Transcriber‘s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

JEANNE D’ARC

Reputed Portrait of
Jeanne d’Arc,
From the original, formerly in the Church of S^t. Maurice, Orleans.
(MUSÉE DU TROCADÉRO, PARIS.)

JEANNE D’ARC
MAID OF ORLEANS
DELIVERER OF FRANCE
Being the Story of her Life, her Achievements, and her Death, as attested on Oath and Set forth in the Original Documents

EDITED BY

T. DOUGLAS MURRAY

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND A MAP

LONDON

WILLIAM HEINEMANN

1902

This Edition enjoys Copyright in all Countries signatory to the Berne Treaty, and is not to be imported into the United States of America.

PREFACE

The following Document concerning the story of the life and death of Jeanne d’Arc, Maid of Orleans, is probably the only known instance in which a complete biographical record, of historical importance, has been elicited by evidence taken on oath. These depositions cover the childhood of the Maid; the series of her military exploits as Commander-in-Chief of the armies of France; her capture, imprisonment, and death at the stake in the market-place of Rouen.

The official Latin text of the Trial and Rehabilitation of Jeanne d’Arc, rescued from oblivion among the archives of France, and published in the forties by Quicherat, has been faithfully, and now for the first time, rendered into English. This account, given by numerous contemporary witnesses, of an episode which profoundly affected the history of Europe and determined the destinies of England and France must appeal to the general reader no less than to the student.

INTRODUCTION

By the order of Pope Calixtus in 1455, the Trial of Jeanne d’Arc at Rouen, which had taken place twenty-four years before, was reconsidered by a great court of lawyers and churchmen, and the condemnation of Jeanne was solemnly annulled and declared wicked and unjust. By this re-trial posterity has been allowed to see the whole life of the village maiden of Domremy, as she was known first to her kinsfolk and her neighbours, and afterwards to warriors, nobles and churchmen who followed her extraordinary career. The evidence so given is unique in its minute and faith-worthy narration of a great and noble life; as indeed that life is itself unique in all human history. After all that can be done by the rationalising process, the mystery remains of an untutored and unlettered girl of eighteen years old, not only imposing her will upon captains and courtiers, but showing a skill and judgment worthy, as General Dragomiroff says, of the greatest commanders, indeed of Napoleon himself. While we must give due weight and consideration to the age in which this marvel showed itself on the stage of history, an age of portents and prophecies, of thaumaturgists and saints, yet when all allowance is made there remains this sane, strong, solid girl leaving her humble home, and in two short months accomplishing more than Cæsar or Alexander accomplished in so much time, and at an age when even Alexander had as yet achieved nothing.

The story is best given by the witnesses, and only indications or, so to speak, sign-posts are needed to point out the way. Before the work of Jeanne can be even vaguely apprehended something must be known of how France stood at her coming. A century of misfortune and sorrow, broken only by a parenthesis of comparative prosperity from 1380 to 1407, had left her an easy prey to the hereditary enemy. Torn asunder by factions which distracted Church and State alike, she was in no condition of health and courage to recover from the shock of the crushing disaster of Agincourt. For although the English were unable at the moment to follow up the victory they had gained, and Henry V. returned to England the bearer of barren glory, still the breathing time was not put to good account by the French, whose domestic jars made combined national action impossible. At Henry’s second coming, regular resistance was hardly offered. His fleets and armies held the Channel and the ports and fortresses on both sides. The King of France was insane. His wife, Isabel of Bavaria, came to terms with the English King, and by the treaty of Troyes (1420) the Crown of France was to pass away from the Dauphin, whom his wretched mother would fain bastardise, to the issue of Henry and the Princess Catherine, the ready instrument of her mother’s purpose. When Henry V. died the son born of this unhallowed marriage was declared King of France and England under the title of Henry VI. The poor child was less than a year old. His able and resolute uncle John, Duke of Bedford, ruled France as Regent, and carried the arms of England in triumph against all who dared to dispute his nephew’s title. The Dauphin fled to the south, and abandoned to Bedford all territory north of the Loire. Paris was occupied and held by the English. The braver members of the Parliament and the University joined the Dauphin at Poitiers, but the accommodating and timid members did homage to Bedford and duly attorned to Henry VI. as to their lawful King. Orleans alone remained, of the strong places of France, in the hands of the patriot party. If Orleans fell, all organised opposition to Bedford would melt away.

As Orleans was the key of the military, so was Rheims the key of the political, situation. Rheims was the old city where for many centuries the Kings of France had been crowned and consecrated. Such a ceremony brought with it in an especial manner the sacrosanct divinity which in the middle ages hedged a King.

It is noteworthy that Jeanne’s mission, as now defined and traced by French scholars, was the double one of rescuing beleaguered Orleans and crowning the Dauphin at Rheims.

Orleans had withstood a stubborn siege of many months, but its fate seemed sealed. The Dauphin had almost given up the struggle. He had made futile appeals for help to the King of Scotland, whose infant daughter was betrothed to young Louis, afterwards the terrible Louis XI. To Naples also he made appeals, but no succour or hope came, and in despair he shut himself up at Chinon, giving up the cause of France as lost unless aid came from on high. Jeanne came as the messenger of glad tidings, and announced herself as one sent by God to aid France in her extreme need.

She came from Lorraine, out of which no good thing could come, as proverbs taught; for Lorraine had ever been branded as false to God and false to man. Ambiguous in its relations to France and to the Empire, it had, like most borderlands, the unstableness of character which comes of social and political insecurity. Jeanne’s native town of Domremy was one of a cluster of hamlets on the verge of France, in the smiling valley through which a winding river made its way. Her father and mother were in a very humble station, having a little patch of land with rights of commonage on the village pastures, and were, from the evidence of their neighbours, frugal, hard-working, and “well thought of.”

Jeanne herself was in no way marked out from her girl friends by any special accomplishments or ambition. She prided herself solely on her domestic usefulness and her skill in household work. She was intensely pious, but in no way introspective or morbid. God and His angels and saints were as real to her, more real indeed, than the men and women of her native village. The thoughts of sacred things subdued her soul to an unconsciousness of self, which marks her off even from such beautiful spiritual natures as Teresa and Bridget of Sweden and Catherine of Sienna, whose habit of mind was less simple and less humble than hers. She seems to have grieved long and deeply on the misfortunes of France, which was to her the only country claiming her allegiance. For, although geographically in Lorraine, Domremy was part of the French Kingdom, and its people were devotedly on the side of the Dauphin and the national party. The Duke of Burgundy, who had sided with the English, had only one adherent in Domremy, and he was treated, after the manner of good-natured peasants, with a certain humorous toleration by the patriots of the village.

Growing up in this atmosphere, Jeanne, who was born on the feast of the Epiphany 1412, heard in her earlier girlhood of the sad state of her country torn asunder by faction and treason, and presenting a very broken front to the redoubtable armies of England, which had in the course of a century carried the banner of St. George over all the lands from Calais to Cadiz without once meeting an enemy strong enough to look them in the face on a pitched field of battle.

Agincourt, and the carnage after Agincourt, revived in French minds the humiliation of Poitiers and the horrors of Limoges, so that dread and hatred of the English were the burden of every household story. Nor must we forget that in Europe then, as in Asia and Africa now, news spread apace, and unlettered folk got to know in some strange way the doings of camps and courts.

Old prophecies too were on every lip. That weird unrest which Shakespeare shadows forth in Peter of Pomfret and his sayings, shaking the throne of Richard II. by their very vagueness, was nowhere felt more intensely than in Lorraine, with its blending of old Celtic myths, German romances, and tales of Provençal minstrelsy in all hearts and memories.

Sublime above all these loomed the Church and its tremendous message. And so, from current history and fable and folk-lore, Jeanne’s imagination was fed, while her soul was ready to receive any mandate which the Lord of all things might deign to signify. She was thirteen years old when the first message came to her. The Archangel Michael, as she states, appeared, and she was struck with great fear; but afterwards she longed for his coming and his words. He admonished her to be pure and holy and religious, and she determined to be so. Later on St. Catherine (the Virgin) and St. Margaret appeared to her, and told her that the Lord ordered her to go into France and relieve Orleans. In her examination she tells these things with great particularity, meeting all questions as to age, size, voice, dress, language, and surroundings of the angels, with a simple directness which carries conviction of her absolute truthfulness.

Her doubts and misgivings as to her own unfitness she put aside as impertinences, when assured of her divine mission. No shadow of spiritual inflation or egotism is to be seen in all these things. Rather she held by the belief that her very unworthiness in the world’s eye was the cause of her being chosen as a simple instrument in the hands of the Lord.

Her uncle led her to Vaucouleurs in 1428; Robert de Baudricourt, whom she believed she was told to see, declined to give ear to her stories; but Jean de Metz, whose evidence is of absorbing interest, tells us how he was overcome and won over to her by her compelling earnestness and faith. She came to Chinon with a small escort, and she and her guard had to travel mostly by night to avoid the Burgundians. “At Chinon,” says Jean de Metz, “she had to submit to long inquiries.”

The Dauphin was naturally loath to take a step so full of peril, and indeed so fraught with the danger of ridiculous failure, without grave, anxious, and searching investigation. He wished Jeanne to appear at Poitiers before the prelates and lawyers of Parliament. At Poitiers she was subjected to the closest examination, and in the end convinced the lawyers and churchmen of her good faith and the reality of her visions and voices. The Archbishop of Rheims, following “Gamaliel in the Council of the Jews,” advised the Dauphin not to spurn the proffered help; and Charles, who had been already impressed by the “revelations,” took the Archbishop’s advice, and placed his forces and his fortune in her hands, trusting to divine help and succour. The armies of France were in marked contrast to those of England. French nobles had quasi-regal power in their dominions, and only fitfully followed the royal arms. In England, from the Conquest, the King was supreme lord of all, and every one owed direct and immediate allegiance to him. The English armies, unlike the French feudal array, were made up of peasants and artisans and adventurous young men seeking a career, and, in the last resort, as we know from Falstaff, of losels and waifs and ne’er-do-wells. Whether Lord Melville’s famous saying that “the worst men make the best soldiers” be or be not accepted, it seems true enough that for aggressive wars at any rate the reckless bravery of adventurers goes very far. And Henry’s army, composed as it was of English, Welsh, and Irish, was in truth an army of intrepid condottieri, intrepid to a fault, but lacking the chivalrous feelings which with all their drawbacks the feudal system and the knightly organisations tended to evolve.

Hardened and seasoned by years of warfare, the English in 1429 were without serious opposition or check in their movements and attacks. No French army kept the field. The King’s authority was flouted. The Duke of Burgundy was openly for the English cause. The Duke of Brittany and Lorraine wavered from side to side. Money had run out, and the last chance of success was staked in a bold throw on the strange promises of the young country girl.

The evidence given by competent witnesses shows us clearly the magnitude of her achievements during the months of May, June, and July, 1429: the relief of Orleans; the victory of Patay; the capture of Troyes; and the triumphal march to Rheims, completing her work by the consecration of Charles in the old Cathedral, which had seen so many of his predecessors anointed and crowned within its walls.

But the marvel is that these stupendous achievements were not the results of mere enthusiasm, great and potent though that was, but of settled, farseeing skill and prudence on the part of Jeanne, joined to a strength of soul and purpose which multiplied the strength of the army tenfold.

Like Cromwell she “new-modelled” the army. The licentious gaiety of the feudal warrior had to give way to the sobriety and seemliness which became a Christian camp. The voluptuary and the blasphemer had to amend their lives. To revels succeeded prayers and fasts and vigils. Yet never for a moment did this great amendment degenerate into formalism or hypocrisy. Like all great souls she awakened latent good and drove vice abashed from her presence without any conscious spiritual superiority in herself. Men were ashamed to be base in such a presence. Nor did she ever become a law unto herself, as the “illuminated” are so apt to be; rather she was more than ever observant of all the duties and claims and observances of ordinary religious obligation, being ever in heart the simple maid whom the Lord for His own mysterious purpose, and without any merit of hers, had chosen for a mighty task.

These great qualities won for her the ready submission of the soldiers, while her name and fame brought levies of ardent volunteers, from all sides, eagerly contending for the glory of serving under such a leader. Her frame was hardy and enduring. She wore armour night and day for a week at a time. She ate sparingly and drank hardly at all, moistening a crust in wine, or, greatly fatigued, tasting a little as a restorative. While her woman’s nature showed itself in her burst of tears when dishonouring names were flung at her by some brutal English soldiers, or when she screamed at the sharp and sudden pain of the wound she received, still there always came a quick moral reinforcement which restored her serene fortitude in the midst of indignities and perils.

Writers have differed and must go on differing with regard to the scope of her mission and the waning of her powers after the coronation of Rheims. If she dictated the letter to Henry VI. in which the words occur, “body for body you will be driven out of France,” we may, by connecting this saying with her famous letter to the Hussites—in which she threatened to chastise them, “Saracens” that they were, when her work was done and France cleared of her enemies—and from other scattered phrases as well, come to the conclusion that in her belief France was to be wholly freed, and freed by her as agent of the Lord. But the letter to Henry VI. is of doubtful authority, and her appeal to Charles after the coronation to be allowed to return to her father and mother, supported by contemporary authority, seems to show that she looked upon her work as done, and the great outburst of weeping in the Cathedral was in all likelihood the sob of satisfied piety and patriotism, whose cares were at an end and whose task was fulfilled even to fruition.

This seems the true view, with which also the latest French students agree. Yielding to entreaty she threw herself further into the national struggle. She was still brave, still magnetic and inspiring, but no longer to herself or to others the sword in the hand of God.

But if in the campaign of May and June she showed the wonderful military genius to which so many competent witnesses bear testimony, in the weary winter of the same year she shows a clearness and depth of statesmanship scarcely less astonishing. In moments of national peril there are always “wise” men who think that further resistance is foolish and even criminal. Alfred had to deal with such time-servers. So had Bruce, and so later on had Washington. Jeanne with a sore heart found herself clogged and impeded by these prudent men. Foremost amongst them was the Archbishop of Rheims, Regnault de Chartres. His programme was one of reconciliation. The Duke of Burgundy was to become the ally of France, and as such was to act as negotiator and intermediary for a lasting peace between Henry VI. and Charles VII. Poor Charles was weary of the war, and lent a ready ear to the accommodator. In vain Jeanne warned him of the folly of these plans. To strike, and strike quickly, at Paris was her advice. Halting and hesitating, Charles consented. An army was placed at her disposal, but, just as victory seemed sure, she was ordered to desist, and Burgundy so duped the French King that he was allowed to go through the French lines into Paris, ostensibly to treat for peace, but in reality, as the event proved, to put himself under Bedford’s orders, and to hold Paris as lieutenant for the Regent and ally of the King of England. Had Jeanne’s advice been followed this shameful treason could never have come about. She had known and felt that the hatred of the Duke of Burgundy and his house against Charles VII. was too deep and too rooted to be pulled up in a moment. For twenty years France had been distracted by the factions of Burgundy and Orleans struggling for control. Fire and water were not more opposed. Burgundy looked to England, and Orleans to France. We must not too hastily condemn these factions. Nations in the modern sense had not fully arisen. The State was everything. Whether a great Anglo-French monarchy sitting in Paris ruled over France, England, Ireland, and Wales, or a more domestic French line only ruled over France itself, was a question on which upright men might well take opposite sides. Jeanne’s special merit was that she saw the possibility of a great French nation, self-centred, self-sufficient, and she so stamped this message on the French heart that its characters have never faded. Ecclesiastics, on the other hand, with their conception of a Universal Empire and a Universal Church, thought little of National aspirations or claims. To them, anything which would allay the bitter rivalries of France and England naturally appealed, seeing, as they did, in such a change the promise of a return to the days before the Babylonian captivity at Avignon, and the bringing of all peoples into ready submission to Peter’s chair. Jeanne’s greatness is nowhere more manifest than in her willing loyalty to the Church and “our lord the Pope,” while claiming for France absolute national independence. Herein she stands alone. Dante’s two swords (wielded by Pope and Emperor) were lethal to national life. To the spiritual sword Jeanne bowed, but to no Emperor or King other than the anointed King of France could the loyalty of a French heart be due.

The winter of 1429 was spent in controversies of which the opposing principles of imperialism and nationality are the true keys. In the early spring, Jeanne, who had bravely stood by the national cause, and heartened all who withstood the party of compromise and surrender, saw only too clearly that for the time the French hopes of success had given way. That brave night ride to relieve Compiègne was in many respects a meeting of fate half way. No doubt, she defied augury, but signs of impending disaster multiplied; and when she fell into the hands of the Burgundians, she must have felt that while her own agony began, the cause of France might well gather more strength from her example as a sufferer, than from her futile struggle against cowardice and treason. Into one short year her whole astounding public career is crowded; Orleans, Patay, Troyes, Rheims, Paris, Compiègne; glory, exaltation, wreckage, and captivity. But France was at the end of it a conscious nation with an anointed King, and the work of deliverance was assured.

