Thus was sacrificed one of the purest and noblest women in the whole history of the world,—­a woman who had been instrumental in delivering her country, but without receiving either honor or gratitude from those for whom she had fought and conquered.  She died a martyr to the cause of patriotism,—­not for religion, but for her country.  She died among enemies, unsupported by friends or by those whom she had so greatly benefited, and with as few religious consolations as it was possible to give.  Never was there greater cruelty and injustice inflicted on an innocent and noble woman.  The utmost ingenuity of vindictive priests never extorted from her a word which criminated her, though they subjected her to inquisitorial examinations for days and weeks.  Burned as an infidel, her last words recognized the Saviour in whom she believed; burned as a witch, she never confessed to anything but the voices of God.  Her heroism, even at the stake, should have called out pity and admiration; but her tormentors were insensible to both.  She was burned really from vengeance, because she had turned the tide of conquest.  “The Jews,” says Michelet, “never exhibited the rage against Jesus that the English did against the Pucelle,” in whom purity, sweetness, and heroic goodness dwelt.  Never was her life stained by a single cruel act.  In the midst of her torments she did not reproach her tormentors.  In the midst of her victories she wept for the souls of those who were killed; and while she incited others to combat, she herself did not use her sword.  In man’s attire she showed a woman’s soul.  Pity and gentleness were as marked as courage and self-confidence.

It is one of the most insolvable questions in history why so little effort was made by the French to save the Maid’s life.  It is strange that the University of Paris should have decided against her, after she had rendered such transcendent services.  Why should the priests of that age have treated her as a witch, when she showed all the traits of an angel?  Why should not the most unquestioning faith have preserved her from the charge of heresy?  Alas! she was only a peasant girl, and the great could not bear to feel that the country had been saved by a peasant.  Even chivalry, which worshipped women, did not come to Joan’s aid.  How great must have been feudal distinctions when such a heroic woman was left to perish!  How deep the ingratitude of the King and his court, to have made no effort to save her!

Joan made one mistake:  after the coronation of Charles VII. she should have retired from the field of war, for her work was done.  Such a transcendent heroism could not have sunk into obscurity.  But this was not to be; she was to die as a martyr to her cause.