\1 f ' THE EED TEUE STOEY BOOK WORKS BY ANDREW LANG. COCK LANE AND COMMON SENSE: a Series of Papers Crowu 8ro. Gs. tid. net. BAN and ARRli^RE BAN: a Rally of Fugitive Rhymes. Ciowu 8vo. 5s. net. ST. ANDREWS. With 8 Plates and 2-1 Illustrations in the Text by T. Hodge. 8vo. I5s. net. HOMER AND THE EPIC. Crown 8vo. 9s. nfit. CUSTOM AND MYTH : Studies of Early Usage and Belief. With 15 Illustrations. Orown 8vo. 3». tiJ. BALLADS OF BOOKS. Edited by Andrew Lang. Fcp. 8vo. Ss. LETTERS TO DEAD AUTHORS. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. BOOKS AND BOOKMEN. With 2 Coloured Plates and 17 Illustrations. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. OLD FRIENDS. Fcp. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. LETTERS ON LITERATURE. Fcp. Sto. 2s. &d. net. GRASS OF PARNASSUS. Fcp. Svo. 2s. &d. ntt. ANGLING SKETCHES. With 3 Etchings and nu- merous Illustrations by W. G. Burn-JIurdoch. Cruwn Svo. 3s. 6(i. THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK. Edited by Andrew Lang. With 134 Illustrations by H. J. Ford and G. P. Jacomb Hood. Ci own Svo. 6s. THE RED FAIRY BOOK. Edited by Andrew Lang. With 100 Illustrations by H. J. Ford and Lancelot Speed. Crown Svo. 64. THE GREEN FAIRY BOOK. Edited by Andrew Lang. With 99 Illustrations by H. J. Ford. Crown Svo. 6*. THE YELLOW FAIRY BOOK. Edited by Andrew Lanc;. Wich 104 Illustrations by H. J. Ford. Crown Svo. 6s. THE BLUE POETRY BOOK. Edited by Andrew Lakg. With lUU Illustrations by H. J. Ford and Lancelot Speed. Crown 8vo. 6i. School Eni'riON, without Illustrations. Fcp. Svo. 2i. &d. Special Enixiox, printed on Indian paper. With Notes, but without Illustrations. Crown Svo. 7*. 6d. THE TRUE STORY BOOK. Edited by Andrew Lang. VVith 66 Jllustrations by H. J. Ford, Lucien Davis, Lancelot Speed, and L. Bogle. Crown Svo. 6«, LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. London and New York. ' IN THE BOKGHESE GARDENS PRACTISE!! THAT ROYAL GAME OE GOLF.' THE RED TRUE STORY BOOK EDITED BY ANDEEW LANG WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY HENRY J. FORD LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. AND NEW YORK 1895 All rights reserved LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALII OUMA SANTA BARBARA INTRODUCTION The Bed True Story Book needs no long Introduction. The Editor, in presenting The Blue True Story Book, apologised for offering tales so much less thrilling and romantic than the legends of the Fairies, but he added that even real facts were, sometimes, curious and interesting. Next year he promises something quite as true as History, and quite as entertaining as Fairies ! For this book, Mr. Rider Haggard has kindly prepared a narrative of ' Wilson's Last Fight,' by aid of conversations with Mr. Burnham, the gallant American scout. But Mr. Haggard found, while writing his chapter, that Mr. Burnham had already told the story in an ' Internew ' published by the Westminster Gazette. The courtesy of the proprietor of that journal, and of Mr. Burnham, has permitted Mr. Haggard to incorporate the already printed narrative with his o\vn matter. ' The Life and Death of Joan the Maid ' is by the Editor, who has used ^I. Quicherat's Proccs (five volumes, published for the Historical Society of France), with M. Quicherat's other researches. He has also used M. Wallon's ]3iography, the works of Father Ayroles, H.J., the Jeanne (VArc a Domremy of M. Simeon Luce, the works of M. Sepet, of Michelet, of Henri Lfartin, and, generally, all printed docu- ments to which he has had access. Of unprinted contem- porary matter perhaps none is known to exist, except the viii INTRODUCTION Venetian Correspondence, now being prepared for publication by Father Ayroles. ' How the Bass was held for King James ' is by the Editor, mainly from Blackadder's Life. ' The Crowning of Ines de Castro ' is by Mrs. Lang, from Schafer. ' Ortlion,' from Froissart, ' Gustavus Vasa,' ' Monsieur de Bayard's Duel ' (Brantome), are by the same lady ; also ' Gaston de Foix,' from Froissart, and ' The White Man,' from Mile. Aisse's Letters. Mrs. McCunn has told the story of the Prince's Scottish Campaign, from the contemporary histories of the Eising of 1745, contemporary tracts, TJie Lyon in MournMg, Chambers, Scott, Maxwell of Kirkconnel, and other sources. The short Sagas are translated from the Icelandic by the Kev. W. C. Green, translator of Egil SJcalagrim's Saga. Mr. S. R. Crockett, Author of The Baiders, told the tales of ' The Bull of Earlstoun ' and ' Grisell Bailhe.' Miss May Kendall and Mrs, Bovill are responsible for the seafarings and shipwrecks ; the Australian adventures are by Mrs. Bovill. Miss Minnie Wright compiled 'The Conquest of Peru,' from Prescott's celebrated History. Miss Agnes Repplier, that famed essayist of America, wrote the tale of Molly Pitcher. ' The Adventures of General Marbot ' are from the translation of his Autobiography by Mr. Butler. With this information the Editor leaves the book to children, assuring them that the stories are true, except perhaps that queer tale of ' Orthon ' ; and some of the Sagas also may have been a little altered from the real facts before the Icelanders became famihar with writing. CONTENTS Wilson''s Last Ficjlit The Life and Death of Joan the Maid . . . . How the Bass was held for King James The Croioningoflnes de Castro The Story of Orthon How Gustavus Vasa loon his Kingdom . . . . Monsieur de Bayard's Duel . Story of Gudhrand of the Dales Sir Pdcluird Grcnvillc . The Story of Molly Pitcher . The Voyages, Dangerous Ad- ventures, and Imminent Escapes of Captain Pdchard Falconer . . . . Marbot's March . . . Eylau. The Mare Lisette How Marbot crossed the Danube 1 he piteous Death of Gaston, Sun of tSie Count of Foix . 'AGE 1 Rolf Stake l'\()B . 191 The Wreck of the ' Wager ' . 195 19 Peter Williamson . 213 92 A Wonderful Voyage . 22G The Pitcairn Islanders . '238 1)9 105 114 122 125 132 137 141 150 162 175 186 A Relation of three years' Suffering of Robert Everard upon the Island of Assada, near Madagascar, in a Voy- age to India, in the year 1686 247 The Fight at Svolder Island . 252 The Death of Hacon the Good 261 Prince Charlie's War . . 265 The Burke and Wills Explor- ing Expedition . . . 324 The Story of Emund . . 346 The Man in White . . 354 The Adventures of ' the Bull of Earlstoun' . . . 358 The Story of Grlscll Baillie's Sheep's Head . . . 360 The CoJiquest of Peru . . 371 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PLATES ' III the Borcjhese gardens practised that royal game of goir JiLst as his arm loas pois2d I fired .... Joan in church Joan rides to Chinon Joan tells the King liis secret ...... TJie English Archers beirayed by tJtc Stag . The Coronation of Charles VII .... ' Instantly a gust of ivind blew her off tlie rock into the sea ' ' One man . . . stalked about the deck and flourished a cutlass . . . shouting that he ivas " king of the country " ' . The Indian threatens Peter Williamson . . . . ' Another party of Indians arrived, bringing twenty scalps and three prisoners '....... The savages attack the boat ....... ' The madman dwelt alone '...... King Olaf leaps overboard ' In the Borghese gardens practised that royal game of (jolf ' I tvill, though not another man m the Highlands should draiu a siuord ' . . . . • • • ' He galloped tip the streets of Edinburgh shouting, " Victory ! Victory .' " ' Manco Qapac and Mama Ocllo Huaco, the Children of the Sun, come from Lake Titicaca to govern and civilise the tribes of Pent . . . ■ ■ ■ In one cave the soldiers found vases of pure gold, etc. Frontispiece To face p. 10 „ 24 38 „ 42 „ 64 68 „ 92 „ 196 „ 214 „ 218 „ 230 „ 242 „ 256 „ 26G 272 „ 294 374 412 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS XI WOODCUTS IN TEXT PAGE One of them Lifted his assegai 17 ' The Fairy Tree ' . . . 20 Joan hears the Voice . . 28 Robert thinks Joan crazed . 34 ' Sir, this is ill done of you ' . 37 ' In a better language than yours,' said Joan . . . 4G ' Lead him to the Cross ! ' cried she . . . .50 • Then spurred she her horse . . . and xnit out the flame ' 53 Joan is icounded by the arrow 57 ' Now arose adisputc among the captains ' . . . . Gl One Englishman at least died well 03 Joan challenges the English to sally forth . . .73 ' Go she would not till she had taken that town' . . . 79 Joan Captured . . .83 Joan at Beaurevoir . . . 85 ' They burned Joan the Maid ' 89 The Bass attacked by the frigates . . . .97 Ines pleads for her life . . 101 ' I will send you a champion wliom you tvill fear more than yon fear me ' . . 107 Ortlwn's last appearance . .112 Gtistavus leaves school for good ! . . . . .115 ' Lazy loon ! Have you no tvork todoV . . . . 119 ' Surrender, Don Alonzo, or you are a dead man ! ' . 123 ' In tlie following night Gud- brand dreamed a dream ' .127 PAGE The destruction of the idol . 130 ' Still he cried to his men, " Fight on, fight on .' " ' . . 134 Molly takes her husband's place 139 ' As we approached we saw the pirate sinking ' . . . 143 Falconer knocks doicn a bird 145 Falconer returns to his coin- panions .... ' Tlien, drawing their swo7-ds, they dashed at the rest ' MarboVs fight with the Carabineers in the alley Lisette catches the thief in the stable ..... ' I regarded myself as a horse- man ivlio is trying to ivin a steeplechase ' . . . . Lisette carries off the Russian officer ' Guided by the transport man he reached me and found me living ' ' " I icill go, sir," I cried ' ' We had to saw the rope ' . . ' TJie Count leaped up, a knife in his hand ' . . . Gaston in prison . . . ' But noiu here sits in the high seat a thin stake ' ' He fleeth not the flame Who leapcth o'er the same ' . 193 The Captain shoots Mr. Cozens 202 Mr. Hamilton's fight tcith the sea-lion 205 The Cacique fires off the gun . 208 Byron rides past the turnpikes 211 148 152 157 164 166 169 172 177 182 188 189 192 Xll LIST OF ILLUSTBATIONS The captain cjuardcd hy the mutineers . . . . 228 The Pitcairn islanders on board the English frigate . 239 Old John Adams teaches the children . .... 245 Death of the supercargo . . 248 ' None will now deny that " Long Snake " sails by^ . 255 Hacon casts his shield away . 263 ' Go, sir, to your general ; tell hivi what you, have seen . . .' 276 Escape of the Duke of Perth . 281 •* Li many a panelled parlour ' 284 ' Och no ! she be relieved ' . 287 Mrs. Murray of Broughton distributes cockades to the c-oivd 289 James More wounded at Prestonpans . . . 293 Crossing Shap Fell . . . 301 ' Many had their broadsiuords and dirks sharpened ' . 304 * The Prince caught Jiivi by the liair ' .... 307 TJie poor boy fell, mortally wounded . . . .311 The ' Bout of Moy ' . . . 315 The end of Cullodcn . . 322 ■' The advance party of eight started on October 29 ' . . 327 PAGE Golah is abandoned . . 332 ' King, they are gone / ' . . 337 Death of Burke . . . 342 Bessd introduced to the Man in Mliite . . . . 355 ' Saio reflected in the mirror the white figure ' ' Sometimes lie xvould find a party searching for him quite close at hand ' . . Alexander Gordon wood- chopping in the disguise of a labourer .... Grisell brings the sheep's head to her father in the vault . A Peruvian postman . . Almagro tconnded in the eye . Many of the Spaniards were killed by the snakes and alligators . . . . Amazement of the hidians at seeing a cavalier fall from his horse .... Pizarro sees llamas for the first time . . . . The cavalier displays Jiis horse- manship before Atahuallpa 401 The friar tirges Pizarro to attack the Peruvians . . 404 The Spatiiards destroy the idol at Pachacamac . . . 407 35G 360 3G2 367 381 387 389 391 393 WILSON'S LAST FIGHT They were men whose fathers were men ' TO make it clear how Major AVilson and his companions came to die on the banks of the Shangani on December 4, 1893, it will be necessary, very briefly, to sketch the events which led to the war between the English settlers in Mashonaland in South Africa and the Matabele tribe, an offshoot of the Zulu race. In October 1889, at the instance of Mr. Cecil Rhodes and others interested, the Chartered Companj^ of British South Africa was incorporated, with the sanction of Her Majesty's Government. In 1890 Mashonaland was occupied, a vast and fertile territory nominally' imder the rule of Lobengula, king of the Matabele, which had been ceded by him to the repres3ntatives of the Company in return for certain valuable considerations. It is, however, an easier task for savage kings to sign concessions than to ensure that such concessions will be respected by their subjects, especially when those subjects are warriors by nature, tradition, and practice, as in the present case, and organised into regiments, kept from year to year in perfect efficiency and readiness for attack. "Whatever may have been Lobengula's private wishes and opinions, it soon became evident that the gathering of the white men upon their borders, and in a country which they claimed by right of conqi:est if they did not occupy it, was most distasteful to the more warlike sec- tions of the Matabele. Mashonaland takes its name from the Mashona tribes who in- habit it, a peaceful and, speaking bj' comparison, an industrious race, whom, ever since they first settled in the neighbourhood, it had been the custom of the subjects of Lobengiila and of his pre- decessor, Mosilikatze, ' the lion,' to attack with every cruelty con- ceivable, raiding their cattle, slaughtering their men, and sweeping their maidens and young children into captivity. Terrified, half K. B 2 WILSON'S LAST FIGHT externiinatcd indeed, as they were by these constant and nnprovoked onslaughts, the Mashonas welcomed with delight the occupation of their country by white men, and thankfully placed themselves under the protection of tlie Chartered Company. The Mataliele regiments, however, took a different view of the question, for now their favourite sport was gone : they could no longer practise rapine and murder, at least in this direction, when- ever the spirit moved them. Presently the force of habit overcame their fear of the white men and their respect for treaties, and towards tlie end of 1891 the chief Lomaghondi, who lived under the protection of the Company, was killed b}' them. Thereon Dr. Jameson, the Administrator of Mashonaland, remonstrated with Lobengula, who expressed regret, saying that the incident had liajipened by mistake. This repi;diation notwithstanding, an impi, or armed body of savages, again crossed the border in 1892, and raided in the Victoria district. Encouraged by the success of these proceedings, in July 1893 Lobengula sent a picked company to harry in the neighbourhood of Victoria itself, writing to Dr. Jameson that he made no excuse for so doing, claiming as he did the right to raid when, where, and whom he chose. The 'indunas,' or captains, in command of this force were instructed not to kill white men, but to fall particularly upon those tribes who were in their employ. On July 9, 1893, and the following days came the climax, for then the impi began to slaughter every Mashona whom they could find. Many of these unfortunates were butchered in the presence of their masters, who were bidden to ' stand upon one side as the time of the white men had not yet come.' Seeing that it was necessary to take action. Dr. Jameson summoned the head indunas of the impi, and ordered them to cross the border within an hour or to suffer the consequences of their disobedience. The majority obeyed, and those who defied him were attacked by Captain Lendy and a small force while in the act of raiding a kraal, some of them being killed and the rest driven awa3^ From this moment war became inevitable;, for the qiiestion lay between the breaking of the power of Lobengula and the evacuation of Mashonaland. Into the details of that war it is not proposed to enter ; they are outside the scope of this narrative. It is enough to say that it was one of the most brilliant and successful ever carried out bv Englishmen. The WILSON'S LAST FIGHT 3 odds against the little force of a thousand or twelve hundred white men who invaded Matabeleland were almost overwhelming, and when it is remembered that the Imperial troops did not succeed in their contest against Cetywayo, the Zulu king, until nearly as many soldiers were massed in the country as there were able-bodied Zulus left to oppose them, the brilliancy of the achievement of these colonists led by a civilian, Dr. Jameson, can be estimated. The Matabele were beaten in two pitched battles : that of the Shangani on October 25, and that of the Imbembezi on November 1. They fought bravely, even with desperation, but their valour was broken by the skill and the cool courage of the white man. Those terrible engines of war, the Maxim guns and the Hotchkiss shells, con- tributed largely to our success on these occasions. The Matabele, brave as they were, could not face the incessant fire of the Maxims, and as to the Hotchkiss thej' developed a curious superstition. See- ing that men fell dead in all directions after the explosion of a shell, they came to believe that as it burst out of each missile numbers of tiny and invisible imps ran forth carrying death and destruction to the white men's foes, and thus it happened that to their minds moral terrors were added to the physical dangers of warfare. So strong was this belief among them, indeed, that A\henever a shell struck they would turn and fire at it in the hope that thus they might destroy the ' live devils ' who dwelt within it. After these battles Lobengula, having first set fire to it, fled from his chief place, Buluwayo, which was occupied by the white men within a month of the commencement of the campaign. In reply to a letter sent to him by Dr. Jameson, demanding his surrender and guaranteeing his safety, Lobengula wrote that he ' would come in.' The promised period of two daj^s' grace having gone by, liowever, and there being no sign of his appearance, a force was despatched from Buluwayo to foUow and capture him. This force, which was imdor the leadersliip of ^lajor Patrick W. Forbes, consisted of ninety men of the Salisbury Column, with Captains Ileany and Spreckley and a mule Maxim gmi under Lieutenant Biscoe, R.N. ; sixty men of the Victoria Column commanded by Major AVilson, with a horse Maxim imder Captain Lendy ; sixty men of tlie Tuli Column, and ninety men of the Bechuanaland Border Police, commanded by Captain Raaf, C.M.G., accompanied by two horse Maxims and a mule seven-pounder, commanded by Captain Tancred. The column, which started on or about November 14, took with is2 4 WILSON'S LAST FIGHT it food for three days only, carried by natives, and a hundred rounds of ammunition per man. After several days' journeying northward the patrol reached the Bubye River, where dissensions arose between Captain liaaf and Major Forbes, the former being of opinion, rightly enough as the issue showed, that the mission was too dangerous to be pursued by a small body of men without supplies of food, and having no reserve of ammunition and no means of carrying the womided. The upshot was that Major Forbes decided to return, but was prevented from doing so by a letter received from Dr. Jameson, stating that he was sending forward a reinforcement of dismounted men under Captain Napier, with food, ammunition, and wagons, also sixteen mounted men under Captain Borrow. The force then proceeded to a deserted Mission Station known as Shiloh. On November 25 the column, three hundred strong and carrying with it three-quarter rations for twelve days, took uji the King's wagon spoor about one mile from Shiloh, and followed it through much discomfort, caused by the constant rain and the lack of roads, till, on December 3, a point was reached on the Shangani River, N.N.W. of Shiloh and distant from it about eighty miles. On November 29, however, Major Forbes, finding that he could make small progress with the wagons, sent them away, and pro- ceeded with the best mounted men and two Maxims only, so that the actual force which reached the Shangani on the 3rd consisted of about one hundred and sixty men and a couple of machine guns. At this time the information in possession of the leaders of the column was to the effect that the King was just in front of them across the river, accompanied only by a few of his followers. Under these circumstances Major Forbes instructed Major ^Yilson and eighteen men to go forward and reconnoitre along Lobengula's spoor ; the understanding seeming to have been that the party was to return by sundown, but that if it did not return it was, if neces- sary, to be supported by the whole column. "With this patrol went Mr. Burnham, the American scout, one of the three surviving white men who were eye-witnesses of that eventful night's Work, which ended so tragically at dawn. What followed is best told as he narrated it by word of mouth to the compiler of this true story, and to a reporter of the ' West- minster Gazette,' the editor of which paper has courteously given periuission for the reproduction of the interview. Indeed, it would be difficult to tell it so well in words other than Mr. Burnham's own. WILSON'S LAST FIGHT 5 ' In the afternoon of December 3,' sajs Mr. Biirnham, ' I ^vas scouting ahead of the column with Colenbrander, when in a strip of bush we Ht on two Matabele boys driving some cattle, one of whom we caught and brought in. He was a plucky boy, and when threatened he just looked us sullenly in the face. He turned out to be a sort of grandson or grand-nephew of Lobengula himself. He said the King's camp was just ahead, and the King himself near, with ver^' Sketch of Route of the Wilson Patrol and of the Scouts'ride back to Major Forbes Dratvn from memory Ijy Mr.Burnham U.B. Supposed distance nf King's Wagons from Forbes Camp 5 MHes,u)indings by the Spoor might be a little more. Open i/,'' Skerm 3 in Bush ' * - ^ — *"*;.