THE TRIAL OF JEANNE DARC, COMMONLY CALLED JOAN OF ARC.

ROME refuses to canonize the Maid of Orleans. At the beginning of the year 1876, Monseigneur Dupanloup, bishop of the diocese in which she began her career in arms, went to Rome, and asked, on behalf of his Catholic countrymen, that the maiden who, four hundred and fifty-three years ago, assisted to restore the independence of France, might be added to the roll of the saints. The power that sent the golden rose unasked to Isabella of Spain refused this costless favor to the urgent request of Frenchmen.

It had no other choice. The Historical Society of France has given to the reading world the means of knowing what power it was that consigned her to the fire. It was no other than the Church which so recently was asked to canonize her. After a five months' trial, in which sixty ecclesiastics, and none but ecclesiastics, participated, she was condemned as an "excommunicated heretic, a liar, a seducer, pernicious, presumptuous, credulous, rash, superstitious, a pretender to divination, blasphemous toward God, toward the saints male and the saints female, contemptuous of God even in His sacraments, distorter of the Divine law, of holy doctrine, of ecclesiastical sanctions, seditious, cruel, apostate, schismatic." It were much, even alter the lapse of four hundred and fifty years, to forgive such sins as these.

The proceedings of this long trial were recorded from day to day with a minuteness which only a short-hand report could have surpassed, and when the last scene was over, the record was translated into official Latin by members of the University of Paris. Five copies of this translation were made, in the most beautiful writing of the period—one for Henry VI, King of England, one for the Pope, one for the English cardinal. uncle to Henry VI, and one for each of the two presiding ecclesiastics. Three of these manuscript copies exist to-day in Paris, as well as a considerable portion of the original draft — le plumitif, as the French lawyers term it—written in the French of 1430. The very copy designed for the boy King of England, the ill-starred child of Henry V and Catherine of France, has remained at Paris, where its presence attests the reality of the Maid's exploits, and recalls her prophetic words, uttered often in the hearing of the English nobles: "You will not hold the kingdom of France. In seven years yon will be gone." This report, edited with care and learning by M. Jules Quicherat, has been printed verbatim iii five volumes octavo, and these have been since reduced to two volumes by the 'omission of repetitions, under the zealous editorship of Mr. E. Reilly, a distinguished lawyer of Rouen, where the trial took place. The record is therefore ineffaceable. The Church could not canonize in 1876 a personage whom the Church is known to have cast beyond her pale in 1430 to be mercifully burned alive. She was abandoned to "the secular arm," which was besought to act toward her with sweetness—avec doeceur. In thirty minutes the secular arm bound her to a stake in the market-place of Rouen, and sweetly wreathed about her virgin form a shroud of flame.

France no longer possesses Domremy, the remote and obscure hamlet of Lorraine where the Maid first saw the light. The house in which she was born, the little church of St. Remi in which she knelt, and the church-yard wall against which her abode was built, are all standing The village is commonly called Domremy-la-Pucelle, in remembrance of her, and every object in the neighborhood speaks of her: the river Meuse gliding past, the hill of the fairies upon which her companions danced, and where they laughed at her for liking better to go to church, the fountain where the sick were healed by miracle, and the meadows in which she sat spinning while she watched he village herd on the days when it was her father's turn to have it in charge. These remain little changed ; but they are now part of the German Empire-part of the price France has had in our time to pay for Louis XIV and the Bonapartes. To such a people as the French it is not a thing of trifling import that France does not own the birthplace of the Maid of Orleans.

Nor was Lorraine a French possession when Jeanne Dare kept the village herd on the banks of the Meuse in 1425. For a long period it had been a border-land between France and the empire, (luring which the inhabit-ants of that sequestered nook had been as passionately French in their feelings as the people of Eastern Tennessee were warm for the Union in 1863. In a border-land there is no neutrality. And during the childhood of this maiden, France had fallen under the dominion of the English. She as three or four years of age when Henry V won the battle of Agincourt, and by the time she was ten, France as an independent power had ceased to be. It was not merely that Harry V and his bowmen had overthrown in battle the French armies, but, apart from this conquest of the country, there were grounds for the claim of his son to the French throne which even a patriotic and conscientious Frenchman might have admitted. The French King himself, Charles VII, indolently doubted the right of his line to the throne, and doubted also his own legitimacy.

What could a Frenchman think of the rival claimants of 1428 ? Paris was in the power of the English, and apparently content to be ; two-thirds of France were strongly held by English troops, and the remainder was not safe from incursion for a day; the uncles of the English King, who ruled France in his name, were men of energy and force, capable of holding what their valiant brother had won; and as to the King, Henry VI, boy as he was, he was a French Prince as well as English, the son of English Harry and the Princess Catherine, whose pretty courting scenes so agreeably close Shakspeare's play. "Shall not thou and I," says blunt King Hal to the Princess, who happily understood him not, " compound a boy, half French, half English, that shall go to Constantinople, and take the Turk by the beard ?" The boy had been compounded; he was now called Henry VI, of France and England King; and many thousand Frenchmen owned him sovereign in their hearts.

The person whom we commonly style Joan of Arc, and the French Jeanne d'Arc, would have written her name, if she had ever known how to write, JEHANNETTE ROMMEE. " My mother," she said, upon her trial, " was named Rommee, and in my country girls bear the surname of their mothers." Her father was a farm laborer named Jacques Darc, originally D'Arc—James of the Bow, or, as we might say, if he had been an English peasant, James Bowman. A learned descendant of the family — for she had several brothers and sisters—who has written a book on the Maid, writes her name and his own Darc; and although there is an inclination in France to give her still the aristocratic apostrophe, it is probable that history will now accept plain Jeanne Dare as the name nearest the truth. Whether her father was a free laborer or a serf was not known even to the persons who drew up her patent of nobility in 1428, and is still uncertain. We know, however, that he was an agricultural laborer, who "went to the plow," which plow this daughter may have assisted to draw. As I propose, however, to give those portions of her testimony in which she relates her own story, I will merely recall a few of the circumstances of her lot needful to the elucidation of her words. These were mostly gathered from the lips of her companions, years after her death, when the mother of the Maid of Orleans, from whom she probably derived her cast of character, cried to France, and cried not in vain, to do justice to her daughter's memory.

