that he is made in the image of God. To know Joan of Arc was to
know one who was wholly noble, pure, truthful, brave,
compassionate, generous, pious, unselfish, modest, blameless as
the very flowers in the fields–a nature fine and beautiful, a
character supremely great. To know her from that document would
be to know her as the exact reverse of all that. Nothing that she
was appears in it, everything that she was not appears there in
detail.
Consider some of the things it charges against her, and remember
who it is it is speaking of. It calls her a sorceress, a false prophet,
an invoker and companion of evil spirits, a dealer in magic, a
person ignorant of the Catholic faith, a schismatic; she is
sacrilegious, an idolater, an apostate, a blasphemer of God and His
saints, scandalous, seditious, a disturber of the peace; she incites
men to war, and to the spilling of human blood; she discards the
decencies and proprieties of her sex, irreverently assuming the
dress of a man and the vocation of a soldier; she beguiles both
princes and people; she usurps divine honors, and has caused
herself to be adored and venerated, offering her hands and her
vestments to be kissed.
There it is–every fact of her life distorted, perverted, reversed. As
a child she had loved the fairies, she had spoken a pitying word for
them when they were banished from their home, she had played
under their tree and around their fountain–hence she was a
comrade of evil spirits.
She had lifted France out of the mud and moved her to strike for
freedom, and led her to victory after victory–hence she was a
disturber of the peace–as indeed she was, and a provoker of
war–as indeed she was again! and France will be proud of it and
grateful for it for many a century to come. And she had been
adored–as if she could help that, poor thing, or was in any way to
blame for it. The cowed veteran and the wavering recruit had
drunk the spirit of war from her eyes and touched her sword with
theirs and moved forward invincible–hence she was a sorceress.
And so the document went on, detail by detail, turning these
waters of life to poison, this gold to dross, these proofs of a noble
and beautiful life to evidences of a foul and odious one.
Of course, the sixty-six articles were just a rehash of the things
which had come up in the course of the previous trials, so I will
touch upon this new trial but lightly. In fact, Joan went but little
into detail herself, usually merely saying, “That is not true–passez
outre”; or, “I have answered that before–let the clerk read it in his
record,” or saying some other brief thing.
She refused to have her mission examined and tried by the earthly
Church. The refusal was taken note of.
She denied the accusation of idolatry and that she had sought
men’s homage. She said:
“If any kissed my hands and my vestments it was not by my desire,
and I did what I could to prevent it.”
She had the pluck to say to that deadly tribunal that she did not
know the fairies to be evil beings. She knew it was a perilous thing
to say, but it was not in her nature to speak anything but the truth
when she spoke at all. Danger had no weight with her in such
things. Note was taken of her remark.
She refused, as always before, when asked if she would put off the
male attire if she were given permission to commune. And she
added this:
“When one receives the sacrament, the manner of his dress is a
small thing and of no value in the eyes of Our Lord.”
She was charge with being so stubborn in clinging to her male
dress that she would not lay it off even to get the blessed privilege
of hearing mass. She spoke out with spirit and said:
“I would rather die than be untrue to my oath to God.”
She was reproached with doing man’s work in the wars and thus