From one point of view, however, he must have been pleased to perform this duty, since it afforded him the opportunity of attacking the King of France, Charles VII, and of thereby showing his devotion to the English cause, to which he was strongly attached.
Jeanne, dressed as a man, was brought up and placed at his side, before all the people.
Maître Guillaume Erard began his sermon in the following manner:
“I take as my text the words of God in the Gospel of Saint John, chapter xv: ‘The branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine.’ Thus it behoveth all Catholics to remain abiding in Holy Mother Church, the true vine, which the hand of Our Lord Jesus Christ hath planted. Now this Jeanne, whom you see before you, falling from error into error, and from crime into crime, hath become separate from the unity of Holy Mother Church and in a thousand manners hath scandalised Christian people.”
Then he reproached her with having failed, with having sinned against royal Majesty and against God and the Catholic Faith; and all these things must she henceforth eschew under pain of death by burning.
He declaimed vehemently against the pride of this woman. He said that never had there appeared in France a monster so great as that which was manifest in Jeanne; that she was a witch, a heretic, a schismatic, and that the King, who protected her, risked the same reproach from the moment that he became willing to recover his throne with the help of such a heretic.
Towards the middle of his sermon, he cried out with a loud voice:
“Ah! right terribly hast thou been deceived, noble house of France, once the most Christian of houses! Charles, who calls himself thy head and assumes the title of King hath, like a heretic and schismatic, received the words of an infamous woman, abounding in evil works and in all dishonour. And not he alone, but all the clergy in his lordship and dominion, by whom this woman, so she sayeth, hath been examined and not rejected. Full sore is the pity of it.”
Two or three times did Maître Guillaume repeat these words concerning King Charles. Then pointing at Jeanne with his finger he said:
“It is to you, Jeanne, that I speak; and I say unto you that your King is a heretic and a schismatic.”
At these words Jeanne was deeply wounded in her love for the Lilies of France and for King Charles. She was moved with great feeling, and she heard her Voices saying unto her:
“Reply boldly to the preacher who is preaching to you.”
Then obeying them heartily, she interrupted Maître Jean:
“By my troth, Messire,” she said to him, “saving your reverence, I dare say unto you and swear at the risk of my life, that he is the noblest Christian of all Christians, that none loveth better religion and the Church, and that he is not at all what you say.”
Maître Guillaume ordered the Usher, Jean Massieu, to silence her. Then he went on with his sermon, and concluded with these words: “Jeanne, behold my Lords the Judges, who oftentimes have summoned you and required you to submit all your acts and sayings to Mother Church. In these acts and sayings were many things which, so it seemed to these clerics, were good neither to say nor to maintain.”
“I will answer you,” said Jeanne. Touching the article of submission to the Church, she recalled how she had asked for all the deeds she had wrought and the words she had uttered to be reported to Rome, to Our Holy Father the Pope, to whom, after God, she appealed. Then she added: “And as for the sayings I have uttered and the deeds I have done, they have all been by God’s command.”
She declared that she had not understood that the record of her trial was being sent to Rome to be judged by the Pope.
“I will not have it thus,” she said. “I know not what you will insert in the record of these proceedings. I demand to be taken to the Pope and questioned by him.”
They urged her to incriminate her King. But they wasted their breath.
“For my deeds and sayings I hold no man responsible, neither my King nor another.”
“Will you abjure all your deeds and sayings? Will you abjure such of your deeds and sayings as have been condemned by the clerks?”
“I appeal to God and to Our Holy Father, the Pope.”
“But that is not sufficient. We cannot go so far to seek the Pope. Each Ordinary is judge in his own diocese. Wherefore it is needful for you to appeal to Our Holy Mother Church, and to hold as true all that clerks and folks well learned in the matter say and determine touching your actions and your sayings.”
Admonished with yet a third admonition, Jeanne refused to recant. With confidence she awaited the deliverance promised by her Voices, certain that of a sudden there would come men-at-arms from France and that in one great tumult of fighting-men and angels she would be liberated. That was why she had insisted on retaining man’s attire.
