon. The plot to cause Joan’s condemnation, induce her abjuration and then provoke her relapse so as to justify her being publicly burned to death is being carried out to the letter.
CHAPTER IX.
THE WORM TURNS.
IT IS EIGHT o’clock of the following morning. Joan Darc is again clad in her male attire. She is again chained. Her handsome face is bruised from the blows that she received in the nocturnal struggle. One thought only absorbs her mind — can she manage to confess aloud the truth of what she has denied? The heroine’s expectations are met by the event. Instructed by his accomplice of the happenings of the day before, the Bishop has commissioned several judges to visit Joan in her cell. They are seven. Here are their names:
Nicolas of Venderesse, William Haiton, Thomas of Courcelles, Isambard of La Pierre, James Camus, Nicolas Bertin, Julien Floquet.
Considering her crime flagrant, Joan Darc feels a bitter joy at the sight of the priests. Her head erect, calm, resolute, she seems to challenge their questions. Out of modesty and dignity, however, and unwilling to run the risk of blushing before these men, she decides to be silent upon the attempt of the previous night. The judges range themselves around the couch of the enchained captive.
Thomas of Courcelles (affecting astonishment)— “What, Joan, again in man’s attire? And despite your oath to renounce such idolatrous garb forever?”
Joan Darc (tersely)— “I have resumed these clothes because I was forced to.”
Nicolas of Venderesse— “You have violated your oath.”
Joan Darc (indignant)— “It is you who have violated yours! Have the promises made to me been kept? Have I been allowed to attend mass? Have I been restored to freedom after my abjuration? You are knaves and hypocrites!”
James Camus— “We had to conform to the ecclesiastical sentence which condemns you to perpetual imprisonment.”
Joan Darc— “I prefer to die rather than remain in this prison. (She shivers with horror at the thought of the previous night’s attempt upon her.) Had I been allowed to attend mass, had I been left in a decent place, free from my chains, and kept by women, I would have continued to clothe myself in the garb of my sex. If there is any fault, it lies with you.”
Isambard of la Pierre— “Have you heard your voices since your condemnation?”
Joan Darc (with bitterness)— “Yes; I have heard them.”
The priests look at one another and exchange meaning looks.
William Haiton— “What did your voices say to you? We want to know.”
Joan Darc (with a firm voice)— “They told me I committed an act of cowardice by denying the truth.”
James Camus— “And before the abjuration, what did your voices say?”
Joan Darc (intrepidly looking at her judges)— “My voices said to me it would be criminal to deny the divine inspiration that ever guided me. (Commotion among the judges.) Upon the scaffold my voices said to me: ‘Answer that preacher boldly — he is a false priest!’ Woe is me, I did not obey my voices!”
The judges remain silent for a moment, and exchange expressive looks.
Thomas of Courcelles— “These words are as rash as they are criminal. After having abjured, you relapse into your damnable errors!”
Joan Darc (in a ringing voice)— “The error lies in lying — by abjuring I lied! What is damnable is to damn one’s soul, and I damned it by not maintaining that I obeyed the will of heaven! My voices have reproached me for having abjured.”
James Camus— “Thus, after resuming male attire, a capital crime, an unpardonable crime which makes you a relapsed one, revolvistis ad vestrum vomitum — you have returned to your vomit, you dare maintain that those alleged voices—”
Joan Darc— “The voices of my saints — come from God.”
Thomas of Courcelles— “On the scaffold you confessed.”
Joan Darc— “On the scaffold I was a coward! I lied! I yielded to the feeling of terror!”
James Camus— “At this hour, thinking you no longer need to fear death, you come back to your former declarations.”
Joan Darc— “At this hour I maintain that only fear forced me to abjure, to confess the contrary of the truth. I prefer to die, rather than remain in this prison. I have spoken. You shall have not another word from me.”
James Camus— “Be it so!”
