Then recurred the same old questions: “When you went to the attack on Paris did you receive a revelation from your Voices? Was it revealed to you that you should go against La Charité? Was it a revelation that caused you to go to Pont-l’Evêque?”
She denied that she had then received any revelation from her Voices.
The last question was: “Did you not say before Paris, ‘Surrender the town in the name of Jesus’?”
She answered that she had not spoken those words, but had said, “Surrender the town to the King of France.”
The Parisians who were engaged in repelling the attack had heard her saying, “Surrender to us speedily in the name of Jesus.” These words are consistent with all we know of Jeanne in the early years of her career. She believed it to be the will of Messire that the towns of the realm should surrender to her, whom he had sent to reconquer them. We have noticed already that at the time of her trial Jeanne had completely lost touch with her early illuminations and that she spoke in quite another language.
On the morrow, Wednesday, the 14th of March, there were two more examinations in the prison. The morning interrogatory turned on the leap from Beaurevoir. She confessed to having leapt without permission from her Voices, preferring to die rather than to fall into the hands of the English.
She was accused of blasphemy against God; but that was false.
The Bishop intervened: “You have said that we, the Lord Bishop, run great danger by bringing you to trial. Of what danger were you speaking? In what peril do we stand, we, your judges, and others?”
“I said to my Lord of Beauvais: ‘You declare that you are my judge, I know not if you be. But take heed that ye judge not wrongly, for thus would ye run great danger; and I warn you, so that if Our Lord chastise you for it, I have done my duty by warning you.’”
“What is this peril or this danger?”
“Saint Catherine has told me that I shall have succour. I know not whether it will be my deliverance from prison, or whether, during the trial, some tumult shall arise whereby I shall be delivered. I think it will be either one or the other. My Voices most often tell me I shall be delivered by a great victory. And afterwards they say to me: ‘Be thou resigned, grieve not at thy martyrdom; thou shalt come in the end to the kingdom of Paradise.’ This do my Voices say unto me simply and absolutely. I mean to say without fail. And I call my martyrdom the trouble and anguish I suffer in prison. I know not whether still greater sufferings are before me, but I wait on the Lord.”
It would seem that thus her Voices promised the Maid at once a spiritual and a material deliverance, but the two could hardly occur together. This reply, expressive alike of fear and of illusion, was one to call forth pity from the hardest; and yet her judges regarded it merely as a means whereby they might entrap her. Feigning to understand that from her revelations she derived a heretical confidence in her eternal salvation, the examiner put to her an old question in a new form. She had already given it a saintly answer. He inquired whether her Voices had told her that she would finally come to the kingdom of Paradise if she continued in the assurance that she would be saved and not condemned in Hell. To this she replied with that perfect faith with which her Voices inspired her: “I believe what my Voices have told me touching my salvation as strongly as if I were already in Paradise.”
Such a reply was heretical. The examiner, albeit he was not accustomed to discuss the Maid’s replies, could not forbear remarking that this one was of great importance.
Accordingly in the afternoon of that same day, she was shown a consequence of her error; to wit, that if she received from her Voices the assurance of eternal salvation she needed not to confess.
On this occasion Jeanne was questioned touching the affair of Franquet d’Arras. The Bailie of Senlis had done wrong in asking the Maid for her prisoner, the Lord Franquet, in order to put him to death, and Jeanne’s judges now incriminated her.
The examiner pointed out the mortal sins with which the accused might be charged: first, having attacked Paris on a feast-day; second, having stolen the hackney of the Lord Bishop of Senlis; third, having leapt from Beaurevoir; fourth, having worn man’s dress; fifth, having consented to the death of a prisoner of war. Touching all these matters, Jeanne did not believe that she had committed mortal sin; but with regard to the leap from Beaurevoir she acknowledged that she was wrong, and that she had asked God to forgive her.
It was sufficiently established that the accused had fallen into religious error. The tribunal of the Inquisition, out of its abounding mercy, desired the salvation of the sinner. Wherefore on the morning of the very next day, Thursday, the 15th of March, my Lord of Beauvais exhorted Jeanne to submit to the Church, and essayed to make her understand that she ought to obey the Church Militant, for the Church Militant was one thing and the Church Triumphant another. Jeanne listened to him dubiously. On that day she was again questioned touching her flight from the château of Beaulieu and her intention to leave the tower without the permission of my Lord of Beauvais. As to the latter she was firmly resolute.
“Were I to see the door open, I would go, and it would be with the permission of Our Lord. I firmly believe that if I were to see the door open and if my guards and the other English were beyond power of resistance, I should regard it as my permission and as succour sent unto me by Our Lord. But without permission I would not go, save that I might essay to go, in order to know whether it were Our Lord’s will. The proverb says: ‘Help thyself and God will help thee.’ This I say so that, if I were to go, it should not be said I went without permission.”
Then they reverted to the question of her wearing man’s dress.
“Which would you prefer, to wear a woman’s dress and hear mass, or to continue in man’s dress and not to hear mass?”
“Promise me that I shall hear mass if I am in woman’s dress, and then I will answer you.”
