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Page 16 text:
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done what she had promised amid incredible difficulties. She had given a king to France and given France to her king. Not by nr.ght nor by power had she done this out by the spirit of the Lord. She now asked to return to her father's home, but there were other cities to be conquered, and the leaders of f'ranee seeing how much she was adoreu by the people, were not disposed to part with so great an instrument of success, but. her enthusiasm was gone, her councils became timid and vacillating, the power over her soldiers was soon broken and she was taken a prisoner by the Burgundian army. Then she was sold by one potentate to another as if she were merchandise,—as if she was a slave, until she finally fell into the hands of the English. And where was Charles VII all th:s time? Was he straining every nerve to raise a ransom for the poor girl? Was he making appeals to her countrymen not to let the favorite of heaven, as they had long thought her, fall into the hands of the wolves who were thirsting for blood? Did he offer English prisoners of whom he had many in exchange? He did absolutely nothing. He sat still in stupid indifference and left her to her fate. The English regent, knowing that all the world would cry shame upon him if he killed a defenseless prisoner, did the most cruet thing that wickedness could devise—he handed her over to the bishops. They pretended to think her an enemy of the church and a sorceress who had used unlawful arts, though it was plain to every one who had ever been with her that she was as religious as she was patriotic; but they were friends of the English and angry because she had helped her own country men against them, so it was resolved that she should die. If they had hanged or beheaded her at once, it would have been merciful in comparison with their methods. Sixteen times did they bring her out from the dungeon, with heavy irons on her feet and hands, to answer the cruel questions in which they tried in every way to entrap her into saying that she had been helped by the devil. She gave such simple straightforward answers that they failed to make out what they wanted to, and finally induced her to sign a paper, confessing that she had been wrong in some things- she believed in. She was finally pronounced guilty of heresy. Joan guilty of heresy! On that ground there was never a more innocent person tried by the Inquisition. Her whole life was eminently virtuous. But nothing short of her death would satisfy the English so she was condemned to be burned at the stake. Picture that last sad scene in a life grown dear to us,—the scene of Joan’s martyrdom. She is dressed in a long white robe of penitence—the robe of sacrifice. She is led for the last time down the echoing stairs to the crowded courtyard. The streets are filled with people. Eight hundred English soldiers are surrounding and following the cortege and mocking her. She is looking wildly around for rescue, but in vain. She is calling upon the saints, but they do not answer. She is feeling the terrible humiliation and abandonment and shame in the sight of men. When the place for execution is reached,
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Page 15 text:
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weakness. The result was that owing to a peculiarity in her nervous constitution, her ow.i tnoughts and hones seemed to take audible voices, and returned to her as assurances and commands spoken to her by the saints. Saint Michael appeared to her in a flood of blinding light and told her to go to the help of the lrng and restore to him his realm. She went and longed that the angels who had appeared to her would carry her away, but her mission was clear. Fate had placed Joau of Arc in an unusual position. She must do her utmost to break the fearful strength of England; France must be saved; her people must he freed; liberty must be had at any cost. To accomplish this she at last set out for Orleans, where she told the captain that she was inspired by God to save her country from the Eng-l'sh. After pleading some time with this rough man he took her by the hand and swore to lead her to the king. At the court itself she found hes!tation and doubt, but there was something so strange, so persistent, so honest about her that they decided that it was quite safe to let her go on and do what she could. And now we have her just as she had been longing to be. Mounted on a magnificent white horse, dressed n a slrn'ng suit of armor, a white banner embroidered with golden Flies, carried before her, and a large body of men at arms following her, she set boldly forward to fulfill her mission; to save France and crown its lawful king. Imagine this girl of only seventeen summers who knew notlrng of war, who had never been accustomed to equestrian exercises l ke a maid of chivalry; who had no friends; who had never seen great people; who was poor and unimportant, leading the great army of France onto the battle field. Her enthusiasm won the hearts of the soldiers. Her simplicity and straightforwardness swept away all prejudice. Rude warriors were softened by her gentle p'ety, and in her presence checked the cath that trembled on their lips. In less than two weeks the brief period of triumph came. To Joan alone belongs the credit of what she accomplished for France,—her enemies, who were jeaious of her leadership, thwarthed her plans and plotted her life. She beat them at every turn; she triumphed again and again. Had hers been a mean nature she could not but glory in her wonderful rescue of Orleans, the defeat of the invincible English, and the success which followed success in the campaign of the Loire. Now in the lead of battle, fearing no danger, bravely calling her men on to the attack, now stopping to ease the pain of a dying soldier, and help'ng him to make peace with God,—now hold'ng the entire army back to ask for divine aid and guidance. When that last great triumph came for which she had labored and struggled and overthrown opponents, —the coronation of Charles VII at Rhe'ms,—her joy knew no bounds. She fell down and embraced the feet of her monarch and burst into uncontrollable weeping. It was no doubt the irresistible outburst of a heart too full, and in that fullness of joy and triumph was also a feeling of completed work, for she knew that her mission was fulfilled. She had
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