Two sentences had been prepared: one for the case in which the accused should abjure her error, the other for the case in which she should persevere. By the first there was removed from Jeanne the ban of excommunication. By the second, the tribunal, declaring that it could do nothing more for her, abandoned her to the secular arm. The Lord Bishop had them both with him.
He took the second and began to read: “In the name of the Lord, Amen. All the pastors of the Church who have it in their hearts faithfully to tend their flocks....”
Meanwhile, as he read, the clerks who were round Jeanne urged her to recant, while there was yet time. Maître Nicolas Loiseleur exhorted her to do as he had recommended, and to put on woman’s dress.
Maître Guillaume Erard was saying: “Do as you are advised and you will be delivered from prison.”
Then straightway came the Voices unto her and said: “Jeanne, passing sore is our pity for you! You must recant what you have said, or we abandon you to secular justice.... Jeanne, do as you are advised. Jeanne, will you bring death upon yourself!”
The sentence was long and the Lord Bishop read slowly:
“We judges, having Christ before our eyes and also the honour of the true faith, in order that our judgment may proceed from the Lord himself, do say and decree that thou hast been a liar, an inventor of revelations and apparitions said to be divine; a deceiver, pernicious, presumptuous, light of faith, rash, superstitious, a soothsayer, a blasphemer against God and his saints. We declare thee to be a contemner of God even in his sacraments, a prevaricator of divine law, of sacred doctrine and of ecclesiastical sanction, seditious, cruel, apostate, schismatic, having committed a thousand errors against religion, and by all these tokens rashly guilty towards God and Holy Church.”
Time was passing. Already the Lord Bishop had uttered the greater part of the sentence. The executioner was there, ready to take off the condemned in his cart.
Then suddenly, with hands clasped, Jeanne cried that she was willing to obey the Church.
The judge paused in the reading of the sentence.
An uproar arose in the crowd, consisting largely of English men-at-arms and officers of King Henry. Ignorant of the customs of the Inquisition, which had not been introduced into their country, these Godons could not understand what was going on; all they knew was that the witch was saved. Now they held Jeanne’s death to be necessary for the welfare of England; wherefore the unaccountable actions of these doctors and the Lord Bishop threw them into a fury. In their Island witches were not treated thus; no mercy was shown them, and they were burned speedily. Angry murmurs arose; stones were thrown at the registrars of the trial. Maître Pierre Maurice, who was doing his best to strengthen Jeanne in the resolution she had taken, was threatened and the coués very nearly made short work with him. Neither did Maître Jean Beaupère and the delegates from the University of Paris escape their share of the insults. They were accused of favouring Jeanne’s errors. Who better than they knew the injustice of these reproaches?
Certain of the high personages sitting on the platform at the side of the judge complained to the Lord Bishop that he had not gone on to the end of the sentence but had admitted Jeanne to repentance.
He was even reproached with insults, for one was heard to cry: “You shall pay for this.”
He threatened to suspend the trial.
“I have been insulted,” he said. “I will proceed no further until honourable amends have been done me.”
In the tumult, Maître Guillaume Erard unfolded a double sheet of paper, and read Jeanne the form of abjuration, written down according to the opinion of the masters. It was no longer than the Lord’s Prayer and consisted of six or seven lines of writing. It was in French and began with these words: “I, Jeanne....” The Maid submitted therein to the sentence, the judgment, and the commandment of the Church; she acknowledged having committed the crime of high treason and having deceived the people. She undertook never again to bear arms or to wear man’s dress or her hair cut round her ears.
When Maître Guillaume had read the document, Jeanne declared she did not understand it, and wished to be advised thereupon. She was heard to ask counsel of Saint Michael. She still believed firmly in her Voices, albeit they had not aided her in her dire necessity, neither had spared her the shame of denying them. For, simple as she was, at the bottom of her heart she knew well what the clerks were asking of her; she realised that they would not let her go until she had pronounced a great recantation. All that she said was merely in order to gain time and because she was afraid of death; yet she could not bring herself to lie.