* }f''"\f^X'"9'^ Wagon i^First Fight Dec. ''■th. at Daylight S\i\anga/}_ few men, and these sick, and that he wanted to give himself up. He represented that the King had been back to this place that very day to get help because his wagons were stuck in a bog. The column pushed on through the strip of bush, and there, near bj', was the King's camp —quite deserted. We searched the huts, and in one lay a Maholi slave-boy, fast asleep. (The Maholis are the slaves of the Matabele.) ^^'e pulled him oiit, and were questioning him, when the other boy, the sulky Matabele, caught his eye, and 6 WILSON'S LAST FIGHT ^n\e him a ferocious look, shouting across to him to take care what he tohl. ' The slave-boy agreed with the others that the King had only left this camp the day before ; but as it was getting dark, Major Forbes decided to reconnoitre before going on with the column. I learnt of the decision to send forward Major Wilson and fifteen men on the best horses when I got my orders to accompany them, and, along with Bayne, to do their scouting. My horse was exhausted with the work he had done already ; I told Major Forbes, and he at once gave me his. It was a young horse, rather skittish, but strong and fairly fresh by comparison. ' Ingram, my fellow-scout, remained with the column, and so got some hoiars' rest ; thanks to which he was able not only to do his part of tracking for the twenty men afterwards sent on to us through the bush at night, but also, when he and I got through after the smash, to do the long and dangerous ride down country to Buluwayo with the despatches — a ride on which he was accom- panied by Lynch. ' So we set off along the wagon track, while the main body of the column went into laager. ' Close to the river the track turned and led down stream along the west bank. Two miles down was a drift ' (they call a fordable dip a drift in South Africa), ' and here the track crossed the Shangani. We splashed through, and the first thing we scouts knew on the other side was that we were riding into the middle of a lot of Matabele among some scherms, or temporary shelters. There were men, and some women and children. The men were armed. We put a bold face on it, and gave out the usual announce- ment that we did not want to kill anybody, but must have the King. The natives seemed surprised and imdecided ; presently, as Major Wilson and the rest of the patrol joined us, one of them volunteered to come along with us and guide us to the King. He was only just ahead, the man said. How many men w'ere with him ? we asked. The man put up his little finger — dividing it up, so. Five fingers mean an impi ; part of the little finger, like that, should mean fifty to one hundred men. Wilson said to lue, " Go on ahead, taking that man beside your saddle ; cover him, fire if necessary, bixt don't you let him slip." ' So we started off again at a trot, for the light was failing, the man running beside my horse, and I keeping a sharp eye on him. The track led through some thick bush. We WILSON'S LAST FIGHT 7 passed several scherms. Five miles from the river we came to a long narrow vlei [a vlei is a shallow valley, generally with water in it], which lay across our path. It was now getting quite dark. Coming out of the bush on the near edge of the vlei, before goinw down into it, I saw fires lit, and scherms and figures showing dark against the fires right along the opposite edge of the vlei. \Ye skirted the vlei to our left, got round the end of it, and at once rode through a lot of scherms containing hundreds of people. As we went, Captain Napier shouted the message about the King wherever there was a big group of people. We passed scherm after scherm, and still more Matabele, more fires, and on we rode. Instead of the natives having been scattering from the King, they had been gathering. But it was too late to turn. We were hard upon our prize, and it was imderstood among the Wilson patrol that they were going to bring the King in if man could do it. The natives were astonished : they thought the whole column was on them : men jumped up, and ran hither and thither, ritie in hand. We went on without stopping, and as we passed more and more men came running after us. Some of them were crowding on the rearmost men, so Wilson told off three fellows to " keep those niggers back." They turned, and kept the people in check. At last, nearly at the other end of the vlei, having passed five sets of scherms, we came upon what seemed to be tlie King's wagons, standing in a kind of enclosure, with a saddled white horse tethered by it. Just before this, in the crowd and hurry, my man sli[)ped away, and I had to report to Wilson that I had lost him. Of course it would not have done to fire. One shot would have been the match in the powder magazine. We had ridden into the middle of the Matabele nation. ' At this enclosure we luilted and sang out again, making a .special appeal to the King and those about liim. No answer came. All was silence. A few drops of rain fell. Then it lightened, and by the flashes we could just see men getting ready to fire on us, and Napier shouted to Wilson, " Major, they are about to attack." I at the same time saw them closing in on us rapidly from the right. The next thing to this fifth scherm was some thick bush ; the order was given to get into that, and in a moment we were out of sight there. One minute after hearing us shout, the natives with the wagons must have been imable to see a sign of us. Just then it came on to rain heavily ; the sky, already cloudy, got black as ijdc ; the niglit fell so dark that you could not see your hand before you. 8 WILSON'S LAST FIGHT ' We could not stay the nif^lit where we were, for we were so close that they wonltl hear our horses' bits. So it was decided to work down into the vlei, creep along close to the other edge of it to the end we first came round, farthest from the King's camp, and there spend the night. This, like all the other moves, was taken after consultation with the officers, several of whom were experienced Kaffir campaigners. It was rough going ; we were unable to see our way, now splashing through the little dongas that ran down into the belly of the vlei, now working roiind them, through bush and soft bottoms. At the far end, in a clump of thick bush, we dismounted, and Wilson sent off Captain Napier, with a man of his called Robinson, and the Victoria scout, Bayne, to go back along the wagon-track to the column, report how things stood, and bring the column on, with the Maxims, as sharp as possible. Wilson told Captain Napier to tell Forbes if the bv;sh bothered the Maxim carriages to abandon them and put the guns on horses, but to bring the Maxims without fail. We a,ll understood — and we thought the message was this — that if we were caught there at dawn without the Maxims we were done for. On the other hand was the chance of capturing the King and ending the campaign at a stroke. ' The spot we had selected to stop in until the arrival of Forbes was a clump of heavy bush not far from the King's spoor — and yet so far from the Kaffir camps that they could not hear us if we kept quiet. We dismounted, and on counting it was found that three of the men were missing. They were Hofmeyer, Bradburn and Colquhoun. Somewhere in winding through the bush from the King's wagons to our present position these men were lost. Not a difficult thing, for we only spoke in whispers, and, save for the occasional click of a horse's hoof, we could pass within ten feet of each other and not be aware of it. ' Wilson came to me and said, " Burnham, can you follow back along the vlei where we've just come ? " I doubted it very much as it was black and raining ; I had no coat, having been sent after the patrol immediately I came in from firing the King's huts, and although it was December, or midsummer south of the line, the rain chilled my fingers. Wilson said, " Come, I must have those men back." I told him I should need some one to lead my horse so as to feel the tracks made in the ground by our horses. He replied, " I will go with you. I want to see how you American fellows work." WILSON'S LAST FIGHT 9 ' Wilson was no bad hand at tracking himself, and I was put on my mettle at once. 'We began, and I was flurried at first, and did not seem to get on to it somehow ; but in a few minutes I picked up the spoor and hung to it. ' So we started off together, AYilson and I, in the dark. It was hard work, for one could see nothing ; one had to feel for the traces with one's fingers. Creeping along, at last we stood close to the wagons, where the patrol had first retreated into the bush. ' " If we only had the force here now," said Wilson, '• we would soon finish." ' But there was still no sign of the three men, so there was nothing for it but to shout. Retreating into the vlei in front of the King's camp, we stood calling and cooeying for them, long and low at first, then louder. Of course there was a great stir along the lines of the native scherms, for the^' did not know what to make of it. We heard afterwards that the natives were greatlj- alarmed as the white men seemed to be everywhere at once, and the indunas went aboi;t quieting the men, and saying " Do j'ou think the white men are on you, children ? Don't you know a wolfs howl when you hear it ? " ' After calling for a bit, we heard an answering call away down the vlei, and the darkness favouring us, the lost men soon came up and we arrived at the clump of bushes where the patrol was stationed. We all lay down in the mud to rest, for we were tired out. . It had left off raining, but it was a miserable night, and the hungi-y horses had been under saddle, some of them twenty hours, and were quite done. ' So we waited for the column. ' During the night we could hear natives moving across into the bush which lay between us and the river. We heard the branches as they pushed through. After a while AVilson asked me if I could go a little way around our position and find out what the Kaffirs were doing. I always think he heard something, but he did not say so. I slipped out and on our right heard the swirl of boughs and the splash of feet. Circling round for a little time I came on more Kaffirs. I got so close to them I could touch them as they passed, but it was impossible to say how many there were, it was so dark. This I reported to Wilson. Raising his head on his hand he asked me a few questions, and made the remark that if the column failed to come up before daylight, " we are in. a hard hole," 10 WILSON'S LAST FIGHT and told me to go out on the King's spoor and watch for Forbes, so that by no possibiUty should he pass us in the darkness. It was now, I should judge, 1 a.m. on the 4th of December. ' I went, and for a long, long time I heard only the dropping of the rain from the leaves and now and then a dog barking in the scherms, but at last, just as it got grey in the east, I heard a noise, and placing my ear close to the ground, made it out to be the tramp of horses. I ran back to "Wilson and said " The column is here." ' We all led our horses out to the King's spoor. I saw the form of a man tracking. It was Ingram. I gave him a low whistle ; he came up, and behind him rode — not the column, not the Maxims, but just twenty men under Captain Borrow. It was a terrible moment — " If we were caught there at dawn " — and already it was getting lighter every minute. ' One of us asked " Where is the column ? " to which the reply was, " You see aU there are of us." We answered, " Then you are only so many more ixien to die." ' Wilson went aside with Borrow, and there was earnest talk for a few moments. Presently all the officers' horses' heads were together ; and Captain Judd said in my hearing, " Well, this is tlie end." And Kurten said quite (juietly, " We shall never get out of this." ' Then Wilson put it to tlie officers whether we should try and break through the impis which were now forming up between us and the river, or whetlier we would go for the King and sell our lives in trying to get hold of him. The final decision was for this latter. ' So we set off and walked along the vlei back to the King's wagons. It was quite light now and they saw us from the scherms all the way, but they just looked at us and we at them, and so we went along. We wallved because the horses hadn't a canter in them, and there was no hurry anyway. ' At the wagons we halted and shouted out again about not wanting to kill anyone. There was a pause, and then came shouts and a volley. Afterwards it was said that somebody answered, " If you don't want to kiU, we do." My horse jumped away to the right at the volley, and took me almost into the arms of some natives who came running from that side. A big induna blazed at me, missed me, and then fumbled at his belt for another cartridge. It was not a proper bandolier he had on, and I saw him trying to pluck out the cartridge instead of easing it up from below with his 'JUST AS niS Mlil WAS I'UlSKlJ I FIUKU ' WILSON'S LAST FIGHT 13 finger. As I got my horse steady and threw my rifle down to cover him, he suddenly let the cartridge be and lifted an assegai. Waiting to make sure of my aim, just as his arm was poised I fired and hit him in the chest ; he dropped. All happened in a moment. Then we retreated. Seeing two horses down, Wilson shouted to some- body to cut off the saddle pockets which carried extra ammunition. Ingram picked up one of the dismounted men behind him, Captain Fitzgerald the other. The most ammunition anyone had, by the way, was a hundred and ten rounds. There was some very stiff fighting for a few minutes, the natives having the best of the posi- tion ; indeed they might have wij)ed us out but for their stupid habit of firing on the run, as they charged. Wilson ordered us to retire down the vlei ; some hundred yards further on we came to an ant- heap and took our second position on that, and held it for some time. Wilson jumped on the top of the ant-heap and shouted — "Every man pick his nigger." There was no random firing, I would be covering a man when he dropped to somebody's rifle, and I had to choose another. ' Now we had the best of the position. The Matabele came on furiously down the open. Soon we were firing at two hundred yards and less ; and the turned-up shields began to lie pretty thick over the gromid. It got too hot for them ; they broke and took cover in the bush. We fired about twenty rounds per man at this ant-heap. Then the position was flanked by heavy reinforcements from among the timbers ; several more horses were knocked out and we had to quit. We retreated in close order into the bush on the opposite side of the vlei — the other side from the scherms. We went slowly on account of the disabled men and horses. ' There was a lull, and Wilson rode up to me and asked if I thought I could rush through to the main column. A scout on a good horse might succeed, of course, where the patrol as a whole would not stand a chance. It was a forlorn hope, but I thought it was only a question of here or there, and I said I'd try, asking for a man to be sent with me. A man called Gooding said he was willing to come, and I jjicked Ingram also because we had been through many adventures together, and I thought we might as well see this last one through together. ' So we started, and we had not gone five hundred yards when we came upon the horn of an impi closing in from the river. We saw the leading men, and they saw us and fired. As they did so I swerved my horse sharp to the left, and shouting to the others.. 14 WILSON'S LAST FIGHT '• Now lor it ! " wc thrust the horses through the bush at their best pace. A bullet whizzed past my eye, a!nd leaves, cut by the firing, pattered down on us ; but as usual the natives fired too higli. ' So we rode along, seeing men, and being fired at continually, but outstripping the enemy. The peculiar chant of an advancing impi, like a long, monotonous baying or growling, was loud in our ears, together with the noise they make drumming on their hide shields with the assegai — you must hear an army making those sounds to realise them. As soon as we got where the bush was thmner, we shook off the niggers who were pressing us, and, coming to a bit of hard ground, we turned on our tracks and hid in some thick bush. AVe did this more than once and stood quiet, listening to the noise they made beating about for us on all sides. Of course we knew that scores of them must have run gradually back upon the river to cut us off, so we doubled and waited, getting so near again to the patrol that once during the firing which we heard thickening back there, the spent bullets pattered around us. Those waiting moments were bad. We heard firing soon from the other side of the river too, and didn't know but that the column was being wiped out as well as the patrol. ' At last, after no end of doubling and hiding and riding in a triple loop, and making use of every device known to a scout for destroy- ing a spoor — it took us about three hours and a half to cover as many miles — we reached the river, and found it a yellow flood two hiindred yards broad. In the way African rivers have, the stream, four feet across last night, had risen from the rain. We did not think our horses could swim it, utterly tired as they now were ; but we were just playing the game through, so we decided to try. With their heads and om"s barely above the water, swimming and drifting, we got across and crawled out on the other side. Then for the first time, I remember, the idea struck me that we might come through it after all, and with that the desire of life came passionately back upon me. We topped the bank, and there, five hundred yards in front to the left, stood several hundred Matabele ! They stared at us in utter surprise, wondering, I suppose, if we were the advance guard of some entirely new reinforcement. In desperation we walked our horses quietly along in front of them, paying no attention to them. We had gone some distance like this, and nobody followed behind, till at last one man took a shot at us ; and with that a lot more of them began to blaze away. Almost at the same moment Ingram caught sight of horses only four or five hundred yards distant ; so WILSON'S LAST FIGHT 15 the column still existed — and there it was. We took the last gallop out of our horses then, and — well, in a few minutes I was falling out of the saddle, and saying to Forbes : " It's all over ; we are the last of that party ! " Forbes only said, '• ^Yell, tell nobody else till we are through with our own fight," and next minute we were just firing away along with the others, helping to beat off the attack on the column.' Here Mr. Burnham's nari'ative ends. What happened to Wilson and his gallant companions, and the exact manner of their end after Burnham and his two comrades left them, is known only through the reports of natives who took part in the fight. This, however, is certain : since the immortal company of Greeks died at Thermopylae, few, if any, such stands have been made in the face of inevitable death. They knew what the issue must be ; for them there was no possibility of escape ; the sun shone upon them for the last time, and for the last time the air of heaven blew upon their brows. Around them, thousand upon thousand, were massed their relentless foes, the bush echoed with A\ar- cries, and from behind every tree and stone a ceaseless fire was poured upon their circle. But these four-and-thirty men never wavered, never showed a sign of fear. Taking shelter behind the boles of trees, or the bodies of their dead horses, they answered the fire shot for shot, coolly, with perfect aim, without haste or hurry. The bush around told this tale of them in after days, for the bark of every tree was scored with bullets, showing that wherever an enemy had exposed his head there a ball had been sent to seek him. Also there was another testimony — that of the bcnes of the dead Matabele, the majority of whom had clearly fallen shot through the brain. The natives themselves state that for every white man who died upon that day, there perished at least ten of their own people, picked off, be it remembered, singly as they chanced to expose themselves. Nor did the enemy waste life need- lessly, for their general ordered uj) the King's elephant hunters, trained shots, every one of them, to compete with the white man's fii-c. For two long hours or more that fight went on. Now and again a man was killed, and now and again a man was wounded, but the wounded still continued to load the rifles that thev could not fire, handing them to those of then- companions who were as yet unhurt. At some i)eriod during the fray, so say the Matabele, the white men began to ' sing.' What is meant b}' the singing we can 16 WILSON'S LAST FIGHT nc\er know, but probably they cheered aloud after repelling a rush of the enemy. At length their fire grew faint and infrequent, till by degrees it flickered away, for men were lacking to handle the rifles. One was left, however, who stood alone and erect in the ring of the dead, no longer attempting to defend himself, either because he was weak with wounds, or because his ammunition was exhausted. There he stood silent and solitary, presenting one of the most Jtathetic yet splendid sights told of in the generation that he adorned. There was no more firing now, but the natives stole out of their cover and came up to the man quietly, peering at him half afraid. Then one of them lifted his assegai and drove it through his breast. Still he did not fall ; so the soldier drew out the spear and, retreatmg a few yards, he hurled it at him, transfixing him. Now, very slowly, making no sound, the white man sank forward upon his face, and so lay still. There seems to be little doubt bi;t that this man was none other than Major Allan Wilson, the commander of the patrol. Native reports of his stature and appearance suggest this, but there is a stronger piece of evidence. The Matabele told Mr. Burnham who repeated it to the present writer, that this man wore a hat of a certain shape and size, fastened up at the side in a peculiar fashion ; a hat similar to that which Mr. Burnham wore himself. Now, these hats were of American make, and Major Wilson was the only man in that party who possessed one of them, for Mr. Burnham himself had looped it up for him in the American style, if indeed he had not presented it to him. The tragedy seemed to be finished, but it was not so, for as the natives stood and stared at the fallen white men, from among the dead a man rose up, to all appearance unharmed, holding in each hand a revolver, or a ' little Maxim ' as they described it. Having gained his feet he walked slowly and apparently aimlessly away towards an ant-heap that stood at some distance. At the sight the natives began to fire again, scores, and even hiinckeds, of shots being aimed at him, but, as it chanced, none of them struck him. Seeing that he remained untouched amidst this hail of lead, they cried out that he was 'tagati,' or magic -guarded, but the indunas ordered them to continue their fire. They did so, and a bullet passing through his hips, the Englishman fell down paralysed. Then finding that he could not turn they ran round him and stabbed him, and he died firing with either hand back over his shoulders at the slaughterers behind him. WILSOJS'S LAST FIGHT 17 So perished the last of the Wilson patrol. He seems to have been Alexander Hay Eobertson — at least Mr. Bnrnham beheves that it was he, and for this reason. Eobertson, he says, was the only man of the party who had grey hair, and at a little distance from the other skeletons was fomid a skull to which grey hair still adhered. It is the custom among savages of the Zulu and kindred races, for reasons of superstition, to rip open and mutilate the bodies of r ~^l mc "^nr ' One of them lifted his assegai ' enemies killed in war, but on this occasion the Matabele general, having survej-ed the dead, issued an order : ' Let them be,' he said ; ' they were men who died like men, men whose fathers were men.' No finer epitaph could be couiposed in memory of Wilson and Ins comrades. In truth the fame of this death of theirs has spread far and wide throughout the native races of Southern Africa, and I'nglishmen everywhere roup the benefit of its glory. They also wlu) lie low, they reap the benefit of it, for their story is immortal, u. c 18 WILSON'S LAST FIGHT and it will be told himdi'eds of years hence when it matters no more to them whether they died by shot and steel on the banks of the Shan- gani, or elsewhere in age and sickness. At least through the fatal storm of war they have attained to peace and honour, and there within the circle of the ruins of Zimbabwe they sleep their sleep, envied of some and revered by all. Surely it is no small thing to have attained to such a death, and England may be proud of her sons who won it. 19 TEE LIFE AND DEATE OF JOAN TEE MAID I THE FAIRIES' TREE FOUR hundretl and seventy years ago, the children of Domremy, a little village near the Mense, on the borders of France and Lorraine, used to meet and dance and sing beneath a beautiful beech-tree, ' lovely as a lily.' They called it ' The Fairy Tree,' or ' The Good Ladies' Lodge,' meaning the fairies by the words ' Good Ladies.' Among these children was one named Jeanne (born 1412), the daughter of an honest farmer, Jacques d'Arc. Jeanne sang more than she danced, and though she cari'ied garlands like the other boys and girls, and hung them on the boughs of the Fairies' Tree, she liked better to take the tiowers into the parish church, and lay them on the altars of St. Margaret and St. Catherine. It was said among the villagers that Jeanne's godmother had once seen the fairies dancing ; but though some of the older people believed in the Good Ladies, it does not seem that Jeanne and the other children had faitli in them or thought much about them. They only went to the tree and to a neighbouring fairy well to eat cakes and laugh and play. Yet these fairies were destined to be fatal to Jeanne d'Arc, Joan the Maiden, and her innocent childish sports were to bring her to the stake and the death by fire. For she was that famed Jeanne la Pucelle, the bravest, kindest, best, and wisest of women, whose tale is the saddest, the most wonderful, and the most glorious page in the history of the world. It is a page which no good Englishman and no true Frenchman can read without sorrow and bitter shame, for the English burned Joan with the help of bad Frenchmen, and the French of her party did not pay a sou, or write a line, or strike a stroke to save her. But the Scottish, at least, have no share in the disgrace. The Scottish archers lought on Joan's side ; the only portrait of herself that Joan c'J 20 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID ever saw belonged to a Scottish man-at-arms ; their historians praised her as she deserved ; and a Scottish priest from Fife stood by her to the end.^ To understand Joan's history it is necessary to say, first, how we come to know so much about one who died so many years ago, and, next, to learn how her comitry chanced to be so wretched before Joan came to deliver it and to give her life for France. ' The Fairy Tree ' We know so much about her, not from poets and writers of books who lived in her day, but because she was tried by French priests (1431), and all her answers on everything that she ever did in all her life were written down in Latin. These answers fill most of a large volume. Then, twenty years later (1550-1556), when the ' This unnamed monk of Dunfermline describes Joan as ' a maid worthy to he re- menibercil, wlio caused tlie recovery of tlie kingdom of France from the hands of tlie tyrant Henry, Kiufr of England. This maid I saw and knew, and was with her in her conquests and sieges, ever present with her in her life and at her end.' Tlie monk pro- posed to write Joan's history ; unhapiiily his manuscript ends in tlie middle of a sentence. The French historians, as was natural, say next to nothing of their Scottish allies. See Quicberat, Procts, v, S^a ; and The Book of I'luscardeti, edited by Mr. Felix .Skene. