Saint Joan

It is now May 30, 1431. The scene opens in a castle in Rouen in a stone hall arranged for Joan’s trial. Two chairs sit side by side, raised above the rest of the court, with rows of chairs extending around them. A table is placed in the center of these chairs for the scribes. There is a wooden stool for Joan. The court is cut off from the outdoors, “shielded from the weather by screens and curtains.”

Warwick and his page enter the courtroom. Cauchon enters, along with a monk and a canon. The page leaves the three men alone. Cauchon introduces the monk as Brother John Lemaître, who will be deputy to the Chief Inquisitor, and the canon as Canon John D’Estivet, who will be the Promoter, or Prosecutor. It’s been nine months since Joan was captured by the Burgundians. Warwick asks Cauchon when the trial will be over, to which Cauchon responds that it hasn’t even begun, as the court has been busy holding 15 “examinations” of Joan. The Inquisitor explains to Warwick that, although he initially saw Joan’s case as political, he now has enough evidence to regard it as heresy. The trial will thus begin that morning.

Warwick is pleased—he’d been growing impatient. Cauchon denounces the English soldiers who threaten to drown anyone who sides with Joan. He reiterates his determination to give Joan a fair trial. D’Estivet describes how psychologically difficult it has been for him to try Joan, as he finds her punishment unjust and wants desperately to save her soul. All the same, he recognizes that authorities have gone out of their way to explain to Joan the danger she is in. In this way, he can justify trying Joan.  Warwick, in contrast, doesn’t care about saving Joan’s soul and regards her punishment as a “political necessity.” With pride, Cauchon affirms that “the Church is not subject to political necessity.”

The Inquisitor interrupts to assure both men that neither must worry about Joan being punished, as her own stubbornness will seal her fate: everything she says further convinces her interrogators of her heresy. Warwick leaves. Chaplain de Stogumber and Canon de Courcelles enter the courtroom. They are both agitated, having just learned that the 64 counts on which they’ve indicted Joan have been reduced to 12 without their consultation. The Inquisitor claims responsibility for the reduced charges, reasoning that too many issues will only confuse the rest of the court; further, focusing on the “trumpery” issues of magic and witchcraft of which they’ve accused Joan might allow her to get away with “the great main issue of heresy.” Cauchon agrees with the Inquisitor’s judgement.

Ladvenu, a young Dominican monk, enters the courtroom, suggesting that Joan’s heresy could be the result of her “simplicity.” In a long speech, the Inquisitor cautions him against this position: heresy, a very serious threat, often originates as an “apparently harmless” idea espoused by simple, pious individuals. He cites women who refuse to wear women’s clothes and end up running around naked, as well as people who refuse to marry and “begin with polygamy, and end by incest,” to illustrate that even the most innocent transgressions can morph into wicked, destructive forces. The Church knows that “diabolical madnesses” begin with people like Joan who “set[] up their own judgment against the Church.” 

What is so dangerous about Joan’s heresy, states the Inquisitor, is that it is not just an act: she sincerely believes that her “diabolical” ideas are “divine.” Those who judge Joan must be on guard not to feel compassion for her, as her diabolically inspired pride has not hardened the other aspects of her soul in a visibly discernable way. Joan’s natural humility might make her judges feel cruel to condemn her, but the Inquisitor reminds the court “that nothing is so cruel in its consequences as the toleration of heresy.”

The Inquisitor insists that everyone should be grateful to the Holy Inquisition: before it existed, someone like Joan would have been violently executed without a trial. Ultimately, Joan’s judges need to value justice over anger or pity. Cauchon agrees with the Inquisitor and further admonishes Joan’s “Protestant” type of heresy, arguing that it is particularly dangerous because it spreads not amongst the simple, but amongst those with a “stronger” mind. The greater one values the truth of their “private judgment,” the greater the threat they pose to the Church.

Two English soldiers bring Joan to the courtroom and lead her to her wooden stool. She is in chains and wears a page’s suit. A long imprisonment has taken a toll on her, but she still appears vibrant and determined—albeit a bit pale. Before the trial can begin, Joan questions why she must be in chains, prompting Courcelles to remind her that she tried escape multiple times. In response to this, D’Estivet accuses of her of heresy, as her attempted escapes prove she wanted to remove herself from the Church’s control. Cauchon tells Joan to be quiet, as her obstinance is not helping her case.