Without losing a moment Maître Guillaume said to Messire Jean Massieu, the Usher: “Advise her touching this abjuration.”
And he passed him the document.
Messire Jean Massieu at first made excuse, but afterwards he complied and warned Jeanne of the danger she was running by her refusal to recant.
“You must know,” he said, “that if you oppose any of these articles you will be burned. I counsel you to appeal to the Church Universal as to whether you should abjure these articles or not.”
Maître Guillaume Erard asked Jean Massieu: “Well, what are you saying to her?”
Jean Massieu replied: “I make known unto Jeanne the text of the deed of abjuration and I urge her to sign it. But she declares that she knoweth not whether she will.”
At this juncture, Jeanne, who was still being pressed to sign, said aloud: “I wish the Church to deliberate on the articles. I appeal to the Church Universal as to whether I should abjure them. Let the document be read by the Church and the clerks into whose hands I am to be delivered. If it be their counsel that I ought to sign it and do what I am told, then willingly will I do it.”
Maître Guillaume Erard replied: “Do it now, or you will be burned this very day.”
And he forbade Jean Massieu to confer with her any longer.
Whereupon Jeanne said that she would liefer sign than be burned.
Then straightway Messire Jean Massieu gave her a second reading of the deed of abjuration. And she repeated the words after the Usher. As she spoke her countenance seemed to express a kind of sneer. It may have been that her features were contracted by the violent emotions which swayed her and that the horrors and tortures of an ecclesiastical trial may have overclouded her reason, subject at all times to strange vagaries, and that after such bitter suffering there may have come upon her the actual paroxysm of madness. On the other hand it may have been that with sound sense and calm mind she was mocking at the clerks of Rouen; she was quite capable of it, for she had mocked at the clerks of Poitiers. At any rate she had a jesting air, and the bystanders noticed that she pronounced the words of her abjuration with a smile. And her gaiety, whether real or apparent, roused the wrath of those burgesses, priests, artisans, and men-at-arms who desired her death.
“’Tis all a mockery. Jeanne doth but jest,” they cried.
Among the most irate was Master Lawrence Calot, Secretary to the King of England. He was seen to be in a violent rage and to approach first the judge and then the accused. A noble of Picardy who was present, the very same who had essayed familiarities with Jeanne in the Castle of Beaurevoir, thought he saw this Englishman forcing Jeanne to sign a paper. He was mistaken. In every crowd there are those who see things that never happen. The Bishop would not have permitted such a thing; he was devoted to the Regent, but on a question of form he would never have given way. Meanwhile, under this storm of insults, amidst the throwing of stones and the clashing of swords, these illustrious masters, these worthy doctors grew pale. The Prior of Longueville was awaiting an opportunity to make an apology to the Cardinal of Winchester.
On the platform a chaplain of the Cardinal violently accused the Lord Bishop. “You do wrong to accept such an abjuration. ’Tis a mere mockery,” he said.
“You lie,” retorted my Lord Pierre. “I, the judge of a religious suit, ought to seek the salvation of this woman rather than her death.”
The Cardinal silenced his chaplain.
It is said that the Earl of Warwick came up to the judges and complained of what they had done, adding: “The King is not well served, since Jeanne escapes.”
And it is stated that one of them replied: “Have no fear, my Lord. She will not escape us long.”
It is hardly credible that any one should have actually said so, but doubtless there were many at that time who thought it.
With what scorn must the Bishop of Beauvais have regarded those dull minds, incapable of understanding the service he was rendering to Old England by forcing this damsel to acknowledge that all she had declared and maintained in honour of her King was but lying and illusion.
With a pen that Massieu gave her Jeanne made a cross at the bottom of the deed.