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 21 English had been chiven out of France, the French king collected learned doctors, who examined witnesses from all parts of the country, men and women who had known Joan as a child, and in the wars, and in prison, and they heard her case again, and de- stroyed the former unjust judgment. The answers of these wit- nesses fill two volumes, and thus we have all the Maid's history, written during her life, or not long after her death, and sworn to on oath. We might expect that the evidence of her friends, after they had time to understand her, and perhaps were tempted to overpraise her, would show us a picture different from that given in the trial by her mortal enemies. But though the earlier account, piit forth by her foes, reads like a description by the Scribes and Pharisees of the trial of Our Lord, yet the character of Joan was so noble that the versions by her friends and her enemies practically agree in her honour. Her advocates cannot make us admire her more than we must admire her in the answers which she gave to her accusers. The records of these two trials, then, with letters and poems and histories written at the time, or very Utttle later, give us all our information about Joan of Arc. Next, as to ' the great pitifulness that was in France ' before Joan of Arc came to deliver her country, the causes of the misery are long to tell and not easy to remember. To put it shortly, in Joan's childhood France was under a mad king, Charles YL, and was torn to pieces by two factions, the party of Burgundy and the party of Armagnac. The English took advantage of these disputes, and overran the land. France was not so much one comitry, divided by parties, as a loose knot of states, small and gi'eat, with different interests, obeying greedy and selfish chiefs rather than the king. Joan cared only for her country, not for a part of it. She fought not for Orleans, or .\njou, or Eritanny, or Lorraine, but for France. In fact, she made France a nation again. Before she aj)- peared everywhere was murder, revenge, robbery, burning of towns, slaughter of peaceful people, wretchedness, and despair. It was to redeem France from this ruin that Joan came, just when, in 14'29, the English were besieging Orleans. Had they taken the strong city of Orleans, they could have overrun all southern and central France, and would havo driven the natural king of France, Charles the l)auj)liin, into exile. From this ruin Joan saved her country; but if \ ou wish to know more exactly how matters stood, and -who the people were with v/hom Joan had to do, you must read ^\■hat follows. If not, you can ' skip ' to Chapter III. 22 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID II A PAGE OF HISTORY AS you know, Edward III. had made an unjust claim to the French crown, and, with the Black Prince, had supi)orted it by the victories of Crer-y and Poictiers. But Edward died, and the Black Prince died, and his son, Richard II., was the friend of France, and married a French princess. Richard, too, was done to death, but Henry IV., who succeeded him, had so much work on his hands in England that he left France alone. Yet France was wretched, be- cause when the wise Charles V. died in 1380, he left two children, Charles the Dauphin, and his brother, Louis of Orleans. They were only little boys, and the Dauphin became weak-minded ; moreover, they were both in the hands of their uncles. The best of these re- lations, Philip, Duke of Burgundy, died in 1404. His son, John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, was the enemy of his own cousin, Louis of Orleans, brother of the Dauphin Charles, who was now king, under the title of Charles VI. John the Fearless had Louis of Orleans murdered, yet Paris, the capital of France, was on the side of the murderer. He was opposed by the Count of Armagnac. Now, the two parties of Armagnac and Bm-gundy divided France ; the Armagnacs professing to be on the side of Charles the Dauphin. They robbed, burned, and murdered on all sides. Mean- while, in England, Henry V. had succeeded to his father, and the weakness of France gave him a chance to assert his ixnjust claim to its throne. He defeated the French at Agincourt in 1415, he carried the Duke of Orleans a prisoner to London, he took Rouen, and overran Normandy. The French now attempted to make peace among themselves. The Duke of Burgundy had the mad Charles VI. in his power. The Dauphin was with the opposite faction of Armagnac. But, if the Dauphin and the Duke of Burgundy be- came friends, the Armagnacs would lose all their importance. The power would be with the Duke of Burgundy. The Armagnacs, therefore, treacherously murdered the duke, in the name of the Dauphin, at a meeting on the Bridge of Montereau (1419). The son of the duke, Philip the Good, now became Duke of Burgundy, and was determined to revenge his murdered father. He therefore made friends with Henry V. and the English. The English being now so strong in the Burgiindian alliance, their terms were ac- cepted in the Peace of Troyes (1420). The Dauphin was to be shut LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 23 out from succeeding to the French crown, and was called a Pretender. Henry V. married tlie Dauphin's sister Catherine, and when the mad Charles VI. died, Henry and Catherine were to be King and Queen of England and France. Meantime, Henry V. was to punish the Dauphin and the Armagnacs. But Henry V. died first, and, soon after, the mad Charles died. AVho, then, was to be King of France ? The Armagnacs held for the Dauphin, the rightful heir. The English, of course, and the Burgundians, were for Henry VI., a bab}^ of ten months old. He, like other princes, had uncles, one of them, the Duke of Gloucester, managed affairs in England; anotlier, the Duke of Bedford, the Eegent, was to keep down France. The English possessed Paris and the North ; the Dauphin retained the Centre of France, and much of the South, holding his court at Bourges. It is needless to say that the uncles of the baby Henry VI., the Dukes of Gloucester and Bedford, were soon on bad terms, and their disputes made matters easier for the Dauphin. He lost two great battles, however, Crevant and Verneuil, where his Scottish allies were cut to pieces. The hearts of good Frenchmen were with him, but he was indolent, selfish, good-humoured, and governed by a fat, foolish favourite. La Tremouille. The Duke of Bedford now succeeded m patching up the ipiarrels among the English, and then it was determined (but not by Bedford's advice) to cross the Loire, to invade Southern France, to crush the Daviphin, and to conquer the whole country. But, before he could do all this, Bedford had to take the strong city of Orleans, on the Loire. And against the walls of Orleans the tide of English victory was broken, for there the flag of England went down before the peasant girl who had danced below the Fairy Tree of Domremy, before Joan the Maiden. Ill THE CHILDHOOD OF .JOAN THE MAIDEN' r'pHE English were besieging Orleans ; Joan the IMaid drove them -L from its walls. How did it happen that a girl of seventeen, who could neither read nor write, became the greatest general on the side of France ? How did a woman defeat tlie hardy English soldiers who were used to chase the French before them like sheep"? AVe must say that France could only be saved by a miracle, and by a miracle she was saved. This is a mystery; we cannot under- stand it. Joan the Maiden was not as other men and women arc. 124 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID But, as a little girl, she was a child amonj:^ cliildren, thouf,'h better, kinder, stronger than the rest, and, poor herself, she was always good and helpful to those who were poorer still. Joan's parents were not indigent; they had lands and cattle, and a little money laid by in case of need. Her father was, at one time, doyen, or head-man, of Domremy. Their house was hard by the church, and was in the part of the hamlet where the people were better off, and had more freedom and privileges than many of their neighbours. They were devoted to the Royal House of France, which protected them from the tyranny of lords and earls further east. As they lived in a village under the patronage of St. Eemigius, they were much interested in Reims, his town, where the kings of France were crowned, and were anointed with Holy Oil, which was believed to have been brought in a sacred bottle by an angel. In the Middle Ages, the king was not regarded as really king till this holy oil had been poured on his head. Thus we shall see, later, how anxious Joan was that Charles YII., then the Dauphin, should be crowned and anointed in Reims, though it was still in the possession of the English. It is also necessary to remember that Joan had once an elder sister named Catherine, whom she loved dearly. Catherine died, and perhaps affection for her made Joan more fond of bringing flowers to the altar of her namesake, St. Catherine, and of praying often to that saint. Joan was brought up by her parents, as she told her judges, to l)e industrious, to sew and spin. She did not fear to match herself at spinning and sewing, she said, against any woman in Rouen. When very young she sometimes went to the fields to watch the cattle, like the goose -girl in the fairy tale. As she grew older, she worked in the house, she did not any longer watch sheep and cattle. But the times were dangerous, and, when there was an alarm of soldiers or robbers in the neighbourhood, she sometimes helped to drive the flock into a fortified island, or peninsula, for which lier father was responsible, in the river near her home. She learned her creed, she said, from her mother. Twenty years after her deatli, her neighbours, who remembered her, described her as she was when a child. Jean Morin said that she was a good industrious girl, but that she would often be praying in church when her father and mother did not know it. Beatrix Estellin, an old widow of eighty, said Joan was a good girl. When Domremy was burned, Joan would goto church at Greux, ' and there was not a better girl in the JOAN IN CHURCH LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 27 two towns.' A priest, who had known her, called her ' a good, sim- ple, well-behaved girl.' Jean Waterin, when he was a boy, had seen Joan in the fields, ' and when they were all playing together, she would go apart, and pray to God, as he thought, and he and the others used to laugh at her. She was good and simple, and often in churches and holy i^iaces. And when she heard the church bell ring, she would kneel down in the fields.' She used to bribe the sexton to ring the bells (a duty which he rather neglected) with presents of knitted wool. All those who had seen Joan told the same tale : she was always kind, simple, industrious, pious, and yet merry and fond of playing with the others round the Fairy Tree. They say that the singing birds came to her, and nestled in her breast.^ Thus, as far as anyone could tell, Joan was a child lil^e other chil- dren, but more serioUs and more religious. One of her friends, a girl called Mengette, whose cottage was next to that of Joan's father, said : ' Joan was so pious that we other children told her she was too good.' In peaceful times Joan would have lived and married and died and been forgotten. But the times were evil. The two parties of Biurgimdy and Armagnac di\ided town from town and village from village. It was as in the days of the Douglas "Wars in Scot- land, when the very children took sides for Queen Mary and King James, and fought each other in the streets. Domremy was for the Armagnacs— that is, against the English and for the Dauphin, tlie son of the mad Charles VI. But at Maxey, on the Meuse, a ^ illage near Domremy, the people were all for Burgimdy and the English. The boys of Domremy would go out and fight the Maxey boys with fists and sticks and stones. Joan did not remember having taken part in those battles, but she had often seen her brothers and the Domremy boys come home aU bruised and bleeding. THE RAID OF DOMREMY Once Joan saw more of war than these schoolboy bickers. It was in 1425, when slie was a girl of thirteen. There was a kind of robber chief on the English side, a man named Henri d'Orly, from Savoy, who dwelt in the castle of Doulevant. There he and his ' M. Quiclierat tliinks that this is a mere fairy tale, but tlie author lias soiiietimes seen wild birds (a lark, kiiigfiriher, rolHii, and fiiioli) come to men, who certainly had none of the elianri of .Icmn of An-. A tliouglitful eliihl, sitting alone, and very still, might find birils alight on her in a friendly way, as has happened to the author. If she fed them, so much the h( tter. 28 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID Land of armetl men lived and drank and plundered far and near. One day there galloped into Domremy a squadron of spearmen, Joan hears the Voice Avho rode through the fields driving together the cattle of the %illagers, among them the cows of Joan's father. The country LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 29 people could make no resistance ; they were glad enough if their houses were not burned. So oti' rode Henri d'Orly's men, driving the cattle with their spear-points along the track to the castle of Doulevant. But cows are not fast travellers, and when the robbers had reached a little village called Domniartin le France they rested, and went to the tavern to make merry. But by this time a lady, Madame d'Ogevillier, had sent in all haste to the Coimt de Vaudemont to tell him how the villagers of Domremy had been ruined. So he called his squire, Barthelemy de Clefmont, and bade him summon his spears and moimt and ride. It reminds us of the old Scottish ballad, where Jamie Telfer of the Fair Dodliead has seen all his cattle driven out of his stalls by the English ; and he runs to Branxholme and warns the water, and they with Harden pursue the English, defeat them, and recover Telfer' s kye, with a great spoil out of England. Just so Barthelemy de Clefmont, with seven or eight lances, galloped down the path to Dommartin le France. There they found the cattle, and d'Orly's men fled like cowards. So Barthelemy with his comrades was returning very joyously, when Henri d'Orly rode up with a troop of horse and followed hard after Barthelemy. He was wounded by a lance, but he cut his way through d'Orly's men, and also brought the cattle back safely — a very gallant deed of arms. We may fancy the delight of the villagers when ' the kye cam' hame.' It may have been now that an event happened, of which Joan does not tell us herself, but which was reported by the king's seneschal, in June 1429, when Joan had just begun her wonderful career. The children of the village, says the seneschal, were running races and leaping in wild joy about the fields; possibly their gladness was caused by the unexpected rescue of their cattle. Joan ran so much more fleetly than the rest, and leaped so far, that the children believed she actually fleiv, and they told her so ! Tired and breathless, ' out of herself,' says the seneschal, she paused, and in that moment she heard a Voice, but saw no man ; the Voice bade her go home, because her mother had need of her. And when she came home the Voice said many things to her about the great deeds which God bade her do for France. We shall later hear Joan's own account of how her visions and Voices first came to her.' Three years later there was an alarm, and the Domremy peojde fled to Neufchateau, Joan going with her i)arents. Afterwards her 1 See M. Simeon Luoe, .leiDin" //'Arc ii llnmrfniy. so LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID enemies tried to prove that she had been a servant at an inn in Nenfchiiteau, had Hved roughly with grooms and sokliers, and had learned to ride. But this was absolutely untrue. An ordinary child would have thought little of war and of the sorrows of her coimtry in the flowery fields of Doniremy and Vaucouleurs ; but Joan always thought of the miseries o{ France la bele, fair France, and prayed for her country and her king. A great road, on the lines of an old Eoman way, passed near Domremy, so Joan would hear all the miserable news from travellers. Probably she showed what was in her mind, for her father dreamed that she ' had gone off with soldiers,' and this dream struck him so much, that he told his sons that he, or they, must drown Joan if she so disgraced her- self. For many girls of bad character, laz}' and rude, followed the soldiers, as they always have done, and always will. Joan's father thought that his dream meant that Joan would be like these women. It would be interesting to know whether he was in the habit of dreaming true dreams. For Joan, his child, dreamed when wide awake, dreamed dreams immortal, which brought her to her glory and her doom. THE CALLING OF ,J0AN THE MAID When Joan was between twelve and thirteen, a wonderful thing befell her. We have already heard one account of it, written when Joan was in the first flower of her triumph, by the seneschal of the King of France. A Voice spoke to her and jjrophesied of what she was to do. But about all these marvellous things it is more safe to attend to what Joan always said herself. She told the same story both to friends and foes ; to the learned men who, by her king's desire, examined her at Poictiers, before she went to war (April 1429) ; and to her deadly foes at Eouen. No man can read her answers to them and doubt that she spoke what she believed. And she died for this belief. Unluckily the book that was kept of what she said at Poictiers is lost. Before her enemies at Eouen there were many thnigs which she did not think it right to say. On one point, after for long refusing to speak, she told her foes a kind of parable, which we must not take as part of her real story. When Joan was between twelve and thirteen (1424), so she swore, ' a Voice came to licr from God for her guidance, but when first it came, she was in great fear. And it came, that Voice, about noonday, in the summer season, she being in her father's garden. And Joan had not lasted the day before that, but was fasting when LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 31 the Voice came.^ And she heard the Voice on her right side, towards the church, and rareh* did she hear it but she also saw a great hght.' These are her very words. They asked her if she heard these Voices there, in the hall of judgment, and she an- swered, ' If I were in a wood, I should well hear these Voices coming to me.' The Voices at first only told her ' to be a good girl, and go to church.' She thought it was a holy Voice, and that it came from God ; and the third time she heard it she knew it was the voice of an angel. The Voice told her of ' the gi-eat pity there was in France,' and that one day she must go into France and help the countr3\ She had visions with the Voices ; visions first of St. Michael, and then of St. Catherine and St. Margaret.- She hated telling her hypocritical judges anything about these heavenly visions, but it seems that she really believed in their appearance, believed that she had embraced the knees of St. Margaret and St. Catherine, and she did reverence to them when they came to her. ' I saw them with my bodil}- eyes, as I see you,' she said to her judges, ' and when they departed h-om me I wept, and well I wished that they had taken me with them.' AVhat are we to think about these visions and these Voices w'hich were with Joan to her death "? Some have thought that she was mad ; others that she onl}' told the story to win a hearing and make herself important ; or, again, that a trick was played on her to win her aid. The last idea is im- possible. The French Court did not want her. The second, as every- one will admit who reads Joan's answers, and follows her step by step from childhood to victory, to captivity', to death, is also impos- sible. She was as truthful as she was brave and wise. But was she partially insane ? It is certain that mad people do hear voices which are not real, and believe that they come to them from without. But these mad voices say mad things. Now, Joan's Voices never said anything but what was wise beyond her own wisdom, and right and true. She governed almost all her actions by their advice. When she disobeyed ' her counsel,' as she called it, the result was evil, and once, as we shall see, was ruinous. Again, Joan was not only healtliy, but wonderfully strong, ready, and nimble. In all her ' >rere we follow Father Ayroles's correction o£ Quicherat's reailing of the manu- scripts. " The Voice and vision of St. Michael alarme 34 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID Joan came, on May 13, 1428, in her simple red dress, and walked straight np to the captain among his men. She knew him, she said, by what her Voices had told her, bnt she may also have heard him described by her father. She told him that the Dauphin must keep quiet, and risk no battle, for before the middle of Lent next Eobert thinks Joan crazed year (1429) God would send him succour. She added that the king- dom belonged, not to the Dauphin, but to her Master, who willed that the Dauphin should be crowned, and she herself would lead him to Eeims, to be anointed with the holy oil. ' And who is your Master ? ' said Robert. ' The King of Heaven 1 ' LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN TEE MAID 35 Eobert, very natarallj', thought that Joan was crazed, and shrugged his shoulders. He bhmtly told Lassois to box her ears, and take her back to her father. So she had to go home ; but here new troubles awaited her. The enemy came down on Domremy and burned it ; Joan and her family fled to Neufchateau, where they stayed for a few daj'S. It was perhaps about this time that a young man declared that Joan had promised to marry him, and he actually brought her before a court of justice, to make her fulfil her promise. Joan was beautiful, well-shaped, dark-haired, and charming in her manner. We have a letter which two yoi;ng knights, Andre and Guy de Laval, wrote to their mother in the following year. ' The Maid was armed from neck to heel,' they say, ' but unhehneted ; she carried a lance in her hand. Afterwards, when we lighted down from our horses at Selles, I went to her lodging to see her, and she called for wine for me, saying she would soon make me drink wine in Paris' (then held by the English), 'and, indeed, she seems a thing wholly divine, both to look on her and to hear her sweet voice.' It is no wonder that the 3'oung man of Domremy wanted to marry Joan ; but she had given no promise, and he lost his foolish law-suit. She and her parents soon went back to Domremy/ HOW JOAN THE MAID WENT AGAIN TO VAUCOULEURS In Domremy they found that the enemy had ruined everything. Their cattle were safe, for they had been driven to Neufchateau, but when Joan looked from her father's garden to the church, she saw nothing but a heap of smoking ruins. She had to go to say her prayers now at the church of Greux. These things only made her feel more deeply the sorrows of her country. The time was drawing near when she had propliesied that the Dauphin was to receive help from heaven — namely, in the Lent of 1429. On that year the season was held more than commonly sacred, for Good Friday and the Annunciation fell on the same day. So, early in January, 1429, Joan the Maid turned her back on Domremy, whicli she was never to see again. Her cousin Lassois came and asked leave for Joan to visit him again ; she said good-bye to her father and mother, and to her friend Mengette, but to her dearest friend Hauvette she did not even say good-bye, for she could not bear it. She went to her cousin's house at Burey, and there she stayed for ' The date of this affair and that of the flight to Keufchd,teau are uncertain. d2 36 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID six weeks, hearing bad news of the siege of Orleans by the English. Meanwhile, Eobert de Baudricourt, in Vauconleurs, was not easy in his mind, for he was likely to lose tlie protection of Rene of Anjou, the Due de Bar, who was on the point of joining the English. Thiis Eobert nmy have been more inclined to listen to Joan than when he bade her cousin box her ears and take her back to her father. A squire named Jean de Nouillompont met Joan one day. ' Well, my lass,' said he, ' is our king to be driven from France, and are we all to become English ? ' ' I have come here,' said Joan, ' to bid Eobert de Baudricourt lead me to the king, but he will not listen to me. And yet to the king I must go, even if I walk my legs down to the knees ; for none in all the world— king, nor duke, nor the King of Scotland's daughter — can save France, but mj^self only. Certes, I v/ould rather stay and spin with ray poor mother, for to fight is not my calling ; but I must go and I must fight, for so my Lord will have it.' ' And who is your Lord ? ' said Jean de Nouillompont. ' He is God,' said the Maiden. ' Then, so help me God, I shall take j'ou to the king,' said Jean, putting her hands in his. ' When do we start ? ' ' To-day is better than to-morrow,' said the Maid. Joan was now staying in Vaucovileurs with Catherine le Eoyer. One day, as she and Catherine were sitting at their spinning-wheels, who should come in but Eobert de Baudricourt with the cure of the town. Eobert had fancied that perhaps Joan was a witch ! He told the priest to perform some rite of the Church over her, so that if she were a witch she would be obliged to run awaj'. But when the words were spoken, Joan threw herself at the knees of the priest, saj'ing, ' Sir, this is ill done of you, for you have heard my confession and know that I am not a witch.' Eobert was now half disposed to send her to the king and let her take her chance. But days dragged on, and when Joan was not working she would be on her knees in the crypt or underground chapel of the Chapel Eoyal in Vaucouleurs. Twenty-seven years later a chorister boy told how he often saw her praying there for France. Now people began to hear of Joan, and the Duke of Lorraine asked her to visit him at Nancy, where she bade him lead a better life. He is said to have given her a horse and some money. On February 12 the story goes that she went to Eobert de Baudri- court. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 37 ' You delay too long,' she said. ' On this very day, at Orleans, the gentle Dauphin has lost a battle.' Tliis was, in fact, the Battle of Herrings, so called because the English defeated and cut off a French and Scottish force which attacked them as they were bringing herrings into cami^ for ' Sir, this is ill done of you ' provisions in Lent. If this tale is true, Joan cannot have known of the battle by any common means; but though it is vouched f(;r by the king's secretary, Joan has told us nothing about it herself. ■ ' It occurs in the Chronitjite ,le la I'lio-lle, by Cousinot Je itoutreuil, at th^t tiaie tliQ t(iDg's secretary, and elsewhere. 38 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID Now the people of Vaucouleiars bought clothes for Joan to wear on her journey to the Daiiphin. They were such clothes as men wear — doublet, hose, surcoat, boots, and spurs — and Eobert de Baudricourt gave Joan a sword. In the end this man's dress, which henceforth she always wore, proved the ruin of Joan. Her enemies, the English and false French, made it one of their chief charges against her that she dressed, as they chose to say, immodestly. It is not very clear how she came to wear men's garments. Jean de Nouillompont, her first friend, asked her if she would go to the king (a ten days' journey on horseback) dressed as she was, in her red frock. She answered ' that she would gladly have a man's dress,' which he says that he provided. Her reason was that she would have to be living alone among men-at-arms, and she thought that it was more modest to wear armour like the rest. Also her favourite saint, St. Margaret, had done this once when in danger. St. Marina had worn a monk's clothes when obliged to live in a monastery. The same thing is told of St. Eugenia.* Besides, in all the romances of chivalry, and the favourite poems of knights and ladies, we find fair maidens fighting in arms like men, or travelling dressed as pages, and nobody ever thought the worse of them. Therefore this foolish charge of the English against Joan the Maid was a mere piece of cruel hypocrisy. HOW JOAN THE MAID RODE TO CHINON On February 23, 1429, the gate of the little castle of Vaucouleurs, ' the Gate of France,' which is still standing, was thrown open. Seven travellers rode out, among them two squires, Jean de Nouillompont and Bertrand de Poulengy, with their attendants, and Joan the Maid. ' Go, and let what will come of it come ! ' said Eobert de Baudricourt. He did not expect much to come of it. It was a long journey — they were eleven days on the road — and a dangerous. But Joan laughed at danger. ' God will clear my path to the king, for to this end I was born.' Often they rode by night, stopping at monasteries when they could. Sometimes they slept out imder the sky. Though she was so young and so beautiful, with the happiness of her long desire in her eyes, and the glory of her future shining on her, these two young gentlemen never dreamed of paying their court to her and making love, as in romances they ' Theod. de Leliis, Procds, ii. 42. o 2 w o 5^ -^ o hi LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 41 do, for they regarded her ' as if she had been an angeh' ' They were in awe of her,' they said, long afterwards, long after the angels had taken Joan to be with their conipanj' in heaven. And all the knights who had seen her said the same. Dunois and d' Anion and the beautiful Due d'Aleneon, ' le beau Due ' as Joan called him, they all said that she was ' a thing enskied and sainted.' So on they rode, six men and a maid, through a country full of EngUsh and Burgundian soldiery. There were four rivers to cross, Marne, Aube, Seine, and Yonne, and the rivers were ' great and miekle o' spate,' running red with the rains from bank to bank, so that they could not ford the streams, but must go by unfriendly towns, where alone there were bridges. Joan would have liked to stay and go to church in every town, but this might not be. However, she heard mass thrice at the church of her favourite saint, Catherine de Fierbois, between Loches and Chinon, in a friendly country. And a strange thing happened later in that church. From Fierbois Joan made some clerk write to the king that she was coming to help him, and that she would know him among all his men. Probablj' it was here that she wrote to beg her parents' pardon, and they forgave her, she says. Meanwhile news reached the people then besieged in Orleans that a marvellous Maiden was riding to their rescue. On March G Joan arrived in Chinon, where for two or three days the king's advisers would not let him see her. At last they yielded, and she went straight up to him, and when ho denied that he was the king, she told him that she knew well who he was. 'There is the king," said Charles, pointing to a richly dressed noble. ' No, fair sire. Yoii are he ! ' Still, it was not easy to believe. .Joan stayed at Chinon in the house of a noble lady. The young Due d'Aleneon was on her side from tlie first, bewitched by her noble horsemanship, which she liad never learned. Great, people came to see hor, but, when she was alone, she wept and prayed. The king sent messengers to inquire about her at Domremy, but time was going on, and Orleans was not relieved. now JOAN THE MAID SHOWED A SIGN TO THE KING Joan was weary of being asked questions. One day she went to Charles and said, ' Gentle Dauphin, why do you delay to believe mo? I tell you that God has taken pity on you and your people, at the prayer of St. Louis and St. Charlemagne. And I will tell 42 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID yon, by your leave, something ^vhich will show you that you should believe me.' Then she told him secretly something which, as he said, none could know but God and himself. A few months later, in July, a man about the court wrote a letter, in which he declares that none knows what Joan told the king, but he was plainly as glad as if something had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit. We have three witnesses of this, one of them is the famous Dunois, to whom the king himself told what happened. "\Miat did Joan say to the king, and what was the sign ? About this her enemies later examined her ten times. She told them from the very first that she would never let them know ; that, if they made her speak, what she spoke would not be the truth. At last she told them a kind of parable about an angel and a crown, which neither was nor was meant to be taken as true. It was the king's secret, and Joan kept it. We learn the secret in this way. There was a man named Pierre Sala in the service of Louis XI. and Charles VIII. of France. In his youth, Pierre Sala used to hunt with M. de Boisy, who, in his youth, had been gentleman of the bedchamber to Charles VII., Joan's king. To de Boisy Charles VII. told the secret, and de Boisy told it to Pierre Sala. At this time of his misfortunes (1429), when liis treasin-er had only four crowns in his coffers, Charles went into his oratory to pray alone, and he made his prayer to God secretly, not aloud, but in his mind. Now, what Joan told the king was the secret prasyer which he had made in his own heart when alone. And, ten years later, when Joan was long dead, an impostor went about saying that sJie was the Maid, who had come to life again. She was brought to Charles, who said, ' Maiden, my Maid, you are welcome back again if you can tell me the secret that is between you and me.' But the false Maid, falling on her knees, confessed all her treason. This is the story of the sign given to the king, wliich is not the least strange of the things done by Joan the Maid. But there is a thing stranger j'et, though not so rare. The king to whom Joan brought this wonderful message, the king whom she loved so loj'ally, and for whom she died, spoiled all her plans. He, with his political advisers, prevented her from driving the English quite out of France. These favourites, men like the fat La Tremouille, found their profit in dawdling and delaying, as politicians generally do. Thus, in our own time, they JOAN TELLS THE KING HIS SECRET LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 45 hung off and on, till our soldiers were too late to rescue Gordon from the Arabs. Thus, in Joan's time, she had literally to goad them into action, to drag them on by constant prayers and tears. They were lazy, comfortable, cowardly, disbelieving ; in their hearts they hated the Maid, who put them to so much trouble. As for Charles, to whom the Maid was so loyal, had he been a man like the Black Prince, or even like Prince Charlie, Joan would have led him into Paris before summer was ended. ' I shall only last one year and little more,' she often said to the king. The Due d'Alencon heard her,^ and much of that precious j'ear was wasted. Charles, to tell the truth, never really believed in her ; he never quite trusted her ; he never led a charge by her side ; and, in the end, he shamefully deserted her, and left the Maid to her doom. HOW JOAN THE MAID WAS EXAMINED AT POICTIERS Weeks had passed, and Joan had never yet seen a blow struck in war. She used to exercise herself in horsemanship, and knightly sports of tilting, and it is wonderful that a peasant girl became, at once, one of the best riders among the chivalry of Fi-ance. The young Due d'Alencou, lately come from captivity in England, saw how gallantly she rode, and gave her a horse. He and his wife were her friends from the first, when the politicians and advisers were against her. But, indeed, whatever the Maid attempted, she did better than others, at once, without teaching or practice. It was now determined that Joan should be taken to Poictiers, and examined before all the learned men, bishops, doctors, and higher clergy who still were on the side of France. There was good reason for this delay. It was plain to all, friends and foes, that the wonderful Maid was not like other men and women, with her Voices, her visions, her prophecies, and her powers. All agreed that she had some strange help given to her ; but who gave it ? This aid must come, people thought then, either from heaven or hell— either from God and his saints, or from the devil and his angels. Now, if any doubt could be thrown on the source whence Joan's aid came, the English might argue (as of course they did), that she was a witch and a heretic. If she was a heretic and a witch, then her king was involved in her wickedness, and so he might be legally shut out from his kingdom. It was necessary, therefore, that Joan should be examined by learned men. They ' Procet, iii. U9. 4G LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID Jimst find out whether she had alwaj'S been good, and a true buhever, and whether her Voices always agreed in everything with the teachings of tlie Church. Otherwise her angels must be devils in disguise. For these reasons Joan was carried to Poictiers. During three long weeks the learned men asked her questions, and, no doubt, they wearied her terribly. But they said it was wonderful haw wisely this girl, who 'did not know A from B,' repHed to their puziJing inipiries. She told the story of her visions, of tlie command ' In a better language than yours,^ said Joan laid upon her to rescue Orleans. Said Guillaume Aymeri, ' You ask for men-at-arms, and you say that God will have the English to leave France and go home. If that is true, no men-at-arms are needed ; God's pleasure can drive the English out of the land.' ' In God's name,' said the Maid, ' the men-at-arms will fight, and God wiU give the victory.' Then came the learned Seguin ; ' a right sour man was he,' said those who knew him. Seguin was a Limousiji, and the Limousins spoke in a queer accent at which the other French were always laughing. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 47 ' In what language do your Voices speak ? ' asked he. ' In a better language than yoicrs,'' said Joan, and the bishops smiled at the country quip. ' We maj' not beHeve in you,' said Seguin, ' unless you show us a sign.' ' I did not come to Poictiers to work miracles,' said Joan; ' take me to Orleans, and I shall show you the signs that I am sent to do.' And show them she did. Joan never pretended to work miracles. Though, in that age, people easily believed in miracles, it is curious that none worth mentioning were invented about Joan in her own time. She knew things in some strange way sometimes, but the real miracle was her extraordinary wisdom, genius, courage, and power of enduring hardship. At last, after examining witnesses from Domremy, and the Queen of Sicily and other great ladies to whom Joan was entrusted, the clerg}' found nothing in her but ' goodness, humility, frank maidenhood, piety, honesty, and simplicity.' As for her wearing a man's dress, the Archbishop of Embrun said to the king, 'It is more becoming to do these things in man's gear, since they have to be done amongst men.' The king therefore made up his mind at last. Jean and Pierre, Joan's brothers, were to ride with her to Orleans ; her old friends, her first friends, Jean de Nouillompont and Bertrand de Poulengy, had never left her. She was given a squire, Jean d'Aulon, a very good man, and a page, Louis de Coutes, and a chaplain. The king gave .Joan armour and horses, and offered her a sword. But her Voices told her that, behind the altar of St. Catherine de Fierbois, where she heard mass on her way to Chinon, there was an old sword, with five crosses on the blade, bm-ied m the earth. That sword she was to wear. A man whom Joan did not know, and had never seen, was sent from Tours, and fomid the sword in the place which she described. The sword was cleaned of rust, and the king gave her two sheaths, one of velvet, one of cloth of gold, but Joan had a leather shea,th made for use in war. She also commanded a banner to be made, with the Lilies of France on a white field. There was also a picture of God, holding the round world, and two angels at the sides, with the sacred words. Jhesu jMakia. On another flag was the Annimciation, the Virgin holding a lil3% and the angel coming to her. In battle, when she led a charge, Joan always carried her standard, that she might not be able to use her sword. 48 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID She wished to kill nobody, and said ' she loved her banner forty times more than her sword.' Joan afterwards broke St. Catherine's sword, when slapping a girl (who richly deserved to be slaj^ped) with the flat of the blade. Her enemies, at her trial, wished to prove that her flag was a kind of magical talisman, but Joan had no belief in anything of that kind. What she believed in was God, her Voices, and her just cause. When once it was settled that she was to lead an army to relieve Orleans, she showed her faith by writing a letter addressed to the King of England ; Bedford, the Eegent ; and the English generals at Orleans. This letter was sent from Blois, late in April. It began Jhesu Maria. Joan had no ill-will against the English. She bade them leave France, ' and if you are reasonable, you yet may ride in the Maid's company, where the French will do the fairest feat of arms that ever yet was done for Christentie.' Probably she had in her mind some Crusade. But, before France and England can march together, 'do ye justice to the King of Heaven and the Blood Royal of France. Yield to the Maid the keys of all the good t jwns which ye have taken and assailed in France.' If they did not yield to the Maid and the king, she will come on them to their sorrow. ' Duke of Bedford, the Maid pram's and entreats you not to work your own destruction ! ' "We may imagine how the English laughed and swore when they received this letter. They threw the heralds of the Maid ints prison, and threatened to burn them as heretics. From the very first, the English promised to burn Joan as a witch and a heretic. This fate was always before her eyes. But she went where her Voices called her. HOW JOAN THE MAID RODE TO RELIEVE ORLEANS At last the men-at-arms who were to accompany Joan were ready. She rode at their head, as Andre de Laval and Guy de Laval saw her, and described her in a letter to their mother. She was armed in white armour, but unhelmeted, a little axe in her hand, riding a great black charger, that reared at the door of her lodging and would not let lier mount. ' " Lead him to the Cross ! " cried she, for a Cross stood on the roadside, by the church. There he stood as if he had been stone, and she mounted. Then she turned to the church, and said, in her girlish voice, " You priests and churchmen, make prayers and processions to God." Then she cried, " Forwards, Forwards ! " and on she rode, a pretty page carrying her banner, and with her little n. E 50 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID axe in her hand." ' And so Joan went to war.' She led, she says, ten or twelve thousand soldiers.- Among the other generals were Xaintrailles and La Hire. Joan nmde her soldiers confess them- selves ; as for La Hire, a brave rough soldier, she forbade him to ' Lead him to the Cross ! ' cried she swear, as he used to do, but, for his weakness, she permitted him to say, By my baton ! This army was to defend a great convoy of ' This description is a few weelvs later than tlie start from Blois. = This estimate was probably incorrect ; 3,50U was more like the actual number. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 51 provisions, of which the people of Orleans stood in sore need. Since November they had been besieged, and now it was late April. The people in Orleans were not yet starving, but food came in slowly, and in small quantities. From the first the citizens had behaved well ; a Scottish priest describes their noble conduct. They had burned all the outljdng suburbs, beyond the wall, that they might not give shelter to the English. They had plenty of cannon, which carried large rough stone balls, and usually did little harm. But a gun was tired, it is said by a small boy, which killed Salisbury, the English general, as he looked out of an arrow-slit in a fort that the English had taken. The French general-in-chief was the famous Dunois, then called the Bastard of Orleans. On the English side was the brave Talbot, who fought under arms for sixty years, and died fighting when he was over eighty. There were also Suffolk, Pole, and Glasdale, whom the French called ' Classidas.' The English had not soldiers enough to siu'round and take so large a town, of 30,000 people, in ordinary war. But as Dunois said, ' two hundred English could then beat a thousand French ' — that is, as the French were before the coming of the Maid. The position of Orleans was this ; it may be most easily under- stood from the map. Looking doiV7i the river Loire, Orleans lies on your right hand. It had strong walls in an irregular square ; it had towers on the wall, and a bridge of many arches crossing to the left side of the river. At the further end of this bridge were a fort and rampart called Les Tourelles, and this fort had already been taken by the Enghsh, so that no French army could cross the bridge to help Orleans. Indeed, the bridge was broken. The rampart and the fort of Les Tourelles were guarded by another strong work, called Les Augustins. All round the outside of the town, on the right bank, the English had built strong redoubts, which they called bastilles. 'Paris' was the bastille which blocked the road from Paris, ' London ' and ' Rouen ' were bastilles on the western side, but on the cast, above the town, and on the Orleans bank of the Loire, the English had only one bastille, St. Loup. Now, as Joan's army mustered at Blois, south of Orleans, further down the river, she might marcli on the left side of the river, cross it by boats above Orleans, and enter the town where the English were weakest and had only one fort, St. Loup. Or she might march up the riffht bank, and attack the Enghsh where they were strongest, and had £ 2 52 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID many bastilles. The Voices bade the Maid act on the boldest plan, and enter Orleans where the English were strongest, on the riglu bank of the river. The English would not move, said the Voices. She was certain that they would not even sally out against her. But Dunois in Orleans, and the generals with the Maid, thought this plan very perilous, as, indeed, it was. They therefore deceived her. caused her to think that Orleans was on the left bank of the Loire, and led her thither. ^Vhen she arrived, she saw that they had not played her fair, that the river lay between her and the town, and the strongest force of the enemy. The most astonishing thing about Joan is that, though she had never yet seen a sword-stroke dealt in anger, she imderstood the great operations of war better than seasoned generals. It was not only that she, like old Blilcher, always cried Forwards ! Audacity, to fight on every chance, carries men far in battle. Prince Charlie, who was no great general, saw that, and while his flag went forward he never lost a light. But Joan ' was most ex- pert in war,' said the Due d'Alenron, ' both with the lance and in massing an army, and arraying battle, and in the management of artillery. For all men marvelled how far-sighted and prudent she was in war, as if she had been a captain of thirty years' standing, and, above all, in the service of the artillery, for in that she was right well skilled.' ' This gu'l of seventeen saw that, if a large convoy of provisions was to be thrown into a besieged town, the worst way was to try to ferry the supplies across a river under the enemy's fire. But Dunois and the other generals had brought her to this pass, and the Maid was sore ill-pleased. Now we shall see what happened, as it is reported in the very words of Dunois, the French general in Orleans. Joan had been brought, as we said, to the wrong bank of the Loire ; it ran between her and the town where she would be. The wind was blowing in her teeth ; boats could not cross with the troops and provisions. There she sat her horse and chafed till Dunois came out and crossed the Loire to nieet her. This is what he says about Joan and her conduct. HOW JOAN THE MAID KNTEEED ORLEANS They were on the wrong side of the Loire, opposite St. Loup, where the English held a strong fort.'- ' I did not think, and the ' I'roces, iii. 100. ' I'lvdii. iii. pp. 5, C, 7. They were ' near Saint Loup,' lie says, 'on tlic riyht banls of / LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 53 other generals did not think,' saj's Diinois, ' that the inen-at-arms with the Maid were a strong enough force to bring the provisions into the town. Above all, it was difficult to get boats and fex'ry over the supplies, for both wind and stream were dead against us. Then Joan spoke to me tlius : • Then spurred she her horse . . . and put out the flame ' ' " Are you the Bastard of Orleans ? " ' " That am I, and glad of your coming." ' " Is it you who gave counsel that T should come hither by that bank of the stream, and not go straight where Talbot and the English are ? " the Loire above Orleans.' But (p. 7) he says that after tlicir eonvorsatioii he and .Tonn crossecl to the right from tlie left bauk. At all events they were some six milea higher up the river thau Orleans. 