Saint Joan

is a new note in his voice which means that he is coming to business. Warwick Well, my Lord Bishop, you find us in one of our unlucky moments. Charles is to be crowned at Rheims, practically by the young woman from Lorraine; and⁠—I must not deceive you, nor flatter your hopes⁠—we cannot prevent it. I suppose it will make a great difference to Charles’s position. Cauchon Undoubtedly. It is a masterstroke of The Maid’s. The Chaplain Again agitated. We were not fairly beaten, my lord. No Englishman is ever fairly beaten. Cauchon Raises his eyebrow slightly, then quickly composes his face. Warwick Our friend here takes the view that the young woman is a sorceress. It would, I presume, be the duty of your reverend lordship to denounce her to the Inquisition, and have her burnt for that offence. Cauchon If she were captured in my diocese: yes. Warwick Feeling that they are getting on capitally. Just so. Now I suppose there can be no reasonable doubt that she is a sorceress. The Chaplain Not the least. An arrant witch. Warwick Gently reproving the interruption. We are asking for the Bishop’s opinion, Messire John. Cauchon We shall have to consider not merely our own opinions here, but the opinions⁠—the prejudices, if you like⁠—of a French court. Warwick Correcting. A Catholic court, my lord. Cauchon Catholic courts are composed of mortal men, like other courts, however sacred their function and inspiration may be. And if the men are Frenchmen, as the modern fashion calls them, I am afraid the bare fact that an English army has been defeated by a French one will not convince them that there is any sorcery in the matter. The Chaplain What! Not when the famous Sir John Talbot himself has been defeated and actually taken prisoner by a drab from the ditches of Lorraine! Cauchon Sir John Talbot, we all know, is a fierce and formidable soldier, Messire; but I have yet to learn that he is an able general. And though it pleases you to say that he has been defeated by this girl, some of us may be disposed to give a little of the credit to Dunois. The Chaplain Contemptuously. The Bastard of Orleans! Cauchon Let me remind⁠— Warwick Interposing. I know what you are going to say, my lord. Dunois defeated me at Montargis. Cauchon Bowing. I take that as evidence that the Seigneur Dunois is a very able commander indeed. Warwick Your lordship is the flower of courtesy. I admit, on our side, that Talbot is a mere fighting animal, and that it probably served him right to be taken at Patay. The Chaplain Chafing. My lord: at Orleans this woman had her throat pierced by an English arrow, and was seen to cry like a child from the pain of it. It was a death wound; yet she fought all day; and when our men had repulsed all her attacks like true Englishmen, she walked alone to the wall of our fort with a white banner in her hand; and our men were paralyzed, and could neither shoot nor strike whilst the French fell on them and drove them on to the bridge, which immediately burst into flames and crumbled under them, letting them down into the river, where they were drowned in heaps. Was this your bastard’s generalship? or were those flames the flames of hell, conjured up by witchcraft? Warwick You will forgive Messire John’s vehemence, my lord; but he has put our case. Dunois is a great captain, we admit; but why could he do nothing until the witch came? Cauchon I do not say that there were no supernatural powers on her side. But the names on that white banner were not the names of Satan and Beelzebub, but the blessed names of our Lord and His holy mother. And your commander who was drowned⁠—Clahz‑da I think you call him⁠— Warwick Glasdale. Sir William Glasdale. Cauchon Glass‑dell, thank you. He was no saint; and many of our people think that he was drowned for his blasphemies against The Maid. Warwick Beginning to look very dubious. Well, what are we to infer from all this, my lord? Has The Maid converted you? Cauchon If she had, my lord, I should have known better than to have trusted myself here within your grasp. Warwick Blandly deprecating. Oh! oh! My lord! Cauchon If the devil is making use of this girl⁠—and I believe he is⁠— Warwick Reassured. Ah! You hear, Messire John? I knew your lordship would not fail us. Pardon my interruption. Proceed. Cauchon If it be so, the devil has longer views than you give him credit for. Warwick Indeed? In what way? Listen to this, Messire John. Cauchon If the devil wanted to damn a country girl, do you think so easy a task would cost him the winning of half a dozen battles? No, my lord: any trumpery imp could do that much if the girl could be damned at all. The Prince of Darkness does not condescend to such cheap drudgery. When he strikes, he strikes at the Catholic Church, whose realm is the whole spiritual world. When he damns, he damns the souls of the entire human race. Against that dreadful design The Church stands ever on guard. And it is as one of the instruments of that design that I see this girl. She is inspired, but diabolically inspired. The Chaplain I told you she was a witch. Cauchon Fiercely. She is not a witch. She is a heretic. The Chaplain What difference does that make? Cauchon You, a priest, ask me that! You English are strangely blunt in the mind. All these things that you call witchcraft are capable of a natural explanation. The woman’s miracles would not impose on a rabbit: she does not claim them as miracles herself. What do her victories prove but that she has a better head on her shoulders than your swearing Glass‑dells and mad bull Talbots, and that the courage of faith, even though it be a false faith, will always outstay the courage of