One moment, quickly scanning all the past,
Till in a tumult of wild wonderment

She wept aloud. The assembled multitude
In awful stillness witness'd: then at once,
As with a tempest-rushing noise of winds,
Lifted their mingled clamours. Now the maid
Stood as prepared to speak, and waved her hand,
And instant silence followed :

King of France!"
She cried, "at Chinon, when my gifted eye
Knew thee disguised, what inwardly the spirit
Prompted, I spake; armed with the sword of God
To drive from Orleans far the English wolves,
And crown thee in the rescued walls of Rheims.
All is accomplish'd. I have here this day
Fulfill'd my mission, and anointed thee
Chief servant of the people. Of this charge,
Or well perform'd or wickedly, high heaven
Shall take account. If that thine heart be good,
I know no limit to the happiness

Thou may'st create. I do beseech thee, king!"
The maid exclaim'd, and fell upon the ground
And clasp'd his knees, “I do beseech thee, king!
By all the millions that depend on thee,

For weal or woe *** consider what thou art,
And know thy duty! If thou dost oppress

Thy people, if to aggrandize thyself

Thou tear'st them from their homes, and sendest them

To slaughter, prodigal of misery!

If when the widow and the orphan groan

In want and wretchedness, thou turnest thee

To hear the music of the flatterer's tongue;

If when thou hear'st of thousands massacred,

Thou say'st, 'I am a king! and fit it is

That these should perish for me;' . . . if thy realm Should through the counsels of thy government,

Be fill'd with woe, and in thy streets be heard

The voice of mourning and the feeble cry

Of asking hunger, if at such a time

Thou dost behold thy plenty-cover'd board,

And shroud thee in thy robes of royalty,

And say that all is well, * * * Oh, gracious God!

Be merciful to such a monstrous man,

When the spirits of the murder'd innocent

Cry at thy throne for justice!

King of France !

Protect the lowly, feed the hungry ones,

And be the orphan's father! thus shalt thou
Become the representative of heaven,

And gratitude and love establish thus

Thy reign. Believe me, king! that hireling guards, Though flesh'd in slaughter, will be weak to save

A tyrant on the blood-cemented throne

That totters underneath him."

Thus the Maid

Redeem'd her country. Ever may the All-Just

Give to the arms of Freedom such success.

136. THE TRIAL AND DEATH OF THE MAID OF ORLEANS.

Translated from 'Barante.

In the destruction of La Pucelle, the English had a zealous and cruel coadjutor in the person of Pierre Cauchon, bishop of Beauvais. Urged on by the duke of Bedford and the earl of Warwick, he conducted the whole process. The doctors of the University of Paris were no less ardent; they were, to all appearance, the chief movers in the whole proceeding.

The

After passing six months in the prisons of Beaurevoir, Arras, and Crotoy, Joan was conveyed to Rouen, where the young king Henry, and all the members of the English government then were. She was confined in the great tower of the castle, an iron cage was formed to hold her, and chains were placed on her feet. English archers who were her guards heaped insults upon her, and sometimes even attempted to offer her violence. Nor was it the common men only who treated her with harshness and cruelty. The Lord of Luxembourg, whose prisoner she had been, passing through Rouen, visited her in prison, accompanied by the earls of Warwick and Strafford. 66 Joan," said he in jest, "I am come to ransom thee; but thou must promise never to take up arms against us." "Ah! my God! you are making sport of me," said she, "you have neither the will nor the power to ransom me. I know that the English will kill me, hoping to get possession of the kingdom of France after my death; but, were there a hundred thousand more Goddems than there are now, they would never get this kingdom." Enraged at these words, the earl of Strafford drew his sword to strike her, and was only prevented by the interference of the earl of Warwick.

At this time there was no Archbishop at Rouen. In order that the bishop of Beauvais might be the judge of La Pucelle, who had been taken in his diocese, it was necessary that territory and jurisdiction should be granted him by the Chapter of Rouen. King Henry, at the request of this bishop, and of the University of Paris, then commanded by letters patent, that the woman called La Pucelle should be given up to the said bishop, to be examined and proceeded against by him, under an engagement to release the aforesaid if she were not charged and convicted of that which was imputed to her. The English, however, would never consent to place her in the archbishop's prison, which was where she ought to have been confined. Joan herself, as well as some doctors, observed this violation of justice, but the bishop of Beauvais cared little for it.

There were few ecclesiastics so zealous in the cause of the English, or so furious against Joan, as Pierre Cauchon. This bishop however, vehement though he was, wished to take the precaution of gathering around him as many learned and able men as he could collect. His violence and the threats of the English brought forward many weak men, who acted from fear and servility; and others, but very few, who, like himself, were the cruel and active allies of the English council.