The Dare cottage was so near the village church that a religious girl residing in it would always feel herself in the shadow of the altar. She could look from her home into the church's open door. She was familiar with the sexton from her childhood, and used to remind him of his duty when he forgot to ring the hell for prayers, even bribing him to be punctual by gifts of wool and yarn. Of knowledge derived from books she possessed none, unless we except her Paternoster, her creed, and a few short prayers and invocations, she not differing in this particular from nine-tenths of the people of the kingdom. Probably not one of her race had ever been able to read. She was, nevertheless, a person of native superiority of mind and character, capable of public spirit, yearning for the deliverance of her country, fervid, energetic, of dexterous hand, well skilled in all the arts and industries appertaining to her lot, and proud to excel in them. It is not true that she was an inn servant, who rode the horses to water, and saddled them for travelers. She lived honorably in her father's house, earning her share of the family's subsistence by honest toil, spinning, weaving, bread-making, gardening, and field-work, "taking her spinning-wheel with her to the fields when it was her father's turn to tend the village herd "—a faithful helper to her parents. She was a well-grown girl, robust, strong, and vigorous. Of the numerous portraits known to have been taken of her during the two years of her glory, I know not if any one has been preserved. Probably not ; else why do not Martin, Guizot, and the other French historians give some authority for the radiant beauty of the pictures they present to us of the Maid ? Beautiful she probably was. Pitiful and devout we know she was from the testimony of all her village, as well as from that of her pastors, who heard her in confession, and witnessed her life from day to day and from hour to hour. We know, also, that her heart was wrung with sorrow for her desolated country, and her careless, self-indulgent King, whom she ignorantly thought a peerless hero and a Christian knight without reproach.

The story of this village maiden is incomprehensible, unless we allow her the might and majesty of such a presence as we still see in pure-minded and nobly purposed women. Many of those who executed her will at critical moments could only explain their obedience by dwelling upon the power of her demeanor, which was at once impassioned and serene. Rude men-at-arms could not swear in her presence, and the nobles of a dissolute court yielded to the force of her resolve. They told her that her road to the king was infested with enemies. " I do not fear them," replied this peasant girl, not yet eighteen. " If there are enemies upon my road, God is there also, and He will know how to prepare my way to the Lord Dauphin. I was created and put into the world for that !" The Comte de Dunois in his old age, twenty-six years after the campaigns in which he had fought by her side, bore testimony to the commanding power of her words. She said one day to the king, in the hearing of Dunois : " When I am annoyed because my message from God is not more regarded, I go apart and pray to God ; I lay my complaint before Him ; and when my prayer is finished I hear a Voice which cries to me, ' Child of God, go, go ; I will be your helper ; go!' And when I hear that Voice I am glad exceedingly, and I wish to hear it always." After repeating these sentences of the Maid, old Dunois would add, " And what was more wondrous still, while she uttered these words her eves were raised to heaven in a marvelous transport." This Maid, I repeat, is inexplicable, unless we think of her as one of those gifted persons who have natural power to sway and to impress.

She spoke to the king of a Voice that cheered and guided her. Usually she used the plural, mes voix. These Voices play the decisive part both in her life and death, and they furnish also the chief difficulty of her history. Most of us moderns have ceased to be able to believe in audible or visible supernatural guidance such as she claimed to enjoy, and we at once suspect imposture in the person who pretends to it. She shall tell her own story, and the reader must judge it according to the light which he possesses. Those who are inclined to set down all such pretensions as conscious frauds must not forget that Socrates spoke familiarly of his daemon, whose voice he thought he heard, and whose behests he professed to obey from early life to his last hours. They should also recall the case of Columbus, who distinctly heard a voice in the night bidding him to be of good cheer, and holding out hopes of success which were not fulfilled. Jeanne Dare was quick enough to distrust and detect other claimants to supernatural visitations. The woman who pretended to receive nightly visitations from a Lady in White was quickly put to the test. Jeanne Dare resorted to the simple expedient of passing two nights with her, and when the vision did not appear, told her to go home and take care of her husband and children. This Maid also gave two proofs of genuineness not to be looked for in impostors. In her village home she was noted for her skill as well as for her fidelity in the labors belonging to her position ; and when she had entered upon her public life, she was ever found in the thick of the battle, banner in hand, not indeed -using her sword, but never shrinking from the post where swords were bloodiest. The false knaves of this world neither excel in homely duties nor lead the van in perilous ones.

France had never—has never—been so near extirpation. " The people,'' as the historian Martin expresses it, "were no longer bathed in their sweat, but ground in their blood, debased below the beasts of the forest, among which they wander, panic-stricken, mutilated, in quest of an asylum in the wilderness." This fervent and sympathetic girl came at length to see the desolation of her country; her own village was laid waste and plundered by a marauding band. From childhood she had been familiar with the legend, "France, lost through a maid, shall by a maid be saved."

The story of her exploits at court, in camp, in the field, is familiar to all the world. A thousand vulgar fictions obscure and degrade its essential truth. What this untaught girl did for her country was simply this : she brought to bear upon the armies of France the influence of what our own Western preachers would call a powerful revival of religion." From bands of reckless and dissolute plunderers, she made French soldiers orderly, decent, moral, and devout. Hope revived. She made the king believe in himself ; she made the court believe ;in the cause. Men of faith saw in her the expected virgin savior: men of understanding perceived the advantage to their side of having her thus regarded. She may, too (as some of her warrior comrades testified in later years), have really possessed some military talent, as well as martial ardor and inspiration. They said of her that she had good judgment in placing artillery. Later in her short public career she showed herself restless, rash, uncontrollable ; she made mistakes; she incurred disasters. But for many months, during which France regained a place among the powers of Europe, she was a glorious presence in the army—a warrior virgin, iii brilliant attire, splendidly equipped, superbly mounted, nobly attended ; a leader whom all eyes followed with confiding admiration, as one who had been their deliverer, and was still their chief. The lowliness of her origin was an element in her power over a people who worshiped every hour a Saviour who was cradled in a manger. We can still read over the door of an ancient inn at Rheims, the Maison Rouge, this inscription : " In the year 1429, at the coronation of Charles VII, in this tavern, then called The Zebra, the father and mother of Jeanne Dare lodged, at the expense of the City Council."

Her career could not but be brief. When she left home to deliver her country, she had lived, according to the most recent French authorities, seventeen years and two months. Fifteen months later, May 24, 1439, after a series of important victories followed by minor defeats, she was taken prisoner under the walls of Compiegne, which she was attempting to relieve. French troops, lighting on the side of the English, captured her and held her prisoner. French priests, in the metropolitan church of Notre Dame at Paris, celebrated her capture by a Te Deum." It is doubtful if her own king lamented her; for this devoted, deluded girl belonged to the order of mortals whom the powers of this world often find it as convenient to be rid of as to use. It is probable that she had expended her power to be of service and had become unmanageable. Small, needless failures, chargeable to her own rash impetuosity, had lessened her prestige. For the fair and wanton Agnes Sorel the idle King of France would have attempted much ; but he made no serious effort to ransom or to rescue the Maid to whom he owed his crown and kingdom.