54 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID ' " I myself, and others wiser than I, gave that advice, and we think it the better way and the surer." ' " In God's name, the counsel of our God is wiser and surer than yours. You thought to deceive me, and you have deceived yourselves, for I bring you a better rescue than ever shall come to soldier or city — that is, the help of the King of Heaven. . . ." ' Then instantly, and as it were in one moment, the wind changed that had been dead against us, and had hindered the boats from carrying the provisions into Orleans, and the sails filled.' Dunois now wished Joan to cross by boat and enter the town, but her army could not cross, and she was loth to leave them, lest they fell into sin, for she had made them all confess at Blois. However, the army returned to Blois, to cross by the bridge there, and come upon the Orleans bank, as Joan had intended from the first. Then Joan crossed in the boat, holding in her hand the lily standard. So she and La Hire and Dunois rode into Orleans, where the people crowded round her, blessing her, and trying to kiss her hand. Night had fallen, there were torches flaring in the wind, and, as the people thronged about her, a torch set fire to the fringe of her banner, 'Then spurred she her horse, and turned him gracefully and put out the flame, as if she had long followed the wars, which the men-at-arms beheld with wonder, and the folk of Orleans.' So they led her with great joy to the Eegnart Gate, and the house of Jacques Boucher, treasurer of the Duke of Orleans, and there was she gladly received, with her two brothers and her gentlemen, her old friends, Nouillompont and Poulengy. Next day, without leave from Joan, La Hire led a sally gainst the Enghsh, fought bravely, but failed, and Joan wished once more to bid the Enghsh go in peace. The English, of course, did not obey her summons, and it is said that they answered with wicked words M-hich made her weep. For she wept readily, and blushed when she was moved. In her anger she went to a rampart, and, crying aloud, bade the English begone ; but they repeated their insults, and threatened yet again to burn her. Next day (May 1), Dunois went off to bring the troops from Blois, and Joan rode round and in- spected the English position. They made no attempt to take her. A superstitious fear of her ' witchcraft ' had already fallen on them ; they had lost heart and soon lost all. On May 4 the army returned from Blois. Joan rode out to meet them, priests marched in pro- cession, singing hymns, but the English never stirred. They were expecting fresh troops mider Fastolf. ' If you do not let me know LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAlD 55 when Fastolf comes,' cried the Maid merrily to Dunois, ' I will have your head cut otf.' But for some reason, probably because they did not wish h ?r to nm risk, they did not tell Joan when the next fight began. !She had just lain down to sleep when she leaped up with a noise, wakening her squire. ' My Voices tell me,' she said, ' that I must go against the English, but whether to their forts or against Fastolf I know not.' There was a cry in the street; Joan armed herself; her page came in. ' Wretched boy ! ' she said. ' French blood is flowing, and you never told me ! ' In a moment she was in the street, the page handed to her the lily flag from the upper window. Followed by her squire, d'Aulon, she galloped to the Burgundy Gate. They met wounded men. ' Never do I see French blood but my hair stands \\\) on my head,' said Joan. She rode out of the gate to the English fort of St. Loup, which the Orleans men were attacking. Joan leaped into the fosse, imder fire, holding her banner, and cheermg on her men. St. Loup was taken by the French, in spite of a gallant defence, and Joan wept for the dead English, fearmg that they had died unconfessed. Next day was Ascension Day. Joan, thinking ' the better the day the better the deed,' was for fighting. There was no battle, but she again surumoued the English to withdraw, and again was insulted, and wept. The French generals now conceived a plan to make a feint, or a sham attack, on the English forts where they w'ere strongest, on the Orleans side of the river. The English on the left side would cross to help their countrj'meu, and then the French would take the forts beyond the bridge. Thiis they would have a free j)ath across the river, and would easily get supplies, and weary out the English. They only told Joan of the first i^art of their plan, but she saw that they were deceiving her. When the plan was explained she agreed to it, her one wish was to strike swiftly and strongly. However, they did not carry out the plan, they only assailed the forts on the left bank. The French attacked the English fort of Les Augustins, bej'ond the river, but suddenly they fled to their bridge of boats ; while the English sallied out, yelling their insults at Joan. She turned, she gathered a few men, and charged. The English ran before her like sheep ; she planted her banner again in the ditch. The French hurried back to her, a great Englishman, who guarded the breach, 5G LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID was shot; two French knights leaped in, the others followed, and tlie English took refuge in the redoubt of Les Tourelles, their strong fort at the bridge-head. The Maid returned to Orleans, and, though it was a Friday, and she always fasted on Fridays, she was so weary that she ate some supper. A bit of bread, her page reports, was all that she usually ate. Now the generals sent to Joan and said that enough had been done. They had food, and could wait for another army from the king. ' You have been witli your council,' she said, ' I have been with mine. The wisdom of God is greater than yours. Rise early to-morrow, do better than A'our best, keep close by me ; for to- morrow have I much to do, and more than ever yet I did, and to-morrow shall my blood flow from a wound above my breast.' ^ Joan had always said at Chinon that she would be wounded at Orleans. From a letter by a Flemish ambassador, written three weeks before the event happened, we know that this is true.- Next morning Joan's host had got a fine fish for breakfast. ' Keep it till evening, and I will bring you a God-damn ' (an Englishman) ' to eat his share,' said the Maid, ' and I will return by the bridge ; ' which was broken. The generals did not wish to attack tlie bridge -tower, but Joan paid them no attention. They were glad enough to follow, lest she took the fort without them. About half-past six in the morning the fight began. The French and Scottish leaped into the fosse, they set ladders against the walls, they reached the battlements, and were struck down by English swords and axes. Cannon-balls and great stones and arrows rained on them. ' Fight on ! ' cried the Maid ; ' the place is ours.' At one o'clock she set a ladder against the wall with her own hands, but was deeply wounded by an arrow, which pierced clean through between neck and shoulder. Joan wept, but seizing the arrow with her own hands she dragged it out. The men-at-arms wished to say magic spells over the wound to ' charm ' it, but this the Maid forbade as witchcraft. ' Yet,' says Dunois, ' she did not withdraw from the battle, nor took any medicine for the wound ; and the onslaught lasted from morning till eight at night, so that there was no hope of victory. Then I desired that the army should go back to the town, but the Maid came to me and bade me wait a little longer. Next she naounted her horse and rode into a vine- ' Following Pasquerel, her priest. Proces, iii. 109. " Quiclierat, ifouveaux Apei-^us, p. 76. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 67 yard, and there pra^-ed for the space of seven niinutes or eight. Then she returned, took her banner, and stood on the brink of the Joan IS wounded by the arrow fosse. The J^ngh'sh trembled when they saw her, but our men returned to the charge and met with no resistance. The En-'hsh 58 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID fled or were slain, and Glasdale, who had insulted the Maid, was drowned ' (by the burning of the drawbridge between the redoubt and Les Tom-elles. The Maid in vain besought him, with tears, to surrender and be ransomed), ' and we returned gladly into Orleans.' The people of Orleans had a great share in this victory. Seeing the English hard pressed, they laid long beams across the broken arches of the bridge, and charged by this perilous way. The triumph was even more that of the citizens than of the army. Homer tells us how Achilles, alone and unarmed, stood by the fosse and shouted, and how all the Trojans tied. But here was a greater marvel ; and the sight of the wounded girl, bowed beneath the weight of her banner, frighted stouter hearts than those of the men of Troy. Joan returned, as she had prophesied, by the bridge, but she did not make her supper off the fish : she took a little bread dipped in wine and water, her wound was dressed, and she slept. Next day the English drew up their men in line of battle. The French went out to meet them, and would have begun the attack. Joan said that God would not have them fight. ' If the English attack, we shall defeat them ; we are to let them go in peace if they will.' Mass was then said before the French army. When the rite was done, Joan asked : ' Do they face us, or have thej' turned their backs ? ' It was the English backs that the French saw that day : Talbot's men were in full retreat on Meun. From that hour May 8 is kept a holiday at Orleans in honoiir of Joan the Maiden. Never was there such a deliverance. In a week the Maid had driven a strong army, full of courage and well led, out of forts like Les Tourelles. The Due d'Alen^on visited it, and said that with a few men-at-arms he would have felt certain of holding it for a week against any strength however great. But Joan not only gave the French her spirit : her extraordinary courage in leading a new charge after so terrible a wound, ' six inches deep,' says d'Alencon, made the English think that they were fighting a force not of this world. And that is exactly what they were doing. HOW JOAN THE MAID TOOK JARGEAU FROM THE ENGLISH The Maid had shown her sign, as she promised; she had rescued Orleans. Her next desire was to lead Charles to Keims, LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 59 through a country occupied bj- the EngHsh, and to have him anointed there with the holy oil. Till this was done she could only regard him as Dauphin — king, indeed, by blood, but not by conse- cration. After all that Joan had accomplished, the king and his advisers might have believed in her. She went to the castle of Loches, where Charles was : he received her kindlj', but still he did not seem eager to go to Eeims. It was a dangerous adventure, for which he and his favourites like La Tremouille had no taste. It seems that more learned mien were asked to give their opinion. Was it safe and wise to obey the Maid ? On Maj' 14, only six days after the relief of Orleans, the famous Gerson wrote down his ideas. He believed in the Maid. The king had already trusted her without fear of being laughed at ; she and the generals did not rely on the saints alone, but on courage, prudence, and skill. Even if, by ill fortune, she were to fail on a later day, the fault would not be hers, but would be God's punishment of French in- gratitude. ' Let us not harm, by our unbelief or injustice, the help which God has given us so wonderfully.' Unhappily the French, or at least the Court, were uubelievmg, migrateful, unjust to Joan, and so she came to die, leaving her work half done. The Arch- bishop of Embrun said that Joan should always be consulted in gi-eat matters, as her wisdom was of God. And as long as the French took this advice they did well ; when they distrusted and neglected the Maid they failed, and were defeated and dishonoured. Councils were now held at Tours, and time was wasted as usual. As usual, Joan was impatient. With Dunois, who tells the story, she went to see Charles at the castle of Loches. Some nobles and clergy were with him ; Joan entered, knelt, and embraced his knees. ' Noble Dauphin,' she said, ' do not hold so many councils, and such weary ones, but come to Reims and receive the crown.' Harcourt asked her if her Voices, or ' counsel ' (as she called it) gave this advice. She blushed and said : ' I know what you mean, and will tell you gladly.' The king asked her if she wished to speak before so many people. Yes, she would speak. When they doubted her she prayed, ' and then she heard a Voice saying to her : ' " Fille Dc, va, va, va,je serai a ton aide, va !'" ' ' • Daugliter of GoU, go ou, ami I will liulii tlite.' CO LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID ' And when she heard this Voice she was right glad, and wished that she could always be as she was then ; and as she spoke,' says Dunois, ' she rejoiced strangely, lifting her eyes to heaven.' And still she repeated : ' I will last for only one year, or little more ; use me while you may.' Joan stirred the politicians at last. They would go to Eeims, but could they leave behind them English garrisons in Jargeau, where Suffolk commanded, in Meun, where Talbot was, and in other strong places ? Already, without Joan, the French had attacked Jargeau, after the rescue of Orleans, and had failed. Joan agreed to assail Jargeau. Her army was led by the ' fair duke,' d'AleiK^on. He had but lately come from prison in England, and his young wife was afraid to let him go to war. ' Madame,' said Joan, ' I will bring him back safe, and even better than he is now.' We shall see how she saved his life. It was now that Guy and Andre de Laval saw her, and wrote the description of her black horse and white armour. They followed with her gladly, believing that with her glory was to be won. Let us tell what followed in the words of the Due d'Alencon. ' We were about six hundred lances, who wished to go against the town of Jargeau, then held by the English. That night we slept in a wood, and next day came Dunois and Florence d'lUiers and some other captains. When we were all met we were about twelve hundred lances ; and now arose a dispute among the cap- tains, some thinking that we should attack the city, others not so, for they said that the English were very strong, and had many men.^ Seeing this difference, Jeanne bade us have no fear of any numbers, nor doubt about attacking the English, because God was guiding us. She herself would rather be herding sheep than fight- ing, if she were not certain that God was with us. Thereon we rode to Jargeau, meaning to occupy the outlying houses, and there pass the night ; but the English knew of our approach, and drove in our skirm.ishers. Seeing this, Jeanne took her banner and went to the front, bidding our men be in good heart. And they did so much that they held the suburbs of Jargeau that night. . . . Next morning we got ready our artillery, and brought guns up against the town. After some days a council was held, and I, with others, was ill content with La Hire, who was said to have jiarleyed with Lord Suffolk. La Hire was sent for, and came. Then it was ' Sir Walter Scott reckons that thei-e were five meu to each 'lauce"; perhaps four men ii more usually the right uumber. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID Gl (Iceided to storm the town, and the heralds cried, "To the attack!" and Jeanne said to me, " Forward, gentle duke." I thought it was too earl}', but she said, " Doubt not ; the hour is come when God pleases. Ah, gentle duke, are you afraid ? Know you not that I promised your wife to bring you back safe and sound ? " as iiideed she had said. As the onslaught was given, Jeanne bade ' Now arose a dispute among the captains ' me leave the place where I stood, " or yonder gun," pointing to one on the walls, " will slay you." Then I withdrew, and a little later de Lude was slain in that very place. And I feared greatly, considering the prophecy of the Maid. Then we both went to- gether to the onslaught ; and Suffolk cried for a parley, but no man marked him, and we pressed on. Jeanne was climbing a 62 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID ladder, banner in hand, when her flag was struck hj a stone, and she also was struck on her head, but her light helmet saved her. She leaped up again, crying, " Friends, friends, on, on ! Our Lord has condemned the English. They are oui's ; be of good heart." In that moment Jargeau was taken, and the English fled to the bridges, we following, and more than eleven hundred of them were slain.' One Englishman at least died well. He stood up on the battlements, and dashed down the ladders till he was shot by a famous marksman of Lorraine. Suffolk and his brother were taken prisoners. According to one account, written at the time, Suffolk surrendered to the Maid, as ' the most valiant woman in the world.' And thus the Maid stormed Jargeau. HOW THE MAID DEFEATED THE ENGLISH AT PATHAY, AND OF THE STRANGE GUIDE The French slew some of their prisoners at Jargeau. Once Joan saw a man-at-arms strike down a prisoner. She leaped from her horse, and laid the wounded Englishman's head on her breast, consoling him, and bade a priest come and hear his confession. Cruel and cowardly deeds are done in all wars, but when was there ever such a general as the Maid, to comfort the dying ? From Jargeau the Maid rode back to Orleans, where the people could not look on her enough, and made great festival. Many men came in to fight under her flag, among them Eicheinont, who had been on bad terms with Charles, the uncrowned king. Then Joan took the bridge-fort at Meun, which the English held ; next she drove the English at Beaugency into the citadel, and out of the town. As to what happened next, we have the story of Wavrin, who was fighting on the English side under Fastolf.' The garrison of the English in Beaiigency, he says, did not know whether to hold out or to yield. Talbot reported all this to Bedford, at Paris, and large forces were sent to relieve Beaugency. Wavrin rode with his captain, Fastolf, to Senville, where Talbot joined them, and a council was held. Fastolf said that the English had lost heart, and that Beaugency should be left to its fate, while the rest held out in strong places and waited for reinforcements. But Talbot cried that, if he had only his own people, he would fight ' In Proems, iv. 414. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 63 the French, with the help of God and St. George. Next morning Fastolf repeated what he had said, and declared that they would lose all King Henry had won. Bi;t Talbot was for fighting. So One Englishman at least died well 64 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID they marched to a place between Meun and Beaugency, and drew up in order of battle. The French saw them, and occupied a strong position on a little hill. The English then got ready, and invited the French to come down and fight on the plain. But Joan was not so chivalrous as James IV. at Flodden. ' Go you to bed to-night, for it is late ; to-morrow, so please God and Our Lady, we will see yovi at close quarters.' The English then rode to Meun, and cannonaded the bridge-fort, which was held by the French. They hoped to take the bridge, cross it, march to Beaugency, and relieve the besieged there. But that very night Beai;gency surrendered to the Maid ! She then bade her army march on the English, who were retreating to Paris as soon as they heard how Beaugency had yielded. But how was the Maid to find the English ? ' Kide forward,' she cried, ' and you shall have a sure guide.' They had a guide, and a strange one. The English were marching towards Paris, near Pathay, when their eclaireurs (who beat the country on all sides) came in with the news that the French were following. But the French knew not where the English were, because the deserted and desolate country was overgrown with wood. Talbot decided to do what the English did at Crery, where they won so glorious a victory. He lined the hedges in a narrow way with five hundred archers of his best, and he sent a galloper to bring thither the rest of his army. On came the French, not seeing the English in ambush. In a few minutes they would have been shot down, and choked the pass with dying men and liorses. But now was the moment for the strange guide. A stag was driven from cover by the French, and ran blindly among the ambushed English bowmen. Not knowing that the French were so near, and being archers from Eobin Hood's country, who loved a deer, they raised a shout, and probably many an arrow fiew at the stag. The French eclaireurs heard the cry, they saw the English, and hurried back with the news. ' Forward ! ' cried the Maid ; ' if they were hung to the clouds we have them. To-day the gentle king will gain such a victory as never j^et did he win.' ' The French dashed into the pass before Talbot had secured it. Fastolf galloped up, but the English thought that he was in flight ; the captain of the advanced guard turned his horse about and mado off'. Talbot was taken, Fastolf fled, ' making more sorrow than ever ' U'AleiKj'Oii, I'roc'ts, iii. 98. H (n n o P5 O W LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 67 yet did man.' The French won a great victory. They needed their spurs, as the Maid had told tliem that they would, to follow their flying foes. The English lost some 3,000 men. In the evening Talbot, as a prisoner, was presented to the Due d'Alencon. ' You did not expect this in the morning ? ' said the duke. ' Fortune of war ! ' said Talbot. So ended the day of Pathay, and the adventure of the Strange Guide. HOW THE MAID HAD THE KING CROWNED AT REIMS Here are the exploits which the Maid and the loyal French did in one week. She took Jargeau on June 11; on June 15 she seized the bridge of Mean ; Beaugency yielded to her on June 17 ; on June 18 she defeated the English army at Pathay. Now sieges were long affairs in those da^'s, as they are even to-day, W'hen cannon are so much more powerful than they were in Joan's time. Her success seemed a miracle to the world. This miracle, like all miracles, was wrought by faith. Joan believed in herself, in her country, and in God. It was not by visions and by knowing things strangely that she conquered, but by com-age, by strength fon one occasion she never put off her armour for six days and six nights), and by inspiring the French with the sight of her valour. Without her visions, indeed, she would never have gone to war. She often said so. But, being at war, her word was ' Help yourselves, and God will help you.' ^Yho could be lazy or a CQW'ard when a girl set such an example ? The King of France and his favourites could be indolent and cowards. Had Charles VII. been such a man as Charles Stuart was in 1745, his foot would have been in the stirrup, and his lance in rest. In three months the English would have been driven into the sea. But the king loitered about the castles of the Loire with his favourite, La Tremouille, and his adviser, the Archbishop of Reims. They wasted the one year of Joan. There were jealousies against the Constal)le de liichcmont of Brittany w^ho had come with all his lances to follow the lily flag. If once Charles were king indeed and the Englisli driven out. La Tremouille would cease to be powerful. Tliis dastard sacrificed the ]\Iaid in the end, as he was ready to sacrifice France to his own private advantage. At last, with difficulty, Charles was brought to visit Reims, and consent to be crowned like his ancestors. Seeing that he was never likely to move, Joan left the town where he was and went off into 1^2 GS LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID the country. Tliis retreat brought Charles to his senses. The towns which he passed by yielded to him ; Joan went and siimmoned each. ' Now she was with the king in the centre, now with the rearguard, now with the van.' Tlie town of Troyes, where there was an English garrison, did not wish to yield. There was a council in the king's army : they said they could not take the place. ' In two days it shall be yours, by force or by good wiU,' said the Maid. ' Six days \\ ill do,' said the chancellor, ' if you are sure you speak truth.' Joan made ready for an attack. She was calling ' Forward ! ' when the town surrendered. Reims, after some doubts, yielded also, on July 16, and all the people, with shouts of ' Noel ! ' welcomed the king. On