Jean Lemaitre, vicar of the inquisitor-general of the kingdom, was amongst tne former. He made every effort to avoid taking part in the iniquities which he saw preparing against the unfortunate Joan. He alleged that, as the bishop of Beadvais was acting as though on his own territory, the Friar of the diocese of Rouen

ought not to take cognizance of the proceedings. A special commission from the Inquisitor-general was required to gain him over.

It was not easy to give to such an affair the appearance of justice, and to satisfy the English whilst at the same time following the procedure of law and custom; for it was commonly reported that Joan was a holy person; who having fought bravely against the English and the Burgundians, had been taken in war, and against whom no other accusation could be made. This process was, therefore, a succession of falsehoods, of snares laid to criminate her, of continual violations of the law, with the hypocritical pretence of desiring to follow its rules.

The first proceeding was the admission into her prison of a priest named Nicolas l'Oiscleur, who pretended to be a native of Lorraine, and a secret partisan of the French king. He made every effort to obtain her confidence. In the meantime the bishop of Beauvais and the earl of Warwick, concealed near, listened to what she said. The notaries whom they had brought to report her words, were ashamed to do so, they said they would write down what she said before the tribunal, but that this was an act of dishonesty. Besides what could Joan say that she was not ready to repeat before all the world. This priest Nicolas afterwards became her confessor, and during the trial, continually prompted her with replies which might injure her. The bishop and the friar of the Inquisitor were the only judges who were entitled to pronounce sentence. The doctors who had been assembled, to the number of nearly a hundred, served them merely as counsel and assessors. canon of Beauvais, named Estivet, fulfilled the office of proctor, which properly belongs to the king's attorney. Next to the bishop, this man was the most violent against the accused. He abused her unceasingly, and was highly enraged with those who desired that the rules of justice should be adhered to.

A

There was also a commissioned-examining-councillor to put the preliminary questions.

Inquiries had been instituted at Domremy, Joan's native place. As the result was favourable to her, it was suppressed, and no communication on the subject was made to the doctors.

At the commencement of the proceedings, Joan underwent six consecutive examinations before this numerous council. In them she appeared even more courageous, and more to be marvelled at, than when fighting the enemies of her country. This poor girl, whose whole learning consisted in her Pater and her Ave, was never disconcerted for a single instant. The brutal treatment she received caused her neither fear nor anger. She was not allowed counsel; but her sincerity and good sense defeated all the strategems employed to render her replies such as might expose her to a suspicion of heresy or magic. Her answers were often so beautiful, as to petrify the doctors with astonishment. On being asked if she knew herself to be in the grace of God, "It is no light matter," said she, "to answer such a question." "Yes," interrupted Jean Fabri, one of the assessors, “it is a great question, and the accused is not bound to reply to it." "You had better be silent!" cried the bishop, in a fury. "If I have not God's grace," she replied, "may He grant it me; and if I have, may He continue it to me." She said further: "If it was not for the grace of God, I should not know how to act by myself." At another time, when questioned concerning her standard: "I carried it instead of a lance," said she, "to avoid killing any one. I have never killed any one." And then, when asked what virtue she attributed to this banner: "I said, go boldly among the English, and I went myself." The coronation at Rheims was mentioned, during which she had held her standard near the altar. "It was with me in hardship and danger, and it was but fair," said she, "that it should be with me in honour."

Concerning her visions, she repeated all that she had formerly said at Poitiers

Her faith in what she called her voices continued the same. She heard them constantly in her prison; she often saw the two saints; she received consolation and encouragement from them; it was by their advice that she replied boldly; it was they who instigated her to repeat before this tribunal, composed entirely of the friends of England, that the English would be driven from France.

A point often returned to was that of the signs by which she had induced the king to accept her aid. She often refused to reply to this; at other times the voices forbade her to speak of it. Then, notwithstanding, she related various strange things on the subject—of an angel who delivered to the king a crown from Heaven, and of the manner of this vision. Sometimes the king alone had seen it; at others there had been many more witnesses; now the angel was herself; then she appeared to confound this crown with the one which had been really made for the coronation at Rheims. Indeed her ideas about the first interviews that she had had with the king appeared confused, without meaning or coherence. Allegories, or great mysteries have been discerned in them by several persons. In the oaths to reply truthfully which were imposed upon her, she always made a reservation concerning what she had said to the king, and only swore to answer to the points of the action. In other respects nothing could be more pious, more simple, or more truthful than all she said.

This only increased the fury of the English, and of the bishop. The councillors who took the side of the accused were insulted, and often threatened with being thrown into the river. The notaries were forced to omit all favourable replies, and it was only with great difficulty that they could escape the insertion of falsehoods. After the first examinations, the bishop judged it advisable to continue the procedure only before a very limited number of assessors: he said that everything should be communicated to them, and that their advice could be taken, without requiring their presence.