Politicians are much the same in every age, since the work they have to do is much the same iii every age. Two parties as well as two kings were contending for the possession of France, and one of these, by the prompt and adroit use of the Maid of Orleans, had gained for their side the conquering force of a religious revival. Bedford, the regent of the kingdom, who had seen his conquests falling away from him before the banner of a rustic girl, felt the necessity of depriving his rival of this advantage. If there were two powers contending for the kingdom of France, were there not two powers contending for the kingdom of this world ? Loyal France has accepted the Maid as sent from God ; it now devolved upon the English regent to demonstrate that she was an agent of Satan. He bought her of her captors for ten thousand pounds—a vast sum for that period—and had her brought

to Rouen, a chief seat of the English power, where to this day the bones of the regent lie magnificently entombed in the cathedral. There he caused a trial to be arranged, of a character so imposing as to command the attention of Europe. No homage rendered her by her adherents conveys to us such a sense of her importance as this trial contrived by an aide ruler to neutralize her influence.

A politician who had the bestowal of church preferments could as easily find ecclesiastics to execute his will as a politician, who has only trivial, precarious offices to give, can pack a convention and control a caucus. Bed-ford's written promise of the archbishopric of Rouen made Cauchon, Bishop of Beauvais, his superserviceable agent, through whom all that was most imposing and authoritative in the Church convened at Rouen to try the Maid. Bishops, abbes, priors, six representatives of the University of Paris, the chief officer of the Inquisition, learned doctors, noted priests in a word, sixty of the elite of the Church in English France, all of them Frenchmen—assisted at the trial.

The castle at Rouen, a vast and impregnable edifice in the style of the period, was the scene of these transactions. The great tower is still in good preservation ; the rest of the structure has disappeared. This gloomy-looking extensive edifice, Jeanne Dare's prison and court. house, was the centre of interest to two kingdoms during her half year's detention. It swarmed with in-habitants. As if to nullify the Maid's effective stroke of the Rheims coronation, the uncles of the English king, who was not yet ten years of age, had brought him once more to France, and he remained an inmate of the castle of Rouen (luring the trial. A Norman chronicler, who saw his entry into Rouen in July, 1430, speaks of him as a very beautiful boy (ung tres beau filz), and adds that the streets through which he passed were more magnificently decorated than they had ever been before on sacramental days. At the gate were banners on which were blazoned the arms of England and France ; and on his way to the cathedral the people cheered him so loudly that the little king told them to cease, for they made too much noise. Shows were exhibited in the streets, and the king looked at them ; and when at last he entered his castle, the bells rang out a peal as if God himself had descended from heaven. There he remained for a year with his uncle Bedford, the regent, his grand-uncle Beaufort, Cardinal of Winchester, his governor, the Earl of Warwick, and the chief officers of both the royal and the vice-royal courts, all intent upon undoing in France what a village maiden had wrought in fifteen months. The castle was pervaded with intense life, and an ill-disciplined host of guards and men-at-arms were posted about it.

Jeanne Pare, treated by her French captors with decency and consideration, and detained in a lordly chateau more as a guest than a prisoner, bore the first months of her confinement with patience and dignity. On one point only she showed herself obstinate: she refused to lay aside her man's dress. The people of that day, if we may judge from these old records, held in particular horror the wearing of man's clothes by a woman. The ladies of the chateau, knowing what an advantage this costume gave her enemies, provided her with woman's clothes, and besought her to put them on. She could not be persuaded to so, alleging that she had assumed her man's dress by Divine command, and had not yet received Divine permission to change it. In other respects she was tractable, and seemed absorbed in the events of the war, ever longing to he again in the field.

The news reached her at length that she had been sold to the English—the dreadful English!—and was about to be given up to them. " I would rather die," she cried, in despair, "than be surrendered to the English!" Then her thoughts recurred to her work unfinished—her country not yet delivered. " Is it possible," she added, " that God will let those good people of Compiegne perish, who have been and are so loyal to their lord ?" Some days of anguish passed. Then she took a desperate resolution.

I could bear it no longer," she afterwards said ; and so, " recommending herself to God and our Lady," she sprang one night from the tower in which she was confined to the ground, a height, as M. Quicherat computes, of between sixty and seventy feet. It was her only chance, and it was a chance, for she was found the next morning lying at the foot of the tower, insensible, indeed, but with no bones broken, and not seriously injured. She soon revived, and in three days was able to walk about. The English claimed their prey, and soon had her safe in the castle of Rouen.

Her new masters did not mean that she should escape. They assigned her a room in the first story of the castle, " up eight steps," placed two pair of shackles upon her legs, and chained her night and day to a thick post. It was their policy to degrade as well as to keep her, and they accordingly gave her five guards of the lowest lank, three of whom were to be always iii her room, night and day, and two outside. in this woful plight, manacled. chained, watched, but not protected, by soldiers, with only a bed for all furniture, was she held captive for three months, awaiting trial—she who had until recently shone resplendent at the head of armies, and to whom mothers had held up their children as she passed through towns, hoping to win for them the benediction of her smile.

Her room, we are told, had three keys, one of which was kept by the Cardinal of Winchester, one by the Inquisitor, and the other by the manager of the trial; and yet, as it seems, almost any one who chose could enter her room, gaze upon her, and even converse with her. The little king saw her. The king's advocate visited her, and jested with her upon her condition, saying that she would not have come to Rouen if she had not been brought thither, and asking if she had known before-hand if she should be taken.

I feared it," said she.

"If you feared it," he asked, " why were you not upon your guard ?

She replied, " I did not know the day nor the hour."

After preliminaries that threatened to be endless, the public part of the trial began on Wednesday, February 21, 1431, at eight in the morning, in the great chapel of the chateau. The Bishop of Beauvais presided, and of the sixty ecclesiastics summoned forty-four were present. Three authorized reporters were in their places, and there were some other clerks, concealed by a curtain, who took notes for the special use of the English regent. There was a crowd of spectators, " a great tumult " in the chapel, and very little order in the proceedings. At a time when lords took their dogs and hawks into church with them, and merchants made their bargains in the naves of cathedrals, we need not look for a scrupulous decorum in a court convened to try a girl for the crime of being " vehemently suspected of heresy." That was the charge: vehementement suspecte d'heresie. And such a grand tumult was there in the chapel that day that the subsequent sessions were held in a smaller hall of the castle.

The prisoner was brought in, freed from her chains, and was allowed to sit. No one of the many pens employed in recording the events of this day has given us any hint of her appearance. We have, indeed, the enumeration of the articles of her man's attire, which was made such a heinous charge against her: "The hair cut round like that of young men, shirt, breeches, doublet with twenty points reaching to the knee, hat covering only the top of the head, boots and gaiters, with spurs, sword, dagger, cuirass, lance, and other arms carried by soldiers." This was her equipment for the field. She still wore man's dress, and doubtless her person showed the effects of nine months' imprisonment and three months of chains and fetters.

