subject, which now they were doing: but, at a time when all ideas of justice were more or less confused, there is no wonder that might held the place of right.

The judges, at this mockery of a trial, were predetermined to condemn. They had sent a messenger to Domremy to glean some particulars of their victim's early life, but as these were most favourable, they were of course suppressed. Á priest named L'Oiseleur, who basely lent himself to their purposes, had access to her prison, and represented himself to Joan as her countryman from Lorraine, and as a sufferer from his adherence to the cause of Charles. Under the seal of confession, he won from her several disclosures, which he returned by giving her false counsel. It was even said that the Bishop of Beauvais and the Earl of Warwick were hidden close by, to listen to all that transpired.

The letters-patent by which Joan was given into the power of the Bishop of Beauvais accuse 'the woman who calls herself La Pucelle of having relinquished the clothing of her sex, and appeared in man's attire, a thing contrary to the divine law, and abominable in the sight of God; of having slain many men; and, as it is said, of having given the people to understand, for the purpose of deceiving and seducing them to evil deeds, that she was sent by God, and had a knowledge of his divine secrets; together with teaching many other scandalous doctrines, most perilous to the holy Catholic faith.

It was on the 21st of February 1431 that Joan was brought for the first time before her judges, although she underwent as many as fifteen examinations. The hall of judgment was the castle chapel at Rouen, and thither the heroine was led, loaded with chains, though dressed in her military attire. Not permitted an advocate or defender, she was only supported by the courage of conscious innocence; but never was her self-possession more remarkable than on this agonising occasion. There was a shrewdness, too, and simple good sense displayed in her answers, which contrasted strongly with the subtle dealings of those about her. Her answers more than once abashed the learned doctors, when they had framed a question, hoping it would lead to some unguarded rejoinder that might convict her of heresy or magic. Thus, when they inquired if she knew herself to be in the grace of God, she said: 'It is a great matter to reply to such a question.' 'Yes,' interrupted one of the assessors (the doctors who were present to give their advice if needed), named Jean Fabry-yes, it is so great a matter that the prisoner is not bound by law to answer it.'

'You had better be silent,' exclaimed the bishop in a fury of passion; and he repeated the question.

'If I am not in the grace of God,' replied Joan, 'I pray God it may be vouchsafed to me; if I am, I pray God that I may be preserved in it.'

When asked if the saints of her visions hated the English, she

answered: "They love whatever God loves, and hate whatever he hates.' Almost any other answer would have been construed as blasphemy. And when the Bishop of Beauvais, still trying to entrap her, proceeded: 'Does God, then, hate the English?" she still replied with discretion, saying: 'Whether God loves or hates the English, I do not know; but I know that all those who do not die in battle shall be driven away from this realm by the king of France.' When questioned about her standard, she said: 'I carried it instead of a lance, to avoid slaying any one; I have killed nobody. I only said: “Rush in among the English," and I rushed among them the first myself.—The voices,' she continued, in answer to further interrogations-'the voices told me to take it without fear, and that God would help me.' And when they asked her if her hope of victory was founded on the banner or herself, she said: 'It was founded on God, and on nought besides.'

With regard to assuming man's attire, she replied that she had worn it in obedience to the command of God. It is really astonishing to reflect on the subtle wiles which it was thought necessary to use against this poor defenceless girl. But while the English may blush at the share they had in the cruel transaction, it is but just to ourselves to remember that the relentless bishop, her judge, Estivet the advocate, her fierce accuser, and the perfidious L'Oiseleur, were all the countrymen of the ill-fated maid!