“I promise you that you shall hear mass when you are in woman’s dress.”
“And what do you say if I have promised and sworn to our King not to put off these clothes? Nevertheless, I say unto you: ‘Have me a robe made, long enough to touch the ground, but without a train. I will go to mass in it; then, when I come back, I will return to my present clothes.’”
“You must wear woman’s dress altogether and without conditions.”
“Send me a dress like that worn by your burgess’s daughters, to wit, a long houppelande; and I will take it and even a woman’s hood to go and hear mass. But with all my heart I entreat you to leave me these clothes I am now wearing, and let me hear mass without changing anything.”
Her aversion to putting off man’s dress is not to be explained solely by the fact that this dress preserved her best against the violence of the men-at-arms; it is possible that no such objection existed. She was averse to wearing woman’s dress because she had not received permission from her Voices; and we may easily divine why not. Was she not a chieftain of war? How humiliating for such an one to wear petticoats like a townsman’s wife! And above all things just now, when at any moment the French might come and deliver her by some great feat of arms. Ought they not to find their Maid in man’s attire, ready to put on her armour and fight with them?
Thereafter the examiner asked her whether she would submit to the Church, whether she made a reverence to her Voices, whether she believed the saints, whether she offered them lighted candles, whether she obeyed them, whether in war she had ever done anything without their permission or contrary to their command.
Then they came to the question which they held to be the most difficult of all:
“If the devil were to take upon himself the form of an angel, how would you know whether he were a good angel or a bad?”
She replied with a simplicity which appeared presumptuous: “I should easily discern whether it were Saint Michael or an imitation of him.”
Two days later, on Saturday, the 17th of March, Jeanne was examined in her prison both morning and evening.
&
nbsp; Hitherto she had been very loath to describe the countenance and the dress of the angel and the saints who had visited her in the village. Maître Jean de la Fontaine endeavoured to obtain some light on this subject.
“In what form and semblance did Saint Michael come to you? Was he tall and how was he clothed?”
“He came in the form of a true prud’homme.”
Jeanne was not one to believe she saw the Archangel in a long doctor’s robe or wearing a cope of gold. Moreover it was not thus that he figured in the churches. There he was represented in painting and in sculpture, clothed in glittering armour, with a golden crown on his helmet. In such guise did he appear to her “in the form of a right true prud’homme,” to take a word from the Chanson de Roland, where a great sword thrust is called the thrust of a prud’homme. He came to her in the garb of a great knight, like Arthur and Charlemagne, wearing full armour.
Once again the examiner put to Jeanne that question on which her life or death depended:
“Will you submit all your deeds and sayings, good or bad, to the judgment of our mother, Holy Church?”
“As for the Church, I love her and would maintain her with all my power, for religion’s sake,” the Maid replied; “and I am not one to be kept from church and from hearing mass. But as for the good works which I have wrought, and touching my coming, for them I must give an account to the King of Heaven, who has sent me to Charles, son of Charles, King of France. And you will see that the French will shortly accomplish a great work, to which God will appoint them, in which they will shake nearly all France. I say it in order that when it shall come to pass, it may be remembered that I have said it.”
But she was unable to name the time when this great work should be accomplished; and Maître Jean de la Fontaine returned to the point on which Jeanne’s fate depended.
“Will you submit to the judgment of the Church?”
“I appeal to Our Lord, who hath sent me, to Our Lady and to all the blessed saints in Paradise. To my mind Our Lord and his Church are one, and no distinction should be made. Wherefore do you essay to make out that they are not one?”
In justice to Maître Jean de la Fontaine we are bound to admit the lucidity of his reply. “There is the Church Triumphant, in which are God, his saints, the angels and the souls that are saved,” he said. “There is also the Church Militant, which is our Holy Father, the Pope, the Vicar of God on earth; the cardinals, the prelates of the Church and the clergy, with all good Christians and Catholics; and this Church in its assembly cannot err, for it is moved by the Holy Ghost. Will you appeal to the Church Militant?”
“I am come to the King of France from God, from the Virgin Mary and all the blessed saints in Paradise and from the Church Victorious above and by their command. To this Church I submit all the good deeds I have done and shall do. As to replying whether I will submit to the Church Militant, for the present, I will make no further answer.”
Again she was offered a woman’s dress in which to hear mass; she refused it.
“As for a woman’s dress, I will not take it yet, not until it be Our Lord’s will. And if it should come to pass that I be taken to judgment and there divested of my clothes, I beg my lords of the Church the favour of a woman’s smock and covering for my head. I would rather die than deny what Our Lord hath caused me to do. I believe firmly that Our Lord will not let it come to pass that I should be cast so low, and that soon I shall have help from God, and that by a miracle.”
Thereafter the following questions were put to her: “Do you not believe to-day that fairies are evil spirits?”
“I do not know.”
“Do you know whether Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret hate the English?”
“They love what Our Lord loves and hate what God hates.”
“Does God hate the English?”
“Touching the love or hatred of God for the English and what he will do for their souls I know nothing. But I do know that they will all be driven out of France, save those who die there, and that God will send victory to the French and defeat to the English.”
“Was God on the side of the English when they prospered in France?”