The presiding bishop told her to place her hands upon the Gospel and swear to answer truly the questions that would be proposed to her. " I do not know," said she, " upon what you wish to question me. Perhaps you will ask me things which I ought not to tell von." Swear," rejoined the bishop, " to tell the truth upon whatever may be asked of you concerning the faith and the facts within your knowledge."

"As to my father and mother," she said, "and what I did after setting out for France, I will swear willingly; but the revelations which have come to me from God, to no one have I related or revealed them, except alone to Charles, my king; and I shall not reveal them to you though you cut off my head, because I have received them by vision and by secret communication, with injunction not to reveal them. Before eight days have passed I shall know if I am to reveal them to you."

The bishop urged her again and again to take the oath without conditions. She refused, and they were at length obliged to yield the point, and accept a limited oath. Upon her knees, with both hands placed upon a missal, she swore to answer truly whatever might be asked of her, so far as she could, concerning the common faith of Christians, but no more. Being then questioned concerning her name and early life, she answered thus :

" In my own country I was called Jeannette ; since Ihave been in France I have been called Jeanne. As to my surname I know nothing. I was born at the village of Domremy, which makes one with the village of Greux. The principal church is at Greux. My father is named Jacques Dare; my mother Ysabelle. I was baptized in the church of Domremy. One of my godmothers was named Agnes, another Jeanne, a third Sibylle. One of my godfathers was Jean Lingué, another Jean Varrey. I had several other godmothers, as I have heard my mother say. I was baptized, I believe, by Messire Jean Minet. I think he is still living. I think I am about nineteen years of age. From my mother I learned my Pater, my Ave Marie, and my Credo. I learned from my mother all that I believe."

"Say your Pater," said the presiding bishop.

"Hear me in confession, and I will say it for you willingly."

Several times she was asked to say the Lord's Prayer, but she always replied, " No, I will not say my Pater for you unless you hear me in confession."

"We will willingly give you," said the bishop, " one or two notable men who speak French ; will you say your Pater to them?"

"I shall not say it," was her reply, " unless in confession."

As the session was about to close, the bishop forbade her to leave the prison which had been assigned her in the castle, under pain of being pronounced guilty of heresy, the crime charged.

"I do not accept such an injunction," she replied. "If ever I escape, no one shall be able to reproach me with having broken my faith, as I have not given my word to any person whatever." She continued to speak, in language not recorded, complaining that they had bound her with chains and shackles.

"You tried several times," said the bishop, "to escape from the prison where you were detained, and it was to keep you more surely that you were ordered to be put in irons."

It is true," was her reply, " I wished to get away, and I wish it still. Is that not a thing allowed to every prisoner ?"

She was then removed to her chamber, and the court broke up. The next morning at eight, in the robing-room of the chateau—a large apartment near the great drawingroom—the court again convened, forty-seven dignitaries of the Church being assembled. Again the captive was unchained and brought in. Again she sat in the presence of this convocation of trained men, alone, without advocate, counsel, or attorney. She understood the issue between herself and them. The managers of the trial meant to make France believe that this girl was an emissary of the devil, and thus she felt herself compelled to fail back upon her claim to be the chosen of God, and to insist upon this with painful repetition. We must bear in mind that she was absolutely severed from all active, efficient human sympathy. It was a contest between one poor, ignorant girl and the managers of the court, paid and backed by the power that governed all England and half France, with the stake as the certain consequence to her of an erroneous line of defence. In all the trial she was the only witness examined.

Again the bishop required her to take the oath without conditions ; to which she replied, " I swore yesterday ; that ought to suffice."

" Every person," said the bishop, " though he were a prince, being required to swear in any matter relating to the faith, cannot refuse."

"I took the oath yesterday," said she ; " that ought to be sufficient for you. You ask too much of me." The contest ended as on the day before. She was then interrogated by Jean Beaupere, a distinguished professor of theology.

"How old were you when you left your father's house?" " As to my age, I cannot answer."

"Did you learn any trade in your youth ?"

"Yes; I learned to spin and sew. In sewing and spinning I fear no woman in Rouen. For fear of the Burgundians * I left my father's house and went to the city of Neufchateau, in Lorraine, to the house of a woman named La Rousse, where I remained about fifteen days. While I was at my father's I assisted at the usual labors of the house. I was not accustomed to go to the fields with the sheep and other animals. Every year I confessed to my own pastor, and, when he was engaged, to another priest with his permission. Sometimes, also—two or three times, I believe-I confessed to religious mendicants. That was at Neufchateau. At Easter I received the sacrament of the Eucharist."

"Did you receive the sacrament of the Eucharist at other festivals besides Easter?

"No matter. I was thirteen years old when I had a voice from God, which called upon me to conduct myself well. The first time I heard that voice I was terrified. It was noon, in summer, in my father's garden. I had not fasted the evening before. I heard that voice at my right, toward the church. I seldom heard it when it was not accompanied by a flash. This flash came from the same side as the voice. Usually it was very brilliant. Since I have been in France I have often heard that voice."

"But how could you see the flash which you mentioned, since it was on one side ?"

She did not answer this foolish question, but immediately resumed, thus :

"If I was in a forest I would hear the voice, for it would come to me. It appeared to me to come from lips worthy of respect ; I believe it was sent to me by God. When I heard it for the third time I recognized that it was the voice of an angel. That voice has always guarded me well, and I have always well understood it. It told me to behave well and to go often to church ; it said to me that I must go into France. Do you ask me in what form that voice appeared to me ? You will not have more about it from me this time. Two or three times a week it said to me, ' You must go into France! ' My father knew nothing about my going. The voice said to me,

Go into France!' I could bear it no longer. It said to me : ' Go ; raise the siege of the city of Orleans. Go,' it added, ' to Robert de Baudricourt, commandant of Vaucouleurs ; he will furnish people to accompany you.' But I am a poor girl, who knows neither how to ride on horseback nor make war! I went to my uncle's house, and told him my wish to remain with him some time; and there I remained eight days. To him I said I must go to Vaucouleurs. He took me there. When I arrived I knew Robert de Baudricourt, although I had never seen him. I knew him, thanks to my voice, which caused me to know him. I said to Robert, ' I must go into France.' Twice Robert refused to hear me, and repelled me. The third time he received me, and furnished me men; the voice had said that it would be so. The Due de Lorraine Sent orders to have me brought to him. I went ; I said to him that I wished to go into France. The duke questioned me upon his health, and I told him I knew nothing about it. I spoke to him little about my journey. I told him he had to furnish me his son and some people to conduct me into France, and that I would pray to God for his health. I went to him with a safe-conduct; thence I returned to Vaucouleurs. From Vaucouleurs I set out dressed like a man, with a sword given me by Robert de Baudricourt, without other arms. I had with me a knight, a squire, and four servants, with whom I reached the city of St. Urbain, where I slept in an abbey. On the way I passed through Auxerre, where I heard mass in the principal church. At that time I often had my voices."

