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the command of God. No, my voices did not deceive me: my revelations were of God!'

The flames increased, and ascended still higher. The monks at her side did not heed them-they thought only of Jeanne; she saw their danger, and bade them descend. They obeyed, but remained at the base of the pile holding up the crucifix, the emblem of her Lord's sufferings, that it might, if possible, be the last thing that met her eyes before her spirit was admitted to the light of the martyr's glory. Nothing more was heard from her but invocations to God, interrupted by the cries of her long-drawn agony. So dense were the clouds of smoke, that at one time she could not be seen. A sudden gust of wind turned the current of the flaming whirlwind, and Jeanne was seen for a few moments. She gave one terrific cry, pronounced the name of Jesus, bowed her head, and the spirit returned to God who gave it. Thus perished Jeanne, the Maid of Orleans.

All did not end here. The tumult increased rather than subsided. An English archer, whose hatred to Jeanne had been so extreme, that he had made a vow, with his own hand to cast a faggot on the pile whenever she was burnt, kept his vow; but at the moment he did so, Jeanne uttered the last cry of suffering humanity, and the archer fell fainting on the spot. When restored to his

senses, he declared that, at the moment Jeanne gave up the ghost, he saw a white dove fly towards heaven-the dove of the Holy Spirit. One cry became universal: 'This has been a martyrdom !'

The Cardinal and Cauchon exerted themselves to the utmost to derive all the benefit they could from the crime they had brought to so successful an issue. That the men-at-arms might have no fears about Jeanne in time to come, they caused the fire to be extinguished, and the half-burnt, still smouldering remains to be open to the view of the people. The most brutal and shocking curiosity was thus gratified. The Cardinal then ordered the fire to be relumed, and the remains to be burned to ashes, so that they might be cast into the Seine, to render it impossible that any morsel of the dust of that day's sacrifice could be preserved for a relic. The execrable Cardinal was obeyed to the letter.

Loud cries of shame were even on that day heard among the populace, who proclaimed that the so-called witch was a martyr. Some said that, at the moment she died, they saw the word Jesus distinctly formed in the flames. 'We saw it; we are lost; we have burnt a saint!' 'It is a fearful murder,' publicly said the secretary of the English boy King. Before the day was closed, the executioner, with the wildness of despair, rushed to the feet of Isambard, declaring that he should never be pardoned by God for what he had done to that sainted woman. He was terrified, as he declared, beyond expression; for he could not get the heart of Jeanne to burn-it would not burn-God would not let it. Nor did this revulsion of public feeling speedily subside. The judges, the assessors, and many of the clergy who had been engaged

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273 on the trial, could not pass along the streets without being cursed to their faces; they were pointed at with the finger of scorn, and openly branded with the name of murderers. So great were the numbers who thus dared speak the public feeling, that policy forbade any attempt at the punishment of individuals.

The English Government trembled for the consequences of what had been done; but the French bishops, who had helped to slay their heroic countrywoman, particularly Cauchon, put forward, in the most shameless manner, a false statement, in the hope to blacken the memory of Jeanne. They averred that, before her death, she recanted her connection with evil spirits, and asked pardon for having ever given herself up to them. To complete this tissue of infamous calumny, the bishops were desired 'to notify these things in their sermons, in all the churches and cathedrals throughout their dioceses, for the better information of the people!' There is no point, perhaps, in the whole range of modern history, upon which it is more difficult to form a satisfactory opinion than that of Jeanne's pretensions to supernatural intelligence. That she was of an enthusiastic temperament, gifted with natural genius of a high order, capable of great efforts, both mental and physical, is evinced by all she said, and all she did, that has come down to us. That her religion was deep-felt, sincere, and entered into her daily life, no doubt can be entertained. But the question of inspiration of her mission forms the difficulty. That she be

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lieved in it herself, seems certain. But what of her visions and her voices? We find it as difficult to believe in their reality, as we do to question her veracity. It is possible she might have been under the influence of that. kind of hallucination which, since her day, has been so common in the Cevennes ; but even if we allow this, it will not account for what she accomplished.

That a poor girl, born in an obscure village, and used to watch sheep, who could not read, nor had any opportunities of instruction, should at eighteen years old have formed the design to deliver a famishing beleaguered city, surrounded by thousands of foes, and to restore her sovereign, then in the extremity of distress, to the rightful possession of his throne, and to free the land from a foreign yoke, seems more like a fantastic dream than a reality. That such a design should actually have been put into practice, and its unparalleled difficulties surmounted, is indeed marvellous. That she should have found any one to listen to her purpose, to bear her company through all the dangers of a journey of 300 miles, beset with enemies; should have overcome all the obstacles which encompassed her before she could gain access to Charles, and have made such an impression upon him, ostensibly by revealing to him the secret known but to himself, are all marvels. Her examinations before the Parliament and Doctors at Poitiers, followed by her doing all which she declared to that august body she was commanded to do by Almighty God; the deliverance of

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Orleans; her escort of Charles through a hostile country, to be crowned at Rheims, and the cessation of her own power to serve him after the year to which, she said, it was limited, are all facts incontestably established, even in the face of those who destroyed her. It cannot, we think, be doubted that they were accomplished by the will of Almighty God. And if in some mysterious manner, beyond the power of reason, yet not contrary to it, God was pleased to make known His purpose to the simple and humble creature He chose to bring it to pass, who shall gainsay it?

The circumstances of her death were most lamentable. No reprobation can be too severe of those who put her to death, and those who made no effort to prevent it. That the Regent Bedford, Cardinal Beaufort, Warwick, and Suffolk, in mere revenge for the victories she had achieved, and to satisfy a superstitious soldiery, should suffer Jeanne, a prisoner taken in battle, contrary to all the usages of war, to be burnt alive for sorcery, was monstrous; but that Charles, who owed to her the preservation of his noblest city in the south, owed to her the very crown he wore, that he should have offered no ransom, made no effort, but sate still, and suffered the noblest subject of his realm to be burnt alive, is a fact so abhorrent in itself, that no terms of reprobation can be more severe than it deserves.

After her death, we hear of no regrets expressed by Charles for her loss; and he gave no help to her family.