The Trial and Rehabilitation.

The English had felt sorely the humiliations of the year 1429. In Bedford’s report to the King’s Council in London he told of those who were struck with fear by the incantations of this “limb of the fiend” who had startled them from their security; and proclamations were issued against those who in terror of the Maid deserted the army. Now that she, who had worked such mischief to them, was in their hands, betrayed by her own countrymen,[^[1]] they wreaked vengeance upon her without stint.

The story of her prison life is a record of shame to her gaolers. Chained, mocked at, threatened, and insulted, her serenity never failed. She was in God’s hand, and she bowed to His will.

Months of suffering and anxiety passed over her before her captors made up their minds as to the course they would take to bring about her death under the semblance of legal execution. If she could be convicted by an ecclesiastical court of crimes against the faith, her condemnation would redound to the fair fame of England and the pious[^[2]] House of Lancaster, while covering the French and their sovereign with confusion as the allies and associates of a minister of hell.

Pliant churchmen were at hand to give countenance and help in this undertaking—bishops full of zeal and loyalty for our sovereign lord Henry VI., by the grace of God King of France and England.

The worst of these servile churchmen was the wretched Bishop of Beauvais, Pierre Cauchon. Many other prelates were Cæsar’s friends, but he sits exalted in solitary infamy. He came to the Burgundian camp and claimed his victim in the name of Bedford, Regent of France for the English King. Had Jeanne been detained by the Burgundians, it is impossible to believe that Charles VII. would not have procured her release. Had she been held as a prisoner of war by the English, it is very likely that the shame of holding a woman captive in their hands would have made it possible to arrange for her ransom. But once charged with heresy and taken out of the hands of the Burgundians such hopes and chances were closed. Still, as an ecclesiastical prisoner she would have been entitled to counsel and guidance by religious persons, the Church offering admonition before preferring grave charges of rebellion against any of her children. But this would render her punishment uncertain. Grave doctors of the law and eminent churchmen had at Poitiers, after long inquiry, declared her worthy of trust and they might do so again.

Therefore it was determined that she should be held in a lay prison though charged with an ecclesiastical offence. Cut off in this way from all spiritual help and instruction, she was to be brought, when the process was ripe, before a well-chosen court bent on her destruction, and ready to entangle her in questions which might entrap her into erroneous or heretical statements.

And once more we are confronted, if we try to rationalise her life and put away all belief in inspiration, with the amazing problem as to where and how this untutored girl drew her stores of logic, law, and theology.

The trial took place in Rouen Castle,[^[3]] the seat of Bedford’s government in France. The choosing of her judges was committed to Cauchon, who selected the most sturdy adherents of the English. No formal charge was preferred, but Jeanne was interrogated. This course was severely condemned by a distinguished lawyer named Lohier, who puts clearly before us the procedure and principles that should govern such a hearing.

There should be in the first place in all such trials a definite indictment of the charges advanced against the accused, who in turn ought to have due time to answer all the allegations with the assistance of counsel.

In Jeanne’s particular case, seeing that she had been already practically tried and acquitted at Poitiers at a trial presided over by the Archbishop of Rheims, the metropolitan of the Bishop of Beauvais, it was putting her twice in peril for the same offence, and on the second occasion before an inferior court, a thing contrary to law and reason. Moreover the venue was wrong. She had been captured in one diocese as an ecclesiastical prisoner, and she was to be tried in another, and no assent of the chapter of Rouen could give jurisdiction in such a case.

Finally she was in a lay prison, held there by her political enemies, which made it impossible for her to have the liberty and spiritual assistance necessary to meet ecclesiastical charges. The trial ought to have been held in an ordinary court and not in the Castle.

All these objections are of great substance and go to the very root of the inquiry. But more vital than all was Jeanne’s own expostulation against trial before Cauchon, who was her declared and bitter enemy, and the mere instrument of her foes and gaolers.

Gross however as the injustice was, there were certain barriers within which even Cauchon and his accomplices had to work their wicked wills. As there were fearless canonists like Lohier, who, as members of a great international Bar, were independent of any King or bishop, so the notaries, being apostolic and imperial officers, were in no way amenable to Cauchon or his crew. Every word spoken in court is duly and faithfully recorded, and this record formed the basis for the petition subsequently presented to the Pope by Jeanne’s mother and brother when seeking amendment of Cauchon’s judgment.

The trial is one of the most enthralling dramas in all history. The caution, the skill, the simplicity withal, shown by Jeanne in her answers to bewildering and entrapping questions, well earned the praise bestowed twenty years later by the accomplished lawyers who wrote on the case, sustaining the appeal for a new hearing.

The report gives all the details of the inquiry with fulness and accuracy, and when we carefully examine its course, we must agree with the canonists who said that the forms of law were indeed adhered to, but its spirit was grossly violated. The judges in Jeanne’s case fortified themselves with the decision of the University of Paris, but that decision was procured by laying before the University what purported to be the statements of Jeanne, but what were in truth selected passages from her statements torn from qualifying contexts and often with the suppression of governing words.

Still this précis was also part of the record of the Court, although attempts were made to suppress it, and at the re-hearing Cauchon and his fellow hirelings were vehemently condemned for this nefarious proceeding.

By a sentence, so obtained and so buttressed, Jeanne d’Arc was done to death. The story of the execution is one of the most heart-rending incidents in history. No comment can deepen or add to the pathos of the narrative given by the bystanders.

In 1450 King Charles VII. empowered Guillaume Bouillé, Rector of the University of Paris, to inquire into the circumstances of Jeanne’s trial, condemnation, and death, and to report the result of his investigation.

Great lawyers gave their opinions, and declared the trial void, as having been bad in substance as well as in form. But no regular judgment was pronounced.

Again in 1452 Pope Nicholas V., on appeal by Jeanne’s mother, Isabel d’Arc, ordered inquiry, which duly took place, but without formal issue.

It is fortunate for truth and human interest that these inquiries were abortive. Had they on general grounds annulled the proceedings under Cauchon, how much would have been lost to us!

We should never have had that delightful picture of Domremy given by the simple people of the place. Nor should we have, as we have now, a sworn narrative of Jeanne’s private and public life laying bare her very soul.

When Pope Calixtus ordered a full inquiry, he seemed to think, as Newman thought when writing the “Apologia,” that the less argument and the more narrative and evidence that could be given the better; and so, instead of discussing the nature of angels, the limits of Catholic obedience, the Great Schism,[^[4]] and the assurances of salvation of the just, he and his deputies put aside such questions with patient contempt until they first made sure of the human side of the story. How Jeanne impressed her neighbours, her priest, and her kin; what kind of girl she was; what were her employments; was she restive and ambitious or quiet and satisfied; was her life pure; was she given to foolish imaginings, or was she a sane, modest, unpretending country maiden? Into all these things Cauchon had made inquiries, but as the answers were all favourable to the accused he suppressed the evidence.

The decree of Pope Calixtus has added a true romance to human story. In all that we know of the world’s great ones we can find no parallel for the Maid of Domremy. Perhaps only in Catholic France was such a heroine possible. Certainly Teutonic Protestantism has as yet given to the world none of the exalted types of radiant and holy women such as those that illuminate Latin Christianity. Whether as a saint or a nation-maker, Jeanne’s place in world-history is assured.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Part I
THE TRIAL

Information as to the Original Documents of the Trial will be found in the Appendix, p. [331].

An Introductory Note on the Maid’s Capture at Compiègne and on the Procedure of her Trial is given in the Appendix on p. [332].

THE OLD CASTLE OF ROUEN.

I
FIRST PROCESS: THE LAPSE

TRIAL EX OFFICIO

Six Public Examinations

On Wednesday, February 21st, at 8 o’clock in the morning, in the Chapel Royal of the Castle of Rouen. The Bishop and 42 Assessors present.

We did first of all command to be read the Royal letters conveying surrender and deliverance of the said woman into Our hands; afterwards the letters of the Chapter of Rouen, making concession of territory for Our benefit. This reading ended, M^tre. Jean d’Estivet, nominated by Us as Promoter of the Case, did, in Our presence, shew that the aforesaid woman of the name of Jeanne hath been, by the Executor of Our Mandate, cited to appear in this place at this hour and day, here to answer, according to law, to the questions to be put to her.

The said Promoter did then produce Our Mandate, to which is attached the document confirming its execution, and did read them all. Our said Promoter did then require that the said woman should be placed before us, and, in terms of the citation, questioned by Us on divers Articles concerning the Faith, to the which We did agree. But as a preliminary, because the said woman had asked to hear Mass beforehand, We did shew to the Assessors that, by the advice of well-known Doctors and Masters consulted by Us, it hath been decided, considering the crimes of which she is accused, and the impropriety of the dress which she is wearing, that it is right to postpone permission to hear Mass and to assist in Divine Service.

In the meantime, the said woman was brought by the Executor of Our Mandate, and set before Us.

We did then shew that the said Jeanne hath been lately taken[^[5]] in the territory of Beauvais; that many acts contrary to the Orthodox Faith have been committed by her, not only in Our Diocese, but in many others; that the public report, which imputes these misdeeds to her, hath spread in all estates of Christendom; that, in the last place, the most Serene and most Christian our lord the King hath sent and given her up to Us in order that, according to law and right, an action may be brought against her in the matter of the Faith; that, acting upon this common report, upon public rumour, and also on certain information obtained by Us, of which mention hath already been often enough made, by the advice of men versed in sacred and secular Law, We have officially given commandment to cite the said Jeanne to appear before Us, in order through her to obtain truthful answers to the questions to be put to her in matters of the Faith, and in order to act towards her according to law and right; which doth so appear in the letters that the Promoter hath shewn.

Then, desiring in this particular the blessed succour of Jesus Christ, Who is concerned in this, and wishing only to fulfil the duties of Our office for the exaltation and preservation of the Catholic Faith, We did first charitably warn and require the said Jeanne, seated in Our presence, for the more prompt resolution of the Action and the relief of her own conscience, to speak the whole truth upon all questions which should be addressed to her touching the Faith; and We did exhort her to avoid all subterfuges and shufflings of such a nature as should turn her aside from a sincere and true avowal.

And in the first instance we did require her, in the appointed form, her hand on the Holy Gospels, to swear to speak truth on the questions to be addressed to her.

To which she did reply:

“I know not upon what you wish to question me: perhaps you may ask me of things which I ought not to tell you.”

“Swear,” We did then say to her, “to speak truth on the things which shall be asked you concerning the Faith, and of which you know.”

“Of my father and my mother and of what I did after taking the road to France, willingly will I swear; but of the revelations which have come to me from God, to no one will I speak or reveal them, save only to Charles my King; and to you I will not reveal them, even if it cost me my head; because I have received them in visions and by secret counsel, and am forbidden to reveal them. Before eight days are gone, I shall know if I may reveal them to you.”

Again did We several times warn and require her to be willing, on whatsoever should touch on the Faith, to swear to speak truly. And the said Jeanne, on her knees, her two hands resting on the Missal, did swear to speak truth on that which should be asked her and which she knew in the matter of the Faith, keeping silence under the condition above stated, that is to say, neither to tell nor to reveal to any one the revelations made to her.

After this oath, Jeanne was interrogated by Us as to her name, and surname, her place of birth, the names of her father and mother, the place of her baptism, her godfathers and godmothers, the Priest who baptized her, etc., etc.

“In my own country they call me Jeannette; since I came into France I have been called Jeanne. Of my surname I know nothing. I was born[^[6]] in the village of Domremy, which is really one with the village of Greux. The principal Church is at Greux. My father is called Jacques d’Arc; my mother, Ysabelle. I was baptized in the village of Domremy.[^[7]] One of my godmothers[^[8]] is called Agnes, another Jeanne, a third Sibylle. One of my godfathers is called Jean Lingué, another Jean Barrey. I had many other godmothers, or so I have heard from my mother. I was, I believe, baptized by Messire Jean Minet; he still lives, so far as I know. I am, I should say, about nineteen years of age. From my mother I learned my Pater, my Ave Maria, and my Credo. I believe I learned all this from my mother.”

JEANNE D’ARC’S HOUSE AT DOMREMY.

“Say your Pater.”

“Hear me in confession, and I will say it willingly.”

To this same question, which was many times put to her, she always answered: “No, I will not say my Pater to you, unless you will hear me in confession.”

“Willingly,” We said to her, “We will give you two well-known men, of the French language, and before them you shall say your Pater.”

“I will not say it to them, unless it be in confession.”

And then did We forbid Jeanne to go out of the prison which hath been assigned to her in the Castle without Our permission, under pain of the crime of heresy.

“I do not accept such a prohibition,” she answered; “if ever I do escape, no one shall reproach me with having broken or violated my faith, not having given my word to any one, whosoever it may be.”

And as she complained that she had been fastened with chains and fetters of iron, We said to her:

“You have before, and many times, sought, We are told, to get out of the prison, where you are detained; and it is to keep you more surely that it has been ordered to put you in irons.”

“It is true I wished to escape; and so I wish still: is not this lawful for all prisoners?”

We then commissioned as her guard the noble man John Gris,[^[9]] Squire, one of the Body Guard of our Lord the King, and, with him, John Berwoist and William Talbot, whom We enjoined well and faithfully to guard the said Jeanne, and to permit no person to have dealings with her without Our order. Which the aforenamed, with their hands on the Gospels, did solemnly swear.

Finally, having accomplished all the preceding, We appointed the said Jeanne to appear the next day, at 8 o’clock in the morning, before Us in the Ornament Room, at the end of the Great Hall of the Castle of Rouen.

Thursday, February 22nd, in the Ornament Room at the end of the Great Hall of the Castle of Rouen. The Bishop and 48 Assessors present.

In their presence, We shewed that Jean Lemaître, Deputy of the Chief Inquisitor, had been summoned and required by Us to join himself to the present Action, with Our offer of communicating to him all that hath been done hitherto or shall be done in the future; but that the said Deputy had replied, that, having been commissioned by the Chief Inquisitor for the City and Diocese of Rouen only, and the actual Process being deduced by Us in a territory which hath been ceded to Us by the Metropolitan Chapter, by reason of Our Ordinary Jurisdiction, as Bishop of Beauvais, he had thought it right to avoid all nullity and also for the peace of his own conscience, to refuse to join himself with Us, in the quality of Judge, until he should receive from the Chief Inquisitor a Commission and more extended powers: that, nevertheless, he would have no objection to see the trial continue without interruption.

After having heard Us make this narration, the said Deputy, being present, declared, addressing himself to Us, “That which you have just said is true. It has been, as much as in me lies, and still is, agreeable to me that you should continue the Trial.”

Then the said Jeanne was brought before Us.

We warned and required her, on pain of law, to make oath as she had done the day before and to swear simply and absolutely to speak truth on all things in respect of which she should be asked; to which she answered:

“I swore yesterday: that should be enough.”

Again We required her to swear: we said to her, not even a prince, required to swear in a matter of faith, can refuse.

“I made oath to you yesterday,” she answered, “that should be quite enough for you: you burden me over-much!”

Finally she made oath to speak truth on that which touches the Faith.

Then Maître Jean Beaupère, a well-known Professor of Theology, did, by Our order, question the said Jeanne. This he did as follows:

“First of all, I exhort you, as you have so sworn, to tell the truth on that which I am about to ask you.”

“You may well ask me some things on which I shall tell you the truth and some on which I shall not tell it you. If you were well informed about me, you would wish to have me out of your hands. I have done nothing except by revelation.”

“How old were you when you left your father’s house?”

“On the subject of my age I cannot vouch.”

“In your youth, did you learn any trade?”

“Yes, I learnt to spin and to sew; in sewing and spinning I fear no woman in Rouen. For dread of the Burgundians, I left my father’s house and went to the town of Neufchâteau,[^[10]] in Lorraine, to the house of a woman named La Rousse, where I sojourned about fifteen days. When I was at home with my father, I employed myself with the ordinary cares of the house. I did not go to the fields with the sheep and the other animals. Every year I confessed myself to my own Curé, and, when he was prevented, to another Priest with his permission. Sometimes, also, two or three times, I confessed to the Mendicant Friars; this was at Neufchâteau. At Easter I received the Sacrament of the Eucharist.”

“Have you received the Sacrament of the Eucharist at any other Feast but Easter?”

“Pass that by [Passez outre]. I was thirteen when I had a Voice from God for my help and guidance. The first time that I heard this Voice, I was very much frightened; it was mid-day, in the summer, in my father’s garden. I had not fasted the day before. I heard this Voice to my right, towards the Church; rarely do I hear it without its being accompanied also by a light. This light comes from the same side as the Voice. Generally it is a great light. Since I came into France I have often heard this Voice.”

“But how could you see this light that you speak of, when the light was at the side?”