"Who advised you to wear men's clothes?"

Again and again she refused all answer to this question; but at last she said, "I charge no one with that." Then she ran on in this manner : " Robert de Baudricourt made the men who accompanied me swear to conduct me safely and well. Go,' said he to me—' go, let come of it what will!' I well know that God loves the Due d'OrlCans ; I have had more revelations about the Due d'Orleans than about any living man except my king. I had to change my woman's dress for a man's. Upon that point my counsel advised me well. I sent a letter to the English before Orleans, telling them to depart, as appears from a copy of my letter which has been read in this city of Rouen ; but in that copy there are two or three words which are not in my letter. ' Yield to the Maid,' ought to be changed to 'Yield to the king. These words also are not in my letter—' body for body,' and . chief of war.' I went without difficulty to the king. Having arrived at the village of St. Catherine de Fierbois, I sent for the first time to the chateau of Chinon, where the king was. I reached Chinon toward noon, and took lodgings at first at an inn. After dinner I went to the king, who was in the chateau. When I entered the room where he was, I knew him among many others by the counsel of my voice, which revealed him to me. I told him that I. wished to go and make war against the English."

When the voice showed you the king, was there any light there ?"

"Pass on."

"Did you see any angel above the king?"

"Spare me; pass on. Before the king sent me to the field, he had many apparitions and beautiful revelations."

"What revelations and apparitions did the king have? "

"I shall not tell you. This is not the time to answer you ; but send to the king ; he will tell you. The voice had promised me that as soon as I had reached the king, he would receive me. Those of my party knew well that the voice was sent me from God; they saw and knew that voice. I am certain of it. My king and several others have heard and seen the voices which came to me ; there was Charles de Bourbon and two or three others. No day passes in which I do not hear that voice, and I have much need of it. But never have I demanded of it any recompense except the salvation of my soul. The voice told me to remain at St. Denis, in France, and I wished to do so ; but against my will the lords made me set out thence. If I had not been wounded, I should not have gone. After having left St. Penis, I was wounded in the defences of Paris ; but I was cured in five days. It is true that I made a skirmish before Paris "

"Was not that on a holy day ?"

"I believe it was."

"Was it well to make an assault on a holy day? " To this she only replied by saying:

"Pass on," and the questioning then ceased for the day. The next morning, for the first time, a full court was present, the presiding bishop and sixty-two abbes, priors, and other priests. Little was extracted from her during this day's examination, although she made some spirited answers. Being asked if she knew that she was in a state of grace, she said, " If I am not, God put me in it! if I am, God keep me in it!" They asked her if the people of her village were not of the French party.

The old village partisanship blazed up in her answer: " If I had known one Burgundian at Domremy, I should have been willing to have his head cut off —that is, if it had pleased God."

The next day was Sunday, and the Monday following was probably some holy day of Lent, for the next session of the court occurred on Tuesday, when she was examined by the same " Master Beaupere," distinguished theologian. He questioned her long, and led her on to admissions which her enemies knew well how to use against her.

"How have you been since Saturday last ?"

"You see well how I have been; I have been as well as I could be."

"Do you fast every day during this Lent?"

"Has that anything to do with the case? No matter: yes, I have fasted every day during this Lent."

" Have you heard your voice since Saturday ?

" Yes, indeed, and several times."

" On Saturday did you hear it in this hall where you are questioned?"

" That has nothing to do with your case. No matter : yes, I heard it."

" What did it say to you last Saturday ?"

"I did not well understand it, and I heard mating that I can repeat to you until I had gone to my chamber."

" What did it say to you in your chamber on your return ?"

" It said to me, ' Answer them boldly.' I take counsel of my voices upon what you ask me. I shall willingly tell you what I shall have from God permission to reveal ; but as to the revelations concerning the King of France, I shall not tell them without the permission of my voice:.''

" Has your voice forbidden you to reveal all ?"

" I have not well understood it."

"What did the voice tell you last?"

"I asked advice of it upon certain things which you asked me."

"Did it give you that advice ?"

" Upon some points, yes ; upon others you may ask me information which I shall not give you, not having received permission. For if I should respond without permission, I should have no more voices to second me. When I shall have permission from our Lord, I shall not fear to speak, because I shall have warrant so to do."

" Was the voice which spoke to you that of an angel, of a saint, or of God directly ? "

"It was the voice of St. Catherine and St. Margaret. Their heads were adorned with beautiful crowns, very rich and very precious. I have permission from our Lord to tell you so mulch. If you have any doubt of this, send to Poitiers, where I was formerly interrogated."

" flow did you know that they were saints ? How did you distinguish one from the other ?"

I. know well that they were saints, and I easily distinguish one from the other."

"How do you distinguish them?"

" By the salute which they make me. Seven years have passed since they undertook to guide me. I know them well, because they have named themselves to me."

" Were those two saints clad in the same fabric ?"

" For the moment I shall tell you no more ; I have not permission to reveal it. If you do not believe me, go to Poitiers. There are some revelations which belong to the King of France, and not to you who interrogate me."

" Are the two saints of the same age?"

" I am not permitted to tell."

" Did both speak at once, or one at a time ? "

"I have not permission to tell you; nevertheless, I have always had counsel from both."" Which appeared to you first ?"

"I distinguished them one from the other. I knew how I did it once, but I have forgotten. If I receive per-mission I will willingly tell you; it is written in the record at Poitiers. I have received comfort also from St. Michael."

"of those two apparitions came to you first?" " St. Michael."

"Was it a long time ago that you heard the voice of St. ;Michael for the first time ?"

" I did not mention the voice of St. Michael ; I told you that I had great comfort from him."

" What was the first voice that came to you when you were about thirteen years of age?"

" It was St. Michael. I saw him before my eyes ; he was not alone, but was surrounded by angels from heaven. I only came into France by the command of God."

" Did you see St. Michael and those angels in a bodily form, and in reality ?"

" I saw them with the eyes of my body as well as I can see you. When they left me I wept, and wished to be borne away with them."

"In what form was St. Michael ?"

"You will have no other answer from me ; I have not yet license to tell you."

" What did St. Michael say to you that first time ?"