The Inquisitor reminds D’Estivet that the trial hasn’t officially begun because Joan has yet to take the oath to tell the whole truth. Joan continues to be obstinate, telling the Inquisitor she cannot tell “the whole truth” in court because only God can know all. Courcelles recommends that Joan be tortured if she doesn’t take the oath to tell the whole truth, arguing that it’s not cruel to torture Joan—it’s the law. Cauchon is adamant to not torture Joan unless it is absolutely necessary: it’s most important to save Joan’s “soul and body,” and it would be counterintuitive to destroy them both. Courcelles says this is not usually what is done, and Joan mocks this simplistic logic.

Cauchon returns the court to its central concern, asking Joan if she will “accept the judgment of God’s Church on earth.” Joan responds that she will not accept the Church’s judgment if it forces her to recant her visions. Horrified, the assessors call this answer “flat heresy.” The Inquisitor asks Joan if she will recant if the Church Militant tells her that her visions came from the devil instead of God, but Joan maintains that her visions came from God. Ladvenu pleads with Joan to yield to the Church, but to no avail. She responds simply: “what other judgment can I judge by but my own?”

Cauchon tells Joan that—despite the numerous opportunities the court has given her to save herself— she has condemned herself with this statement. D’Estivet affirms that Joan’s two biggest crimes are acting on behalf of “evil spirits” and dressing in men’s clothing, which is “indecent, unnatural, and abominable.” 

The Inquisitor tells Joan the Church has decided with certainty that her voices come from the devil and asks her if she accepts this position. Once more, she refuses to deny the holiness of her voices. Cauchon grows frustrated and asks Joan if she knows what she’s saying, and she insists that she does. The Inquisitor asks Joan if she will remove her men’s clothing, but she refuses, as her voices tell her to dress like a soldier. Ladvenu asks if she can justify this request. She replies simply: she lived, slept, and fought with soldiers, so it made sense for them to think of her as one of them. Ladvenu concedes that Joan’s appearance might be shocking, but her logic is sound. Joan insults the court some more.

The Inquisitor tells Joan that the stake is ready for her burning. Joan is shocked: her voices had promised to protect her from harm. She can’t believe they would lead her astray, though she finally accepts that it must be true. Ladvenu tells her that the Church will welcome her back, and Cauchon gives her a recantation to sign. In despair, Joan agrees to recant. Joan is illiterate, so Ladvenu reads the document to her, confirms that she understands, and then shows her how to sign her name. Once Joan signs the paper, the Inquisitor sentences her to life imprisonment. Joan is horrified at the prospect of life in prison—she thought she’d be allowed to go free—and she hurriedly tears the paper into pieces, reversing her recantation.

Joan accuses the court of lying to her: they said they wanted to save her life, but imprisonment wouldn’t be life to her. She could give up men’s clothing and warfare, but she can’t bear being separated from “the wind in the trees, the larks in the sunshine,” and the rest of the natural world. She reaffirms her previous stance: she knows the court “is of the devil,” and that she is “of God.” The soldiers grab Joan to lead her to the stake. Cauchon reads Joan’s sentence, excommunicates her, and passes her over to the secular arm. Chaplain de Stogumber gleefully helps the soldiers bring Joan to the stake.

Cauchon laments the English’s excitement to destroy Joan while acknowledging its necessity. The Inquisitor admits that, although he is used to such cruel practices, seeing someone as young and innocent as Joan die is hard to accept. He feels Joan is innocent because she didn’t sufficiently understand the accusations against her. Warwick enters, followed shortly thereafter by Chaplain de Stogumber, who is sobbing. The Chaplain explains that he watched an English soldier give Joan a cross made of two sticks tied together after she requested one. He made no efforts to comfort Joan, but wishes he had: Joan’s burning profoundly affects Stogumber, who hadn’t realized how traumatic and cruel it would be. He is beside himself in grief and shame at how callously he has treated Joan.

Ladvenu enters and reports on the burning: Joan had only the improvised cross pressed to her chest, so he brought one from the church for her to hold. He tried to bring it to her hands, but the fire began to enrobe them both, so she told him to back down and save himself. Ladvenu can’t believe that such selflessness could have been “inspired by the devil.” He believes that God redeemed Joan in her last moments of life. He reports hearing laughter, and he admits, wryly, that he hopes it was English laughter. His shame reignited, the Chaplain runs away in disgrace.

The Executioner enters and tells Warwick that the deed is done: Joan is dead. Her remains were thrown in the river. Reflecting on Ladvenu’s earlier claim that Joan was redeemed in her final moments of life, Warwick wonders whether he’s truly seen the last of Joan.