But while there is so much distinctness and precision evident in her answers to these trying questions, it is most remarkable that she was unable to give other than a confused and vague account of those actual events in which she had borne so important a part. Thus, when examined in reference to her first interview with the king, she for some time refused to answer at all, saying that her 'voices' had forbidden her to do so; and when at last she was prevailed on to speak, she talked only in a mysterious and incoherent manner of a vision which Charles had seen, and of an angel who had brought a crown to him from heaven. Afterwards, she seemed to confound this imaginary crown with the ceremony of the coronation at Rheims. In fact, the whole scene was one which, before more humane and enlightened judges, would have convinced them that hers was that peculiar condition of mind found often enough even at the present time morbid on one particular point to such an extent, that the diseased imagination overthrows judgment and memory, and has the power to render every other element of the mind subservient to its own extraordinary fantasies.

Notwithstanding all their machinations, Joan's enemies found it difficult, with even the show of a trial, to convict her of sorcery. The infamous L'Oiseleur and another were for putting her on the rack, with the hope of extracting some positive confession from her; but many of the assessors had been deeply touched with the bearing of the maid, and none were found to second this atrocious proposal.

It is said even that one of our countrymen, who was present at the trial, was so struck with the evident sincerity of her demeanour, that he could not refrain from crying out: A worthy woman, if she were but English!' Her judges drew up twelve articles of accusation on the grounds of sorcery and heresy, which the university of Paris, so eager to condemn her, gladly confirmed. On the 24th of May 1431, the anniversary of the day on which the maid had been taken prisoner the year before, she was led to the cemetery of St Ouen, where two platforms were erected. On the one stood the Cardinal of Winchester, the Bishop of Beauvais, and several other prelates. Joan was conducted to the second platform, where a preacher, named Erard, launched out the most vehement invectives; to which she listened with gentle patience, until he began to accuse the king in his sweeping condemnation; then she interrupted him warmly, saying: 'Speak of me, but do not speak of the king. He is a good Christian, and not such as you say; I can swear to you he is the noblest of all Christians, and one who the most loves the church and the faith.' But here she was silenced by the angry Bishop of Beauvais. By the side of Erard, on this platform, stood the officers to guard her, L'Oiseleur, her betrayer, and another priest who had acted as her confessor.

When the sermon was finished, the preacher read to Joan a form of abjuration, of which she asked an explanation, saying she had nothing to abjure, for that all she had done was at the command of God. At this they told her she must submit to the church, and then using threats, they pointed to the public executioner, telling her that instant death was the only alternative. Poor Joan! Braver hearts than thine have failed at such a trial. Even 'starry Galileo,' a martyr, like thee, to ignorance and superstition, who might have been cheered by the light of science, and upheld by the might of truth, even he quailed at the approach of torture and death. Is there wonder or scorn because the defenceless woman, the halfdemented Joan, trembled also, and put her mark to the paper, saying: 'I would rather sign than burn?' But even yet further was she to be cheated; for, instead of the paper which had been read to her and which, scarcely comprehending, she had yet been induced only by these extreme measures to subscribe-one was substituted and read to the people, containing a far more explicit confession, in which she was made to own the falsehood of all her protestations.

The English were angry she had not been burned, and pelted her with stones, to shew their fury. The few friends she had were glad her life was spared on any terms. This, however, was well known to be but for a time; for, on hearing some rumour of Joan being ill in prison, and that some friendly hand had administered poison to her to save her further suffering, the Earl of Warwick had shewn the greatest indignation, saying: 'The king would not for the world

she should die a natural death; he had bought her so dearly, that she must be burned;' desiring them 'to cure her quickly.' What a picture of the barbarism and cruelty of the age!

After the scene of the recantation we have above described, the Bishop of Beauvais proceeded to pass the sentence of the tribunal, of course prepared beforehand. He said, 'that as, by the grace of God, she had recanted her errors, and come back to the bosom of the church, and publicly abjured her heresies, according to the form of the church, the ban of excommunication was removed, provided always she was willing to observe all that was prescribed to her. But,' he added, ' as she had sinned against God and the holy Catholic Church, though "by grace and moderation" her life was spared, she must pass the rest of it in prison, with the bread of grief and the water of anguish for her food.'