" You will have no answer to-clay. My voices said to me, `Answer boldly.' I told the king at once all that was revealed to me, because that concerned him ; but I have not yet permission to reveal to you all that St. Michael said to me. I should be very glad if you had a copy of that book which is at Poitiers, if it please God."

" Have your voices forbidden you to make known your revelations without permission from them?"

"I do not answer you upon that point. So far as I have received permission I shall answer willingly. I did not quite understand if my voices forbade me to reply."

" What sign do you give that you received that revelation from God, and that it was St. Catherine and St. Margaret who conversed with you ?"

" I have told you it was they ; believe me if you wish." " Is it forbidden you to tell it ? "

" I did not quite understand whether it was forbidden me or not."

" I low can you distinguish the things which you have permission to reveal from those which you are forbidden ?" "Upon certain points I have asked permission, and upon some I have obtained it. Rather than have come into France without God's permission, I would have been torn asunder by four horses."

" Did God command you to dress like a man ?

"As to that dress, it is a trifle—less than nothing. I did not take it by the advice of any living man ; neither put on this dress nor did anything else except by the command of our Lord and the angels."

" Does the command to wear a man's dress seem to you lawful [licite] ?"

"All that I have done was by the command of our Lord. If He had told me to wear another dress, I should have worn it, because it was Ills command."

"Did you not assume this costume by the order of Robert de Baudricourt ?"

" No."

" Do you think you did well to wear a man's dress ?"

." All that I did was by our Lord's order: I believe I did do well. I expect from it good security and good succor."

" In this particular case, the wearing of a man's dress, do you think you did well ?"

" I have done nothing in the world except by the command of God."" When you saw that voice conic to you, was there any light ?

" There was much light on all sides, as there should have been." (To the interrogator). " There does not come as much to you."

" Was there an angel above your king's head when you saw him for the first time?"

By our Lady if there was one, I know nothing about it. H (lid not see him."

"Was there any light?"

" There were more than three hundred knights, and more than fifty torches, without counting the spiritual light. I rarely have revelations without light."

"How was your king enabled to believe in your claims ?

"He had good signs, and the learned clergy rendered me good testimony."

"What revelations did your king have?"

" You will not have them from inc. this year. I was interrogated for three weeks by the clergy at Chinon and at Poitiers. Before being willing to believe me, the king had a sign of the truth of my statement, and the clergy of my party were of opinion that there was nothing but good in my undertaking."

" Were you at St. Catherine de Fierbois ?"

" Yes, and there I heard three masses in one day ; then I went to the chateau of Chinon, whence I sent a letter to the king to know if lie would grant me an interview, telling him that I had traveled a hundred and fifty leagues to come to his assistance, and that I knew many things favorable to him. I think I remember saying in my letter that I should know how to recognize him among all others. I had a sword which I obtained at Vancouleurs. Whilst I was at Tours or at Chinon, I sent to seek a sword which was in the church of St. Catherine de Fierbois, behind the altar ; and there it was immediately found, covered with rust. That sword was in the earth rusty ; above it there were five crosses ; I knew by my voice where the sword was. I never saw the man who went to find it. I wrote to the priests of the place asking them if I might have that sword, and they sent it to me. It was under the ground, not very deep, behind the altar, as it seems to me. I am not quite sure whether it was before or behind the altar, but I think I wrote it was behind. As soon as it was found, the priests of the church rubbed it, and at once, without effort, the rust fell off. It was an armorer of Tours who went to find it. The priests of Fierbois made me a present of a scabbard, those of Tours of another; one was of crimson velvet, the other of cloth of gold. I caused a third to be made of very strong leather. When I was taken I had not that sword on. I always wore the sword of Fierbois from the time I had it until my departure from St. Penis, after the assault upon Paris."

" What benediction (lid you pronounce, or cause to be pronounced, upon that sword ?"

"I neither blessed it nor had it blessed; I should not have known how to do it. Much I loved that sword, because it was found in the church of St. Catherine, whom I warmly love."

"Did you sometimes place your sword upon an altar, and in so placing it was it that your sword might be more fortunate ? "

" Not that I remember."

"Did you sometimes pray that it might be more fortunate ?"

" Beyond question, I wished my arms to be very fortunate."

" Had you that sword on when you were taken ? " "No; I had one that had been taken from a Bur gundian."" Where was the sword of Fierbois ?"

" I offered a sword and some arms to St. Penis, but it

was not that sword. The sword I then wore I got at

Lagny, and wore it from Lagny even to Compiegne. It was a good sword for service ; excellent to give good whacks and wipes [torchons]. As to what has become of the other sword, it does not regard this trial, and I shall not now reply thereupon. My brothers have all my property, my horses, my sword, as I suppose, and the rest, worth more than twelve thousand crowns."

" When you were at Orleans, had you a standard or banner, and of what color was it ?"

" I had a banner, the ground of which was covered with lilies ; and there was a picture upon it of the world, with an angel on each side. It was white, of the white fabric called fustian [boucassin]. There was written upon it, I think, ' .Jhesus Maria,' and it was fringed with silk."

" Were the names of .Jhesus Maria written on the upper or the under part, on the lower, or on one side ?"

" Upon one side, I believe."

" Which did you love best, your banner or your sword ?"

" Much better, forty times better, my banner than my sword."

" Who caused you to have that picture made upon your banner ? "

" Often enough I have told you that I did nothing except by the command of God. It was myself who carried that banner when I attacked the enemy, in order to avoid killing any one, for I have never killed a single person."

" What force did your king give you when he accepted your services ?"

"He gave me ten or twelve thousand men. At first I went to Orleans, to the tower of St. Loup, and afterward to that of the bridge."

" At the attack of which tower was it that you with-drew your men ?"

"I do not remember. I was very sure of raising the seige of Orleans ; I had had a revelation on the subject; I told the king before going there I should raise it."

" Before the assault, did you tell our people that you alone would receive the javelins and the stones thrown by the machines and cannons'?"

"No; a hundred of my people, and even more were wounded. I said to them, Fear not, and you will raise the siege.' At the assault of the bridge tower I was wounded in the neck with an arrow or lance ; but I had great comfort from St. Catherine, and I was cured in less than fifteen days. I did not cease on that account to ride on horseback and to labor. I knew well I should be wounded ; I told my king so, but that, notwithstanding, I should keep at work. They had been revealed to me by the voices of my two saints, blessed Catherine and blessed Margaret. It was I who first placed a ladder against the tower, and it was in raising that ladder that I was wounded in the neck by the lance."

The session ended soon after, and the prisoner was removed. There were six of these public examinations, but nothing further of much importance was elicited by them.