To this question she answered nothing, but went on to something else. “If I were in a wood, I could easily hear the Voice which came to me. It seemed to me to come from lips I should reverence. I believe it was sent me from God. When I heard it for the third time, I recognized that it was the Voice of an Angel. This Voice has always guarded me well, and I have always understood it; it instructed me to be good and to go often to Church; it told me it was necessary for me to come into France. You ask me under what form this Voice appeared to me? You will hear no more of it from me this time. It said to me two or three times a week: ‘You must go into France.’ My father knew nothing of my going. The Voice said to me: ‘Go into France!’ I could stay no longer. It said to me: ‘Go, raise the siege which is being made before the City of Orleans. ‘Go!’ it added, ‘to Robert de Baudricourt,[^[11]] Captain of Vaucouleurs: he will furnish you with an escort to accompany you.’ And I replied that I was but a poor girl, who knew nothing of riding or fighting. I went to my uncle and said that I wished to stay near him for a time. I remained there eight days. I said to him, ‘I must go to Vaucouleurs.’[^[12]] He took me there. When I arrived, I recognized Robert de Baudricourt, although I had never seen him. I knew him, thanks to my Voice, which made me recognize him. I said to Robert, ‘I must go into France!’ Twice Robert refused to hear me, and repulsed me. The third time, he received me, and furnished me with men;[^[13]] the Voice had told me it would be thus. The Duke of Lorraine[^[14]] gave orders that I should be taken to him. I went there. I told him that I wished to go into France. The Duke asked me questions about his health; but I said of that I knew nothing. I spoke to him little of my journey. I told him he was to send his son with me, together with some people to conduct me to France, and that I would pray to God for his health. I had gone to him with a safe-conduct: from thence I returned to Vaucouleurs. From Vaucouleurs I departed, dressed as a man, armed with a sword given me by Robert de Baudricourt, but without other arms. I had with me a Knight,[^[15]] a Squire, and four servants, with whom I reached the town of Saint Urbain, where I slept in an Abbey. On the way, I passed through Auxerre, where I heard Mass in the principal Church. Thenceforward I often heard my Voices.”

“Who counselled you to take a man’s dress?”

To this question she several times refused to answer. In the end, she said: “With that I charge no one.” Many times she varied in her answers to this question. Then she said:

“Robert de Baudricourt made those who went with me swear to conduct me well and safely. ‘Go,’ said Robert de Baudricourt to me, ‘Go! and let come what may!’ I know well that God loves the Duke of Orleans; I have had more revelations about the Duke of Orleans than about any man alive, except my King. It was necessary for me to change my woman’s garments for a man’s dress. My counsel thereon said well. I sent a letter to the English before Orleans,[^[16]] to make them leave, as may be seen in a copy of my letter which has been read to me in this City of Rouen; there are, nevertheless, two or three words in this copy which were not in my letter. Thus, ‘Surrender to the Maid,’ should be replaced by ‘Surrender to the King.’ The words, ‘body for body’ and ‘chieftain in war’ were not in my letter at all.[^[17]]

“I went without hindrance to the King. Having arrived at the village of Saint Catherine de Fierbois, I sent for the first time to the Castle of Chinon,[^[18]] where the King was. I got there towards mid-day, and lodged first at an inn. After dinner, I went to the King, who was at the Castle. When I entered the room where he was I recognized 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 on the English.”

“When the Voice shewed you the King, was there any light?”

“Pass on.”

“Did you see an Angel over the King?”

“Spare me. Pass on. Before the King set me to work, he had many apparitions and beautiful revelations.”

“What revelations and apparitions had the King?”

“I will not tell you; it is not yet time to answer you about them; but send to the King, and he will tell you. The Voice had promised me that, as soon I came to the King, he would receive me. Those of my party knew well that the Voice had been sent me from God; they have seen and known this Voice, I am sure of it. My King and many others have also heard and seen the Voices which came to me: there were there Charles de Bourbon[^[19]] and two or three others. There is not a day when I do not hear this Voice; and I have much need of it. But never have I asked of it any recompense but the salvation of my soul. The Voice told me to remain at Saint-Denis, in France; I wished to do so, but, against my will, the Lords made me leave. If I had not been wounded, I should never have left. After having quitted Saint-Denis, I was wounded in the trenches before Paris;[^[20]] but I was cured in five days. It is true that I caused an assault to be made before Paris.”

“Was it a Festival that day?”

“I think it was certainly a Festival.”

“Is it a good thing to make an assault on a Festival?”

“Pass on.”

And as it appeared that enough had been done for to-day, We have postponed the affair to Saturday next, at 8 o’clock in the morning.

Saturday, 24th February, in the same place. The Bishop and 62 Assessors present.

In their presence We did require the aforenamed Jeanne to swear to speak the truth simply and absolutely on the questions to be addressed to her, without adding any restriction to her oath. We did three times thus admonish her. She answered:

“Give me leave to speak. By my faith! you may well ask me such things as I will not tell you. Perhaps on many of the things you may ask me I shall not tell you truly, especially on those that touch on my revelations; for you may constrain me to say things that I have sworn not to say; then I should be perjured, which you ought not to wish.” [Addressing the Bishop:] “I tell you, take good heed of what you say, you, who are my Judge;[^[21]] you take a great responsibility in thus charging me. I should say that it is enough to have sworn twice.”

“Will you swear, simply and absolutely?”

“You may surely do without this. I have sworn enough already twice. All the clergy of Rouen and Paris cannot condemn me if it be not law. Of my coming into France I will speak the truth willingly; but I will not say all: the space of eight days would not suffice.”

“Take the advice of the Assessors, whether you should swear or not.”

“Of my coming I will willingly speak truth, but not of the rest; speak no more of it to me.”

“You render yourself liable to suspicion in not being willing to swear to speak the truth absolutely.”

“Speak to me no more of it. Pass on.”

“We again require you to swear, precisely and absolutely.”

“I will say willingly what I know, and yet not all. I am come in God’s name; I have nothing to do here; let me be sent back to God, whence I came.”

“Again we summon and require you to swear, under pain of going forth charged with that which is imputed to you.”

“Pass on.”

“A last time we require you to swear, and urgently admonish you to speak the truth on all that concerns your trial; you expose yourself to a great peril by such a refusal.”

“I am ready to speak truth on what I know touching the trial.”

And in this manner was she sworn.

Then, by Our order, she was questioned by Maître Jean Beaupère, a well-known Doctor, as follows:

“How long is it since you have had food and drink?”[^[22]]

“Since yesterday afternoon.”

“How long is it since you heard your Voices?”

“I heard them yesterday and to-day.”

“At what hour yesterday did you hear them?”

“Yesterday I heard them three times,—once in the morning, once at Vespers, and again when the Ave Maria rang in the evening. I have even heard them oftener than that.”

“What were you doing yesterday morning when the Voice came to you?”

“I was asleep: the Voice awoke me.”

“Was it by touching you on the arm?”

“It awoke me without touching me.”

“Was it in your room?”

“Not so far as I know, but in the Castle.”

“Did you thank it? and did you go on your knees?”

“I did thank it. I was sitting on the bed; I joined my hands; I implored its help. The Voice said to me: ‘Answer boldly.’ I asked advice as to how I should answer, begging it to entreat for this the counsel of the Lord. The Voice said to me: ‘Answer boldly; God will help thee.’ Before I had prayed it to give me counsel, it said to me several words I could not readily understand. After I was awake, it said to me: ‘Answer boldly.’” [Addressing herself to Us, the said Bishop:] “You say you are my judge. Take care what you are doing; for in truth I am sent by God, and you place yourself in great danger.”

Maître Beaupère, continuing, said:

“Has this Voice sometimes varied in its counsel?”

“I have never found it give two contrary opinions.... This night again I heard it say: ‘Answer boldly.’”

“Has your Voice forbidden you to say everything on what you are asked?”

“I will not answer you about that. I have revelations touching the King that I will not tell you.”

“Has it forbidden you to tell those revelations?”

“I have not been advised about these things. Give me a delay of fifteen days,[^[23]] and I will answer you. If my Voice has forbidden me, what would you say about it? Believe me, it is not men who have forbidden me. To-day I will not answer: I do not know if I ought, or not; it has not been revealed to me. But as firmly as I believe in the Christian Faith and that God hath redeemed us from the pains of Hell, that Voice hath come to me from God and by His Command.”

“The Voice that you say appears to you, does it come directly from an Angel, or directly from God; or does it come from one of the Saints?”

“The Voice comes to me from God; and I do not tell you all I know about it: I have far greater fear of doing wrong in saying to you things that would displease it, than I have of answering you. As to this question, I beg you to grant me delay.”

“Is it displeasing to God to speak the truth?”

“My Voices have entrusted to me certain things to tell to the King, not to you. This very night they told me many things for the welfare of my King, which I would he might know at once, even if I should drink no wine until Easter, ... the King would be the more joyful at his dinner!”

“Can you not so deal with your Voices that they will convey this news to your King?”

“I know not if the Voice would obey, and if it be God’s Will. If it please God, He will know how to reveal it to the King, and I shall be well content.”

“Why does not this Voice speak any more to your King, as it did when you were in his presence?”

“I do not know if it be the Will of God. Without the grace of God I should not know how to do anything.”

“Has your counsel revealed to you that you will escape from prison?”

“I have nothing to tell you about that.”

“This night, did your Voice give you counsel and advice as to what you should answer?”

“If it did give me advice and counsel thereon, I did not understand.”

“The last two occasions on which you have heard this Voice, did a brightness come?”

“The brightness comes at the same time as the Voice.”

“Besides the Voice, do you see anything?”

“I will not tell you all; I have not leave; my oath does not touch on that. My Voice is good and to be honoured. I am not bound to answer you about it. I request that the points on which I do not now answer may be given me in writing.”

“The Voice from whom you ask counsel, has it a face and eyes?”

“You shall not know yet. There is a saying among children, that ‘Sometimes one is hanged for speaking the truth.’”

“Do you know if you are in the grace of God?”

“If I am not, may God place me there; if I am, may God so keep me. I should be the saddest in all the world if I knew that I were not in the grace of God. But if I were in a state of sin, do you think the Voice would come to me? I would that every one could hear the Voice as I hear it. I think I was about thirteen when it came to me for the first time.”

“In your youth, did you play in the fields with the other children?”

“I certainly went sometimes, I do not know at what age.”

“Do the Domremy people side with the Burgundians or with the opposite party?”

“I knew only one Burgundian[^[24]] at Domremy: I should have been quite willing for them to cut off his head—always had it pleased God.”

“The Maxey people, were they Burgundians, or opposed to the Burgundians?”

“They were Burgundians. As soon as I knew that my Voices were for the King of France, I loved the Burgundians no more. The Burgundians will have war unless they do what they ought; I know it by my Voice. The English were already in France when my Voices began to come to me. I do not remember being with the children of Domremy when they went to fight against those of Maxey for the French side: but I certainly saw the Domremy children who had fought with those of Maxey coming back many times, wounded and bleeding.”

“Had you in your youth any intention of fighting the Burgundians?”

“I had a great will and desire that my King should have his own Kingdom.”

“When you had to come into France, did you wish to be a man?”

“I have answered this elsewhere.”

“Did you not take the animals to the fields?”

“I have already answered this also. When I was bigger and had come to years of discretion, I did not look after them generally; but I helped to take them to the meadows and to a Castle called the Island,[^[25]] for fear of the soldiers. I do not remember if I led them in my childhood or no.”

“What have you to say about a certain tree which is near to your village?”

“Not far from Domremy there is a tree[^[26]] that they call ‘The Ladies’ Tree’—others call it ‘The Fairies’ Tree’; near by, there is a spring where people sick of the fever come to drink, as I have heard, and to seek water to restore their health. I have seen them myself come thus; but I do not know if they were healed. I have heard that the sick, once cured, come to this tree[^[27]] to walk about. It is a beautiful tree, a beech, from which comes the ‘beau may’—it belongs to the Seigneur Pierre de Bourlement,[^[28]] Knight. I have sometimes been to play with the young girls, to make garlands for Our Lady of Domremy. Often I have heard the old folk—they are not of my lineage—say that the fairies haunt this tree. I have also heard one of my Godmothers, named Jeanne, wife of the Maire Aubery of Domremy, say that she has seen fairies there; whether it be true, I do not know. As for me, I never saw them that I know of. If I saw them anywhere else, I do not know. I have seen the young girls putting garlands on the branches of this tree, and I myself have sometimes put them there with my companions; sometimes we took these garlands away, sometimes we left them. Ever since I knew that it was necessary for me to come into France, I have given myself up as little as possible to these games and distractions. Since I was grown up, I do not remember to have danced there. I may have danced there formerly, with the other children. I have sung there more than danced. There is also a wood called the Oak-wood, which can be seen from my father’s door; it is not more than half-a-league away. I do not know, and have never heard if the fairies appear there; but my brother told me that it is said in the neighbourhood: ‘Jeannette received her mission at the Fairies’ Tree.’ It is not the case; and I told him the contrary. When I came before the King, several people asked me if there were not in my country a wood, called the Oak-wood, because there were prophecies[^[29]] which said that from the neighbourhood of this wood would come a maid who should do marvellous things. I put no faith in that.”

“Would you like to have a woman’s dress?”

“Give me one, and I will take it and begone; otherwise, no. I am content with what I have, since it pleases God that I wear it.”

This done, We stayed the interrogation, and put off the remainder to Tuesday next, on which day We have convoked all the Assessors, at the same place and hour.

Tuesday, February 27th, in the same place. The Bishop and 54 Assessors present.

In their presence, We required the said Jeanne to swear to tell the truth on everything touching her Trial.

“Willingly will I swear,” she answered, “to tell the truth on everything touching the trial, but not upon all that I know.”

We required her again to speak the truth on all which should be asked of her.

“You ought to be satisfied,” she answered. “I have sworn enough.”

Then, by Our order, Maître Beaupère began to question her. And first he inquired of her, how she had been since the Saturday before?

“You can see for yourself how I am. I am as well as can be.”

“Do you fast every day this Lent?”

“Is that in the Case? Well, yes! I have fasted every day during this Lent.”

“Have you heard your Voices since Saturday?”

“Yes, truly, many times.”

“Did you hear them on Saturday in this hall, where you were being examined?”

“That is not in your Case. Very well, then—yes! I did hear them.”

“What did your Voice say to you last Saturday?”

“I did not quite understand it; and up to the moment when I returned to my room, I heard nothing that I may repeat to you.”

“What did it say to you in your room, on your return?”

“It said to me, ‘Answer them boldly.’ I take counsel with my Voice about what you ask me. I will tell willingly whatever I shall have permission from God to reveal; as to the revelations concerning the King of France, I will not tell them without the permission of my Voice.”

“Has your Voice forbidden you to tell everything?”

“I did not quite understand it.”

“What did your Voice last say to you?”

“I asked counsel about certain things that you had asked me.”

“Did it give you counsel?”

“On some points, yes; on others you may ask me for an answer that I shall not give, not having had leave. For, if I answered without leave, I should no longer have my Voices as warrant. When I have permission from Our Saviour, I shall not fear to speak, because I shall have warrant.”

“This Voice that speaks to you, is it that of an Angel, or of a Saint, or from God direct?”

“It is the Voice of Saint Catherine and of Saint Margaret.[^[30]] Their faces are adorned with beautiful crowns, very rich and precious. To tell you this I have leave from Our Lord. If you doubt this, send to Poitiers, where I was examined before.”

“How do you know if these were the two Saints? How do you distinguish one from the other?”

“I know quite well it is they; and I can easily distinguish one from the other.”

“How do you distinguish them?”

“By the greeting they give me. It is seven years now since they have undertaken to guide me. I know them well because they were named to me.”

“Are these two Saints dressed in the same stuff?”

“I will tell you no more just now; I have not permission to reveal it. If you do not believe me, go to Poitiers. There are some revelations which come to the King of France, and not to you, who are questioning me.”

“Are they of the same age?”

“I have not leave to say.”

“Do they speak at the same time, or one after the other?”

“I have not leave to say; nevertheless, I have always had counsel from them both.”

“Which of them appeared to you first?”

“I did not distinguish them at first. I knew well enough once, but I have forgotten. If I had leave, I would tell you willingly: it is written in the Register at Poitiers.[^[31]] I have also received comfort from Saint Michael.”

“Which of these two appearances came to you first?”

“Saint Michael.”

“Is it a long time since you first heard the voice of Saint Michael?”

“I did not say anything to you about the voice of Saint Michael; I say I have had great comfort from him.”

“What was the first Voice that came to you when you were about thirteen?”

“It was Saint Michael: I saw him before my eyes; he was not alone, but quite surrounded by the Angels of Heaven. I came into France only by the order of God.”

“Did you see Saint Michael and these Angels bodily and in reality?”

“I saw them with my bodily eyes as well as I see you; when they went from me, I wept. I should have liked to be taken away with them.”

“And what was Saint Michael like?”

“You will have no more answer from me; and I am not yet free to tell you.”

“What did Saint Michael say to you this first time?”