“I know not whether God hated the French. But I believe that he permitted them to be beaten for their sins, if they were in sin.”
Jeanne was asked certain questions touching the banner on which she had caused angels to be painted.
She replied that she had had angels painted as she had seen them represented in churches.
At this point the examination was adjourned. The last interrogation in the prison took place after dinner. She had now endured fifteen in twenty-five days, but her courage never flagged. This last time the subjects were more than usually diverse and confused. First, the examiner essayed to discover by what charms and evil practices good fortune and victory had attended the standard painted with angelic figures. Then he wanted to know wherefore the clerks put on Jeanne’s letters the sacred names of Jésus and Marie.
Then came the following subtle question: “Do you believe that if you were married your Voices would come to you?”
It was well known that she dearly cherished her virginity. Certain of her words might be interpreted to mean that she considered this virginity to be the cause of her good fortune; wherefore her examiners were curious to know whether if she were adroitly approached she might not be brought to cast scorn on the married state and to condemn intercourse between husbands and wives. Such a condemnation would have been a grievous error, savouring of the heresy of the Cathari.
She replied: “I know not and I appeal to Our Lord.” Then there followed another question much more dangerous for one who like Jeanne loved her King with all her heart.
“Do you think and firmly believe that your King did right to kill or cause to be killed my Lord of Burgundy?”
“It was sore pity for the realm of France.”
Then did the examiner put to her this grave question: “Do you hold yourself bound to answer the whole truth to the Pope, God’s Vicar, on all that may be asked you touching religion and your conscience?”
“I demand to be taken before him. Then will I make unto him such answer as behoveth.”
These words involved an appeal to the Pope, and such an appeal was lawful. “In doubtful matters touching on religion,” said St. Thomas, “there ought always to be an appeal to the Pope or to the General Council.” If Jeanne’s appeal were not in regular judicial form, it was not her fault. She was ignorant of legal matters and neither guide nor counsel had been granted to her. To the best of her knowledge, and according to wont and justice, she appealed to the common father of the faithful.
The doctors and masters were silent. And thus was closed against the accused the one way of deliverance remaining to her. She was now hopelessly lost. It is not surprising that Jeanne’s judges, who were partisans of England, ignored her right of appeal; but it is surprising that the doctors and masters of the French party, the clerks of the provinces loyal to King Charles, did not all and with one voice sign an appeal and demand that the Maid, who had been judged worthy by her examiners at Poitiers, should be taken before the Pope and the Council.
Instead of replying to Jeanne’s request, the examiners inquired further concerning those much discussed magic rings and apparitions of demons.
“Did you ever kiss and embrace the Saints, Catherine and Margaret?”
“I embraced them both.”
“Were they of a sweet savour?”
“It is well to know. Yea, their savour was sweet.”
“When embracing them did you feel heat or anything else?”
“I could not have embraced them without feeling and touching them.”
“What part did you kiss, face or feet?”
“It is more fitting to kiss their feet than their faces.”
“Did you not give them chaplets of flowers?”
“I have often done them honour by crowning with flowers their images in churches. But to those who
appeared to me never have I given flowers as far as I can remember.”
“Know you aught of those who consort with fairies?”
“I have never done so nor have I known anything about them. Yet I have heard of them and that they were seen on Thursdays; but I do not believe it, and to me it seems sorcery.”
Then came a question touching her standard, deemed enchanted by her judges. It elicited one of those epigrammatic replies she loved.
“Wherefore was your standard rather than those of the other captains carried into the church of Reims?”
“It had been in the contest, wherefore should it not share the prize?”
Now that the inquiries and examinations were concluded, it was announced that the preliminary trial was at an end. The so-called trial in ordinary opened on the Tuesday after Palm Sunday, the 27th of March, in a room near the great hall of the castle.
Before ordering the deed of accusation to be read, my Lord of Beauvais offered Jeanne the aid of an advocate. If this offer had been postponed till then, it was doubtless because in his opinion Jeanne had not previously needed such aid. It is well known that a heretic’s advocate, if he would himself escape falling into heresy, must strictly limit his methods of defence. During the preliminary inquiry he must confine himself to discovering the names of the witnesses for the prosecution and to making them known to the accused. If the heretic pleaded guilty then it was useless to grant him an advocate. Now my Lord maintained that the accusation was founded not on the evidence of witnesses but on the avowals of the accused. And this was doubtless his reason for not offering Jeanne an advocate before the opening of the trial in ordinary, which bore upon matters of doctrine.
The Lord Bishop thus addressed the Maid: “Jeanne,” said he, “all persons here present are churchmen of consummate knowledge, whose will and intention it is to proceed against you in all piety and kindness, seeking neither vengeance nor corporal chastisement, but your instruction and your return into the way of truth and salvation. As you are neither learned nor sufficiently instructed in letters or in the difficult matters which are to be discussed, to take counsel of yourself, touching what you should do or reply, we offer you to choose as your advocate one or more of those present, as you will. If you will not choose, then one shall be appointed for you by us, in order that he may advise you touching what you may do or say....”
Complete Works of Anatole France Page 466