The public examinations being at an end, the court took a week to review and consider the evidence obtained. They decided that further light was needed on some points, and ordered that she should be examined in secret by seven learned doctors, and her answers recorded for the subsequent use of the whole court. There were nine of these secret questionings, but she adhered to her fatal line of defence, ever insisting upon her supernatural pre-tensions, and adding particulars which placed her more hopelessly than before in the power of her enemies. Tocomplete the reader's view of this portion of the trial, I select one of these secret examinations (the fourth) for translation, in which she overtasked the credulity even of her adherents, and made her well-wishers in the court powerless to serve her.

" What was the sign which you gave your king ?" " Would you like me to perjure myself ?"

" Have you promised and sworn to St. Catherine not to reveal that sign ?"

" I have sworn and promised not to reveal that sign, and of my own accord, too, because they pressed me too much to reveal it ; and then I said to myself : I promise not to speak of it to any man in the world. The sign was that an angel assured my king, when bringing him the crown, that he would possess the whole kingdom of France, through the help of God and my labor. The angel told him also to set me at work, that is to say, give me some soldiers, or otherwise he would not be crowned and anointed so soon."

" Have you spoken to St. Catherine since yesterday ?

"I have heard her since yesterday, and she told me several times to answer the judges boldly concerning whatever they should ask me touching my case."

" How did the angel carry the crown ? and did he place it himself upon your king's head ?

" The crown was given to an archbishop, namely, the Archbishop of Rheims, I believe in my king's presence. The archbishop received it, and remitted it to the king. I was myself present. The crown was afterward placed in my king's treasury."

" Where was it that the crown was brought to the king ?"

" It was in the king's chamber at the chateau of Chinon."

" What day and hour ?

"As to the I day, know not ; in regard to the hour, it was early. I have no further recollection concerning it. For the month, it was March or April, it seems to me, two years from the present: month. It was after Easter."

" Was it the first day of your seeing this sign that your king saw it also ?

"Yes, he saw it the same day."

" Of what material was the said crown ? "

" It is good to know that it was fine gold ; so rich was it that I should not know how to estimate its value, nor appreciate its beauty. The crown signified that my king should possess the kingdom of France."

" Were there any precious stones in it ? "

" I have told you what I know of it."

" Did you handle or kiss it ?"

" Did the angel who brought that crown come from heaven or earth ? "

" He came from on high, and I understand he came by the command of our Lord. He entered by the door of the chamber. When he Came before my king, he paid homage to him by bowing before him, and by pronouncing the words which I have already mentioned, and at the same time recalled to his memory the beautiful patience with which he had borne his great troubles. The angel walked from the door, and touched the floor in coming to the king."

"How far was it from the door to the king ?"

" My impression is that it was about the length of a lance ; and he returned by the same way he had entered. When the angel came, I accompanied him, and went with him up the staircase to the king's chamber. The angel entered first, and then myself, and I said to the king, ' Sire, here is your sign : take it.' "

" In what place did the angel appear to you ? "

" I was almost continually in prayer that God would send a sign to the king, and I was in my lodgings at a good woman's house near the chateau of Chinon when he came ; then we went together toward the king ; he was accompanied by other angels whom no one saw. If it had not been for love of me, and to put me beyond the reach of those who accused me, I believe several who saw the angel would not have seen him."

" Did all who were with the king see the angel ?"

" I believe the Archbishop of Rheims saw him, as well as the lords D'Aleancon, La Tremouille, and Charles de Bourbon. As to the crown, many churchmen and others saw it who did not see the angel."

" Of what countenance, of what stature, was that angel ?

" I have not permission to say ; to-morrow I will answer that."

" Were all the angels who accompanied him of the same countenance ?

" Some of them were a good deal alike, others not, at least from my point of view. Some had wings ; others had crowns. In their company were St. Catherine and St. Margaret, who were with the angel just mentioned, and the other angels also, even in the king's chamber."

" How did the angel leave you ?"

" He left me in a little chapel. I was very angry at his going. I wept. Willingly would I have gone away with him—that is to say, my soul."

" After the angel's departure, did you continue joyful ? " " He did not leave me fearful or frightened, but I was angry at his departure."

" 'Was it on account of your merit that God sent to you His angel ? "

" He came for a great purpose, and I was in hopes that the king would take him for a sign, and that they would cease arguing about my carrying succor to the good people of Orleans. The angel came, also, for the merit of the king and of the good Duc d'Orleans."

" Why to you rather than another ? "

" It pleased God to act thus by menus of a simple maid in order to repel the enemies of the king."

" Has he told you whence the angel brought that crown ?"

" It was brought from Cod, and there is no goldsmith in the world who could make it so rich or so beautiful." " Where did he get it ?

" I attribute it to God, and know not otherwise whence it was taken."

"Did a good smell come from the crown ? Did it shine ?"

"I do not remember; I will inform myself." Resuming after a pause : " Yes, it smelled well, and will always, provided it is well taken care of, as it should be. It was in the style of a crown."

" Did the angel write you a letter ?

" What sign had your king, the people who were with him, and yourself, to make you think it was an angel ?

" The king believed it through the instruction of the churchmen who were there, and by the sign of the crown."

" But how did the clergy themselves know that it was an angel ?"

" By their learning, and because they were clergymen." - The session closed soon after, and she was conducted once more to her apartment. The learned doctors questioned her closely, and even skillfully, during these nine secret sessions, and she often answered them with vivacity and force. They asked her one day why she had thrown herself from the tower. She told them that shehad heard the people of Campiegne were to be put to the sword, even to children seven years of age, and that she preferred-to die rather than to survive such a massacre of good people. "'That," she added, " was one of the reasons. The other was, I knew I had been sold to the English, and I held it better to die than fall into the hands of my adversaries." On another occasion she declared that she had not sprung from the tower in despair, but in the hope of escaping, and of going to the succor of the brave men who were in peril. She owned, however, that it was a rash and wrong action, of which she had repented. As she often expressed a desire to hear mass, they asked her one day which she would prefer, to put on a woman's dress and hear mass, or retain her man's clothes and not hear it. Her answer was, " First assure me that I shall hear mass if I put on woman's clothes, and then I will answer you."

" Very well," said the questioner, " I engage that you shall hear mass if you will put on a woman's dress."

She replied that she would wear a woman's dress to mass, but that on her return she should resume her man's clothes.

They asked her finally, and the trial turned upon this point, if she was willing to submit all her words and deeds to the judgment of the holy mother Church.