“You will have no more answer about it from me to-day. My Voices said to me, ‘Reply boldly.’ Once I told the King all that had been revealed to me, because it concerned him; but I am no longer free to reveal to you all that Saint Michael said to me.” [To Maître Beaupère:] “I wish you could get a copy of this book at Poitiers, if it please God.”

“Have your Voices forbidden you to make known your revelations without leave from them?”

“I will answer you no more about it. On all that I have leave, I will answer willingly. I have not quite understood if my Voices have forbidden me to answer.”

“What sign do you give that you have this revelation from God, and that it is Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret that talk with you?”

“I have told you that it is they; believe me if you will.”

“Are you forbidden to say?”

“I have not quite understood if this is forbidden or not.”

“How can you make sure of distinguishing such things as you are free to tell, from those which are forbidden?”

“On some points I have asked leave, and on others I have obtained it. I would rather have been torn asunder by four horses than have come into France without God’s leave.”

“Was it God who prescribed to you the dress of a man?”

“What concerns this dress is a small thing—less than nothing. I did not take it by the advice of any man in the world. I did not take this dress or do anything but by the command of Our Lord and of the Angels.”

“Did it appear to you that this command to take man’s dress was lawful?”

“All I have done is by Our Lord’s command. If I had been told to take some other, I should have done it; because it would have been His command.”

“Did you not take this garment by order of Robert de Baudricourt?”

“No.”

“Do you think it was well to take a man’s dress?”

“All that I have done by the order of Our Lord I think has been well done; I look for good surety and good help in it.”

“In this particular case, this taking of man’s dress, do you think you did well?”

“I have done nothing in the world but by the order of God.”

“When you saw this Voice coming to you, was there a light?”

“There was plenty of light everywhere, as was seemly.” [Addressing herself to Maître Beaupère:] “It does not all come to you!”

“Was there an angel over the head of your King when you saw him for the first time?”

“By Our Lady! if there were, I know nothing of it; I did not see it.”

“Was there a light?”

“There were more than three hundred Knights and more than fifty torches, without counting the spiritual light.”

“Why was your King able to put faith in your words?”

“He had good signs, and the clergy bore me witness.”

“What revelations has your King had?”

“You will not have them from me this year. During three weeks I was questioned by the clergy at Chinon and at Poitiers. Before he was willing to believe me, the King had a sign of my mission; and the clergy of my party were of opinion that there was nothing but good in my mission.”

“Have you been to Saint Catherine de Fierbois?”[^[32]]

“Yes, and I heard there three Masses in one day. Afterwards, I went to the Castle of Chinon, whence I sent letters to the King, to know if I should be allowed to see him; saying, that I had travelled a hundred and fifty leagues to come to his help, and that I knew many things good for him. I think I remember there was in my letter the remark that I should recognize him among all others. I had a sword I had taken at Vaucouleurs. Whilst I was at Tours, or at Chinon, I sent to seek for a sword which was in the Church of Saint Catherine de Fierbois, behind the altar; it was found there at once; the sword was in the ground, and rusty; upon it were five crosses; I knew by my Voice where it was. I had never seen the man who went to seek for it. I wrote to the Priests of the place, that it might please them to let me have this sword, and they sent it to me. It was under the earth, not very deeply buried, behind the altar, so it seemed to me: I do not know exactly if it were before or behind the altar, but I believe I wrote saying that it was at the back. As soon as it was found, the Priests of the Church rubbed it, and the rust fell off at once without effort. It was an armourer of Tours who went to look for 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 had a third made of leather, very strong. When I was taken prisoner I had not got this sword. I always bore the sword of Fierbois from the time I had it up to my departure from Saint-Denis,[^[33]] after the attack on Paris.”

“What blessing did you invoke, or have invoked, on this sword?”

“I neither blessed it, nor had it blessed: I should not have known how to set about it. I cared very much for this sword, because it had been found in the Church of Saint Catherine, whom I love so much.”

“Have you been at Coulange-les-Vineuses?”[^[34]]

“I do not know.”

“Have you sometimes placed your sword upon an altar; and, in so placing it, was it that your sword might be more fortunate?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Have you sometimes prayed that it might be more fortunate?”

“It is good to know that I wished my armour might have good fortune!”

“Had you your sword when you were taken prisoner?”

“No, I had one which had been taken on a Burgundian.”

“Where was the sword of Fierbois left?”

“I offered at Saint-Denis a sword and armour;[^[35]] but it was not this sword. I had that at Lagny; from Lagny to Compiègne, I bore the sword of this Burgundian; it was a good sword for fighting—very good for giving stout buffets and hard clouts. To tell what became of the other sword does not concern this Case, and I will not answer about it now. My brothers have all my goods—my horses,[^[36]] my sword, so far as I know, and the rest, which are worth more than twelve thousand crowns.”

“When you were at Orleans, had you a standard, or banner;[^[37]] and of what colour was it?”

“I had a banner of which the field was sprinkled with lilies; the world was painted there, with an angel at each side; it was white, of the white cloth called ‘boccassin’; there was written above, I believe, ‘Jhesus Maria’; it was fringed with silk.”

“The words ‘Jhesus Maria’ were they written above, below, or on the side?”

“At the side, I believe.”

“Which did you care for most, your banner or your sword?”

“Better, forty times better, my banner than my sword!”

“Who made you get this painting done upon your banner?”

“I have told you often enough, that I had nothing done but by the command of God. It was I, myself, who bore this banner, when I attacked the enemy, to save killing any one, for I have never killed any one.”

“What force did your King give you when he set you to work?”

“He gave me ten or twelve thousand men. First, I went to Orleans, to the fortress of Saint Loup, and afterwards to that of the Bridge.”

“Which fortress was being attacked when you made your men retire?”

“I do not remember. I was quite certain of raising the siege of Orleans; I had revelation of it. I told this to the King before going there.”

“Before the assault, did you not tell your followers that you alone would receive the arrows, cross-bolts, and stones, thrown by the machines and cannons?”

“No; a hundred and even more of my people were wounded. I had said to them: ‘Be fearless, and you will raise the siege.’ Then, in the attack on the Bridge fortress, I was wounded in the neck by an arrow or cross-bolt;[^[38]] but I had great comfort from Saint Catherine, and was cured in less than a fortnight. I did not interrupt for this either my riding or work. I knew quite well that I should be wounded; I had told the King so, but that, notwithstanding, I should go on with my work. This had been revealed to me by the Voices of my two Saints,[^[39]] the blessed Catherine and the blessed Margaret. It was I who first planted a ladder against the fortress of the Bridge, and it was in raising this ladder that I was wounded in the neck by this cross-bolt.”

“Why did you not accept the treaty with the Captain of Jargeau?”[^[40]]

“It was the Lords of my party who answered the English that they should not have the fortnight’s delay which they asked, telling them that they were to retire at once, they and their horses. As for me, I told them of Jargeau to retire if they wished, with their doublets,[^[41]] and their lives safe; if not, they would be taken by assault.”

“Had you any revelation from your counsel, that is to say from your Voices, to know whether it was right or not to give this fortnight’s respite?”

“I do not remember.”

At this point, the rest of the enquiry hath been postponed to another day. We have fixed for Thursday the next Meeting, at the same place.

Thursday, March 1st, in the same place, the Bishop and 58 Assessors present.

In their presence, We summoned and required Jeanne simply and absolutely to take her oath to speak the truth on that which should be asked her.

“I am ready,” she replied, “as I have already declared to you, to speak the truth on all I know touching this Case; but I know many things which do not touch on this Case, and of which there is no need to speak to you. I will speak willingly and in all truth on all which touches this Case.”

We again summoned and required her; and she replied:

“What I know in truth touching the Case, I will tell willingly.”

And in this wise did she swear, her hands on the Holy Gospels. Then she said:

“On what I know touching the Case, I will speak the truth willingly; I will tell you as much as I would to the Pope of Rome, if I were before him.”

Then she was examined as follows:

“What do you say of our Lord the Pope? and whom do you believe to be the true Pope?”

“Are there two of them?”

“Did you not receive a letter from the Count d’Armagnac, asking you which of the three Pontiffs[^[42]] he ought to obey?”

“The Count did in fact write to me on this subject. I replied, among other things, that when I should be at rest, in Paris or elsewhere, I would give him an answer. I was just at that moment mounting my horse when I sent this reply.”

At this juncture, We ordered to be read the copy of the Count’s letter and of Jeanne’s reply, which are thus expressed:

“My very dear Lady—I humbly commend myself to you, and pray, for God’s sake, that, considering the divisions which are at this present time in the Holy Church Universal on the question of the Popes, for there are now three contending for the Papacy—one residing at Rome, calling himself Martin V., whom all Christian Kings obey; another, living at Paniscole, in the Kingdom of Valence, who calls himself Clement VII.; the third, no one knows where he lives, unless it be the Cardinal Saint Etienne and some few people with him, but he calls himself Pope Benedict XIV. The first, who styles himself Pope Martin, was elected at Constance with the consent of all Christian nations; he who is called Clement was elected at Paniscole, after the death of Pope Benedict XIII., by three of his Cardinals; the third, who dubs himself Benedict XIV., was elected secretly at Paniscole, even by the Cardinal Saint Etienne. You will have the goodness to pray Our Saviour Jesus Christ that by His infinite Mercy He may by you declare to us which of the three named is Pope in truth, and whom it pleases Him that we should obey, now and henceforward, whether he who is called Martin, he who is called Clement, or he who is called Benedict; and in whom we are to believe, if secretly, or by any dissembling, or publicly; for we are all ready to do the will and pleasure of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

“Yours in all things,

“Count d’Armagnac.”

Jeanne’s Reply.

“Jhesus Maria.

“Count d’Armagnac, my very good and dear friend, I, Jeanne, the Maid, acquaint you that your message has come before me, which tells me that you have sent at once to know from me which of the three Popes, mentioned in your memorial, you should believe. This thing I cannot tell you truly at present, until I am at rest in Paris or elsewhere; for I am now too much hindered by affairs of war; but when you hear that I am in Paris, send a message to me and I will inform you in truth whom you should believe, and what I shall know by the counsel of my Righteous and Sovereign Lord, the King of all the World, and of what you should do to the extent of my power. I commend you to God. May God have you in His keeping! Written at Compiègne, August 22nd.”

Then the Enquiry proceeded thus:

“Is this really the reply that you made?”

“I deem that I might have made this answer in part, but not all.”

“Did you say that you might know, by the counsel of the King of Kings, what the Count should hold on this subject?”

“I know nothing about it.”

“Had you any doubt about whom the Count should obey?”

“I did not know how to inform him on this question, as to whom he should obey, because the Count himself asked to know whom God wished him to obey. But for myself, I hold and believe that we should obey our Lord the Pope who is in Rome. I told the messenger of the Count some things which are not in this copy; and, if the messenger had not gone off immediately, he would have been thrown into the water—not by me, however. As to the Count’s enquiry, desiring to know whom God wished him to obey, I answered that I did not know; but I sent him messages on several things which have not been put in writing. As for me, I believe in our Lord the Pope who is at Rome.”

“Why did you write that you would give an answer elsewhere if you believed in the Pope who is at Rome?”

“That answer had reference to other things than the matter of the sovereign Pontiffs.”

“Did you say that on the matter of the three sovereign Pontiffs you would have counsel?”

“I never wrote nor gave command to write on the matter of the three sovereign Pontiffs.” And this answer she supported by oath.

“Are you in the habit of putting the Names ‘Jhesus Maria,’ with a cross, at the top of your letters?”

“On some I put it, on others not; sometimes I put a cross as a sign for those of my party to whom I wrote so that they should not do as the letters said.”

Here a letter was read from Jeanne to our Lord the King, to the Duke of Bedford, and others, of the following tenour:—

“Jhesus Maria.

“King of England; and you, Duke of Bedford, who call yourself Regent of the Kingdom of France; you, William de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk; John, Lord Talbot; and you, Thomas, Lord Scales, who call yourselves Lieutenants to the said Duke of Bedford: give satisfaction to the King of Heaven: give up to the Maid, who is sent hither by God, the King of Heaven, the keys of all the good towns in France which you have taken and broken into. She is come here by the order of God to reclaim the Blood Royal. She is quite ready to make peace, if you are willing to give her satisfaction, by giving and paying back to France what you have taken. And as for you, archers, companions-in-arms, gentlemen and others who are before the town of Orleans, return to your own countries, by God’s order; and if this be not done, then hear the message of the Maid, who will shortly come upon you, to your very great hurt. King of England, I am a Chieftain of war and, if this be not done, wheresoever I find your followers in France, I will make them leave, willingly or unwillingly; if they will not obey, I will have them put to death. I am sent here by God, the King of Heaven, body for body, to drive them all out of the whole of France. And if they will obey, I will have mercy on them. And do not think in yourselves that you will get possession of the realm of France from God the King of Heaven, Son of the Blessed Mary; for King Charles will gain it, the true heir: for God, the King of Heaven, so wills it, and it is revealed to him [the King] by the Maid, and he will enter Paris with a good company. If you will not believe the message of God and of the Maid and act aright, in whatsoever place we find you we will enter therein and make so great a disturbance that for a thousand years none in France will be so great. And believe surely that the King of Heaven will send greater power to the Maid, to her and her good men-at-arms, than you can bring to the attack; and, when it comes to blows, we shall see who has the better right from the God of Heaven. You, Duke of Bedford, the Maid prays and enjoins you, that you do not come to grievous hurt. If you will give her satisfactory pledges, you may yet join with her, so that the French may do the fairest deed that has ever yet been done for Christendom. And answer, if you wish to make peace in the City of Orleans; if this be not done, you may be shortly reminded of it, to your very great hurt. Written this Tuesday in Holy Week, March 22nd, 1428.”

“Do you know this letter?”

“Yes, excepting three words. In place of ‘give up to the Maid,’ it should be ‘give up to the King.’ The words ‘Chieftain of war’ and ‘body for body’ were not in the letter I sent. None of the Lords ever dictated these letters to me; it was I myself alone who dictated them before sending them. Nevertheless, I always shewed them to some of my party. Before seven years are passed, the English will lose a greater wager than they have already done at Orleans; they will lose everything in France.[^[43]] The English will have in France a greater loss than they have ever had, and that by a great victory which God will send to the French.”

“How do you know this?”

“I know it well by revelation, which has been made to me, and that this will happen within seven years; and I am sore vexed that it is deferred so long. I know it by revelation, as clearly as I know that you are before me at this moment.”

“When will this happen?”

“I know neither the day nor the hour.”

“In what year will it happen?”

“You will not have any more. Nevertheless, I heartily wish it might be before Saint John’s Day.”

“Did you not say that this would happen before Martinmas, in winter?”

“I said that before Martinmas many things would be seen, and that the English might perhaps be overthrown.”[^[44]]

“What did you say to John Gris, your keeper, on the subject of the Feast of Saint Martin?”

“I have told you.”

“Through whom did you know that this would happen?”

“Through Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret.”

“Was Saint Gabriel with Saint Michael when he came to you?”

“I do not remember.”

“Since last Tuesday, have you had any converse with Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret?”

“Yes, but I do not know at what time.”

“What day?”

“Yesterday and to-day; there is never a day that I do not hear them.”

“Do you always see them in the same dress?”

“I see them always under the same form, and their heads are richly crowned. I do not speak of the rest of their clothing: I know nothing of their dresses.”

“How do you know whether the object that appears to you is male or female?”

“I know well enough. I recognize them by their voices, as they revealed themselves to me; I know nothing but by the revelation and order of God.”

“What part of their heads do you see?”

“The face.”

“These saints who shew themselves to you, have they any hair?”

“It is well to know they have.”

“Is there anything between their crowns and their hair?”

“No.”

“Is their hair long and hanging down?”

“I know nothing about it. I do not know if they have arms or other members. They speak very well and in very good language; I hear them very well.”

“How do they speak if they have no members?”

“I refer me to God. The voice is beautiful, sweet, and low; it speaks in the French tongue.”

“Does not Saint Margaret speak English?”

“Why should she speak English, when she is not on the English side?”

“On these crowned heads, were there rings?—in the ears or elsewhere?”

“I know nothing about it.”

“Have you any rings yourself?”

[Addressing herself to Us, the Bishop:] “You have one of mine; give it back to me. The Burgundians have another of them. I pray you, if you have my ring, shew it to me.”

“Who gave you the ring which the Burgundians [now] have?”

“My father or my mother. I think the Names ‘Jhesus Maria’ are engraved on it. I do not know who had them written there; there is not, I should say, any stone in the ring; it was given to me at Domremy. It was my brother who gave me the other—the one you have.” [Continuing to address herself to Us, the Bishop:] “I charge you to give it to the Church. I never cured any one with any of my rings.”

“Did Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret speak to you under the tree of which mention has been made?”

“I know nothing of it.”

“Did they speak to you at the spring, which is near the tree?”

