Saint Joan

writing in beautiful borders, and illuminated pictures cunningly inset. But nowadays, instead of looking at books, people read them. A book might as well be one of those orders for bacon and bran that you are scribbling. The Chaplain I must say, my lord, you take our situation very coolly. Very coolly indeed. The Nobleman Supercilious. What is the matter? The Chaplain The matter, my lord, is that we English have been defeated. The Nobleman That happens, you know. It is only in history books and ballads that the enemy is always defeated. The Chaplain But we are being defeated over and over again. First, Orleans⁠— The Nobleman Poohpoohing. Oh, Orleans! The Chaplain I know what you are going to say, my lord: that was a clear case of witchcraft and sorcery. But we are still being defeated. Jargeau, Meung, Beugency, just like Orleans. And now we have been butchered at Patay, and Sir John Talbot taken prisoner. He throws down his pen, almost in tears. I feel it, my lord: I feel it very deeply. I cannot bear to see my countrymen defeated by a parcel of foreigners. The Nobleman Oh! you are an Englishman, are you? The Chaplain Certainly not, my lord: I am a gentleman. Still, like your lordship, I was born in England; and it makes a difference. The Nobleman You are attached to the soil, eh? The Chaplain It pleases your lordship to be satirical at my expense: your greatness privileges you to be so with impunity. But your lordship knows very well that I am not attached to the soil in a vulgar manner, like a serf. Still, I have a feeling about it; with growing agitation and I am not ashamed of it; and rising wildly by God, if this goes on any longer I will fling my cassock to the devil, and take arms myself, and strangle the accursed witch with my own hands. The Nobleman Laughing at him goodnaturedly. So you shall, chaplain: so you shall, if we can do nothing better. But not yet, not quite yet. The Chaplain Resumes his seat very sulkily. The Nobleman Airily. I should not care very much about the witch⁠—you see, I have made my pilgrimage to the Holy Land; and the Heavenly Powers, for their own credit, can hardly allow me to be worsted by a village sorceress⁠—but the Bastard of Orleans is a harder nut to crack; and as he has been to the Holy Land too, honors are easy between us as far as that goes. The Chaplain He is only a Frenchman, my lord. The Nobleman A Frenchman! Where did you pick up that expression? Are these Burgundians and Bretons and Picards and Gascons beginning to call themselves Frenchmen, just as our fellows are beginning to call themselves Englishmen? They actually talk of France and England as their countries. Theirs, if you please! What is to become of me and you if that way of thinking comes into fashion? The Chaplain Why, my lord? Can it hurt us? The Nobleman Men cannot serve two masters. If this cant of serving their country once takes hold of them, goodbye to the authority of their feudal lords, and goodbye to the authority of the Church. That is, goodbye to you and me. The Chaplain I hope I am a faithful servant of the Church; and there are only six cousins between me and the barony of Stogumber, which was created by the Conqueror. But is that any reason why I should stand by and see Englishmen beaten by a French bastard and a witch from Lousy Champagne? The Nobleman Easy, man, easy: we shall burn the witch and beat the bastard all in good time. Indeed I am waiting at present for the Bishop of Beauvais, to arrange the burning with him. He has been turned out of his diocese by her faction. The Chaplain You have first to catch her, my lord. The Nobleman Or buy her. I will offer a king’s ransom. The Chaplain A king’s ransom! For that slut! The Nobleman One has to leave a margin. Some of Charles’s people will sell her to the Burgundians; the Burgundians will sell her to us; and there will probably be three or four middlemen who will expect their little commissions. The Chaplain Monstrous. It is all those scoundrels of Jews: they get in every time money changes hands. I would not leave a Jew alive in Christendom if I had my way. The Nobleman Why not? The Jews generally give value. They make you pay; but they deliver the goods. In my experience the men who want something for nothing are invariably Christians. A page appears. The Page The Right Reverend the Bishop of Beauvais: Monseigneur Cauchon. Cauchon, aged about 60, comes in. The page withdraws. The two Englishmen rise. The Nobleman With effusive courtesy. My dear Bishop, how good of you to come! Allow me to introduce myself: Richard de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, at your service. Cauchon Your lordship’s fame is well known to me. Warwick This reverend cleric is Master John de Stogumber. The Chaplain Glibly. John Bowyer Spenser Neville de Stogumber, at your service, my lord: Bachelor of Theology, and Keeper of the Private Seal to His Eminence the Cardinal of Winchester. Warwick To Cauchon. You call him the Cardinal of England, I believe. Our king’s uncle. Cauchon Messire John de Stogumber: I am always the very good friend of His Eminence. He extends his hand to the chaplain, who kisses his ring. Warwick Do me the honor to be seated. He gives Cauchon his chair, placing it at the head of the table. Cauchon accepts the place of honor with a grave inclination. Warwick fetches the leather stool carelessly, and sits in his former place. The chaplain goes back to his chair. Though Warwick has taken second place in calculated deference to the Bishop, he assumes the lead in opening the proceedings as a matter of course. He is still cordial and expansive; but there