"'The Church " she exclaimed. " I love it, and desire to sustain it with my whole power, for the sake of our Christian faith. It is not I who should be hindered from going to church and hearing mass." But she would not answer this decisive question iii a way to increase her chances of escape. As to what she had done for her king and country, she said she submitted it all to God, who had sent her, and then she wandered into a prediction that the French were on the eve of a great victory. The priest repeated his question, but she only replied that she submitted all to God, our Lady, and the saints. "And my opinion is," said she, "that God and the Church are one." The questioner then explained to her that there was a Church militant and a Church triumphant, and that it was to the Church militant—consisting of the Pope, cardinals, bishops, priests, and all good Catholics—to which her submission was required.

But she could not be brought to submit to the Church militant. To the end of these nine incisive questionings she held her ground firmly, claiming supernatural war-rant for all that she had done for her king and party, glorying in it, protesting her warm desire to renew her labors in the field, and refusing to resume the dress of her sex. She said that if they condemned her to the stake, she would war at the last hour a long woman's garment, but till then she should retain the attire assigned her by Divine command. She refused, a few days after, even to change her dress for the mass.

Further deliberation followed, and at length the charges against her were drawn up, to the number of seventy, each of which was read to her in open court, and her answer required. Many weary days were thus consumed without result. When the last charge had been read and answered, she was asked again the question upon which her life depended, "If the Church militant says to you that your revelations are illusory or diabolical, will you submit to the decision of the Church l " Her answer was the same as before : " I submit all to God, whose command I shall always obey."

The seventy charges were then condensed to twelve, for the convenience of the court. These charges were chiefly drawn from her own avowals. The first article, for example, accused her of saying that she had been visited and guided by St. Michael, St. Catherine. and St. Margaret. Her leap from the tower, as related by herself, wasone of the charges, her inscribing sacred names on her banner was another. The charges, in short, were the condensed statement of her own answers, the chief point of offence being that she claimed for her mission super-natural authorization and aid. The outward and visible sign of this pretension was the wearing of men's clothes.

The patience of the court with their contumacious prisoner was remarkable, and seems to indicate that the court as a body meant to try her fairly, and that there were members who desired her acquittal. Eight learned doctors were next appointed to visit her in her room, and give her a solemn and affectionate admonition, and urge her, by timely submission and repentance, to save her body from the fire and her soul from perdition. They performed this duty well. They offered to send her other learned men, if she would designate them, who would visit her, instruct her, resolve her doubts, and guide her into the true way. She thanked them for their pains, adhered to all her pretensions, and refused to change her dress. " Let come what will," said she, " I shall not say or do otherwise."

After days of further deliberation, they caused her to be conducted to a. chamber of the great tower, in which were the apparatus of the torture, and the men in official costume who usually applied it. "Truly," said she, as she looked upon the hideous implements, " if you tear me limb from limb, and separate soul from body, I should say nothing other than I have said ; and even if I should, I should forever maintain that you made me say it by force." And she went on to speak of her voices in her usual manner. The court decided that, considering " the hardness of her heart," the punishment of the torture would profit her little, and that therefore it might be dispensed with, at least for the present. One learned and pious doctor thought that the torture would be a " salutary medicine for her soul," but the general opinion was that she had already confessed enough. As a Catholic she had indeed put herself fatally in the wrong, and given her enemies all the pretext for her condemnation which the age required.

More deliberations followed. The University of Paris was formally consulted, and would give but one answer : either the events related by the prisoner occurred, or they did not occur ; if they did not occur, she is a contumacious liar; if they did occur, she is a sorceress and a servant of the devil. She must therefore confess, recant, renounce, submit, or suffer a penalty proportioned to her crimes. This decision was also communicated to the Maid with the utmost solemnity, and she was again exhorted and entreated to submit. The address delivered to her on this occasion was eloquent and pathetic, and the argument presented was one which should have convinced a Catholic. The orator, however, expended his main strength in tender entreaty, begging her, for her immortal's soul's sake, not to persist in setting her own uninstructed judgment against that of the University of Paris, and so great a body of eminent clergy. It was of no avail. " If," said she, " I was already condemned, if I saw the brand lighted, the fagots ready, and the executioner about to kindle the fire, and if I was actually in the flames. I should say only what I have said, and maintain all that I have said, till death.

She was to have one more opportunity to escape the fire. On Thursday morning, May 24th, the scene of the trial was changed from a room in Rouen castle to the public cemetery of the city. A spacious platform was erected for the prisoner. The " Cardinal of England " attended, and there was vast concourse of excited people, now admitted for the first time to witness the proceedings. The Maid was conveyed to the spot in a cart, and placed upon the stand prepared for her, the cart remaining to take her to the castle or to the stake, according to the issue of this day's session. When all were in their places, a preacher of great renown rose, and, taking his place opposite to the prisoner, preached a sermon upon the text, " A branch can not bear fruit of itself except it abide in the vine," which he concluded by a last solemn exhortation to the prisoner to yield submission to the Church.

She was not shaken. In her first reply, however, she tried a new expedient, saying, " Send to Rome, to our holy father the Pope, to whom, after God, H yield submission." Three times she was asked if she was willing to renounce those of her acts and words which the court condemned. Her last reply was, " I appeal to God and our holy father the Pope."

The presiding bishop then began the reading of her sentence. The reading had proceeded two or three minutes, when suddenly her courage failed her, and she yielded. She interrupted the reading. " I am willing," she cried, " to hold all that the Church ordains, all that you judges shall say and pronounce. I will obey your orders in everything." Then she repeated several times: " Since the men of the church decide that my apparitions and revelations are neither sustainable nor credible, I do not wish to believe nor sustain them. I yield in every-thing to you and to our holy mother Church."

This submission had been provided for by the manager of the trial. He at once produced a formal recantation and abjuration, which she was required to sign. " I can neither read nor write," she said. The king's secretary placed the document before her, put a pen in her hand, and guided it while she wrote " Jehanne," and appended the sign of the cross.

The bishop then produced another sentence which had read a long sentence, of which a few words are given at the beginning of this article, which he ended by handing her over to the secular arm. The members of the court departed, and then, without any other legal formality, she was bound to the stake and burned. Tradition gives us many particulars of her last moments, but as they were not gathered till I456, twenty-five years after her ashes were thrown into the Seine, we must receive them with caution. It is credible enough that she died embracing a cross, and with her eyes fixed upon another cross held up before her by a sympathizing priest. In 1456, the period of her "rehabilitation," that man was accounted happy who had something pleasing or glorious to tell of the Maid whom France then revered as a deliverer.

It is difficult for us to conceive the importance attached to this trial at the time. The English government, by a long circular letter, notified all the sovereigns of Europe of the result of the trial, and gave them an outline of the proceedings. The University at Paris sent a particular account of the trial to the Pope, to the cardinals, and to the chief prelates of Christendom. But five years later Paris surrendered to the King of France, and twenty-five years later Normandy itself owned allegiance to Charles VII.