“Yes, I have heard them there; but what they said then, I do not know.”

“What did they promise you, there or elsewhere?”

“They have never promised me anything, except by God’s leave.”

“But still, what promises have they made to you?”

“That is not in your Case: not at all. Upon other subjects, they told me that my King would be reestablished in his Kingdom, whether his enemies willed it or no; they told me also that they would lead me to Paradise: I begged it of them, indeed.”

“Did you have any other promise from them?”

“There was another, but I will not tell it; that does not touch on the Case. In three months I will tell you the other promise.”

“Have your Voices said that before three months you will be delivered from prison?”

“That is not in your Case. Nevertheless I do not know when I shall be delivered. But those who wish to send me out of the world may well go before me.”

“Has not your counsel told you that you will be delivered from your actual prison?”

“Speak to me in three months, and I will answer. Moreover, ask of those present, upon oath, if this touches on the Trial.”

We, the said Bishop, did then take the opinion of those present: and all considered that this did touch on the Trial.

“I have already told you, you shall not know all. One day I must be delivered. But I wish to have leave to tell you the day: it is for this I ask delay.”

“Have your Voices forbidden you to speak the truth?”

“Do you want me to tell you what concerns the King of France? There are a number of things that do not touch on the Case. I know well that my King will regain the Kingdom of France. I know it as well as I know that you are before me, seated in judgment. I should die if this revelation did not comfort me every day.”

“What have you done with your mandrake?”[^[45]]

“I never have had one. But I have heard that there is one near our home, though I have never seen it. I have heard it is a dangerous and evil thing to keep. I do not know for what it is [used].”

“Where is this mandrake of which you have heard?”

“I have heard that it is in the earth, near the tree of which I spoke before; but I do not know the place. Above this mandrake, there was, it is said, a hazel tree.”

“What have you heard said was the use of this mandrake?”

“To make money come; but I do not believe it. My Voice never spoke to me of that.”

“In what likeness did Saint Michael appear to you?”

“I did not see a crown: I know nothing of his dress.”

“Was he naked?”

“Do you think God has not wherewithal to clothe him?”

“Had he hair?”

“Why should it have been cut off? I have not seen Saint Michael since I left the Castle of Crotoy. I do not see him often. I do not know if he has hair.”

“Has he a balance?”[^[46]]

“I know nothing about it. It was a great joy to see him; it seemed to me, when I saw him, that I was not in mortal sin. Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret were pleased from time to time to receive my confession, each in turn. If I am in mortal sin, it is without my knowing it.”

“When you confessed, did you think you were in mortal sin?”

“I do not know if I am in mortal sin, and I do not believe I have done its works; and, if it please God, I will never so be; nor, please God, have I ever done or ever will do deeds which charge my soul!”

“What sign did you give your King that you came from God?”

“I have always answered that you will not drag this from my lips. Go and ask it of him.”

“Have you sworn not to reveal what shall be asked of you touching the Trial?”

“I have already told you that I will tell you nothing of what concerns my King. Thereon I will not speak.”

“Do you not know the sign that you gave to the King?”

“You will not know it from me.”

“But this touches on the Trial.”

“Of what I have promised to keep secret, I will tell you nothing. I have already said, even here, that I could not tell you without perjury.”

“To whom have you promised this?”

“To Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret; and this hath been shewn to the King. I promised them, without their asking it of me, of my own free-will, of myself, because too many people might have questioned me had I not promised it to my Saints.”

“When you shewed your sign to the King, were you alone with him?”

“I do not take account of any one else, although there were many people near.”

“When you shewed this sign to the King, did you see a crown on his head?”

“I cannot tell you without perjury.”

“Had your King a crown at Rheims?”

“I think my King took with joy the crown that he had at Rheims; but another, much richer, would have been given him later. He acted thus to hurry on his work, at the request of the people of the town of Rheims, to avoid too long a charge upon them of the soldiers. If he had waited, he would have had a crown a thousand times more rich.”

“Have you seen this richer crown?”

“I cannot tell you without incurring perjury; and, though I have not seen it, I have heard that it is rich and valuable to a degree.”

This done, we put an end to the interrogation and postponed the remainder to Saturday next, 8 o’clock in the morning, in the same place, summoning all the Assessors to be present.

Saturday, March 3rd, in the same place, the Bishop and 41 Assessors present.

In their presence, We required the said Jeanne simply and absolutely to swear to speak the truth on what should be asked of her. She replied:

“I am ready to swear as I have already done.”

And thus did she swear, her hands on the Holy Gospels.

Afterwards, because she had said, in previous Enquiries, that Saint Michael had wings, but had said nothing of the body and members of Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret, We asked her what she wished to say thereon.

“I have told you what I know; I will answer you nothing more. I saw Saint Michael and these two Saints so well that I know they are Saints of Paradise.”

“Did you see anything else of them but the face?”

“I have told you what I know; but to tell you all I know, I would rather that you made me cut my throat. All that I know touching the Trial I will tell you willingly.”

“Do you think that Saint Michael and Saint Gabriel have human heads?”

“I saw them with my eyes; and I believe it was they as firmly as I believe there is a God.”

“Do you think that God made them in the form and fashion that you saw?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that God did from the first create them in this form and fashion?”

“You will have no more at present than what I have answered.”

“Do you know by revelation if you will escape?”

“That does not touch on your Case. Do you wish me to speak against myself?”

“Have your Voices told you anything?”

“That is not in your Case. I refer me to the Case. If all concerned you, I would tell you all. By my faith, I know neither the day nor the hour that I shall escape!”

“Have your Voices told you anything in a general way?”

“Yes, truly, they have told me that I shall be delivered, but I know neither the day nor the hour. They said to me: ‘Be of good courage and keep a cheerful countenance.’”

“When you first came to the King, did he ask you if you had any revelation about your change of dress?”

“I have answered you about that. I do not remember if I was asked. It is written at Poitiers.”

“Do you not remember if the Masters who questioned you in the other Consistory, some during a month, others during three weeks, questioned you about your change of dress?”

“I do not remember. But they asked me where I had assumed this man’s dress; and I told them it was at Vaucouleurs.”

“Did the aforesaid Masters ask you if it were by order of your Voice that you took this dress?”

“I do not remember.”

“Did not your Queen[^[47]] ask you, the first time you went to visit her?”

“I do not remember.”

“Did not your King, your Queen, or some of your party, tell you to take off this man’s dress?”

“That is not in your Case.”

“Were you not so told at the Castle of Beaurevoir?”[^[48]]

[Here commences the French Version, or Minute, which is collated with the Latin Text.]

“Yes, truly; and I answered that I would not take it off without leave from God. The Demoiselle de Luxembourg[^[49]] and the Lady de Beaurevoir[^[50]] offered me a woman’s dress, or cloth to make one, telling me to wear it. I answered them that I had not leave from Our Lord, and that it was not yet time.”

“Did Messire Jean de Pressy[^[51]] and others at Arras never offer you a woman’s dress?”

“He and many others have oftentimes offered it to me.”

“Do you think that you would have done wrong or committed mortal sin by taking a woman’s dress?”

“I did better to obey and serve my Sovereign Lord, who is God. Had I dared to do it, I would sooner have done it at the request of these ladies than of any other ladies in France, excepting my Queen.”

“When God revealed it to you that you should change your dress, was it by the voice of Saint Michael, Saint Catherine, or Saint Margaret?”

“You shall not have anything more at present.”

“When your King first set you to work, and when you had your banner made, did not the men-at-arms and others have their pennons made in the style of yours?”

“It is well to know that the Lords retained their own arms. Some of my companions-in-arms had them made at their pleasure; others not.”

“Of what material did they have them made? Of linen or of cloth?”

“It was of white satin; and on some there were fleur-de-lys. In my company I had only two or three lances. But my companions-in-arms now and then had them made like mine. They only did this to know their men from others.”

“Did they often renew these pennons?”

“I do not know. When the lances were broken, they had new ones made.”

“Have you sometimes said that the pennons which were like yours would be fortunate?”

“I sometimes said to my followers: ‘Go in boldly among the English!’ and I myself did likewise.”

“Did you tell them to carry themselves boldly, and they would be fortunate?”

“I have certainly told them what has happened and what will yet happen.”

“Did you put, or did you ever cause to be put, Holy Water on the pennons when they were carried for the first time?”

“I know nothing of it; and if that were done, it was not by my order.”

“Did you never see any sprinkled?”

“That is not in your Case. If I ever did see any sprinkled, I am advised not to answer about it.”

“Did your companions-in-arms never put on their pennons ‘Jhesus Maria’?”

“By my faith! I do not know.”

“Have you not yourself carried cloth, or caused it to be carried, in procession round an altar or a church, and afterwards employed this cloth for pennons?”

“No; and I never saw it done.”

“When you were before Jargeau, what did you bear at the back of your helmet? Was it not something round?”[^[52]]

“By my faith! there was nothing.”

“Did you ever know Brother Richard?”[^[53]]

“I had not seen him when I came before Troyes.”

“What countenance did Brother Richard give you?”

“I suppose after the fashion of the town of Troyes who sent him to me, saying that they feared Jeanne was not a thing that came to them from God. When he approached me, Brother Richard made the sign of the Cross and sprinkled Holy Water; and I said to him: ‘Approach boldly, I shall not fly away!’”

“Have you never seen, nor had made, any images or picture of yourself and in your likeness?”

“I saw at Arras a painting[^[54]] in the hands of a Scot: it was like me. I was represented fully armed, presenting a letter to my King, one knee on the ground. I have never seen, nor had made, any other image or painting in my likeness.”

“In the house of your host at Orleans, was there not a picture in which was painted three women, with these words: ‘Justice, Peace, Union’?”

“I know nothing about it.”

“Do you not know that the people of your party had services, masses, and prayers offered for you?”

“I know nothing of it; if they had any service, it was not by my order; but if they prayed for me, my opinion is they did not do ill.”

“Did those of your party firmly believe that you were sent from God?”

“I do not know if they believed it, and in this I refer to their own feeling in this matter. But even though they do not believe, yet am I sent from God.”

“Do you not think they have a good belief, if they believe this?”

“If they think that I am sent from God, they will not be deceived.”

“In what spirit did the people of your party kiss your hands and your garments?”

“Many came to see me willingly, but they kissed my hands as little as I could help. The poor folk came to me readily, because I never did them any unkindness: on the contrary, I loved to help them.”

“What honour did the people of Troyes do you on your entry?”

“None at all. Brother Richard, so far as I remember, entered at the same time as I and our people; I do not recall seeing him at the entry.”

“Did he not preach a sermon on your arrival in the town?”

“I did not stop there at all, and did not even sleep there: I know nothing of his sermon.”

“Were you many days at Rheims?”

“We were there, I believe, five or six days.”

“Did you not act there as Godmother?” [“lever d’enfant.”]

“At Troyes I did, to one child. At Rheims, I do not remember it, nor at Château-Thierry. I was Godmother twice at Saint-Denis, in France. Usually, I gave to the boys the name of Charles, in honour of my King; and to the girls, Jeanne. At other times, I gave such names as pleased the mothers.”

“Did not the good women of the town touch with their rings that which you wore on your finger?”

“Many women touched my hands and my rings; but I know nothing of their feelings nor their intention.”

“Who of your people, before Château-Thierry, caught butterflies in your standard?”

RHEIMS CATHEDRAL.

CHURCH OF SAINT REMY.

“My people never did such a thing: it is your side who have invented it.”

“What did you do at Rheims with the gloves with which your King was consecrated?”

“There were favours of gloves for the knights and nobles at Rheims. There was one who lost his gloves; I did not say he would find them again. My standard has been in the Church of Rheims; and it seems to me it was near the altar.[^[55]] I myself bore it for a space there. I do not know if Brother Richard held it.”

“When you were going through the country, did you often receive the Sacraments of Penance and the Eucharist in the good towns?”

“Yes, from time to time.”

“Did you receive the said Sacraments in man’s dress?”

“Yes; but I do not remember ever to have received them armed.”

“Why did you take the horse of the Bishop of Senlis?”

“It was bought for 200 saluts.[^[56]] If he received these 200 saluts, I do not know. There was a place fixed at which they were to be paid. I wrote to him that he might have his horse back if he wished; as for me, I did not wish it, because it was worth nothing for weight-carrying.”

“How old was the child you visited at Lagny?”

“The child was three days old. It was brought before the image of Our Lady. They told me that the young girls of the village were before this image, and that I might wish to go also and pray God and Our Lady to give life to this infant. I went and prayed with them. At last, life returned to the child, who yawned three times, and was then baptized; soon after, it died, and was buried in consecrated ground. It was three days, they said, since life had departed from the child; it was as black as my coat; when it yawned, the colour began to return to it. I was with the other young girls, praying and kneeling before Our Lady.”

“Did they not say in the village that it was done through you, and at your prayer?”

“I did not enquire about it.”

“Have you ever seen or known Catherine de La Rochelle?”

“Yes, at Jargeau and at Montfaucon in Berry.”

“Did not Catherine shew you a lady, robed in white, who, she said, sometimes appeared to her?”

“No.”

“What did this Catherine say to you?”

“That a white lady came to her, dressed in cloth-of-gold, who told her to go through the good cities with heralds and trumpets which the King would give to her, and proclaim that any one who had gold, silver, or any concealed treasure should bring it immediately: that those who did not do so, and who had anything hidden, she would know, and would be able to discover the treasure. With these treasures, she told me, she would pay my men-at-arms. I told Catherine that she should return to her husband, look after her home, and bring up her children. And in order to have some certainty as to her mission, I spoke of it, either to Saint Catherine or to Saint Margaret, who told me that the mission of this Catherine was mere folly and nothing else. I wrote to the King as to what he should do about it; and, when I afterwards went to him, I told him that this mission of Catherine was only folly and nothing more. Nevertheless, Brother Richard wished to set her to work; therefore were they both displeased with me,—Brother Richard and she.”

“Did you never speak with the said Catherine on the project of going to La Charité-sur-Loire?”

“She did not advise me to go there: it was too cold, and she would not go. She told me she wished to visit the Duke of Burgundy in order to make peace. I told her it seemed to me that peace would be found only at the end of the lance. I asked her if this white lady who appeared to her came to her every night? and I said that, to see her, I would sleep one night with her in the same bed. I went to bed; I watched till midnight; I saw nothing, and then went to sleep. When morning came, I asked her if the White Lady had come. ‘Yes, Jeanne,’ she answered me, ‘while you were asleep she came; and I could not awaken you.’ Then I asked her if she would come again the following night. ‘Yes,’ she told me. For this reason I slept by day that I might be able to watch the night following. I went to bed with Catherine; watched all the night following: but saw nothing, although I asked her often, ‘Will she never come?’ and she always answered me, ‘Yes, in a moment.’”

“What did you do in the trenches of La Charité?”[^[57]]

“I made an assault there; but I neither threw, nor caused to be thrown, Holy Water by way of aspersion.”

“Why did you not enter La Charité, if you had command from God to do so?”

“Who told you I had God’s command for it?”

“Did you not have counsel of your Voice?”

“I wished to go into France. The men-at-arms told me it was better to go first to La Charité.”

“Were you a long time in the Tower at Beaurevoir?”

“About four months. When I knew that the English were come to take me, I was very angry; nevertheless, my Voices forbade me many times to leap. In the end, for fear of the English, I leaped, and commended myself to God and Our Lady. I was wounded. When I had leaped, the Voice of Saint Catherine said to me I was to be of good cheer,[^[58]] for those at Compiègne would have succour. I prayed always for those at Compiègne, with my Counsel.”

“What did you say when you had leaped?”

“Some said I was dead. As soon as the Burgundians saw I was alive, they reproached me with having leapt.”

“Did you not say then, that you would rather die than be in the hands of the English?”

“I said I would rather give up my soul to God than be in the hands of the English.”

“Were you not then very angry, to the extent of blaspheming the Name of God?”

“Never have I cursed any of the Saints; and it is not my habit to swear.”

“On the subject of Soissons[^[59]] and the Captain who surrendered the town, did you not blaspheme God, and say, if you got hold of this Captain you would have him cut in quarters?”

“I have never blasphemed any of the Saints; those who say so have misunderstood.”

This done, Jeanne was conducted back to the place which had been assigned as her prison.

Nine Private Examinations.

The Bishop decrees that the Enquiries, if any are thought necessary, shall henceforth be made in private.

Afterwards, We, the Bishop, did say that, in pursuing this Process and without in any way discontinuing it, We would call before Us some Doctors and Masters, experts in law, religious and civil, in order, by them, to gather up and collect what shall seem to them of a nature to be gathered up and collected, in Jeanne’s Declarations, as these have already been established by her own answers set down in writing. Their labour ended, if there should remain any points, on the which it would seem Jeanne should submit to more full enquiry, We will make, for this supplementary examination, choice of certain Doctors; and in this manner We shall not fatigue all and each of the Masters, who, at this moment, assist Us in such great numbers. These new enquiries shall also be put into writing, in order that the above-named Doctors and other approved men of science may deliberate and furnish their opinion and advice at the right moment. In the meantime, We invite all the Assessors to study at home the Process, and what they have already gathered from it; to search out the consequences of which the affair is susceptible; and to submit the result of their deliberations either to Us, or to the Doctors who shall be appointed by Us—if they do not prefer rather to reserve themselves for the time and place when they shall have deliberated in full maturity; and to give their opinion on full knowledge of the Process.