The process had already disposed of all the charges of sorcery. Not the slightest suspicion of this was warranted by the testimony given, or by any reply of the accused. When asked about a fairy-haunted tree, famous in her village, she said that her godmother testified to having seen the fairies, but, for her own part, she had never had any vision on that spot.

Thus the accusation now rested on two points: the crime of wearing male apparel, and the refusal to submit to the Church. This determination not to wear the dress proper to her sex was a singular thing. Doubtless the costume she maintained was better calculated than any other to defend her modesty from the outrages of her keepers; but she never stated this as her motive. The commands of her voices was what she always alleged; she appeared to have no free will on this point, but to be under the constraint of some duty imposed by the Divine will. As to submission to the Church, this was a snare into which she had been entrapped by the malice of her judge. She had been imposed upon by a learned and subtle distinction between the Church triumphant in Heaven, and the Church militant on earth. Her treacherous confessor made her fancy that to submit herself to the Church would be to acknowledge the tribunal, which was composed entirely of her enemies in spite of her constant request that some of her partisans might be admitted.

After these first examinations the proctor drew up the articles on which the accusation was to rest; for all hitherto was merely preparatory. The examinations then recommenced before a larger number of assessors: there were now thirty or forty, but never again a hundred. Nearly all endeavoured to escape from this cruel office, and the threats of the English made several withdraw themselves.

M. de la Fontaine, the examining commissary, and two other assessors, moved with pity and a sense of justice, could not suffer Joan to be so deceived on the sub

ject of submission to the Church. They visited her, and endeavoured to explain to her that by the Church militant was understood the Pope and the Holy Councils, and that thus she was quite safe in submitting to it. One of them had even the courage to tell her openly during the examinations, that she had better submit herself to the General Council of Bâle, which was then assembled. "What is a General Council?" said she. "It is a congregation of the Universal Church,” continued brother Isambard, " and it is formed of as many doctors on your side, as on the side of the English." "Oh! in that case I submit myself to it!" she cried. "Be quiet, for the devil's sake," interrupted the Bishop, and forbade the notary to write this answer: "Alas! you write down all that tells against me, and you will not write what is in my favour," said the poor girl.

Brother Isambard was not suffered to escape with nothing more than the Bishop's anger. The Earl of Warwick overwhelmed him with abuse and threats. "What induced thee to prompt that woman this morning?" he said to him; "by God's death, villain, if I again find you making any attempt to save her, I will have you thrown into the Seine." The examining commissary and the other assessor were so alarmed that they left the town; admittance into the prison was henceforth forbidden to all but the bishop.

When the examinations were concluded, the substance of the prisoner's replies was reduced into twelve latin articles, and as one of the assessors remarked that these articles conveyed the meaning imperfectly, the bishop, without further consulting any one, despatched this lying report, as a document on which he desired advice, not naming the accused, to the University of Paris, to the Chapter of Rouen, to the Bishops of Lisieux, Avranches and Coutances, and to more than fifty doctors, most of them assessors in the trial. This was a form by which the judges requested to be enlightened on points of doctrine, and things concerning the Catholic faith. All the opinions given were adverse to the accused. Not to mention the ill-will of those who were consulted, it would have been hardly possible to reply otherwise to the false statements laid before them. All considered that the prisoner about whom they were consulted had from foolishness or vanity put faith in apparitions and revelations which were doubtless the work of the Evil Spirit: that she blasphemed God in imputing to Him the command to wear male attire: and that her refusal to submit herself to the Church proved her to be a heretic.

In the meantime the judges, without waiting for these opinions, proceeded to make monitions to Joan; for an ecclesiastical tribunal has no power to demand more than the submission of the culprit. Just then she fell ill, much to the alarm of the English. "The king would rather anything in the world," said the Earl of Warwick, "than that she should die a natural death; having paid so dearly for her, he expects her to be burnt. Let her be cured as soon as possible."

As soon as she recovered, the monitions were recommenced, no one now explained to the simple-minded and ignorant girl the quibbles about submission to the Church; she appeared therefore to rely solely upon what she herself learnt from God by her voices; she always spoke with respect, however, of the Pope's authority. Her determination not to resume female attire was in no way weakened.

At last the sentence was delivered. It was, like the ecclesiastical judgments, a declaration made to the prisoner, that for such and such motives, she was expelled from the Church, as a corrupt member, and delivered up to secular justice. It was added, as a matter of form, that the laymen were recommended to moderate the punishment, as far as concerned death or mutilation.

But before her execution it was desirable to obtain from her a sort of public avowal of the justice of her condemnation. To this end, she was advised, through her false confessor, to submit herself, under promise of merciful treatment, and of