July 17 the king was crowned and anointed with tlie Holy Oil by that very Archbishop of Reims who always opposed Joan. The Twelve Peers of France were not all present — some were on the English side — but Joan stood by Charles, her banner in her hand. ' It bore the brimt, and deserved to share the renown,' she said later to her accusers. When the ceremony was ended, and the Dauphin Charles Was a crowned and anointed king, the Maid knelt weeping at his feet. ' Gentle king,' she said, ' now is accomplished the will of God, who desired that you should come to Reims to be consecrated, and to prove that yoii are the triie king and the kingdom is yours.' Then all the knights wept for joy. The king bade Joan choose her reward. Already horses, rich armour, jewelled daggers, had been given to her. These, adding to the beauty and glory of her aspect, had made men follow her more gladly, and for that she valued them. She, too, made gifts to noble ladies, and gave much to the poor. She only wanted money to wage the war with, not for herself. Her family was made noble ; on their shield, between two hiies, a sword upholds the crown. Her father w'as at Reims, and saw her in her glory. AVhat reward, then, was Joan to choose ? She chose nothing for herself, but that her native village of Domremy should be fi'ee from taxes. This news her father carried home from the splendid scene at Reims. Would that we could leave the Maiden here, with Orleans saved, and her king crowned ! Would that she, who wept when her saints left her in her visions, and who longed to follow them, could have been carried by them to their Paradise ! THJi COKONATION OF CHAlfLES VII LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MA.ID 71 But Joan had another task ; she was to be foiled by the cowardice of her king; she was to be captiu-ed, possibly by treachery ; she was to be tried with the most cruel injustice ; she was to die by tire ; and was to set, through months of agony, such an example of wisdom, courage, and loyal honour as never was shown by man. Did Joan look forward to her end, did she know that her days were numbered ? On the journey to Keims she met some Dom- remy people at Chalons, and told them that she ' feared nothing but treachery.' Perhaps she already suspected the political enemies, the Aixhbishop of Reims and La Tremouille, wlio were to spoil her mission. As they went from Eeims after the coronation, Dunois and the archbishop were riding by her rein. The people cheered and cried Noel. ' They are a good people,' said Joan. ' Never saw I any more joyous at the coming of their king. Ah, would that I might be so happy when I end my days as to be buried here ! ' Said the archbishop : ' Oh, Jeanne, in what place do you hope to die ? ' Then she said : ' Where it pleases God ; for I know not that hour, nor tliat place, more than ye do. But would to God, my maker, that now I might depart, and lay down my arms, and help my father and mother, and keep their sheep a\ ith my brothers and my sister, who would rejoice to see me ! ' ^ Some writers have reported Joan's words as if she meant that she wished the king to let her go home and leave the wars. In their opinion Joan was only acting under heavenly direction till the consecration of Charles. Afterwards, lilce Hal of the Wynd, she was ' fighting for her own hand,' they think, and therefore she did not succeed. But from the first Joan threatened to drive the English quite out of France, and she also hoped to bring the Due d'Orleans home from captivity in England. If her Voices liad told her not to go on after the coronation, she would probably have said so at her trial, when she mentioned one or two acts of disobedience to her Voices. Again, liad she been anxious to go home, Charles VII. and his advisers would have been only too glad to let her go. They did not wish lier to lead them into dangerous places, and they hated obeying her commands. ' Duiiois. f'rnch, iii. 1-!. 72 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID Some French authors have, very naturally, wished to believe that the ]\Iaid could make no error, and could not fail ; thej' therefore draw a line between what she did up to the day of Reims, and what she did afterwards. They hold that she was divinely led till the coronation, and not later. But it is difficult to af^ree with them here. As we saw, Gerson told the French that by injustice and ingratitude they might liinder the success of the Maid. His advice was a prophecy. IV HOW THE MAID RODE TO PARIS WHAT was to be done after the crowning of the king '? Bed- ford, the regent for the child Henry VI., expected to see Joan under the walls of Paris. He was waiting for the troops which the Cardinal of Winchester had collected in England as a crusading army against the Hussite heretics, a kind of Protestants who were giving trouble. Bedford induced Winchester to bring his men to France, but they had not arrived. The Duke of Bur- gundy, the head of the great French party ^\-hich opposed Charles, had been invited by the Maid to Reims. Again she wrote to him: ' Make a firm, good peace with the King of France,' she said ; ' forgive each other with kind hearts ' — for the Duke's father had l)een murdered by the friends of Charles. ' I l)ray and implore you, with joined hands, fight not against France. Great pity it woull be of the great battle and bloodshed if your men come against us.' The Duke of Burgundy, far from listening to .loan's prayer, left Paris and went to raise men for the English. Meanwhile Charles was going from town to town, and all received him gladly. But Joan soon began to see that, instead of marching west from Reims to Paris, the army was being led south-west towards the Loire. There the king would be safe among his dear castles, where he could live indoors, ' in wretched little rooms,' and take his ease. Thus Bedford was able to throw 5,000 men of Winchester's into Paris, and even dared to come out and hunt for the French king. The French should have struck at Paris at once as Joan desired. The delays were excused, because the Duke of Burgundy had promised to surrender Paris in a fortnight. But LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 73 this he did merely to train time. Joan knew this, and said there would be no peace but at the lance-point. \ temj^lToVcC' Joan cliallenges the English to sally forth Here we p^et the best account of what happened from Perceval de Cagny. a knight in the liousehold of the Due d'.\len<'on. He 74 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID %vrote his book in 1436, only five years after Ji)an was burned, and lie spoke of what he knew well, as a follower of Joan's friend, ' the fair duke.' The French and English armies kept watching each other, and there were skirmishes near iSenlis. (Jn August 15 the Maid and d'Alencon hoped for a battle. But the English had fortified their position in the night with ditches, palisades, and a ' laager ' of wagons. Come out they would not, so Joan rode up to their fortification, standard in hand, struck the palisade, and challenged them to sally forth, bhe even offered to let them march out and draw themselves up in line of battle. La Tremouille thought this a fine opportunity of distinguishing himself. He rode into the skirmish, his horse fell with him, but, by evil luck, he was rescued. We do not hear that La Tremouille risked himself again.' The Maid stayed on the field all night, and next day made a retreat, hoping to draw the English out of their fort. But they were too wary, and went back to Paris. More towns came in to Charles. Beanvais yielded, and the Bishop of Beauv.ais, Pierre Cauchon, had to fly to the English. He revenged himself by managing Joan's trial and having her burned. Compiegne, an important place north of Paris, yielded, and was handed to Guillaume de Flavy as governor. Li rescuing this fatal place later, Joan was taken prisoner. Now the fortnight was over, after which the Duke of Burgmidy was to surrender Paris. But he did nothing of the kmd, and there were more ' long weary councils,' and a truce was arranged with Burgundy till Christmas, But the Maid was weary of words. She called the Due d'Alencon and said : ' My fair duke, array your men, for, by my staff, I would fain see Paris more closely than I have seen it yet.' On August 23 the Maid and d'Alencon left the king at Com- piegne and rode to St. Denis, where were the tombs of the kings of France. ' And when the king heard that they were at St. Denis, he came, very sore against his will, as far as SenUs, and it seems that his advisers were contrary to the will of the Maid, of the Due d'Alenron, and of their company.' The great captains, Dunois, Xaintrailles, d'Alencon, vere soldiers, and the king's advisers and favourites were clergymen, like the Archbishop of Eeims, or indolent men of peace, like La Tremouille. They declared, after the Maid was captured, that she ' took too much on herself,' and they were glad of her fall. ' Journal dn SiOgf. I'roccs, iv. 195. As it stands, this authority is thirty years later than the events. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 75 But she had shown that nobody but herself and her sokliers and captains were of anj^ use to France. The king was afraid to go near Paris, bnt Bedford was afraid to stay in the town. He went to Eouen, the strongest EngHsh hold in Normandy, leaving the Burgundian army and 2,000 English in Paris. Every day the Maid and d'Alencon rode from St. Denis and insulted the gates of Paris, and observed the best places for an attack in force. And still Charles dallied and delayed, still the main army did not come up. Meanwhile Paris was strengthened by the English and Burgundians. The people of the city were told that Charles intended to jjlunder the place and utterly destroy it, ' which is difficult to believe,' sa^'s the Clerk of Parliament, who was in the city at that time.' It was ' difficult to believe,' but the Paris people believed it, and, far from rising for their king and country, they were rather in arms agahist the Maid. They had no wish to fall in a general massacre, as the English and Burgundians falsely told them would be their fate. Thus the delay of the king gave the English time to make Paris almost impregnable, and to frighten the i)eople, ■s\lio, had Charles marched straight from Reims, would have yielded as Pieims did. D'Alencon kept going to Senlis urging Charles to come up with the main army. He went on September 1 — the king promised to start next day. D'iUencon returned to the ]\Iaid, the king still loitered. At last d'Alencon brought him to St. Denis on September 7, and there was a skirmish that day. HOW THE MAID WAS WOUNDED IN ATTACKING PAKIS, AND HOW THE KING WOULD NOT LET THE ASSAULT BEGIN AGAIN In all descriptions of battles different accounts are given, each man telling what he himself saw, or what he remembers. As to the assault on Paris on September 8, the Maid herself said a few words at her trial. Her Voices had neither commanded her to attack nor tu abstain from attacking. Her opinion was that the captains and leaders on her side only meant to skirmish in force, and to do deeds of chivalry. But her own intention was to press onwards, and, by lier example, to make the arm}- follow her. It was thus that she took Les Toiirelles at Orleans. Tliis account ' Tliis man was Clenici.t tie Fauriiuiiibtrqiic. When lie recordeil tlie relief of < )rleans, lie drew on tlie margin of his pHjier a little fancy sketch of Joan, with long liair, a wdmaii's dress, a sword, and a banner with tlie monogram of Jesus. This sketeU stil. exists. (I'lvcis, iv. iol J 76 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID scarcely agrees with what we read in the book of Perceval de Cagny, who was with his lord, the Due d'Alencon. He says that about eight on the morning of September 8, the day of Our Lady, the army set forth ; some were to storm the town ; another division was to remain under cover and protect the former if a saUy was made by the English. The Maid, the Marshal de Eais, and De Gaucourt led the attack on the Porte St. Honore.' Standard in hand, the Maid leaped into the fosse near the pig market. ' The assault was long and fierce, and it was marvel to hear the noise of cannons and culverins from the walls, and to see the clouds of arrows. Few of those in the fosse with the Maid were struck, though many others on horse and foot were wounded witli arrows and stone cannon-balls, but by God's grace and the Maid's good fortune, there was none of them but could return to camp unhelped. The assault lasted from noon till dusk, say eight in the evening. After sunset the Maid was struck by a crossbow bolt in the thigh ; and, after she was hurt, she cried but the louder that all should attack, and that the place was taken. But as night had now fallen, and she was wounded, and the men-at-arms were weary with the long attack, De Gaucourt and others came and found her, and, against her will, brought her forth from the fosse. And so ended that onslaught. But right sad she was to leave, and said, " By my baton, the place would have been taken." They put her on horseback, and led her to her quarters, and all the rest of the king's company who that day had come from St. Denis.' So Cagny tells the story. He was, we may believe, with d'Alencon and the party covering the attack. Jean Chartier, who was living at the time, adds that the Maid did not know that the inner moats were full of water. When she reached the water, she had faggots and other things thrown in to fill up a passage. At nightfall she would not retreat, and at last d'Alencon came and forced her to return. The Clerk of Parliament, who, of course, was within the walls, says that the attack lasted till ten or eleven o'clock at night, and that, in Paris, there was a cry that all was lost. Joan behaved as gallantly as she did at Les Tourelles. Though wounded she was still pressing on, still encouraging her men, but she was not followed. She was not only always eager to attack, but she never lost heart, she never lost grip. An armj- of men as brave as Joan would have been invincible. ' Tliis was not far frnm tlie present Theatre Francais. Tlie statue of the ^[aiil, on liorsfcback, is near the place where she was wounded. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 77 ' Next day,' says Cagny, ' in spite of her wound, she was first in the field. She ^^ent to d'Alencon and bade him sound the trumpets for the charge. D'Alenron and the other captains were of the same mind as the Maid, and Montmorency with sixty gentlemen and many lances came in, though he had been on the English side before. So they began to march on Paris, but the king sent messengers, the Due de Bar, and the Comte de Clermont, and com- pelled the Maid and the captains to return to St. Denis. Eight sorry were they, yet they must obey the king. They hoped to take Paris from the other side, by a bridge which the Due d'Alencon had made across the Seine. But the king knew the duke's and the Maid's design, and caused the bridge to be broken down, and a council was held, and the king desired to depart and go to the Loire, to the great grief of the Maid. When she saw that they would go, she dedicated her armour, and hung it up before the statue of Our Lady at St. Denis, and so right sadly went away in comi^any with the king. x\ndthus were broken the will of the Maid and the arm3- of the king.' The politicians had triumphed. They had thwarted the Maid, they had made her promise to take Paris of no avail. They had destroyed the confidence of men in the banner that had never gone back. Now they might take their ease, now they might loiter in the gardens of the Loire. The Maid had failed, by their design, and by their cowardice. The treachery that she, who feared nothing else, had long dreaded, was accomplished now. ' The will of the Maid and the army of the king were broken," ' now THE MAID AND HEE FAIR DUKE WERE SEPARATED FROM EACH OTHER The king now went from one pleasant tower on the Loire to another, taking the Maid with him. Meanwhile, the English took and plundered some of the cities which had yielded to Charles, and tlicy carried off the Maid's armour from the chapel in Saint Denis, where she had dedicated it, ' because Sa int Denis! is the cr^- of France.' Her Voices had bidden her stay at Saint Denis, but this slie was not permitted to do, and now she must hear daily how the loyal towns that she had won were phmdered by the English. The French garrisons ' Piiris, iv; the Clerk of Parliament wrote in liis note-book, eonlil only be taken hy lilockii'ip. It was a far larger city than Orleans, ami we see liow lonf,' the Kntrlislj, in the lififfht of couranc and confidence, were delayed Ijy Orleans. Bnt the Maid did not know tlie word 'impossible' Properly supported, she could proliably have taken Paris by assault ; at the least she would not have left it while she lived. 78 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID also began to rob, as they had done before she came. There was ' great pity in France ' again, and all her work seemed wasted. The Dnc d'Alencon went to his own place of Beamnont, bvit he returned, and offered to lead an army against the English in Normandy, if the Maid might march with him. Then he would have had followers in plenty, for the people had not wholly lost faith. ' But La Tremouille, and Gaucourt, and the Archbishop of Reims, who managed the king and the war, would not consent, nor suffer the Maid and the duke to be together, nor ever again might they meet.' So says Cagny, and he adds that the Maid loved the fair duke above other men, ' and did for him what she would do for no other.' She had saved his life at Jargeau, but where was the duke when Joan was a prisoner '? "We do not know, but we may believe that he. at least, would have helped her if he could. They were separated by the jealousy of cowards, who feared that the duke might win too much renown and become too powerful. HOW MARVELLOUSLY THE MAID TOOK SAINT-PIERRE-LE-MOUSTIER Even the banks of Loire, where the king loved to be, were not free from the English. They held La Charite and Saint-Pierre-le- Moustier. Joan wanted to return to Paris, but the council sent her to take La Charite and Saint-Pierre-le-Moustier. This town she attacked first. Her squire, a gentleman named d'Aulon, was with her, and described what he saw. 'When they had besieged the place for some time, an assault was commanded, but, for the great strength of the forts and the numbers of the enemj-, the French were forced to give way. At that hour, I who speak was wounded by an arrow in the heel, and could not stand or walk without crutches. But I saw the Maid holding her ground with a handful of men, and, fearing ill might come of it, I mounted a horse and rode to her, asking what she w"as doing there alone, and why she did not retreat like the others. She took the salade from her head, and answered that she was not alone, but had in her company fifty thousand of her people ; and that go she would not till she had taken that town. ' But, whatever she said, I saw that she had with her but four men or five, as others also saw, wherefore I bade her retreat. Then she commanded me to have faggots brought, and planks to bridge fosses. And, as she spoke to me, she cried in a loud voice, " All of you, bring faggots to fill the fosse." And this was done, whereat LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 70 I greatly marvelled, and instantly that town was taken by assault with no great resistance. And all that the Maid did seemed to me rather deeds divine than natural, and it was impossible that so young a maid should do such deeds without the will and guidance of Our Lord.' This was the last great feat of arms wrought by the Maid, As at Les Tourelles she won by sheer dint of faith and courage, and so might she have done at Paris, but for the king. At this town the ' Go she would not till she luul taken that town soldiers wished to steal the sacred thinj^s in the church, and the j,'oods laid up tliere. ' But the Maid i-ight manfully forbade and hindered them, nor ever would slie permit any to plunder.' So says Reginald Thierry, who was with her at this siege. Once a Scottish man-at-arms let lier know that her dinner was made of a stolen calf, and she was very angry, wishing to strike that Scot. He came from a land wliere ' lifting cattle ' was thought rather a creditable action. 80 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID HOW THE MAID WAITED WEARILY AT COURT From her latest siege the Maid rode to attack La Charite. But, thoiigh the towns helped her as well as they uiiglit with money and food, her force was too small, and was too ill provided with every- thing, for the king did not send supplies. She raised the siege and departed in great displeasure. The king was not unkind, he en- nobled her and her family, and permitted the dignity to descend through daughters as well as sons ; no one else was ever so honoured. Her brothers called themselves Du Lys, from the lilies of their crest, but Joan kept her name and her old banner. She was trailed after the Court from place to place ; for three weeks she stayed with a lady who describes her as very devout and constantly in church. People said to Joan that it was easj^ for her to be brave, as she knew she would not be slain, but she answered that she had no more assurance of safety than any one of them. Thmking her already a saint, people brought her things to touch. ' Touch them yourselves,' she said ; ' j-our touch is as good as mine.' She wore a little cheaji ring, which her father and mother had given her, inscribed jhesu maria, and she believed that with this ring she had touched the body of St. Catherine. But she was humble, and thought herself no saint, though surely there never was a better. She gave great alms, saying that she was sent to help the poor and needy. Such was the Maid in peace. HOW THE maid MET AN IMPOSTOR There was a certain woman named Catherine de la Eochelle, who gave out that she had visions. A beautifiil lady, dressed in cloth of gold, came to her by night, and told her who had hidden treasures. These she offered to discover that there might be money for the wars, which Joan needed sorely. A certain preacher, named Brother Eichard, wished to make use of this pretender, but Joan said that she must first herself see the fair lady in cloth of gold. So she sat up with Catherine till midnight, and then fell asleep, when the lady appeared, so Catherine said. Joan slept next day, and watched all the following night. Of course the fair lady never came. Joan bade Catherine go back to her family; she needed money for the war, but not money got by false pretences. So she told the king that the whole story was mere folly. This woman afterwards lied against the Maid when she was a prisoner. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 81 HOW THE maid's VOICES PROPHESIED OF HER TAKING Winter melted into spring; the truce with Burgundy was prolonged, but the Burgundians fought under English colours. The king did nothing, but in Normandy La Hire rode in arms to the gates of Eouen. Paris became doubtfully loyal to the English, The Maid could be idle no longer. "Without a word to the king she rode to Lagny, ' for there they had fought bravely against the English.' These men were Scots, nnder Sir Hugh Kennedy. In mid- April she was at Melun. There ' she heard her Voices almost every day, and many a time they told her that she would presently be taken prisoner.' Her year was over, and as the Voices prophesied her wound at Orleans, now they prophesied her cajjtivitj^ She prayed that she might die as soon as she was taken, without the long sorrow of imprisonment. Then her Voices told her to bear graciously whatever befell her, for so it must be. But they told her not the hour of her captivity. ' If she had known the hour she would not then have gone to war. And often she prayed them to tell her of that hour, but they did not answer.' These words are Joan's. She spoke them to her judges at Eouen, Among all her brave deeds this was the bravest. Whatever the soiirce of her Voices was, she believed in what they said. She rode to fight with far worse than death imder shield before her eyes, knowing certainly that her English foes would take her, they who had often threatened to burn her. HOW THE MAID TOOK FRANQUET D'ARRAS There was in these parts a robber chief on the Burgundian side named Franquet d' Arras. The Maid had been sent, as she said, to help the poor who were oppressed by these brigands. Hearing that Franquet, with three or four hundred men-at-arms, was near Lagny-sur-Marne, the Maid rode out to seek him with four hundred French and Scots. The fight is described in one way by Monstrelet, in another by Cagny and Joan herself. Monstrelet, being a Bur- gundian writer, says that Franquet made a gallant resistance till he was overwhelmed by numbers, as the Maid called out the garrison of Lagny. Cagny says that Franquet's force was greater than that of the Maid who took him. However this may be, Franquet was a knight, and so should have been kept prisoner till he paid his ransom. Monstrelet tells us that Joan had his head &. Cr S2 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID cut off. She herself told her judges that Franquet confessed to being a traitor, robber, and murderer ; that the magistrates of Senlis and Lagny claimed him as a criminal ; that she tried to exchange him for a prisoner of her own party, but that her man died, that Franquet had a fair trial, and that then she allowed justice to take its course. She was asked if she paid money to the captor of Franquet. ' I am not treasurer of France, to pay such moneys,' she answered haughtily. Probably Franquet deserved to die, but a trial by his enemies was not likely to be a fair trial. At Lagny the Maid left a gentler memory. She was very fond of children, and had a girl's love of babies. A boy of three days old was dying or seemed dead, and the girls of Lagny carried it to the statue of Our Lady in their church, and there prayed over it. For three days, ever since its birth, the baby had lain in a trance withoiit sign of life, so that they dared not christen it. ' It was black as my doublet,' said Joan at her trial, where she wore mourning. Joan knelt with the other girls and praj'ed ; colour came back into the child's face, it gasped thrice, was baptised, then died, and was buried in holy ground. So Joan said at her trial. She claimed no share in this good fortune, and never pretended that she worked mii'acles. HOW THE MAID FOUGHT HER LAST FIGHT The name of Joan was now such a terror to the English that men deserted rather than face her in arms. At this time the truce with Burgundy ended, and the diike openly set out to besiege the strong town of Compiegne, held by de Flavy for France. Joan hurried to Compiegne, whence she made two expeditions which were defeated by treachery. Perhaps she thought of this, perhaps of the future, when in the church of Compiegne she declared one day to a crowd of children whom she loved that she knew she was sold and betrayed. Old men who had heard her told this tale long afterwards. Burgundy had invested Compiegne, when Joan, with four hundred men, rode into the town secretly at dawn. That day Joan led a sally against the Burgundians. Her Voices told her nothing, good or bad, she says. The Burgundians were encamped at Margny and at Clairoix, theEnglish at Venette, villages on a plain LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 83 near the walls. Joan crossed the bridge on a grey charger, in a sm'coat of crimson silk, rode through the redoubt beyond the bridge, and attacked the Burgundians. Flavy in the town was to i:)revent the English from attacking her in the rear. He had boats on the river to secure Joan's retreat if necessarv. Joan captured Joan swept througli Margny, driving the Burgundians before her ; the garrison of Clairoix came to their help ; the battle was doubtfuL IMeanwhile the English came up ; they could not have reached the Burgundians, to aid them, but some of the Maid's men, 84 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID seeing the English standards, fled. Tlie Enghsh followed them under the walls of Compiegne ; the gate of the redoubt was closed to prevent ths English from entering with the runaways. Like Hector under Troy, the Maid was shut out from the town which she came to save. Joan was with her own foremost line when the rear fled. They told her of her danger, she heeded not. For the last time rang out in that girlish voice : ' Allez avant ! Forward, tlieij are ours ! ' Her men seized her bridle and turned her horse's head about. The English held the entrance from the causeway ; Joan and a few men (her brother was one of them) were driven into a corner of the outer wall. A rush was made at Joan. ' Yield ! yield ! give your faith to me ! ' each man cried. ' I have given my faith to Another,' she said, ' and I will keep my oath.' Her enemies confess that on this day Joan did great feats of arms, covering the rear of her force when they had to fly. Some French historians hold that the gates were closed by treason that the Maid might be taken. "We may hope that this ^^•as not so ; the commander of Compiegne held his town success- fully for the king, and was rescued by Joan's fiiend, the brave Pothon de Xaintrailles. HOW THE MAID LEAPED FROM THE TOWER OF BEAUREVOIR The sad story that is still to tell shall be shortly told. There is no word nor deed of the Maid's, in captivity as in victory, that is not to her immortal honour. But the sight of the wickedness of men, their cowardice, cruelty, greed, ingratitude, is not a thmg to linger over. The Maid, as a prisoner of the Bastard of Wandomme, himself a man of Jean de Liixembourg, was led to Margny, where the Burgundian and English captains rejoiced over her. They had her at last, the girl who had driven them from fort and field. Luxembourg claimed her and carried her to Beaulieu. Not a French lance was laid in rest to rescue her ; not a sou did the king send to ransom her. Where were Dunois and d'Alen(;on, Xaintrailles and La Hire '? The bold Buccleugh, who carried Kinmont Willie out of Carlisle Castle, would not have left the Maid unrescued at Beaulieu. ' What is there that a man does not dare ? ' he said to the angry Queen Elizabeth. But Dunois, d'Alenf-on, Xaintrailles, La Hire, dared all things. Something LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 85 which we do not know of must have held these heroes back, and, bemg ignorant, it does not become ns to blame them. Joan was the very spirit of chivalrj', but in that age of chivalry she was shamefully deserted. As a prisoner of war she should properly have been held to ransom. But, within two days of her capture, the Vicar- General of the Inquisition in France claimed her as a heretic and a witch. The English knights let the priests and the University of Paris judge and burn the girl whom they seldom dared to face in war. The English were glad enough to use French priests and doctors who would sell themselves to the task of condemning and burning their maiden enem3'. She was the enemy of the English, and they did actually believe in witch- craft. The English were hideously cruel and superstitious : we may leave the French to judge Jean de Luxemboiirg, who sold the girl to England ; Charles, who moved not a finger to help her ; Bishop Cauchon and the University of Paris, who judged her lawlessly and condemned her to the stake ; and the Archbishop of Reims, who said that she had deserved her fall. There is dis- honour in plenty ; let these false Frenchmen of her time divide their shares among themselves. From Beaulieu, where she lay from May to August, Luxembourg carried his precioiis prize to Beaurevoir, near Cambrai, further from the French armies. He need not have been alarmed, not a French sword was drawn to help the Maid. At Beaurevoir, Joan was kindly treated by the ladies of the Castle. These ladies alone up- held the honour of the great name of France. They knelt and wept before Jean de Luxembourg, imploring him not to sell Joan to Burgundy, who sold her again to England. May their names ever be honoured ! One of the gentlemen of the place, on the other hand, was rude to Joan, as he confessed thirty j-ears later. Joan was now kept in a high tower at Beaurevoir, and was allowed to walk on the leads. She knew she was sold to England, she had heard that the people of Compiegne were to be massacred. She would rather die than fall into English hands, ' rather give her soul to God, than her body to the English.' But she hoped to escape and reheve Compiegne. She, therefore, prayed for counsel to her Saints; might she leap from the top of the tower? Would they not bear her up in their hands? St. Catherine bade her not to leap ; God would lielp her and the people of Compiegne. Then, for the first time as far as we know, the ^laid wilfully disobeyed her Voices. She leaped from the tower. They 86 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID found her, not wounded, not a limb was broken, bnt stunned. She knew not what had happened ; they told her she had leaped down. For three days she could not eat, ' yet was she comforted by St. Catherme, who bade her confess and seek pardon of God, and told her that, without fail, they of Compiegne should be relieved before Martinmas.' This prophecy was fulfilled. Joan was more troubled about Compiegne, than about her own coming doom. She was already sold to the English, like a sheep to the slaughter ; they bought their French bishop Cauchon, he siimmoned his shavelings, the doctors of the University and of the Inquisition. The chivalry of England locked up the Maid in an iron cage at Rouen. Tlie rest was easy to men of whom all, or almost all, were the slaves of supersti- tion, fear, and greed. Tliey were men like otn-selves, and no worse, if perhaps no better, but their especial sins and temptations were those to which few of us are inclined. We, like Charles, are verj' capable of deserting, or at least of delaying to rescue, our bravest and best, like Gordon in Khartoum. But, as we are not afraid of witches, we do not cage and If we were as ignorant as our ancestors Joan at Beanrevoii burn girls of nineteen. on this point, no doubt we shoiald be as cowardly and cruel. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 87 V HOW THE MAID WAS TRIED AND CONDEMNED, AND HCT7 BRAVELY SHE DIED A BOUT the trial and the death of the Maid, I have not the heart -^ to write a long storj-. Some points are to be remembered. The person who conducted the trial, itself illegal, was her deadly enemy, the false Frenchman, the Bishop of Beauvais, Cauchon, whom she and her men had turned ont of his bishcprick. It is most nnjiist and unheard of, that any one should be tried by a judge who is his private enemy. Next, Joan was kept in strong irons day and night, and she, the most modest of maidens, was always guarded by five brutal English soldiers of the lowest rank. Again, she was not allowed to receive the Holy Communion as she desired with tears. Thus weakened by long captivity and ill usage, she, an Tin- taught girl, was questioned repeatedly for three months, by the most cunning and learned doctors in law of the Paris University. Often many spoke at once, to perplex her mind. But Joan always showed a wisdom which confounded them, and which is at least as extraordinary as her skill in war. She would never swear an oath to answer all their questions. About herself, and all matters bearing on her own conduct, she would answer. About the king and the secrets of the king, she would not answer. If they forced her to reply about these things, she frankly said, she would not tell them the truth. The whole object of the trial was to prove that she dealt with powers of evil, and that her king had been crowned and aided by the devil. Her examiners, therefore, attacked her day by day, in public and in her dungeon, with questions about tliese visions which she held sacred, and could only sj)eak of with a blush among her friends. Had she answered (as a lawyer said at the time), 'if seemed to me I saw a saint,' no man could have con- demned her. Probably she did not know this, for she was not allowed to have an advocate of her own party, and she, a lonely girl, was opposed to the keenest and most learned lawyers of France. But she maintained that she certainly did see, hear, and touch her Saints, and that they came to her by the will of God. This was cahed blasphemy' and witchcraft. And now came in the fatal Fairies ! She was accused of dealing with devils under the Tree of Domremy. 88 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID Most was made of her refusal to wear woman's dress. For this she seems to have had two reasons ; first, that to give up her old dress would have been to acknowledge that her mission was ended ; nest, for reasons of modesty, she being alone in prison among ruffianly men. She would wear woman's dress if they would let her take the Holy Communion, but this they refused. To these points she was con- stant, she would not deny her visions ; she would not say one word against her king, 'the noblest Christian in the world '^ she called him, who had deserted her. She would not wear woman's dress in prison. We must remember that, as she was being tried by churchmen, she should have been, as she often prayed to be, in a prison of the church, attended by women. They set a spy on her, a caitiff priest named L'Oyseleur, who pretended to be her friend, and who betrayed her. The Enghsh soldiers were allewed to bully, threaten, and frighten away every one who gave her any advice. They took her to the torture-chamber, and threatened her with torture, but from this even these priests shrunlv, except a few more cruel and cowardly than the rest. Finally, they put her up in pubHc, oppo- site a pile of wood ready for burning, and then set a priest to preach at her. All through her trial, her Voices bade her ' answer boldly,' in three months she would give her last answer, in three months 'she woiildbe free with great victory, and come into the Kingdom of Paradise.' In three months from the first day of her trial she went free through the gate of fire. Boldly she answered, and wisely. She Avould submit the truth of her visions to the Church, that is, to God, and the Pope. But she would 7iot submit them to ' the Church,' if that* meant the clergy round her. At last, m fear of the fire, and the stake before her, and on promise of being taken to a kindlier prison among women, and released from chains, she promised to ' abjure,' to re- nounce her visions, and submit to the Church, that is to Cauchon, and her other priestly enemies. Some Httle note on paper she now signed with a cross, and repeated ' with a smile,' poor child, a short form of words. By some trick this signature was changed for a long document, in whi'ch she was made to confess all her visions falset It is certam that she did not understand her words in this sense. Cauchon had triumphed. The blame of heresy and witchcraft was cast on Joan, and on her king as an accomplice. But the English were not satisfied ; they made an uproar, they threatened Cauchon, for Joan's life was to be spared. She was to be in prison all her days, on bread and water, but, while she lived, they dared scarcely stir against the French, They were soon satisfied^ LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 89 Joan's prison was not changed. There soon came news that she had put on man's dres3 again. The judges went to her. She told them (they say), that she put on this dress of her own free will. In confession, later, she told her priest that she had been refused any other dress, and had been brutally treated both by the soldiers and by an English lord. In self-defence, she dressed in the only attire within her reach. In any case, the promises made to her ' They burned Joan the Maid ' had been broken. The judge asked her if her Voices had been with her again ? ' Yes.' ' What did tliey say ? ' ' God told me by the voices of St. Catherine and St. Margaret of the great sorrow of my treason, when I abjm-ed to save my life; that I was damning myself for my life's sake,' 90 LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN 7 HE MAID 'Do yon believe the Voices come from St. Margaret and St. Catherine ? ' ' Yes, and that they are from God.' She added that she had never meant to deny this, had not miders!ood that she had denied it. All was over now ; she was a 'relapsed heretic' The judges said that they visited Joan again on the morning of her death, and that she withdrew her belief in her Voices ; or, at least, left it co the Church to decide whether the}' were good or bad, while she still maintained that they were real. She had expected release, and, for the first time, had been disappointed. At the stake she understood her Voices: they had foretold her martyrdom, ' great victory ' over herself, and her entry into rest. But the docu- ment of the judges is not signed by the clerks, as all such docu- ments must be. One of them, Manchon, who had not been present, was asked to sign it; he refused. Another, Taquel, is said to have been present, but he did not sign. The story is, therefore, worth nothing. Enough. They btu-ned Joan the Maid. She did not suffer long. Her eyes were fixed on a cross which a priest, Martin L'Advenu, held up before her. She maintained, he says, to her dying moment, the truth of her Voices. With a great cry of Jesus ! she gave up her breath, and her pure soul was with God. Even the English wept, even a secretary of the English king said that they had burned a Saint. One of the three great crimes of the world's history had been conunitted, and, of the three, this was the most cowardly and cruel. It profited the English not at all. ' Though they ceased not to be brave,' says Patrick Abercrombj', a Scot,i ' 5-et they were almost on all occasions defeated, and within the short space of twenty-two years, lost not only all the conquests made by them in little less than a hinidred, but also the inheritances which they had enjoyed for above three centuries bypast. It is not my part to follow them, as the French and my countrymen did, from town to town, and from province to province ; I take much more pleasure in relating the glories than the disgraces of England.' This disgrace the English must, and do, most sorrowfully con- fess, and, that it may never be forgotten while the civilised world stands, there lives, among the plays of Shakspeare, whether he wrote or did not write it, that first part of ' Henry VI.,' which • lu 1715. LIFE AND DEATH OF JOAN THE MAID 91 may pair with the yet more abominable poem of the Frenchman, Voltaire. Twenty years after her death, as we saw, Charles VII., in his own interest, inchxced the Pope and the Inquisition, to try the case of Joan over again. It was as certain th-at the clergy would find her innocent, now, as that thej' would find her guilty before. But, happily, they collected the evidence of most of the living people who had known her. Thus we have heard from the Domremy peasants how good she was as a child, from Dunois, d'Alencon, d'Aulon, how she was beautiful, courteous, and brave, from Isani- bart and L'Advenu, how nobly she died, and how she never made one complaint, but forgave all her enemies freely. All these old Latin documents were collected, edited, and printed, in 1849, by Monsieiir Jules Quicherat, a long and noble labour. After the publi- cation of this book, there has been, and can be, no doubt about the perfect goodness of Joan of Ai-c. The English long believed silly stories against her, as a bad w^oman, stories which were not even mentioned by her judges. The very French, at different times, have mocked at her memory, in ignorance and disbelief. They said she was a tool of politicians, who, on the other hand, never wanted her, or that she was crazy. Men mixed up with her glorious history the adventures of the false Maid, who pretended to be Joan come again, and people doubted as to whether she really died at Piouen. In modern times, some wiseacres have called the strongest and healthiest of women 'hysterical,' which is their way of account- ing for her Voices. But now, thanks mainly to Monsieur Quicherat, and other learned Frenchmen, the world, if it chooses, may know- Joan as she was ; the stainless Maid, the bravest, gentlest, kindest, and wisest woman who ever lived. Her country people, in her life- time, called her ' the gi-eatest of Saints, after the Blessed Virgin,' and, at least, she is the greatest concerning whose deeds and noble sufferings history preserves a record. And her Voices we leave to Him who alone knows all truth. 92 HOW TEE BASS WAS HELD FOB KING JAMES THE Bass Rock is a steep black mass of stone, standing about two miles ont to sea, off the coast of Berwickshire. The sheer cliffs, straight as a wall, are some four hundred feet in height. At the top there is a sloping grassy shelf, on which a few sheep are kept, but the chief inhabitants of the rock are innumerable hosts of sea-birds. Far up the rock, two liundred years ago, was a fortress, with twenty cannons and a small garrison. As a boat can only touch at the little island in very fine weather, the fortress was considered by the Government of Charles II. an excellent prison for Covenanters. There was a house for the governor, and a chapel where powder was kept, but wliere no clergyman officiated. As the covenanting prisoners were nearly all ministers, and a few of them prophets, it was thought, no doubt, that they could attend to their own devotions for themselves. They passed a good deal of their time in singing psalms. One prisoner looked into the cell of another late at night, and saw a shining white figure with him, which was taken for an angel by the spectator. Another prisoner, a celebrated preacher, named Peden, once told a merry girl that a ' sudden surprising judgment was waiting for her,' and in- stantly a gust of wind blew her off the rock into the sea. The Covenanters, one of whom had shot at the Archbishop of St. Andrews, and hit the Bishop of Orkney, were very harshly treated. ' They were obliged to drink the twopenny ale of the governor's brewing, scarcely worth a half-penny the pint,' an in- convenience which they probably shared with the garrison. They were sometimes actually compelled to make their own beds, a cruel hardship, when their servants had been dismissed, probably for plot- ting their escape. They had few pleasures except writing accounts of their sufferings, and books on religion; or studying Greek and Hebrew, ' I^•BTA^•TLY A GUtiT OF WINI; BLEW HER OiT THE BOCK. HOW THE BASS WAS HELD 95 "When King Jaiues II. ^\■as driven from his throne, in 1688, by the Prince of Orange, these sufferers found release, they being on the Orange side. But the castle of the Bass did not yield to William till 1G90; it was held for King James by Charles Mait- land till his ammunition and stores were exliausted. The Whigs, who were now in power, used the Bass for a prison, as their enemies had done, and four Cavalier prisoners were shut up in the cold, smoky, unwholesome jail, just as the Covenanters had been before. These men, Middleton, Halyburton, Koy, and Dunbar, all of them young, had been in arms for King James, and were taken when his Majesty's forces were surprised and defeated by Livingstone at Cromdale Haugh. Middleton was a lieutenant ; his friends were junior in rank, and were only ensigns. These four lads did not devote their leisiu-e to the composition of religious treatises, nor to the learning of Latin and Greek. On the other hand they reckoned it more worthy of their profession to turn the Whig garrison out of the Bass, and to hold it for King James. f For three years they held it against all comers, and the Eoyal flag, driven out of England and Scotland, still floated over this little rock in the North Sea. This is how the Four took the Bass. They observed that when coals were landed all the garrison except three or four soldiers went down to the rocky platform where there was a crane for raising goods, '\\lien they went, they locked three of the four gates on the narrow rocky staircase behind them. On June 15, 1691, the soldiers went on this duty, leaving, to guard the Cavaliers, La Fosse, the sergeant. Swan, the gimner, and one soldier. These men were overpowered, or won o\er, by IVliddleton, Koy, Dunbar, and Halyburton, who then trained a gun on the garrison below, and asked them whether they would retire peacefully, or fight? Thoy preferred to sail awa^' in the coal vessel, !ind very foolish they must have felt, when they carried to the Whigs in Edinburgh the news that four men had turned them out of an impregnable castle, and held it for King James. Next niglit young Crawford of Ardmillan, with his servant and two Irish sailors, seized a long-boat on the beach, sailed over, and ioined the brave little garrison of tlie Bass. Crawford liad been lurking in disguise for some time, and the two Irishmen had escaped from prison in Edinburgh, and were not particularly well disposed to the government of "William. When the news reached King .lames, in France, he sent a ship, 96 HOW THE BASS WAS HELD ladeu with provisions and stores of all kinds, and two boats, one of them carrying two light giuis. The "Whigs established a force on the shore opposite, and their boats cruised about to intercept supplies, but in this they failed, the Cavaliers being too quick and artful to be caught easily. On August 15, however, the enemy seized the large boat at night. Now Ardmillan and Middleton were absent in search of