In the meantime, We expressly forbid all and each to leave Rouen without Our permission before the full completion of the Process.

Meeting at the Bishop’s House of several Doctors.

Sunday, March 4th, and the Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th of the same month, We, the Bishop, assembled in Our dwelling, many grave Doctors-and Masters-in-law, sacred and civil, who were charged by Us to collect all that has been confessed or answered by Jeanne in these Enquiries, and to extract therefrom the points on which she answered in an incomplete manner, and which seem to these Doctors susceptible of further examination. This double work having been effected by them, We, the said Bishop, by the advice of the said Doctors, decide that there is occasion to proceed to further enquiries. But because Our numerous occupations do not permit Us to attend ourselves,[^[60]] we appoint, to proceed therein, the venerable and discreet person, Jean Delafontaine, Master of Arts and Licentiate in Canon Law, who will interrogate the said Jeanne in Our name. We have for this appointed the 9th March, in presence of the Doctors and Masters, Jean Beaupère, Jacques de Touraine, Nicolas Midi, Pierre Maurice, Thomas de Courcelles, Nicolas Loyseleur, and Guillaume Manchon.

Saturday, March 10th, We, the Bishop, repaired to the part of the Castle of Rouen given to Jeanne as a prison, where, being assisted by Maître Jean Delafontaine, the Commissary appointed by Us, and by the venerable Doctors and Masters in Theology, Nicolas Midi, and Gerard Feuillet (witnesses, Jean Fécard, Advocate; and Maître Jean Massieu, Priest), We summoned Jeanne to make and take oath to speak the truth on what should be asked of her. She replied:

“I promise to speak truth on what touches your Case; but the more you constrain me to swear, the later will I tell you.”

Afterwards, the examination of Jeanne by Maître Jean Delafontaine took place as follows:

“On the faith of the oath you have just taken, from whence had you started when you went the last time to Compiègne?”

“From Crespy, in Valois.”

“When you were at Compiègne, were you several days before you made your sally or attack?”

“I arrived there secretly early in the morning,[^[61]] and entered the town without the enemy knowing anything of it; and that same day, in the evening, I made the sally in which I was taken.”

“When you made your sally, did they ring the bells?”

“If they did ring them it was not by my order or knowledge; I do not think it was so, and I do not remember to have said they rang.”

“Did you make this sally by command of your Voice?”

“During the Easter week of last year, being in the trenches of Melun, it was told me by my Voices—that is to say, by Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret—‘Thou wilt be taken before Saint John’s Day; and so it must be: do not torment thyself about it: be resigned; God will help thee.’”

“Before this occasion at Melun, had not your Voices ever told you that you would be taken?”

“Yes, many times and nearly every day. And I asked of my Voices that, when I should be taken, I might die soon, without long suffering in prison; and they said to me: ‘Be resigned to all—thus it must be.’ But they did not tell me the time; and if I had known it, I should not have gone. Often I asked to know the hour: they never told me.”

“Did your Voices command you to make this sally from Compiègne, and signify that you would be taken if you went?”

“If I had known the hour when I should be taken, I should never have gone of mine own free-will; I should always have obeyed their commands in the end, whatever might happen to me.”

“When you made this sally from Compiègne had you any Voice or revelation about making it?”

“That day I did not know at all that I should be taken, and I had no other command to go forth; but they had always told me it was necessary for me to be taken prisoner.”

“When you made this sally, did you pass by the Bridge of Compiègne?”

“I passed by the bridge and the boulevard, and went with the company of followers of my side against the followers of my Lord of Luxembourg. I drove them back twice against the camp of the Burgundians, and the third time, to the middle of the highway. The English who were there then cut off the road from me and my people, between us and the boulevard. For this reason, my followers retreated, and, in retreating towards the fields, on the Picardy side, near the boulevard, I was taken. Between Compiègne and the place where I was taken there is nothing but the stream and the boulevard with its ditch.”

“Did you not have on the banner you carried a representation of the world, painted with two angels, etc.?”

“Yes; and I had no other.”

“What did this signify, to paint God holding the world, and these angels?”

THE BATTLE OF HERRINGS.
From a French Manuscript of the XVth Century.

THE MAID TAKEN PRISONER.

“Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret told me that I was to take my banner and to carry it boldly, and to have painted on it the King of Heaven. I told my King, much against my will: that is all I can tell of the signification of this painting.”

“Have you not a shield and arms?”

“I never had one; but my King has granted arms to my brothers,—that is to say, a shield azure, two fleurs-de-lys of gold, and a sword betwixt. These arms I described in this town to a painter, because he asked what arms I bore. The King gave them to my brothers, [to please[^[62]] them,] without request from me and without revelation.”

“Had you, when you were taken, a horse, charger, or hackney?”

“I was on horseback; the one which I was riding when I was taken was a demi-charger.”

“Who had given you this horse?”

“My King, or his people, from the King’s money. I had five chargers from the King’s money, without counting my hacks, of which I had more than seven.”

“Had you any other riches from your King besides these horses?”

“I asked nothing from my King, except good arms, good horses, and money to pay my household.”

“Had you no treasure?”

“The ten or twelve thousand I was worth is not much treasure to carry on war, very little indeed; and such goods are my brothers’, in my opinion; what I have is my King’s own money.”

“What was the sign[^[63]] that came to your King when you went to him?”

“It was beautiful, honourable, and most credible; the best and richest in the world.”

“Then why will you not tell it and shew it, since you wished to have the sign[^[64]] of Catherine de la Rochelle?”

“I might not have asked to know the sign of the said Catherine, had that sign been as well shewn before notable people of the Church and others, Archbishops and Bishops, as mine was before the Archbishop of Rheims and other Bishops whose names I know not. There were there also Charles de Bourbon, the Sire de la Tremouille, the Duke d’Alençon,[^[65]] and many other knights, who saw and heard it as well as I see those who speak to me to-day; and, besides, I knew already, through Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret, that the doings of this Catherine were as nothing.”

“Does this sign still last?”

“It is well to know it; it will last a thousand years and more. My sign is with the King’s treasure.”

“Is it gold, silver, precious stones, or a crown?”

“I will tell you nothing more about it. No man in the world could devise so rich a thing as this sign; but the sign that you need is that God may deliver me from your hands; that is the most sure sign He could send you. When I was about to start to see my King, my Voices told me: ‘Go boldly; when thou art before the King, he shall have a sure sign to receive thee and believe in thee.’”

“When the sign came to your King, what reverence did you make to it? Did it come from God?”

“I thanked Our Lord for having delivered me from the trouble that I had with the clergy of my party, who were arguing against me; and I knelt down several times. An Angel from God, and from none other, sent the sign to my King; and for this I have many times thanked Our Lord. The priests of that party ceased to attack me when they had recognized the sign.”

“The Clergy of that party then saw the sign?”

“When my King and those who were with him had seen the sign and also the Angel[^[66]] that brought it, I asked my King if he were satisfied. He answered, Yes. Then I left, and went to a little chapel close by. I have since heard that, after I left, more than three hundred persons saw the said sign. For love of me and that I should not be questioned about it, God permitted certain men of my party to see the sign in reality.”

“Your King and you, did you do reverence to the Angel who brought the sign?”

“Yes; I made a salutation, knelt down, and took off my cap.”

Monday, March 12th, in the morning; in Jeanne’s prison.—Present: The Bishop, assisted by Jean Delafontaine, Commissary; Nicholas Midi and Gerard Feuillet; and as their witnesses: Thomas Fiefvet, Pasquier de Vaux, and Nicolas de Houbent.

In presence of all the above-named, We required the said Jeanne to swear to speak truth on what should be asked her.

She replied: “On what touches your Case, as I have said already, I will willingly speak truth.” And thus did she make oath.

Then, by Our order, she was questioned by Maître Jean Delafontaine:

“Did not the Angel who bore the sign to your King speak to him?”

“Yes, he spoke to him; and he told my King it was necessary that I should be set to work, so that the country might be soon relieved.”

“Was the Angel who bore the sign to your King the same Angel who had before appeared to you?”

“It is all one; and he has never failed me.”

“Has not the Angel, then, failed you with regard to the good things of this life, in that you have been taken prisoner?”

“I think, as it has pleased Our Lord, that it is for my well-being that I was taken prisoner.”

“Has your Angel never failed you in the good things of grace?”

“How can he fail me, when he comforts me every day? My comfort comes from Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret.”

“Do you call them, or do they come without being called?”

“They often come without being called; and other times, if they do not come soon, I pray Our Lord to send them.”

“Have you sometimes called them without their coming?”

“I have never had need of them without having them.”

“Has Saint Denis appeared to you sometimes?”

“Not that I know.”

“When you promised Our Saviour to preserve your virginity, was it to Him that you spoke?”

“It would quite suffice that I give my promise to those who were sent by Him—that is to say, to Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret.”

“Who induced you to have cited a man of the town of Toul on the question of marriage?”

“I did not have him cited; it was he, on the contrary, who had me cited; and then I swore before the Judge to speak the truth. And besides, I had promised nothing to this man. From the first time I heard my Voices, I dedicated my virginity for so long as it should please God; and I was then about thirteen years of age. My Voices told me I should win my case in this town of Toul.”

“As to your visions, did you speak of them to your Curé or to any other Churchman?”

“No; only to Robert de Baudricourt and to my King. It was not my Voices who compelled me to keep them secret; but I feared to reveal them, in dread that the Burgundians might put some hindrance in the way of my journey; and, in particular, I was afraid that my father would hinder it.”

“Do you think that you did right to go without leave from your father or mother, when you should ‘honour your father and mother’?”

“In all things I obeyed them well, except in that of the journey: but afterwards I wrote to them, and they forgave me.”

“When you left your father and mother, do you think you sinned?”

“If God commanded, it was right to obey. If God commanded it, had I had a hundred fathers and mothers, and had I been a king’s daughter, I should have gone.”

“Did you ask your Voices if you should announce your departure to your father and mother?”

“As to my father and mother, my Voices would have been quite willing I should tell them, had it not been for the trouble I should have caused them in speaking of this. As for myself, I would not have told them at any price. My Voices agreed that I might either speak to my father and mother or be silent.”

“Did you do reverence to Saint Michael and the Angels when you saw them?”

“Yes; and, after they were gone I kissed the earth where they had been.”

“Were they long with you?”

“Very often they came among the faithful [i.e., in church] without being seen; and often I saw them among the faithful.”

“Had you had any letters from Saint Michael or from your Voices?”

“I have not permission to tell you. Eight days from this, I will tell you willingly what I know.”

“Did not your Voices call you ‘Daughter of God, daughter of the Church, great-hearted daughter’?”

“Before the raising of the Siege of Orleans and every day since, when they speak to me, they call me often, ‘Jeanne the Maid, Daughter of God.’”

“Since you call yourself a daughter of God, why do you not willingly say ‘Our Father’?”

“I do say it willingly. Last time, when I refused, it was because I meant that my Lord of Beauvais should hear me in confession.”

The same day, Monday, in the afternoon, in the same place.—Present: Jean Delafontaine, Commissary; Nicolas Midi; Gerard Feuillet; Thomas Fiefvet; Pasquier de Vaux; and Nicolas de Houbent.

The said Jeanne was interrogated as follows by Our order by the said Jean Delafontaine:

“Did not your father have dreams about you before your departure?”

“When I was still with my father and mother, my mother told me many times that my father had spoken of having dreamed that I, Jeannette, his daughter, went away with the men-at-arms. My father and mother took great care to keep me safe, and held me much in subjection. I obeyed them in everything, except in the case at Toul—the action for marriage. I have heard my mother say that my father told my brothers: ‘Truly, if I thought this thing would happen that I have dreamed about my daughter, I would wish you to drown her; and, if you would not do it, I would drown her myself!’ He nearly lost his senses when I went to Vaucouleurs.”

“Did these thoughts and dreams come to your father after you had your visions?”

“Yes, more than two years after I had had my first Voice.”

“Was it at the request of Robert de Baudricourt or of yourself that you took man’s dress?”

“It was of myself, and at the request of no living man.”

“Did your Voices command you to take man’s dress?”

“All that I have done of good, I have done by the command of my Voices. As to the dress, I will answer about it another time: at present I am not advised, but to-morrow I will answer.”

“In taking man’s dress, did you think you were doing wrong?”

“No; even now if I were with those of my own side and in this man’s dress, it seems to me it would be a great good for France to do as I did before I was taken.”

“How would you have delivered the Duke d’Orléans?”

“I should have taken enough English prisoners in France to have exchanged him back; if I had not taken enough in France, I should have crossed the sea to seek him in England, by force.”

“Did Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret tell you absolutely and without condition that you would take enough English to get the Duke d’Orléans, who is in England, or that otherwise you would cross the sea to seek him?”[^[67]]

“Yes, and I said so to my King: and he allowed me to treat with the English lords who were then prisoners.[^[68]] If I had continued three years without hindrance, I should have delivered him. To do this, it needed less time than three years and more than one. But I do not remember about it.”

“What was the sign you gave to the King?”

“I shall take counsel regarding that from Saint Catherine.”

Monday, March 12th, assembled in Our dwelling, summoned by Us, the religious and discreet person, Brother Jean Lemaître, of the Order of Saint Dominic, Deputy of the Inquisitor of the Evil of Heresy in the Kingdom of France, in presence of the Venerable and discreet persons the Lords and Masters, Thomas Fiefvet, Pasquier de Vaux, Nicolas de Houbent, Brother Ysambard de la Pierre.

We, the Bishop, did shew to the said Deputy, that, at the outset of the Action for Heresy brought by us against the woman, commonly called Jeanne the Maid, We had summoned and required him, the said Deputy, to join with us; and that we had offered to communicate to him the acts, documents and, in one word, all we possess bearing on the matter of the Process. He had then made a difficulty, not being, he told Us, commissioned except for the City and Diocese of Rouen; and the Action in question being deduced by Us; by right of our jurisdiction of Beauvais, on territory conceded to Us for this purpose. For this cause, in order to give all security to this matter and by an excess of precaution, We have, by the advice of the Masters, decided to write about it to the Chief Inquisitor, requesting him to come himself without delay to Rouen, or specially to appoint a Deputy to whom, for the deduction and completion of the Process, he might wish to give full powers. The said Inquisitor hath received Our letter, and acceding with kindness to Our request, for the honour and exaltation of the Orthodox Faith, he hath specially commissioned and appointed for this Action the said Brother Jean Lemaître, as doth appear in the letters patent furnished and attested with the seal of the Inquisition.

In consequence of this letter, We, the Bishop, summon and require the said Brother Jean Lemaître, here present, in the terms of the said letter, to join with us in this said Action.

To which the said Brother answered: that he would examine the Commission addressed to him, the Process signed by the registrars, and all that it should please Us to communicate to him; and that, all being seen and examined by him, he will give Us an answer and will do for the Holy Inquisition that which is right.

We, the Bishop, added: that the said Deputy had been present at a great part of the Process; that he had, in consequence, been able to hear a great part of Jeanne’s answers; that nevertheless We held ourselves satisfied by what he had just said, and would certainly communicate to him the Process and all that had already been done, that he may take fuller cognizance of everything.

The Deputy Inquisitor joins the Court.

Tuesday, March 13th, in the prison. Present: The Bishop and Brother Jean Lemaître, assisted by Jean Delafontaine, Nicolas Midi, and Gerard Feuillet; witnesses, Nicolas de Houbent and Ysambard de la Pierre.

The said Brother Jean Lemaître declared to Us that seeing the letter addressed to him which we had yesterday communicated, together with the other circumstances of the Process, and all being well considered, he joins himself to Us and is ready to proceed with Us according to law and right.

We, the Bishop, then made known with gentleness to Jeanne this intervention, exhorting and warning her, for the salvation of her soul, to speak the truth on all which should be asked of her.

The Deputy Inquisitor appoints his Officers.

And then, the Deputy of the Chief Inquisitor, wishing to proceed regularly in the Process, hath declared his choice of the Officers whose names follow:

1. As Promoter from the Holy Inquisition, Messire Jean d’Estivet, Canon of the Churches of Bayeux and Beauvais.

2. As Registrar of his office, Messire Nicolas Taquel, Priest of the Diocese of Rouen, Notary Public and Registrar of the Archiepiscopal Court of Rouen.

