Jeanne D'Arc: Her Life And DeathOliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
History
Jeanne D'Arc: Her Life And Death
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
France -- History; Joan, of Arc, Saint, 1412-1431
"The great news of this capture should be spread everywhere and brought
to the knowledge of all, that they may see the error of those who could
believe and lend themselves to the pretensions of such a woman. We write
this in the hope of giving you joy, comfort, and consolation, and that
you may thank God our Creator. Pray that it may be His holy will to be
more and more favourable to the enterprises of our royal master and to
the restoration of his sway over all his good and faithful subjects."
This royal master was Henry VI. of England, the baby king, doomed
already to expiate sins that were not his, by the saddest life and
reign. The French historians whimsically but perhaps not unnaturally,
have the air of putting down this baseness on Philip's part, and on that
of his contemporaries in general, to the score of the English, which is
hard measure, seeing that the treachery of a Frenchman could in no way
be attributed to the other nation of which he was the natural enemy, or
at least, antagonist. Very naturally the subsequent proceedings in all
their horror and cruelty are equally put down to the English account,
although Frenchmen took, exulted over as a prisoner, tried and condemned
as an enemy of God and the Church, the spotless creature who was France
incarnate, the very embodiment of her country in all that was purest and
noblest. We shall see with what spontaneous zeal all France, except her
own small party, set to work to accomplish this noble office.
Almost before one could draw breath the University of Paris claimed her
as a proper victim for the Inquisition. Compiègne made no sally for
her deliverance; Charles, no attempt to ransom her. From end to end of
France not a finger was lifted for her rescue; the women wept over her,
the poor people still crowded around the prisoner wherever seen, but the
France of every public document, of every practical power, the living
nation, when it did not utter cries of hatred, kept silence. We in
England have over and over again acknowledged with shame our guilty part
in her murder; but still to this day the Frenchman tries to shield
his under cover of the English influence and terror. He cannot deny La
Tremoïlle, nor Cauchon, nor the University, nor the learned doctors
who did the deed; individually he is ready to give them all up to the
everlasting fires which one cannot but hope are kept alive for some
people in spite of all modern benevolences; but he skilfully turns back
to the English as a moving cause of everything. Nothing can be more
untrue. The English were not better than the French, but they had the
excuse at least of being the enemy. France saved by a happy chance her
_blanches mains_ from the actual blood of the pure and spotless Maid;
but with exultation she prepared the victim for the stake, sent her
thither, played with her like a cat with a mouse and condemned her to
the fire. This is not to free us from our share: but it is the height of
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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