The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1868-11-12
EBENsBURG, PA, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 12 1868
Death of Joan D,Arc.
By MARY CowDEN CLARKE.

There is something infinitely touching
in the saints and hero's relapse into sim
pie humanity and womanhood on that
dark, unnatural May morning, when the
heavy news was told here that she must
die before sunset. She wept bitterly
Like Jeptha's daughter, she mourned that
her pure and beauteous body should be
thus early sacrificed, exclaiming, "Helas
me traitation ainsi horriblement ct cruel
lement, quill faille que mon corps, net ct
entier, qui ne fut jamais corrompu, soft
amour d'hui consume ct rendu en- cen>
dres 20 She shrank, and shrieked and
writhed at the thought of the flames, pity
ing herself for the pain. But the saint
triumphs soon-even through the fiery
vista before her she sees better kingdom
than France, better home than Domre-
my. Even in This death she recognizes
the ''deliverance" promised her by ''ihe
voices
She appealed 10 God from the injustice
and cruelty of earth she partook Of the
holy sacrament; with many tears she
uttered her touching and tremendous words
to the Bishop of Beauvais, "A summons TO
answer for her death before God What
childlike naiuralness a plaintiye nai-
veie marked the words she addressed to
one of the preachers standing by: "Ah,
MaiIre Perre, where shall | be this even>
ing7"
We can fancy the fearful, wistful look,
the terrified tremble of the hands. and all
the voice broken in sobs, with which she
SAID this. Then, as the priest replied,
'ilave you no! good hope in the Saviour
the light uf Reinsurance, the smile, the
c.asped hands, the hcavcnward gaza, the
voice clear and fervid, as she said 80,
yes, God aiding, | shall be in Paradise :"
Bound and borne in q cart. like a com
mon maletaCtor, surrounded by guard of
eight hundred English soldiers, Joan
Dare passed through the streets of Rouen
to the markeI-place; bat in the eyes OF
the angels that awful hour must have
thrown into The shade all foregone hours
Of iumph-Grandcr TO them than the
proudest conqueror in his triumphal ear,
followed by pEinceiy captives and tie
spoils Of kingdoms
At the stake the maid again bravely
proclaimed her faith in ''the Voices" and
nobiy defended her king Her sublime
yet meek composure, her marvellous wo-
manly sweetness, filled many OF her per-
secutorS with wonder, pity aud vain
remorse. The people looked on as in
horrible dream, weeping, groaning, pray
ing, but pOwerless to help. One last word
of reproach shivered the petrihed heart of
the Bishop of Beapvais, cleft its way to
deep, unsuspectcd vein of human feeling,
and let it out in tears
The scaffoId lowered high above the
crowd, huge pile of fagots lit at The base,
a gigantic altar of the sacrifice, a fiery
Calvary.
When the flames uncoiied themselves
from below, and darted up in angry,
flashing lengths, kissing and wrilhing;
when they struck their fan9s into her flesh,
the flesh cried out in shrieks that must
have echoed forever through the guilty
souls who heard.
Well had the young martyr learned the
self>forgetful spirit. In her agony, through
the flame and smoke of her torment, she
/ saw the danger of The faithful priest who
held the crucilix aloft, and entreated him
to leave her He went he bore from
/ her sight the image of her crucified Lord
but he left beside her, 10 the midst Of the
flames, the Lord himself May not her
last cry of ''Jesusl" have been, not cry
of fear or supplication, but of joy aud
recognition, as she sprang through the
fiery gate Of martyrdom into the welcom-
ing arms of His comSassion-into the
bosom of His infinite love