Joan hoped that, after this sentence, she should be placed in some prison within the jurisdiction of the church; possibly she might have thought of a convent; at all events, she called eagerly to her guards to lead her back to prison, 'out of the hands of the English;' but she was conducted to her former dungeon, the great tower of Rouen.

As we have before hinted, it was not designed that her life should be much longer spared. By some show of apparent lenity, there is no doubt her enemies only took time to weave more completely their meshes about her; and, while completing her destruction, palliate their own guilt. One of the instructions she received was to resume the dress of her sex, and to let her hair grow long; her tresses having been somewhat cropped for the convenience of her military attire. All this she readily promised. But in a few days they placed, on purpose, though apparently by accident, her warlike apparel in her chamber. Seeing that, true to her word, she did not attempt to resume it, one of her guards, in unchaining her from her bed for the purpose of her rising, snatched away the female clothing which lay near, and throwing the military garments upon the bed, desired her to get up.

'Sir,' she said meekly, 'you know this is forbidden me; I will not wear this coat.' But her remonstrances were unavailing, though the debate lasted till noon. Forced then to rise, she was obliged to take the only clothing at her command. A messenger was instantly sent to the Earl of Warwick to apprise him of the success of the scheme. Warwick immediately communicated with the bishop, who, accompanied by the assessors, hastened to the prison. One of them, named André Marguerie, had the charity to exclaim that it would be only fair to ask her why she had resumed male attire; but he was, in consequence, so ill-used by the mob that he had to run for his life.

There was now no appeal; for, according to the ecclesiastical law, it was the relapse into heresy, punishable with death. Into this

they had entrapped her. Joan's enemies would not listen to her explanations; and it would appear that, stung into dignity by her accumulated wrongs, the maid spoke now even with more determination than on her trial. She reproached herself with weakness in having signed the abjuration, and declared that she would now in no way yield to her judges, except in adopting the dress of her sex, which she was quite ready to do.

:

It was early in the morning of the 30th of May that her confessor, L'Advenu, one of the few who had shewn some compassion for her fate, entered her cell to prepare her for death. The decree had gone forth-she was to be burned that day at the market-place of Rouen. On first hearing this dreadful sentence, her fortitude forsook her she tore her hair in anguish, and uttered the most piteous complaints against so cruel a death. But by degrees she recovered calmness and fortitude, and received the holy sacrament from the hands of L'Advenu. At nine o'clock in the morning, she mounted the fatal car, arrayed for this last occasion in female attire, and accompanied by the priest, Martin L'Advenu, and some other persons, among whom was one who had incurred the anger of her judges by having spoken in favour of the unhappy girl. No less a body than 800 English armed men accompanied her to the place of execution. As she passed on, the wretched L'Oiseleur, touched at this moment with remorse, threw himself in her way to seek pardon for his perfidy; but he was dragged from the car by the brutal soldiery, and ordered by the Earl of Warwick to quit the town if he wished to preserve his life. As she rode on, her prayers were so devout, and she recommended her soul to the Almighty in such touching accents, that several of the spectators were moved to tears; and some of the assessors had not the heart to follow her to the last. 'O Rouen! Rouen !' she exclaimed as she came near the marketplace, ‘is it here, indeed, that I must die !'

At the spot where now rises a statue to her memory, she found the wood ready piled, and her implacable enemies, the Bishop of Beauvais and the Cardinal of Winchester, with other prelates, awaiting their victim. A sermon was read, during which time she shed tears, and asking for a cross, an English soldier made one by breaking his staff asunder. She kissed it, and clasped it to her breast, and afterwards she was furnished with one from a neighbouring church. After the sermon, the preacher addressed her, saying: 'Joan, depart in peace; the church delivers you to the secular authorities.'

She now knelt down in fervent prayer, commending herself to the Holy Trinity and all the blessed saints, naming especially her protectresses, St Catharine and St Margaret. She then asked pardon for all her offences, declared that she forgave all those who had injured her, and concluded by entreating the prayers of the spectators. She spoke distinctly, and her words and resignation to