cted that Shakespeare should introduce into his writings
descriptions of a creed which held such a prominent place in the history
of his day, and which has made itself famous for all time by the
thousands of victims it caused to be sent to the torture-chamber, to the
stake, and to the scaffold. Thus he has given a graphic account of the
celebrated Jeanne D'Arc, the Maid of Orleans, in "1 Henry VI.," although
Mr. Dowden[47] is of opinion that this play was written by one or more
authors, Greene having had, perhaps, a chief hand in it, assisted by
Peele and Marlowe. He says, "It is a happiness not to have to ascribe to
our greatest poet the crude and hateful handling of the character of
Joan of Arc, excused though to some extent it may be by the occurrence
of view in our old English chronicles."

[46] "Superstitions of Witchcraft," 1865, p. 220.

[47] "Shakspere Primer," 1877, p. 63.

Mr. Lecky,[48] too, regards the conception of Joan of Arc given in "1
Henry VI." as "the darkest blot upon the poet's genius," but it must be
remembered that we have only expressed the current belief of his day--the
English vulgar having regarded her as a sorceress, the French as an
inspired heroine. Talbot is represented as accusing her of being a
witch, serving the Evil One, and entering Rouen by means of her
sorceries (iii. 2):

"France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery.
Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
That hardly we escaped the pride of France."

[48] "Rationalism in Europe," 1870, vol. i. p. 106.

Further on (v. 3) she is made to summon fiends before her, but she
wishes them in vain, for they speak not, hanging their heads in sign of
approaching disaster.

"Now help, ye charming spells and periapts;
And ye choice spirits that admonish me
And give me signs of future accidents.
You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
Under the lordly monarch of the north,
Appear and aid me in this enterprise."

But she adds:

"See, they forsake me! Now the time is come
That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest,
And let her head fall into England's lap.
My ancient incantations are too weak,
And hell too strong for me to buckle with:
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust."

Finally, convicted of practising sorcery, and filling "the world with
vicious