Nearly four months she was continually harassed by questions and persecutions the most ridiculous and absurd. Her enemies termed her a “sorceress and a heretic.” The assembled university, having pronounced her a schismatic, proceeded to threaten her with the stake. She was repeatedly examined respecting her visions, revelations, and intercourse with departed saints, and required to submit to the church the truth of her inspirations. “To God,” she replied, “the fountain of truth, I am willing to submit them.” By this answer, she drew upon herself the charge of denying the authority of the church. She appealed from her judges to the Pope, but her appeal was fruitless.
It was demanded whether she had not put her trust in a standard consecrated by magical incantations? Whether, at the coronation of Charles, she had not still displayed this mysterious standard? “Her trust,” she replied, “was in the image of the Almighty impressed on the banner, and that she, who had shared the danger of the field, was entitled to partake of the glory at Rheims.” Accused of violating the decorums of her sex, by assuming the habits and command over men, she boldly avowed and justified the purpose of this violation—“the defeat of the enemies of her country, and their expulsion from the kingdom.” During these examinations, she betrayed no weakness, nor gave to her persecutors any advantage; she disgraced not, when in the power of her determined adversaries, the heroism she had displayed in the field.
Every species of imposition and baseness was practised upon her; she was required to abjure the masculine habit, and a paper for this purpose was tendered her to sign, to which a promise was subjoined never more to bear arms. Having complied with this proposition, a new deed was substituted in its place, in which she was made to criminate herself by the most odious and false imputations. The malice of her enemies, aggravated by superstition, led them to accuse her of various crimes, particularly of a compact made with infernal spirits. After having received judgment, she was delivered over for sentence to the secular arm.
Harassed by injustice, exhausted by suffering, and subdued by cruelty, the spirit of Joan at length gave way; browbeaten by men of superior rank, condemned by those whose injunctions she had been accustomed to regard as sacred, basely deserted by the monarch she had served, sustained no longer by applause and success, her enthusiasm began to subside; the dreams of inspiration were superseded by the feelings of nature, while before the terrors of impending death, the visions of a distempered fancy faded away. Recanting, she acknowledged that she had been misled by illusions; which she solemnly engaged henceforward to renounce, and prayed to be reconciled to the bosom of the church. In consequence of this humiliation, her sentence was mitigated to perpetual imprisonment.
No steps were taken by Charles to rescue from destruction the deliverer of himself and the saviour of his dominions; nor, while he held in his hands, as prisoners of war, English of the first distinction, were any proposals offered to exchange them for the heroic Joan:—a memorable example of the gratitude of princes.
Political vengeance might here have ceased; but the malignity of the adversaries of the unfortunate Joan, was not yet fully glutted—barbarous and insatiable, they thirsted for her blood! Having consented to abjure the masculine habit, and to assume the habits and attire of her sex, it was determined to tempt her to a violation of her engagement. For that purpose a suit of men’s apparel was placed in her room, and spies were appointed to observe her conduct. Whether the sight of a dress associated with so many flattering, so many glorious ideas, induced her to re-assume it, or whether, as has been alleged, her own clothes were removed while she slept, and were designedly withheld from her, is of little moment; certain it is, that she was tempted in the solitude of her prison, to array herself in the forbidden garb. Seized by her treacherous enemies in this situation, and declared guilty of a relapse into heresy, she was excommunicated, and all pardon, and all mercy refused to her. Crowned with a paper, on which was inscribed the terms “apostate, heretic, and idolatress,” and guarded by armed soldiers, she was soon after delivered over to the stake, which had been erected for the purpose in the market-place of Rouen.
On the right hand of the scaffold, on which she was exposed to the savage fury of the people, were stationed the clergy, and on the left, the secular officers. In this situation, she was with solemn mockery, interrogated on the principles of her faith; principles, which in no respect appeared to differ from those of her merciless persecutors. A discourse was pronounced by Nicholas Midi, towards the conclusion of the ceremony, in which the poor culprit was informed that “the meek and merciful ministers of the Gospel had, for the execution of their sentence, consigned her over to the secular powers.”
The bailli of Rouen, less firm than the preacher, could only say, “Let it be.” The tears of Joan even softened the executioner, while the theologians, incapable of the weakness of humanity, remained firm and unmoved. “Dieu soit bene!”—“Blessed be God!” exclaimed the sufferer, as she placed herself upon the pile. Her body was quickly consumed, and her ashes were scattered to the winds. Thus perished this admirable woman, June 14, 1431, to whom “the more liberal and generous superstition of the ancients would have erected altars.” Thus were the services rendered by Joan to her ungrateful prince and country ultimately rewarded.
The following character of the maid of Orleans, from Fuller, is to be found in the preface to Mr. Southey’s Joan of Arc. “People found out a nest of miracles in her education, that so lion-like a spirit should be bred among sheep like David. Even after she went in man’s clothing, being armed cap-a-pie, and mounted on a brave steed; and which was a wonder, when she was on horseback, none was more bold and daring; when alighted, none more tame and meek; so that one could scarce see her for herself, she was so changed and altered, as if her spirits dismounted with her body.”
Some years after her decease, Joan was, by a bull of Pope Calixtus III., declared a martyr to her religion, her country, and her king. She is made by Chapelain the subject of a French epic poem, entitled La Pucelle.