The priests file out slowly and silently. Joan Darc remains alone, on her knees upon the straw. She raises her eyes to the vault of her prison with a radiant, inspired face, and with her hands joined, she thanks her saints for the courage they have given her to expiate and annul her apostasy by resolutely marching to death.
CHAPTER X.
TO THE FLAMES!
THE SCENE CHANGES. After the last interrogatory of Joan the priests proceed to Bishop Cauchon in order to inform him of the issue of their visit to the prisoner — a result that the prelate expects, so much so that he has convoked a sufficient number of judges to meet in the chapel of the Archbishop’s palace at Rouen in order to proceed with the final sentence of the relapsed sinner. All the summoned prelates are assembled and in their seats in the chapel. Bishop Cauchon, seated in the center of the choir, presides, and orders silence with a gesture.
Bishop Cauchon— “My very dear brothers, Joan has fallen back into her damnable errors, and in contempt of her solemn abjuration, pronounced in the face of God and His Holy Writ, not only has she resumed her male attire, but she again stubbornly maintains that all that she has done and said was said and done by divine inspiration! I now call for your views, in the order of precedence, upon the fate of the said Joan who is now charged with having relapsed, reserving to myself the right of convoking you again, should I deem it necessary.”
Archdeacon Nicolas of Venderesse— “The said Joan should be given over to the secular arm, to be burned alive as a relapsed sinner.”
Abbot Agidie— “Joan is a relapsed heretic, no doubt about it. Nevertheless, I am of the opinion that a second abjuration should be proposed to her, under pain of being delivered to the secular arm.”
Canon John Pinchon— “Joan has relapsed; I shall adhere to whatever plan of punishment my very dear brothers may decide upon.”
Canon William Erard— “I pronounce the said Joan a relapsed sinner and deserving of the pyre.”
Chaplain Robert Gilbert— “Joan should be burned as a relapsed sinner and heretic.”
Abbot of St. Audoin— “The woman is a relapsed sinner. Let her abjure a second time or be condemned.”
Archdeacon John of Castillone— “Let the relapsed sinner be delivered to the secular arm.”
Canon Ermangard— “I demand the exemplary death of Joan.”
Deacon Boucher— “Joan should be sentenced as a relapsed one.”
Prior of Longueville— “That is my opinion. She should be burned alive.”
Father Giffard— “I think the relapsed sinner should be sentenced without delay.”
Father Haiton— “I pronounce the said Joan a relapsed sinner. I am for her speedy punishment, provided, however, she refuses to abjure a second time.”
Canon Marguerie— “Joan is a relapsed sinner. Let her be delivered up to secular justice.”
Canon John of L’Epee— “I am of my brother’s opinion. She should be burned to death.”
Canon Garin— “I think so, too.”
Canon Gastinel— “Let us give up the relapsed sinner to the pyre.”
Canon Pascal— “That is my opinion. Let her be burned to death.”
Father Houdenc— “The ridiculous explanations of the woman are to me an ample proof that she has always been an idolatress and a heretic. Besides that, she is a relapsed sinner. I demand that she be delivered to the secular arm without delay.”
Master John of Nibat— “The said Joan is impenitent and a relapsed sinner. Let her undergo her punishment.”
Father Fabre—
“A heretic by habit, hardened in her errors, a rebel to the Church, the body of the said Joan should be delivered to the flames, and her ashes cast to the winds.”
Abbot of Montemart— “I hold as my brother. Only I am of the opinion that she should be given a second chance to abjure.”
Father Guelon— “That is my opinion.”
Canon Coupequesne— “Mine also.”
Canon Guillaume— “Let the said Joan be offered a second chance to retract. If she refuses, then death.”
Canon Maurice— “I favor such a second summons, although I do not expect good results from it.”
Doctor William of Bandibosc— “I side with my very dear brother.”
Deacon Nicolas Caval— “The relapsed sinner should be treated without pity, according to her deserts. She should be burned to death.”
