The
third
scene
of
the
play
contrasts
the
initial
pride
and
confidence of
the
French
-
until
they
suffer
an
unpleasant
reverse
-
with
the despondency
of
the
English;
but
it
is
chiefly
notable
for
the
introduction of
Joan
of
Arc,
la Pucelle,
into
the
drama.
Audiences
in
the
eighteenth and
nineteenth
centuries
were
repelled
by
Shakespeare's
portrayal
of the
simple
and
heroic
Maid
of
Orleans
as
a
witch
and
a
harlot,
and
a good
many
in
the
twentieth
have
doubtless
felt
the
same
way.
But
the fault
is
hardly
his.
He
had
found
this
picture
of
her
already
fully
developed
in
Holinshed
and
Hall;
and
in
his
own
day
it
was
still
-
on
this side
of
the
Channel
-
almost
universally
accepted.
Of
Joan's
supernatural powers
there
is
no
doubt
in
his
mind;
immediately
on
her
first
appearance she
recognizes
the
hidden
Dauphin,
and
shortly
afterwards
overcomes him
in
the
fight
by
which
he
insists
on
testing
her
claims.
But
whence do
these
powers
come?
Clearly,
there
are
only
two
possible
sources,
1. See
p. 139-40
.
God
or
the
Devil;
and
for
the
English
to
have
accepted
that
they
came from
God
would
have
been
tantamount
to
an
admission
of
the
injustice of
their
cause.
Joan,
therefore,
was
a
witch;
and
the
mildly
ridiculous opening
of
Act
V,
scene
iii
-
when
she
conjures
up
the
fiends
who have
aided
her
in
the
past
—
merely
confirms
the
fact.
A
brief
return
to
London
enables
us
to
witness
an
unpleasant
confron
tation
between
the
Duke
of
Gloucester's
men
and
those
of
the
Bishop
of
Winchester,
who
refuse
to
admit
the
Duke
to
the
Tower.
Already,
it
appears,
England
has
begun
to
suffer
the
consequences
of
the
new
reign:
with
the
firm
hand
of
Henry
V
no
longer
at
the
helm
and
his
infant
son
altogether
lacking
in
authority,
the
kingdom
is
already
falling
victim
to
dissension
and
internecine
strife.
A
few
minutes
later,
however,
we
are
once
more
back
at
Orleans
for
the
death
of
Salisbury,
the
most
famous
of
the
English
captains
and
the
most
skilled
in
war.
He
had
fought
with
distinction
at
Agincourt,
since
when
—
apart
from
a
few
brief
intervals
for
diplomacy
-
he
had
ever
been
in
the
thick
of
the
fray.
Shakespeare's
version
of
his
death
is
remarkably
close
to
Holinshed's:
he
even
introduces
the
boy
—
son
of
the
master
gunner
of
Orleans
-
who
was
believed
to
have
fired
the
fatal
shot.
The
facts
as
we
know
them
are
essentially
the
following.
On
24
October
1428,
when
the
Earl
was
storming
Tourelles,
the
fortification
at
the
southern
end
of
the
bridge
across
the
Loire,
and
surveying
the
situation
from
a
high
window,
the
stone
window-frame
was
shattered
by
a
cannon-ball
and
he
was
seriously
wounded
in
the
face,
losing
an
eye.
Carried
to
Meung,
he
died
there
ten
days
later.
To
his
compatriots,
his
death
came
as
yet
another
body-blow;
to
the
French
it
was
simply
a
further
example
of
divine
retribution.
v
The
same
scene
also
introduces
us
to
John
Talbot,
first
Earl
of Shrewsbury,
who
is
the
real
hero
of
the
play.
Talbot
had
already
led campaigns
on
the
Welsh
borders,
and
had
served
two
separate
terms
of office
as
Royal
Lieutenant
of
Ireland.
Now
some
forty
years
old,
he seems
to
have
been
a
Hotspur-like
figure
who
made
up
in
daring and
general
panache
what
he
lacked
in
any
real
military
brilliance. Quarrelsome
and
argumentative,
he
was
not
invariably
popular
among his
peers;
but
he
was
a
born
leader,
and
his
men
adored
him.
He
first appears
in
the
play
with
an
anachronism
already
on
his
lips,
describing his
recent
ransom
and
exchange
for
the
French
knight
Pothon
-
not, as
he
calls
him,
Ponton
-
de
Santrailles;
he
was
not
in
fact
taken
prisoner until
the
battle
of
Patay
in
May
1429,
six
months
after
Salisbury's death.
The
act
ends
with
the
obviously
unhistorical
hand-to-hand
fight between
the
effective
protagonists
of
the
two
sides:
Talbot
and
the Pucelle.
Thanks
to
her
witchcraft
she
defeats
him,
while
inflicting
no serious
harm
-
his
hour,
she
tells
him,
is
not
yet
come
-
and
her
victory is
reflected
by
that
of
her
followers.
Orleans
is
relieved,
and
the
furious Talbot
gives
his
men
the
order
to
retreat.