3. As Executor of his Orders and Citations, Messire Jean Massieu, Priest.

4. As keepers of the prison, the noble man, John Gris, Squire of the Body Guard of Our Lord the King, and John Berwoist. These, We, the Bishop, had, with the exception of Messire Nicolas Taquel, but only in that which concerns Our office, already appointed to the same functions, as confirmed for Our part in the letters above quoted, and as confirmed by the said Inquisitor by his letters, of which mention follows. The said officers did then take oath, between the hands of the said Deputy, to faithfully fulfil their functions.

[Here follow the three letters of Nomination of the Promoter, d’Estivet; the Registrar, Taquel; and the Usher, Massieu: dated Tuesday, March 13th: signed Boisguillaume, Manchon: the nomination of Taquel, Registrar, is dated March 14th.]

All which precedes having already taken place, as has been said up to the present time, We, the Bishop, and Brother Jean Lemaître, Deputy of the Inquisitor, have from this moment proceeded together to all the remainder of the Process, and have questioned or caused questions to be made as it had begun.

Tuesday, March 13th.—Present: The Bishop, and Brother Jean Lemaître, Jean Delafontaine, Nicolas Midi, Gerard Feuillet; in the presence of Nicolas de Houbent and of Brother Ysambard de la Pierre.

By Our order, Jeanne was asked as follows:

“What was the sign you gave your King?”

“Will you be satisfied that I should perjure myself?”

“Have you promised and sworn to Saint Catherine that you will not tell this sign?”

“I promised and swore not to tell this sign, and for my own sake, because I was pressed too much to tell it, and then I said to myself: ‘I promise not to speak of it to any one in the world.’ The sign was that an Angel assured my King, in bringing him the crown, that he should have the whole realm of France, by the means of God’s help and my labours; that he was to start me on the work—that is to say, to give me men-at-arms; and that otherwise he would not be so soon crowned and consecrated.”

“Have you spoken to Saint Catherine since yesterday?”

“I have heard her since yesterday, and she has several times told me to reply boldly to the Judges on what they shall ask me touching my Case.”

“How did the Angel carry the crown? and did he place it himself on your King’s head?”

“The crown was given to an Archbishop—that is, to the Archbishop of Rheims—so it seems to me, in the presence of my King. The Archbishop received it, and gave it to the King. I was myself present. The crown was afterwards put among my King’s treasures.”

“To what place was the crown brought?”

“To the King’s Chamber, in the Castle of Chinon.”

“What day and what time?”

“The day, I do not know; of the time, it was full day. I have no further recollection of it. Of the month it was March or April, it seems to me. In this present month of March or next April it will be two years since. It was after Easter.”[^[69]]

“Was it the first day that you saw the sign when the King saw it?”

“Yes, he had it the same day.”

“Of what material was the said crown?”

“It is well to know it was of fine gold; it was so rich that I do not know how to count its riches or to appreciate its beauty. The crown signified that my King should possess the Kingdom of France.”

“Were there stones in it?”

“I have told you what I know about it.”

“Did you touch or kiss it?”

“No.”

“Did the Angel who brought this crown come from Heaven or earth?”

“He came from above, and I presume that he came by Our Lord’s command; he came in by the door of the room. When he came before my King, he did him reverence by bowing before him, and pronouncing the words I have already said; and at the same time the Angel put him in mind of the great patience he had had in presence of so many tribulations. From the door, the Angel walked, and touched the earth, in coming to the King.”

“What space was there between the door and the King?”

“My opinion is that there was quite the space of a lance-length [about 10 feet]; and he returned the way he came. When the Angel came, I accompanied him and went with him by the staircase to the King’s Chamber. The Angel went in first, then myself, and I said to the King: ‘Sire, there is your sign; take it.’”

“Where did the Angel appear to you?”

“I was nearly always at prayer that God might send the sign to the King; and I was at my lodging, at the house of a worthy woman,[^[70]] near the Castle of Chinon, when he came; afterwards, we went together to the King. He was accompanied by other Angels whom no one saw. Had it not been for love of me, and to free me of trouble from those that accused me, I think that many who saw the Angel would not have seen him.”

“Did all those who were with the King see the Angel?”

“I believe that the Archbishop of Rheims saw him, and so did the Lords d’Alençon, la Trémouille, and Charles de Bourbon. As to the crown, many Clergy and others saw it who did not see the Angel.”

“Of what appearance, what height, was this Angel?”

“I have not permission to say; to-morrow I will answer about it.”

“All the Angels who accompanied him, had they the same appearance?”

“Some resembled him well enough, others not: at least, so far as I saw. Some had wings, others were crowned. In company with them were Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret, who were with the Angel aforesaid, and the other Angels also, right up to the King’s Chamber.”

“How did the Angel leave you?”

“He left me in that little Chapel. I was much vexed at his going; I wept; willingly would I have gone with him—that is to say, my soul.”

“After the departure of the Angel, did you remain happy [or[^[71]] were you in great fear?”]

“He did not leave me in either fear or terror; but I was grieved at his going.”

“Is it for any merit of yours that God sent you this Angel?”

“He came for a great purpose: I was in hopes that the King would believe the sign, and that they would cease to argue with me, and would aid the good people of Orleans. The Angel came for the merits of the King and of the good Duke d’Orléans.”[^[72]]

“Why to you rather than to another?”

“It has pleased God so to do by a simple maiden, in order to drive back the enemies of the King.”

“Was it told you whence the Angel had taken this crown?”

“It was brought from God; no goldsmith in the world would know how to fashion it so rich and fair.”

“Whence did he take it?”

“I refer me to God; and know nothing more of whence it was taken.”

“This crown, did it smell well and had it a good odour? did it glitter?”

“I do not remember about it; I will think it over.” [Remembering:] “Yes, it smelt good, and will smell good always, if it be well guarded, as it should be. It was in the form of a crown.”

“Did the Angel write you a letter?”

“No.”

“What sign had your King and the people who were with him and yourself, to believe that it was an Angel?”

“The King believed it by the teaching of the Clergy who were there, and by the sign of the crown.”

“But how did the Clergy know it was an Angel?”

“By their knowledge and because they were clerks.”

“What have you to say about a married priest and a lost cup that you were to have pointed out?”[^[73]]

“Of all this I know nothing, nor have I ever heard of it.”

“When you came before Paris, had you revelations from your Voices to go there?”

“No, I went at the request of the gentlemen who wished to make an attack or assault-at-arms; I intended to go there and break through the trenches.”

“Had you any revelation to attack La Charité?”

“No, I went there at the request of the men-at-arms, as I said elsewhere.”

“Did you have any revelation to go to Pont l’Evêque?”[^[74]]

“After I had had, in the trenches of Melun,[^[75]] revelation that I should be taken, I consulted more often with the Captains of the army; but I did not tell them I had had any revelation that I should be taken.”

“Was it well to attack the town of Paris on the day of the Festival of the Nativity of Our Lady?”

“It is well done to observe the Festival of the Blessed Mary, and on my conscience it seems to me that it was, and ever will be, well to observe these festivals, from one end to the other.”

“Did you not say before Paris, ‘Surrender this town by order of Jesus’?”

“No, but I said, ‘Surrender it to the King of France.’”

Wednesday, March 14th.—Jean Delafontaine, Commissary, assisted by Nicolas Midi and Gerard Feuillet. Witnesses: Nicolas de Houbent and Ysambard de la Pierre.

Jeanne was interrogated as follows:

“Why did you throw yourself from the top of the Tower at Beaurevoir?”

“I had heard that the people of Compiègne, all, to the age of seven years, were to be put to fire and sword; and I would rather have died than live after such a destruction of good people. That was one of the reasons. The other was that I knew I was sold to the English; and I had rather die than be in the hands of my enemies, the English.”

“Did your Saints counsel you about it?”

“Saint Catherine told me almost every day not to leap, that God would help me, and also those at Compiègne. I said to Saint Catherine: ‘Since God will help those at Compiègne, I wish to be there.’ Saint Catherine said to me, ‘Be resigned, and do not falter: you will not be delivered before seeing the King of England.’ I answered her: ‘Truly I do not wish to see him; I would rather die than fall into the hands of the English.’”

“Is it true that you said to Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret: ‘Will God leave these good people of Compiègne to die so horribly’?”

“I did not say ‘so horribly,’ but, ‘How can God leave these good people of Compiègne, who have been, and are, so loyal to their lord, to die?’ After having fallen, I was two or three days without eating.[^[76]] By the leap I was so injured that I could neither eat nor drink; and all the time I was consoled by Saint Catherine, who told me to confess, and to beg pardon of God; and without fail, those at Compiègne would have help before Saint Martin’s Day in the winter. Then I began to recover and to eat, and was soon cured.”

“When you made this leap, did you think you would kill yourself?”

“No; but, in leaping, I commended myself to God. I hoped by means of this leap to escape, and to avoid being delivered up to the English.”

“When speech returned to you, did you not blaspheme and curse God and His Saints? This is proved by allegation.”

“I have no memory of having ever blasphemed and cursed God and His Saints, in that place or elsewhere.”

“Will you refer this to the enquiry made or to be made?”

“I refer me to God and not to any other, and to a good confession.”

“Do your Voices ask delay to answer you?”

“Sometimes Saint Catherine answers me, but I fail to understand because of the great disturbance in the prison and the noise made by my guards. When I make a request to Saint Catherine, both my Saints make request to Our Lord; then, by order of Our Lord, they give answer to me.”

“When your Saints come to you, have they a light with them? Did you not see the light on a certain occasion when you heard the Voices in the Castle, without knowing if the Voice were in your room?”

“There is never a day that my Saints do not come to the Castle; and they never come without light. And as to this Voice of which you speak, I do not remember if on that occasion I saw the light or even Saint Catherine. I asked three things of my Voices:—1. My deliverance; 2. That God would come to the help of the French, and protect the towns under their control; 3. The salvation of my soul. [Addressing herself to the Judges:] If it should be that I am taken to Paris, grant, I pray you, that I may have a copy of my questions and answers, so that I may lend them to those at Paris, and that I may be able to say to them: ‘Thus was I questioned at Rouen; and here are my answers’: in this way, I shall not have to trouble again over so many questions.”

“You said that my Lord of Beauvais puts himself in great danger by bringing you to trial; of what danger were you speaking? In what peril or danger do we place ourselves, your Judges and the others?”

“I said to my Lord of Beauvais, ‘You say that you are my Judge; I do not know if you are, but take heed not to judge wrongly, because you would put yourself in great danger; and I warn you of it, so that, if Our Lord should punish you for it, I shall have done my duty in telling you.’”

“But what is this peril or danger?”

“Saint Catherine has told me that I shall have help; I do not know if this will be to be delivered from prison, or if, whilst I am being tried, some disturbance may happen, by which I shall be delivered. The help will come to me, I think, in one way or the other. Besides this, my Voices have told me that I shall be delivered by a great victory; and they add: ‘Be resigned; have no care for thy martyrdom; thou wilt come in the end to the Kingdom of Paradise.’ They have told me this simply, absolutely, and without fail. What is meant by my martyrdom is the pain and adversity that I suffer in prison; I do not know if I shall have still greater suffering to bear; for that I refer me to God.”

GATE TO THE PALACE OF CAUCHON, BISHOP OF BEAUVAIS.

“Since your Voices told you that you would come in the end to the Kingdom of Paradise, have you felt assured of being saved and of not being damned in Hell?”

“I believe firmly what my Voices have told me, that I shall be saved; I believe it as firmly as if I were already there.”

“After this revelation, do you believe that you cannot commit mortal sin?”[^[77]]

“I do not know, and in all things I wait on Our Lord.”

“That is an answer of great weight!”

“Yes, and one which I hold for a great treasure.”

The same day, Wednesday, March 14th, in the afternoon. Present: Jean Delafontaine, Commissary, assisted by Nicolas Midi and Gerard Feuillet. Witnesses: Brother Ysambard de la Pierre and Jean Manchon.

And in the first place, Jeanne expressed herself thus:

“On the subject of the answer that I made to you this morning on the certainty of my salvation, I mean the answer thus: provided that I keep the promise made to Our Lord, to keep safe the virginity of my body and soul.”

“Have you any need to confess, as you believe by the revelations of your Voices that you will be saved?”

“I do not know of having committed mortal sin; but, if I were in mortal sin, I think that Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret would abandon me at once. I do not think one can cleanse one’s conscience too much.”

“Since you have been in the prison, have you never blasphemed or cursed God?”

“No; sometimes I said: ‘bon gré Dieu,’ or ‘Saint Jean,’ or ‘Notre Dame’: those who have reported otherwise may have misunderstood.”

“To take a man at ransom, and to put him to death, while a prisoner, is not that mortal sin?”

“I never did it.”

“What did you do to Franquet d’Arras, who was put to death, at Lagny?”

“I consented that he should die if he had merited it, because he had confessed to being a murderer, thief, and traitor; his trial lasted fifteen days; he had for Judge the Bailly of Senlis and the people of the Court at Lagny. I had given orders to exchange this Franquet against a man of Paris, landlord of the Hôtel de l’Ours. When I learnt the death of the latter, and the Bailly told me that I should do great wrong to justice by giving up Franquet, I said to the Bailly, ‘As my man is dead, do with the other what you should do, for justice.’”

“Did you give, or cause to be given, money to him who took Franquet?”

“I am not Master of the Mint or Treasurer of France to pay out money so.”

“We recall to you:—1. That you attacked Paris on a Feast Day; 2. That you had the horse of my Lord the Bishop of Senlis; 3. That you threw yourself down from the Tower of Beaurevoir; 4. That you wear a man’s dress; 5. That you consented to the death of Franquet d’Arras: do you not think you have committed mortal sin in these?”

“For what concerns the attack on Paris, I do not think myself to be in mortal sin; if I have so done, it is for God to know it, and the Priest in confession. As to the horse of my Lord the Bishop of Senlis, I firmly believe I have not sinned against Our Lord: the horse was valued at 200 gold crowns, of which he received assignment; nevertheless, this horse was sent back to the Sire de la Trémouille, to restore it to my Lord of Senlis; it was no good for me to ride; besides, it was not I who took it; and, moreover, I did not wish to keep it, having heard that the Bishop was displeased that it had been taken from him, and, beyond all this, the horse was of no use for warfare. I do not know if the Bishop was paid, nor if his horse was restored to him; I think not. As to my fall from the Tower at Beaurevoir, I did not do it in despair, but thinking to save myself and to go to the help of all those brave folk who were in danger. After my fall, I confessed myself and asked pardon. God has forgiven me, not for any good in me: I did wrong, but I know by revelation from Saint Catherine that, after the confession I made, I was forgiven. It was by the counsel of Saint Catherine that I confessed myself.”

“Did you do penance for it?”

“Yes, and my penance came to me in great part from the harm I did myself in falling. You ask me if I believe this wrong which I did in leaping to be mortal sin? I know nothing about it, but refer me to God. As to my dress, since I bear it by command of God and for His service, I do not think I have done wrong at all; so soon as it shall please God to prescribe it, I will take it off.”

The following Thursday, March 15th, in the morning. Present: Jean Delafontaine, Commissary, assisted by Nicolas Midi and Gerard Feuillet. Witnesses: Nicolas de Houbent and Brother Ysambard de la Pierre.

First of all, Jeanne was charitably exhorted, warned, and required, if she had done anything which might be against our Faith, that she should refer it to the decision of Holy Mother Church.

“Let my answers,” she said, “be seen and examined by the Clergy: then let them tell me if there be anything against the Christian Faith. I shall know surely by my counsel what it is, and will say afterwards what shall be judged and decided. And, moreover, if there be anything wrong against the Christian Faith which Our Lord commanded, I should not wish to maintain it, and should be very sorry to be in opposition.”

Then we explained to her about the Church Triumphant and the Church Militant, and the difference between them. Required to submit to the decision of the Church Militant what she had said or done, whether of good or ill:

“I will not answer you anything more about it now,” she said.

“Upon the oath that you have taken, tell us, how did you think to escape from the Castle of Beaulieu between two planks of wood?”[^[78]]

“Never was I prisoner in such a place that I would not willingly have escaped. Being in that Castle, I should have shut my keepers in the tower, if it had not been that the porter espied me and encountered me. It did not please God that I should escape this time: it was necessary for me to see the English King,[^[79]] as my Voices had told me, as has been already said.”

“Have you had permission from God or your Voices to leave prison when it shall please you?”

“I have asked it many times, but I have not yet had it.”

“Would you go now, if you saw your starting-point?”

“If I saw the door open, I should go: that would be leave from Our Lord. If I saw the door open, and my keepers and the other English beyond power of resistance, truly I should see in it my leave and help sent me by Our Lord. But without this leave, I shall not go, unless I make a forcible attempt to go,[^[80]] and so learn if Our Lord would be pleased: this on the strength of the proverb, ‘Help thyself, and God will help thee’: I say this in order that, if I do escape, no one may say I did so without God’s leave.”