Canon Loyseleur— “The said Joan should be delivered to the temporal flames.”
Thomas of Courcelles— “The woman is a heretic and relapsed sinner. She may be summoned a second time, and told that if she persists in her errors, she has nothing to expect in this world.”
Father John Ledoux— “Although such a second attempt seems to me idle, it might be tried so as to demonstrate the inexhaustible kindness of our mother the Church.”
Master John Tiphaine— “I favor this second, though idle, attempt.”
Deacon Colombelle— “I am of the same opinion.”
Isambard of la Pierre— “Secular justice will take its course if the said Joan refuses to abjure a second time.”
From these opinions it transpires that some of the judges demand immediate death, while others, and these are a small majority, favor a second abjuration, although the opinion is general that the attempt is vain. The judges have learned from their accomplices that the heroine is now determined to seek in death the expiation of the confessions which only fear drew from her. More straightforward and frank in his projects, moreover, convinced of the success of his plan, the Bishop sums up the deliberation and absolutely opposes the idea of attempting a second abjuration. Do not most of those who favor the measure consider it idle? Why, then, try it? And even if it were certain that the relapsed sinner would abjure again, the performance would have a deplorable effect. Did not the soldiers and the people, exasperated at the clemency of the Church, cry “Treason!” and seem ready to riot at the time of the first abjuration? Is it wise to incur and provoke a terrible turmoil in the town? Has not the Church given evidence of her maternal charity by admitting Joan to penitence, despite her perverse heresy? How was this act of benevolence rewarded by her? It was rewarded with renewed and redoubled boastfulness, audacity and impiety! Bishop Cauchon closes, conjuring his very dear brothers in the name of the dignity of the Church, in the name of the peace of the town, in the name of their conscience, to declare without superfluous verbiage that the said Joan is a relapsed sinner, and, as such, is given over to the secular arm, in order to be led to death the next day, after being publicly excommunicated by the Church. The judges yield to the views of the prelate. The registrar enters the sentence of death, and the session rises.
Peter Cauchon is the first to leave the chapel. Outside he meets several English captains who are waiting for the issue of the deliberations. One of them, the Earl of Warwick, says to the prelate:
“Well, what has been decided shall be done with the witch?”
“Farewell! It is done!” answers the Bishop with glee.
“The Maid—”.
“Shall be burned to-morrow — burned to death in public,” interrupts Bishop Cauchon.
CHAPTER XI.
THE PYRE.
DURING THE EVENING of May 29, 1431, the rumor spreads through Rouen that the relapsed sinner is to be burned to death on the following day. That same night carpenters raise the necessary scaffoldings while others build the pyre and plant the stake. Early the next morning companies of English archers form a cordon around the market-place, where Joan Darc is to be executed, and a double file extends into one of the streets that runs into the place. The two files of soldiers leave a wide space between them, connecting the street with the vacant area left around the scaffoldings. These are three in number, the highest of the three being at a little distance from the other two. On one of these, the one to the right, which is covered with purple cloth, rises a daised seat of crimson, ornamented with tufts of white feathers and fringed with gold. A row of seats equally decked extends on both sides of the central and daised throne, which is reached by several steps covered with rich tapestry. The scaffold to the left is of the same dimensions as the first, but it, as well as the benches thereon, is draped in black. The last of the three scaffolds consists of solid masonry about ten feet high, broad at the bottom, and ending in a narrow platform in the middle of which stands a stake furnished with iron chains and clamps. The platform is reached by a narrow set of stairs that is lost to sight in the midst of an enormous pile of fagots mixed with straw and saturated with bitumen and sulphur. The executioners have just heaped up the combustibles on the four sides of the pile of masonry. Tall poles, fastened in the ground close to the pyre bear banners on which the following legends are to be read in large white letters on a black ground:
“Joan, who had herself called the Maid, condemned to be burned alive.”
“Falsifier, misleader, and deceiver of the people.”