In the midst of howls and oaths from the English, my Lord of Beauvais read the more merciful of the sentences. It relieved Jeanne from excommunication and reconciled her to Holy Mother Church. Further the sentence ran:
“... Because thou hast rashly sinned against God and Holy Church, we, thy judges, that thou mayest do salutary penance, out of our Grace and moderation, do condemn thee finally and definitely to perpetual prison, with the bread of sorrow and the water of affliction, so that there thou mayest weep over thy offences and commit no other that may be an occasion of weeping.”
This penalty, like all other penalties, save death and mutilation, lay within the power of ecclesiastical judges. They inflicted it so frequently that in the early days of the Holy Inquisition, the Fathers of the Council of Narbonne said that stones and mortar would become as scarce as money. It was a penalty doubtless, but one which in character and significance differed from the penalties inflicted by secular courts; it was a penance. According to the mercy of ecclesiastical law, prison was a place suitable for repentance, where, in one perpetual penance, the condemned might eat the bread of sorrow and drink the waters of affliction.
How foolish was he, who by refusing to enter that prison or by escaping from it, should reject the salutary healing of his soul! By so doing he was fleeing from the gentle tribunal of penance, and the Church in sadness cut him off from the communion of the faithful. By inflicting this penalty, which a good Catholic must needs regard rather as a favour than a punishment, my Lord the Bishop and my Lord the Holy Vicar of the Inquisition were conforming to the custom, whereby our Holy Mother Church became reconciled to heretics. But had they power to execute their sentence? The prison to which they condemned Jeanne, the expiatory prison, the salutary confinement, must be in a dungeon of the Church. Could they send her there?
Jeanne, turning towards them, said: “Now, you Churchmen, take me to your prison. Let me be no longer in the hands of the English.”
Many of those clerics had promised it to her. They had deceived her. They knew it was not possible; for it had been stipulated that the King of England’s men should resume possession of Jeanne after the trial.
The Lord Bishop gave the order: “Take her back to the place whence you brought her.”
He, a judge of the Church, committed the crime of surrendering the Church’s daughter reconciled and penitent, to laymen. Among them she could not mourn over her sins; a
nd they, hating her body and caring nought for her soul, were to tempt her and cause her to fall back into error.
While Jeanne was being taken back in the cart to her tower in the fields, the soldiers insulted her and their captains did not rebuke them.
Thereafter, the Vice-Inquisitor and with him divers doctors and masters, went to her prison and charitably exhorted her. She promised to wear woman’s apparel, and to let her head be shaved.
The Duchess of Bedford, knowing that she was a virgin, saw to it that she was treated with respect. As the ladies of Luxembourg had done formerly, she essayed to persuade her to wear the clothing of her sex. By a certain tailor, one Jeannotin Simon, she had had made for Jeanne a gown which she had hitherto refused to wear. Jeannotin brought the garment to the prisoner, who this time did not refuse it. In putting it on, Jeannotin touched her bosom, which she resented. She boxed his ears; but she consented to wear the gown provided by the Duchess.
CHAPTER XIV
THE TRIAL FOR RELAPSE — SECOND SENTENCE — DEATH OF THE MAID
ON the following Sunday, which was Trinity Sunday, there arose a rumour that Jeanne had resumed man’s apparel. The report spread rapidly from the castle down the narrow streets where lived the clerks in the shadow of the cathedral. Straightway notaries and assessors hastened to the tower which looked on the fields.
In the outer court of the castle they found some hundred men-at-arms, who welcomed them with threats and curses. These fellows did not yet understand that the judges had conducted the trial so as to bring honour to old England and dishonour to the French. They did not realise what it meant when the Maid of the Armagnacs, who hitherto had obstinately persisted in her utterances, was at length brought to confess her impostures. They did not see how great was the advantage to their country when it was published abroad throughout the world that Charles of Valois had been conducted to his coronation by a heretic. But no, the only idea these brutes were capable of grasping was the burning of the girl prisoner who had struck terror into their hearts. The doctors and masters they treated as traitors, false counsellors and Armagnacs.
Complete Works of Anatole France Page 469