“When you asked to hear Mass, did it not seem to you that it would be more proper to be in female dress? Which would you like best, to have a woman’s dress to hear Mass, or to remain in a man’s dress and not hear it?”

“Give me assurance beforehand that I shall hear Mass if I am in female attire, and I will answer you this.”

“Very well, I give you assurance of it: you shall hear Mass if you put on female attire.”

“And what say you, if I have sworn and promised to our King my Master, not to put off this dress? Well, I will answer you this: Have made for me a long dress down to the ground, without a train; give it to me to go to Mass, and then on my return I will put on again the dress I have.”

“I say it to you once again, do you consent to wear female attire to go and hear Mass?”

“I will take counsel on this, and then I will answer you: but I beseech you, for the honour of God and Our Lady permit me to hear Mass in this good town.”

“You consent simply and absolutely to take female attire?”

“Send me a dress like a daughter of your citizens—that is to say, a long ‘houppeland.’[^[81]] I will wear it to go and hear Mass. I beseech you as earnestly as I can, permit me to hear it in the dress I wear at this moment and without changing anything!”

“Will you submit your actions and words to the decision of the Church?”

“My words and deeds are all in God’s Hands: in all, I wait upon Him. I assure you, I would say or do nothing against the Christian Faith: in case I have done or said anything which might be on my soul and which the clergy could say was contrary to the Christian Faith established by Our Lord, I would not maintain it, and would put it away.”

“Are you not willing to submit yourself in this to the order of the Church?”

“I will not answer you anything more about it now. Send me a cleric on Saturday; and, if you do not wish to come yourself, I will answer him on this, with God’s help; and it shall be put in writing.”

“When your Voices come, do you make obeisance to them as to a Saint?”

“Yes; and if perchance I have not done so, I have afterwards asked of them grace and pardon. I should not know how to do them such great reverence as belongs to them, for I believe firmly they are Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret. I believe the same of Saint Michael.”

“For those who are Saints of Paradise, offerings are voluntarily made of candles, etc.: have you never made an offering of lighted candles, or other things, to the Saints who come to you, in the Church or elsewhere, or had Masses said?”

“No, unless it be in the offering of the Mass, in the hands of the Priest, in honour of Saint Catherine, one of the Saints who appeared to me. I have never lighted as many candles as I wish to Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret, who are in Paradise; and I firmly believe it is they who come to me.”

“When you place lights before the image of Saint Catherine, do you place them in honour of the one who appears to you?”

“I do it in honour of God, of Our Lady, and of Saint Catherine who is in Heaven, and of her who appears to me.”

“Do you place these lights in honour of Saint Catherine, who has shewn herself to you, who has appeared to you?”

“Yes, I make no difference between the one who has appeared to me, and the one who is in heaven.”[^[82]]

“Do you always do, always accomplish, what your Voices command you?”

“With all my power I accomplish the command that Our Lord sends me through my Voices, in so far as I understand them. My Voices command nothing but by the good pleasure of Our Lord.”

“In warfare, have you done nothing without counsel of your Voices?”

“I have already answered you thereon: read your book again well, and you will find it. At the request of the men-at-arms, there was an assault made before Paris, and, at the request of the King himself, one also before La Charité. These were neither against nor by the order of my Voices.”

“Have you never done anything against their command and will?”

“All that I could and knew how to do, I have done and accomplished to the best of my power. As to the matter of the fall from the keep of Beaurevoir, I did it against their command; but I could not control myself. When my Voices saw my need, and that I neither knew how, nor was able, to control myself, they saved my life and kept me from killing myself. Whatever things I did in my greatest undertakings, they always helped me; and that is a sign they are good spirits.”

“Have you no other sign that they are good spirits?”

“Saint Michael assured me of it before the Voices came to me.”

“How did you know it was Saint Michael?”

“By the speech and language of the Angels. I believe firmly that they were Angels.”

“But how did you know it was the language of Angels?”

“I believed it at once, and I had the will to believe it. When Saint Michael came to me, he said to me: ‘Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret will come to thee; follow their counsel; they have been chosen to guide thee and counsel thee in all that thou hast to do: believe what they shall tell thee, it is the order of Our Lord.’”

“If the devil were to put himself in the form or likeness of an angel, how would you know if it were a good or an evil angel?”

“I should know quite well if it were Saint Michael or a counterfeit. The first time I was in great doubt if it were Saint Michael; and I was much afraid. I had seen him many times before I knew it was Saint Michael.”

“Why did you recognize him sooner that time, when you say you believed it was he, than the first time he appeared to you?”

“The first time I was a young child, and I was much afraid; afterwards, he had taught me so well, and it was so clear to me, that I believed firmly it was he.”[^[83]]

“What doctrine did he teach you?”

“Above all things he told me to be a good child, and that God would help me,—to come to the help of the King of France, among other things. The greater part of what he taught me is already in the book in which you are writing: he told me of the great misery there was in the Kingdom of France.”

“What was the height and stature of this Angel?”

“On Saturday I will reply, with other things which I should answer, as it shall please God.”

“Do you not think it a great sin, and one which offends Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret who appeared to you, to act against their commands?”

“Yes, certainly; and the greatest I have ever committed, in my opinion, has been the leap from the Tower of Beaurevoir; for the which I have besought their mercy, and for all other offences I may have done against them.”

“Will Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret take bodily vengeance for this offence?”

“I do not know, and did not ask them.”

“You have asserted that, for speaking the truth, men were sometimes hanged: do you, then, know any crime or fault in yourself for which you should die, if you confessed it?”

“I know of none.”

The following Saturday, March 17th:—Present: Jean Delafontaine, Commissary, assisted by Nicolas Midi, and Gerard Feuillet, in the presence of Ysambard de la Pierre and of Jean Massieu.

The said Jeanne was required to take the oath already made by her. Afterwards, she was again interrogated:

“In what form, kind, size, and dress did Saint Michael come to you?”

“In the form of a true honest man [‘prud homme’]; of his dress and the rest I will say nothing more. As to the Angels, I saw them with my eyes; you will hear naught else about it. I believe the deeds and words of Saint Michael, who appeared to me, as firmly as I believe that Our Saviour Jesus Christ suffered Death and Passion for us. And that which makes me believe it, is the good counsel, comfort, and good doctrine which he has given me.”

“Will you, in respect of all your words and deeds, whether good or bad, submit yourself to the decision of our Holy Mother the Church?”

“The Church! I love it, and would wish to maintain it with all my power, for our Christian Faith; it is not I who should be prevented from going to Church and hearing Mass! As to the good deeds I have done and my coming to the King, I must wait on the King of Heaven, who sent me to Charles, King of France, son of Charles, who was King of France. You will see that the French will soon gain a great victory, that God will send such great doings that nearly all the Kingdom of France will be shaken by them. I say it, so that, when it shall come to pass, it may be remembered that I said it.”

“When will this happen?”

“I wait on Our Lord.”

“Will you refer yourself to the decision of the Church?”

“I refer myself to God Who sent me, to Our Lady, and to all the Saints in Paradise. And in my opinion it is all one, God and the Church; and one should make no difficulty about it. Why do you make a difficulty?”

“There is a Church Triumphant in which are God and the Saints, the Angels, and the Souls of the Saved. There is another Church, the Church Militant, in which are the Pope, the Vicar of God on earth, the Cardinals, Prelates of the Church, the Clergy and all good Christians and Catholics: this Church, regularly assembled, cannot err, being ruled by the Holy Spirit. Will you refer yourself to this Church which we have thus just defined to you?”

“I came to the King of France from God, from the Blessed Virgin Mary, from all the Saints of Paradise, and the Church Victorious above, and by their command. To this Church I submit all my good deeds, all that I have done or will do. As to saying whether I will submit myself to the Church Militant, I will not now answer anything more.”

“What do you say on the subject of the female attire which is offered to you, to go and hear Mass?”

“I will not take it yet, until it shall please Our Lord. And if it should happen that I should be brought to judgment, [and that I have to divest myself in Court,][^[84]] I beseech the lords of the Church to do me the grace to allow me a woman’s smock and a hood for my head; I would rather die than revoke what God has made me do; and I believe firmly that God will not allow it to come to pass that I should be brought so low that I may not soon have succour from Him, and by miracle.”

“As you say that you bear a man’s dress by the command of God, why do you ask for a woman’s smock at the point of death?”

“It will be enough for me if it be long.”

“Did your Godmother who saw the fairies pass as a wise woman?”

“She was held and considered a good and honest woman, neither divineress nor sorceress.”

“You said you would take a woman’s dress, that you might be let go: would this please God?”

“If I had leave to go in woman’s dress, I should soon put myself back in man’s dress and do what God has commanded me: I have already told you so. For nothing in the world will I swear not to arm myself and put on a man’s dress; I must obey the orders of Our Lord.”

“What age and what dress had Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret?”

“You have had such answers as you will have from me, and none others shall you have: I have told you what I know of it for certain.”

“Before to-day, did you believe fairies were evil spirits?”

“I know nothing about it.”

“Do you know if Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret hate the English?”

“They love what God loves: they hate what God hates.”

“Does God hate the English?”

“Of the love or hate God may have for the English, or of what He will do for their souls, I know nothing; but I know quite well that they will be put out of France, except those who shall die there, and that God will send victory to the French against the English.”

“Was God for the English when they were prospering in France?”

“I do not know if God hated the French; but I believe that He wished them to be defeated for their sins, if they were in sin.”

“What warrant and what help do you expect to have from Our Lord for wearing this man’s dress?”

“For this dress and for other things that I have done, I wish to have no other recompense than the salvation of my soul.”

“What arms did you offer at Saint Denis?”

“My whole suit of white armour [‘album harnesium suum;’ Gallicè, ‘un blanc harnoys,’] as beseems a soldier, with a sword I had won before Paris.”

“Why did you make this offering?”

“In devotion, and as is the custom of soldiers when they have been wounded. Having been wounded before Paris, I offered them at Saint Denis, because that is the war-cry of France.”

“Did you do it that these arms might be worshipped?”

“No.”

“What was the purpose of these five crosses which were on the sword that you found at Saint Catherine of Fierbois?”

“I know nothing about it.”

“Who prompted you to have painted on your standard Angels with arms, feet, legs, and clothing?”

“I have already answered you.”

“Did you have them painted as they came to see you?”

“No, I had them painted in the way they are painted in the Churches.”

“Did you ever see them in the manner they are painted?”

“I will tell you nothing more.”

“Why did you not have painted the brightness that comes to you with the Angels and the Voices?”

“It was not commanded me.”

The same day, March 17th, afternoon. Present: The Bishop and the Deputy Inquisitor, assisted by Jean Beaupère, Jacques de Touraine, Nicolas Midi, Pierre Maurice, Gerard Feuillet, Thomas de Courcelles, Jean Delafontaine; in presence of Brother Ysambard de la Pierre and John Gris.

We interrogated the said Jeanne, as follows:

“Did the two Angels painted on your standard represent Saint Michael and Saint Gabriel?”

“They were there only for the honour of Our Lord, Who was painted on the standard. I only had these two Angels represented to honour Our Lord, Who was there represented holding the world.”

“Were the two Angels represented on your standard those who guard the world? Why were there not more of them, seeing that you had been commanded by God to take this standard?”

“The standard was commanded by Our Lord, by the Voices of Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret, which said to me: ‘Take the standard in the name of the King of Heaven’; and because they had said to me ‘Take the standard in the name of the King of Heaven,’ I had this figure of God and of two Angels done; I did all by their command.”

“Did you ask them if, by virtue of this standard, you would gain all the battles wherever you might find yourself, and if you would be victorious?”

“They told me to take it boldly, and that God would help me.”

“Which gave most help, you to your standard, or your standard to you?”

“The victory either to my standard or myself, it was all from Our Lord.”

“The hope of being victorious, was it founded on your standard or on yourself?”

“It was founded on Our Lord and nought else.”

“If any one but you had borne this standard, would he have been as fortunate as you in bearing it?”

“I know nothing about it: I wait on Our Lord.”

“If one of the people of your party had sent you his standard to carry, would you have had as much confidence in it as in that which had been sent to you by God? Even the standard of your King, if it had been sent to you, would you have had as much confidence in it as in your own?”

“I bore most willingly that which had been ordained for me by Our Lord; and, meanwhile, in all I waited upon Our Lord.”

“For what purpose was the sign you put on your letters and these words: ‘Jhesus Maria’?”

“The clerks who wrote my letters put it; some told me that it was suitable for me to put these two words: ‘Jhesus Maria.’”

“Was it never revealed to you that if you lost your virginity, you would lose your happiness, and that your Voices would come to you no more?”

“That has never been revealed to me.”[^[85]]

“If you were married, do you think your Voices would come?”

“I do not know; I wait on Our Lord.”

“Do you think, and do you firmly believe, that your King did right in killing, or causing to be killed, my Lord the Duke of Burgundy?”

“It was a great injury to the Kingdom of France; and, whatever there may have been between them, God sent me to the help of the King of France.”

“As you have declared to my lord of Beauvais that you will reply to him and his Commissioners as you would before our most holy Lord the Pope, and as there are many questions which you will not answer, would you reply before the Pope more fully than before us?”

“I have answered you all the truth that I know; and if I know anything which comes to my memory that I have left unsaid, I will tell it willingly.”

“Does it not seem to you that you are bound to reply more fully to our Lord the Pope, the Vicar of God, on all that might be asked you touching the Faith and the matter of your conscience, than you should to us?”

“Very well; let me be taken before him, and I will answer before him all I ought to answer.”

“Of what material was one of your rings, on which was written ‘Jhesus Maria’?”

“I do not exactly know; if it were of gold, it was not fine gold; I do not know if it were of gold or of brass; there were three crosses on it, and no other mark that I know of, except ‘Jhesus Maria.’”

“Why was it that you generally looked at this ring when you were going into battle?”

“For pleasure, and in honour of my father and mother; I had that ring in my hand and on my finger when I touched Saint Catherine as she appeared to me.”

“What part of Saint Catherine?”

“You will have no more about it.”

“Did you ever kiss or embrace Saint Catherine or Saint Margaret?”

“I have embraced them both.”

“Did they smell good?”

“It is well to know, they smelled good.”

“In embracing them, did you feel any heat or anything else?”

“I could not have embraced them without feeling and touching them.”

“What part did you kiss—face or feet?”

“It is more proper and respectful to kiss their feet.”

“Did you not give them crowns?”

“In their honour, I often put crowns on their images in the Churches. As to those who appeared to me, I never gave any to them that I can remember.”

“When you placed crowns of flowers on the tree of which you spoke before, did you put them in honour of those who appeared to you?”

“No.”

“When these Saints came to you, did you do them no reverence? did you bend the knee before them? did you bow?”

“Yes: and, so far as I could do them reverence, I did; I know it is they who are in the Kingdom of Paradise.”

“Do you know nothing of those who came in the air with the fairies?”

“I have never done or known anything about them; but I have heard of them, and that they came on Thursdays; but I do not believe it; I think it is sorcery.”

“Did not they wave your standard round the head of your King when he was consecrated at Rheims?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“Why was it taken to the Church of Rheims for the consecration more than those of other captains?”

“It had shared the pain, it was only right it should share the honour.”

Meeting at the Bishop’s house of the Doctors and Assessors to consider the Case. Sunday of the Passion of our Saviour, 18th day of the month of March. The Bishop and Jean Lemaître, assisted by twelve Assessors, present.

We, the said Bishop, shewed that Jeanne had lately been questioned during eight days, and that a great number of her replies had been put in writing; to-day we have need of the opinion of the Assessors as to the mode of procedure.

Then We caused to be read a great number of assertions which, by Our order, have been extracted by several Masters from the answers of Jeanne: so that, by means of these assertions, they, the said Assessors, will be able the better to take up the Process as a whole, and thus decide more certainly on what remains to be done.

After this shewing, the said Lords and Masters did deliberate with great solemnity and maturity; and each of them did give us his opinion.

We, the Judges, did then conclude and give order as follows:

Each of the Doctors and Masters shall have the matter to examine and study for his own part in all diligence, and to make research in authentic books for the opinion of the Doctors on each of the said assertions. On Thursday next, We will re-assemble anew to confer upon them. On that day, each one shall submit to Us his opinion.

Besides this, we have given orders that between this and then shall be extracted from the questions and answers of Jeanne certain Articles, which shall be moved against her in the Court before Us, the Judges.

[The Seventy Articles prepared by the Promoter, which form the Act of Accusation for the Trial in Ordinary, were read to Jeanne by Thomas de Courcelles, on Tuesday, March 27th. These Articles will be found, with Jeanne’s replies to them, in the Appendix. The Seventy Articles were afterwards reduced to Twelve by Maître Nicolas Midi. These are given in the Appendix, p. [341].]

Another Meeting in the Bishop’s house, in which it is decided to compile Articles from the said Extracts.

And the following Thursday, 22nd March, under the presidence of Us, the Bishop, and Maître Jean Lemaître, assisted by 23 Assessors.