“Soothsayer, superstitious, blasphemer of God.”
“Presumptuous, apostate from the faith of Jesus Christ, idolatress, cruel, dissolute.”
“Invoker of devils.”
“Schismatic, relapsed.”
At eight all the bells of Rouen begin tolling the funeral knell. Poor Joan, she loved the bells so well in her childhood! The May sun, that same sun that shone upon the first defeat of the English before Orleans, pure and luminous, floods the three scaffolds with its light. The crowd grows thicker around the space kept vacant by the archers; other spectators are grouped at the windows and on the balconies of the old frame houses with pointed gables that enclose the market place. Presently flags and plumes are seen waving, the steel of the casques, the gold and precious stones of the mitres and crosiers are seen shining between the two files of archers. The casqued and mitred gentry are the English captains and the prelates. Prominent among them is the Cardinal of Winchester, Clad in the Roman purple and followed by the Bishop of Boulogne and the Bishop of Beauvais, Peter Cauchon. Behind them come the Earl of Warwick and other noble captains. Slowly and majestically they ascend the stairs of the platform to the right of the pyre. The Cardinal takes his seat upon the dais, while the other dignitaries distribute themselves to his right and left. The other scaffold, that is draped in black, is occupied by the judges of the process, its institutor, its assessors and its registrars.
The appearance and arrival of these illustrious, learned or holy personages does not satisfy the gaping crowd; the condemned girl has not yet appeared. Menacing clamors begin to circulate. These are loudest among the soldiers and the Burgundian partisans, who say:
“Will the Bishop keep his promise this time? Woe to him if he trifles with us.”
“Will the witch be burned at last?”
“The fagots are ready; the executioners are holding the lighted wicks.”
“She ought to be burned twice over, the infamous relapsed sinner!”
“She had the brazenness to declare that she abjured under the pressure of force! She persists in declaring herself inspired!”
“What an insolent liar! By St. George! could she ever have vanquished us without the assistance of the devil, us the best archers in the world? I was at the battle of Patay, where the best men of England were mowed down. I saw whole legions of demons rush upon us at her command. We could be vanquished only by such witchery.”
“Those demons, sir archer, were French soldiers!”
“Blood and death! Do you imagine plain soldiers are able to beat us? They were demons, by St. George! real horned and clawed demons, armed with flaming swor
ds — they plunged over our heads and pelted us with stones and balls!”
“It might have been the furious projectiles from some artillery pieces that were masked behind some hedge, sir archer.”
“Artillery pieces of Satan, yes; but of France, no!”
“As true as our Cardinal has his red hat on his head, if the strumpet of the Armagnacs is not burned this time, myself and the other archers of my company will roast Bishop Cauchon together with all his tonsured brethren.”
“Ha, ha, ha, ha! That is well said, my Hercules! To roast Bishop Cauchon like a pig! That would be a funny spectacle!”
“They are taking long! Death to the witch!”
“Do they expect us to sleep here to-night?”
“To the fagots with the heretic!”
“Death to the relapsed sinner!”
“To the pyre with the invoker of demons! The strumpet! Death to Joan!”
“She cheated the people!”
“She denies the religion of Jesus Christ!”
“To the pyre with the idolatress! The apostate! To the pyre with her, quick and soon!”
Such are the clamors of the English and the partisans of Burgundy. The royalists or Armagnacs are much less numerous. A few of them, especially women, experience a return of pity for Joan Darc, whose abjuration incensed all those who believed her inspired. With some this indignation still is uppermost and in full force. As these sentiments are indicative of sympathy, they are not uttered aloud but whispered out of fear of the English.
“Well, though the Maid’s strength once failed her, it will not fail her to-day.”
“It would seem that she had not lied to us. She will now maintain until death that she is inspired of God. Poor child.”
“And yet she abjured!”
“Whoever lied once may lie again.”
“If she abjured it was out of fear of the flames — that can be easily understood.”