supplies, and, being without their leader, Eoy and Dunbar thought of sur- rendering. But just as they were about signing articles of surrender, Middleton returned with a large boat and plenty of provisions, and he ran his boat imder the guns of his fort, whence he laughed at the enemies of his king. Diuibar, however, who was on shore en- gaged in the business of the surrender, was held as a prisoner. The Whigs were not much nearer taking the Bass. On Septem- ber 3 they sent a sergeant and a drummer to offer a free pardon to the Cavaliers. They were allowed to land on the rock, but Middle- ton merely laughed at the promise of a free pardon, and he kept the sergeant and drummer, whom he afterwards released. A Danish ship, sailing between the Bass and shore, had a gun fired across her bows, and was made prize of ; they took out everything that they needed, and then let her go. The Cavaliers lived a gay life : they had sheep on the Bass, plenty of water, meat, biscuits, beer and wine. Cruising in their boats they captured several ships, supplied themselves with what they wanted, and held the ships themselves to ransom. When food ran short they made raids on the shore, lifted cattle, and, generally, made war support war. The government of the Prince of Orange was driven beyond its patience, and vowed that the Bass should be taken, if it cost all the revenue of the country'. But Middleton had plenty of powder, he had carefully collected more than five hundred balls fired at his fort by the English, and he calmly awaited the arrival of hostile men-of-war. The ' Sheerness ' (Captain Koope) and the ' London ]\Ierchant ' (Captain Orton) were sent with orders to bombard the Bass and destroy the fort. After two days of heavy tiring, these vessels had lost a ni;mber of men, their rigging was cut to pieces, and the ships were so damaged that they were glad to slink off to harbour. A close watch was now set, the 'Lion ' (Captain Burd), a dogger of six guns, and a long-boat cruised constantly in the neighbourhood. Captain Burd is described as ' a facetious and intelligent man,' and FOB KING JAMES 97 a brave officer, but his intelligence and courage were no niatcli for Middleton. In August 1693 a French frigate of twelve guns sailed under the Bass and landed supplies. But the Cavaliers were so few that they had to borrow ten French sailors to help in the landing of the provisions. At this moment the ' Lion ' bore down on the French vessel, which was obliged to cut her cables to avoid being run down. The garrison of the Bass was thus left with ten more mouths to feed, and with only the small supplies that had been landed. They were soon reduced to two ounces of raw rusk dough for each man, every day. Halyburton was caught and con- demned to be hanged, and a Mr. Trotter, who had helped the The Bass attacked by the frigates Cavaliers, was actually hanged on shore, within sight of the Bass. Middleton fired a shot and scattered the crowd, but that did not save poor Trotter. [Middleton had now only a few pounds of meal left. He therefore sent in a flag of truce, and announced that he would surrender, but upon his own terms. Very good terms they were. Envoys were dis- patched by the Whigs: Middleton gave them an excellent luncheon out of provisions kept for the pm-pose, and choice French wines. He had also set coats and cups on the nnizzles of gims, above, on the rocks, so that the Whig en\oys believed he had jilenty of men, and no scarcity of provisions. Their lordships returned, E. H 96^ HOW THE BASS WAS HELD and told the Privy Council that the Bass was in every respect well provisioned and well manned. Middleton's terms were, therefore, gladly accepted. He got a full pardon for every one then in the garrison, and for every one who had ever been in it (including Halyburton, now under sentence of death), ' and none hereafter shall call them to account.' They were to depart with all the honours of war, with swords and baggage, in their own boat. They were to be at liberty to come or go, whenever they pleased, till May 15, 1694 ; and a ship, properly supplied, was to be read}' to carry them to France, if they preferred to join Dundee's gallant officers in the French service. Finally, all tlicir expenses were to he 2}ciid\ The ' aliment ' formerly granted to them, and unpaid when they seized the Bass, was to be handed over to them. On these terms Middleton took leave of the fortress which he could not have held for a week longer. There have been greater deeds of arms, but there never was one so boyish, so gallant, and so gay. 99 THE CROWNING OF INES DE C ASTRO ABOUT the year 1340, when Edward III. \\as Kino; of England, a J^oung Spanish lady set out from Castile on the long journey to the Court of Portugal. She was the only daughter of John Manuel, Duke of Villena, a \ev\ rich and powerful noble, much dreaded by the King of Castile for his boldness and restlessness. Not many years before he had suddenly left his post as Warden of the French Marches, to fight against the Moors in the province of Murcia, and though the King was very angry at his conduct, he did not dare to punish him, for fear that in some way he himself •wovldi suffer. Yillena's daughter Constance had passed much of her time at the Castilian Coxu't, where she lived in the state that was expected of a great lady of those days, but when the treaty was made which decided that she was to marry Dom Pedro, Crown Prince of Portugal, her household was increased, and special attendants appointed to do honom- to her rank. Now among the ladies chosen to form part of Constance's court, was a distant cousin of her own, the beautiful and charming Ines de Castro. Like Henry II. at the sight of Fair Kosamond, the young Dom Pedro, who was not more than twenty years of age, fell passionately in love with her. He did all in his power to hide his feelings from his bride, the Infanta Constance, but did not succeed, and in a few years she died, it was said of grief at her husband's cold- ness, after giving birth to the Infant, Dom Fernando (1345). After her death, Dom Pedro's father King Alfonso was anxious that he should marry again, but he refused all the brides proposed for him, and people whispered among themselves that he was already secretly wedded to Ines de Castro. Time went on, and they had four children, but Ines preferred to live (piietly in a convent in the country, and never took her place as Dom Pedro's wife. Slill, however secluded n2 100 THE CROWNING OF INES DE CASTRO she uiight be, large numbers of her fellow Castilians, weary of the yoke of theu- own King, Pedro the Cruel, flocked into Portugal, and looked to her for protection, which Dom Pedro for her sake always gave them, and chief among these foreign favourites were Ines' two brothers, Fernando and Alvaro Perez de Castro. This state of things was very bitter to the old Portuguese courtiers, who com- plained to the King that in future the country would only be governed by Spaniards. These rumours grew so loud that in tiine they even reached the ears of the Queen, and she, with the Archbishop of Braga, gave Dom Pedro solemn warning that some plot was assuredly forming which would end in his ruin. But Dom Pedro, naturally fearless, had faith in his father's goodwill towards him, and looked on these kindly warnings as mere empty threats, so proceeded gaily on his path. Thiis in silence was prepared the bloody deed. When the courtiers thought all was ready they went in a deputation to Alfonso IV., and pointed out what might be expected in the future if Ines de Castro was allowed to remain the fountain- head for honours and employments to all her countrymen who were attracted to Portugal by the hopes of better pay. They enlarged on the fact that the national laws and customs would be changed, and Portugal become a mere province of Spain ; worse than all, that the life of the Infant Dom Fernando was endangered, as upon the death of the King, the Castros would naturally desire to secure the succession to the children of Ines. If Ines were only out of the way, Dom Pedro would forget her, and consent to make a suitable marriage. So things went on, working together for the end of Ines. At last the King set forth, surrounded by many of his great nobles and high officials, for Coimbra, a small town in which was situated the Convent of Santa Clara, where Ines de Castro quietly dwelt, with her three surviving children. On seeing the sudden arrival of Alfonso with tliis great company of armed knights, the soul of Ines shrank with a horrible fear. She could not fly, as every avenue was closed, and Dom Pedro was away on the chase, as the nobles very well knew. Pale as an image of death, Ines clasped her children in her arms, and flung herself at the feet of the King. ' My lord,' she cried, ' have I given you cause to wish my death ? Your son is the Prince ; I can refuse him nothing. Have pity on me, wife as I am. Kill me not without reason. And if you have no compassion left for me, find a place in your heart for your grandchildren, who are of your own blood.' THE CROWNING OF INES DE CASTRO 101 The innocence and beauty of the unfortunate woman, who indeed had harmed no one, moved the King, and he withdrew to think better what should be done. But the envy and hatred of the Incs pleads? for her life fonrtiers would not suffer Tnes to triumph, and again the^- brought forward their evil counsels. ' Do what j^ou will,' at length said the King. And they did it. A nameless pain filled the soul of Dom Pedro when on his 102 THE CROWNING OF INKS DE CASTRO return he stood before the bloody corpse of Ines, whom he had loved so welL But soon another feeling took possession of him, which shut out everything else — the desire to revenge himself on her miirderers. Hastily calling together the brothers of Ines and some followers who were attached to his person, he took counsel with them, and then collecting all the men-at-arms within his reach, he fell upon the neighbouring provinces and executed a fearful vengeance, both with fire and sword, upon the innocent inhabitants. How long this rage for devastation might have lasted cannot be told, but Dom Pedro was at length brought to a better mind by Goncalo Pereira, Archbishop of Braga, who, by the help of the Queen, succeeded in establishing peace between father and son. So a parchment deed was drawn up between the King and the Infant, in which Dom Pedro undertook to pardon all who had been engaged in the murder of Ines, and Alfonso promised to forgive those who had taken his son's side, and borne arms against himself. And for his part Dom Pedro vowed to perform the duties of a faithful vassal, and to banish from his presence all turbulent and restless spirits. So peace was made. Two years had hardly passed after this event before King Alfonso lay on his death-bed in Lisbon, and then, thinking over what would happen when he was dead, the feeling gradually came over him that in spite of Dom Pedro's solemn oath the murderers of Ines would not be safe from his revenge. Therefore he sent for the three knights, Diogo Lopez Pacheco, Alvaro Gonealves, and Pedro Coelho, who had counselled him to do the dreadful deed and had themselves struck the blow, and bade them leave their property and all the^' had, and fly while there was yet time to foreign lands for refuge. The knights saw the wisdom of the advice, and sought shelter in Castile. Then Alfonso prepared himself to die, the murder of Ines lying heavy on his soul in his last days (1357). King Pedro was thirty-seven years old when he ascended the throne, and his first care was to secure peace to his kingdom. To this end he sent several embassies to the King of Castile, who made a compact with Alfonso ' to be the friend of his friends, and the enemy of his enemies.' The results of this treaty may be easily guessed at. The King of Portugal engaged to send back to Castile all who had fled to his dominions from the tyranny of Pedro the Cruel, the ally of the Black Prince, and was to receive in return the mur- derers of Ines, two of whom he put to a horrible death. The third, THE CROWNING OF INES DE CASTRO 103 Pacheco, was more fortunate. A beggar to whom he had been accustomed to give ahiis discovered his danger, and hastened to warn the knight, who was away from the city on a hunting expedition. By his advice Pacheco changed clothes with the beggar, and made his way through Ai-agon to the borders of France, where lie took refuge with Kenry of Trastamara, half-brother of the King of Castile. Here he remained, a poor knight without friends or property, till the year 18G7, when on his death-bed the King of Portugal suddenly remembered that when dying the other two knights had sworn that Pacheco was guiltless of the murder of Ines, and ordered his sc>ii to recall him from exile and to restore all his possessions. Which Dom Fernando joyfully did. That, however, happened several years after the time we are speaking of, when Dom Pedro had only just ascended the throne. Having satisfied his feelings of revenge against the murderers of Ines, a nobler desire filled his heart. He resolved that she who had been so ill-spoken of during her life, and had died such a shameful death, should be acknowledged openly as his wife and queen before his Court and his people, bo he assembled all the great nobles and officers, and, lajing his hand on the sacred books, swore solemnly that seven years before he had taken Ines de Castro to wife, and had lived with her in happiness till her death, but that through dread of his father the marriage had been kept secret ; and he commanded the Lord High Chamberlain to prepare a deed recording his oath. And in case there should still be some who did not believe, three days later the Bishop of Guarda and tlie Keeper of the King's Wardrobe bore witness before the great lords gathered together in Coimbra that they themselves had been present at the secret marriage, which had taken place at Braganza, in the royal apartments, according to the rites of tlie Church. This solemn function being over, the last act in the history of Ines was begun. By connuand of the King her body was taken from the convent of Santa Clara, where it had lain in peace for many years, and was clad in royal garments : a crown was placed on her head and a sceptre in her hand, and she was seated on a throne for the subjects, who during her life had despised her, to kneel and kiss the hem of her robe. One by one the knights and the nobles aiul the great officers of the Crown did homage to the dead woman, and when all had bowed before what was left of the beautifid Ines they placed her in a splendid coffin, which was borne by knights over the seven leagues that lay between Coimbra and 104 THE CBOWNING OF INES T>E CASTBO Alcobaca, the royal burying-place of the Portuguese. In this magnificent cloister a tomb had been prepared carved in white marble, and at the head stood a statue of Ines in the pride of her beauty, crowned a queen. Bishops and soldiers, nobles and peasants, lined the road to watch the coffin pass, and thousands with lighted torches followed the dead woman to her resting place, till the whole long road from Coinibra to Alcobaca was lit up with brightness. So, solemnly, Ines de Castro was laid in her grave, and the honours which had been denied her in life were heaped :i round her tomb. 1 ' Scliiit'or't; Geschichte von FuHugal. lo: THE STOBY OF ORTHON [There may be some who doubt whether the following story is in all respects perfectly true. It is taken, however, from a history book, the ' Chronicle of Jean Froissart,' who wrote about the wars of the Black Prince.] GEEAT marvel it is to think and consider of a thing that I will tell you, and that was told to uie in the house of the Comte de Foix at Orthez, by him who gave me to know concerning the battle of Juberot. And I will tell you of this matter, what it was, for since the Squire told me this tale, whereof you shall presently have knowledge, certes I have thought over it a hundred times, and shall think as long as I live. ' Certain it is,' quoth the Squire, ' that the day after the fight at Juberot the Comte de Foix knew of it, whereat men marvelled nmch how this might be. And r>.ll day, on the Sunday and the Monday and the Tuesday following, he made in his castle of Orthez such dull and simple cheer that none could drag a word out of him. All these three days he would not leave his chamber, nor speak to knight or S(iuire, howsoever near him they might be. And when it came to Tuesday at evening, he called his brotlier, Sir Ernault Guillaume, and said to him in a low voice : * " Our men have fought, whereat I am grie\ed ; for that has befallen them of their journey which I told them before they set out." ' Sir Ernault, who is a right wise knight and of good counsel, knowing well the maimer and ways of his brother the Count, lield his peace for a little while. Then the Count, willing to show his heart, and weary of his long sadness, spoke again, and louder than before, saying : ' " By God, Sir Ernault, it is as I tell you, and shortly we shall 100 THE STOBY OF OB T HON have news ; for never did the land of Beam lose so much in one day— no, not these hundred years — as it lias lost this time in Portugal." ' Many knights and sijuires standing round who heard the Count noted these words, and in ten days learned the truth from them who had been in the tight, and who brought tidings, first to the Count, and afterwards to all who would hear them, of what befell at Juberot. Thereby was the Count's grief renewed, and that of all in the country w ho had lost brothers and fathers, sons and friends, in the fx'ay.' ' Marry ! ' said I to the Squire, who was telling me his tale, ' and how could the Count know or guess what befell ? Gladly would I learn this.' ' By my faith,' said the Squire, 'he knew it well, as ajipeared.' ' Is he a prophet, or has he messengers who ride at niglit with the wind ? Some art he must have.' Then the Squire began to laugh. ' Truly he must learn by some way of necromancy ; we know not here trulj^ how he does it, save by phantasies.' 'Ah, good sir, of these fancies jrithee tell me, and I will be grateful. If it is a matter to keep silent, silent will I keep it, and never, while I am in this country, will I open my mouth thereon.' ' I pray you do not, for I would not that any should know I had spoken. Yet others talk of it quietly' when they are among their friends.' Thereon he drew me apart into a corner of the castle chapel, and then began his tale, and spoke thus : ' It may be twenty years since there reigned here a baron named Eaymond, lord of Corasse, a town and castle seven leagues from Orthez. Now, the lord of Corasse, at the time of which I speak, held a plea at Avignon before the Pope against a clerk of Catalonia who laid claim to the tithes of his town, the said clerk belonging to a powerful order, and claiming the right of the tithes of Corasse, which, indeed, amounted to a yearly sum of one hun- . dred florins. This right he set forth and ^iroved before all men, for m his judgment, given in the Consistory General, Pope Urban V. declared that the clerk had won his case, and that the Chevalier had no ground for his claim. The sentence once delivered, letters were given to tlie clerk enabling him to take possession, and he rode so hard that in a very short time he reached Beam, and by virtue of the papal bull appropriated the tithes. The Sieur de THE STORY OF ORTHON 107 Corasge was right wroth with the clerk and his doings, and came to him and said : ' " Master Martin, or Master Pierre, or whatever yonr name may ' 1 will send yon a ehanipion wl)om you will fcav more than you fear me ' be, do ymi think that I am going to give np my rights just becanse of those letters of yours ? I scarce fancy you are bold enough to lay hands on property of mine, fur you will risk your life in tin; 108 THE STORY OF ORTHON doing. Go elsewhere to seek a benefice, for of my rights yon shall have none, and this I tell you, once and for all." ' The mind of the clerk misgave him, for he knew that the Chevalier cared not for men's lives, and he dared not persevere. So he dropped his claims, and betook himself to his own country or to Avignon. And when the moment had come that he was to de- part, he entered into the presence of the Sieur de Corasse, and said : ' " Sir, it is by force and not by right that you lay hands on the property of the Church, of which you make such ill-use. In this land yoiT are stronger than I, but know that as soon as I may I will send you a champion whom j'ou will fear more than you fear me." ' The Sieur de Corasse, who did not heed his words, replied : ' " Go, do as you will ; I fearj'ou as little alive as dead. For all your talk, I will never give up my rights." ' Thus parted the clerk and the Sieur de Corasse, and the clerk returned to his own country, but whether that was Avignon or Catalonia I know not. But he did not forget what he had told the Sieur de Corasse when he bade him farewell ; for three months after, when he expected it least, there came to the castle of Corasse, while the Chevalier was quietly sleeping, certain invisible mes- sengers, who began to throw about all that was in the castle, till it seemed as if, truly, nothing would be left standing. The Chevalier heard it all, but he said nought, for he would not be thought a coward, and indeed he had courage enough for any adventure that might befall. ' These sounds of falling weights continued for a long space, then ceased suddenly. ' When the morning came, the servants all assembled, and their, lord having arisen from bed they came to him and said, " Sir, have you also heard that which we have heard this night '? " And the Sieur de Corasse hid it in his heart and answered, " No ; what have you heard ? " And they told him how that all the furniture was thrown down, and all the kitchen pots had been broken. But he began to laugh, and said it was a dream, and that the wind had caused it. "Ah no," sighed his wife ; " I also have heard." ' When the next night arrived, the noise-makers arrived too, and made more disturbance than before, and gave great knocks at the doors, and likewise at the windows of the Sieur de Corasse. And the Chevalier leaped out of his bed and demanded, " Who is it that rocks my bed at this hour of the night ? " ' And answer was made him, " That which I am, I am." THE STORY OF OBTHON 109 ' Then asked the Chevalier, " By whom are you sent here ? " ' " By the clerk ol Catalonia, to Avhom you have done great wrong, for you have taken from him his rights and his heritage. Hence you will never be suffered to dwell in peace till you have given him what is his due, and he is content." ' " And you, who are so faithfi;l a messenger," inquired the Chevalier, " what is your name ? " ' " They call me Orthon." '"Orthon," said the knight, ''the service of a clerk is worth nothhig, and if you trust him, he will work you ill. Leave me in peace, I pray you, and take service with me, and I shall be grate- ful." ' Now, the knight was pleasing to Orthon, so he answered, " Is this truly your will ? " ' " Yes," repHed the Sieur de Corasse. " Do no ill imto those that dwell here, and I will cherish you, and we shall be as one." ' "No," spoke Orthon. " I have no power save to wake you and others, and to disturb you when you fain would sleep." ' "Do as I say," said the Chevalier; " we shall agree well, if only you will abandon this wicked clerk. "With him there is nothing but pain, and if you serve me " ' " Since it is your will," replied Orthon, " it is mine also," ' The Sieur de Corasse pleased Orthon so much that he came often to see him in his sleep, and pulled away his pillow or gave great knocks against the window of the room where he lay. And when the Chevalier was awakened he would exclaim, " Let me sleep, I pray you, Orthon ! " ' " Not so," said Orthon ; '• I have news to give you." ' " And what news will you give me '? Whence come you ? " 'Then said Onhon, "I come from England, or Germany, or ITinigary, or some other country, which I left yesterday, and such- and-such things have happened." ' Thus it was that the Sieur de Corasse knew so much when he went into tlie world ; and this trick he kept up for five or six years. But in the end lie could not keep silence, and made it known to the Comte de Foix in the way I shall tell you. 'The first year, whenever the Sieur de Corasse came into the presence of the Count at Ortais or elsewhere, he would say to him : " Monseigneur, such-and-such a thing has liappened in England, or in Scotland, or in Germany, or in Flanders, or in Brabant, or in some other country," and the Comte de Foix marvelled greatly at 110 THE STORY OF OBTHON these tliinj,'s. But one day he pressed the Sieiir de Corasse so hard that tlic knight told him how it was he knew all that passed in the world and who told him. AVhen the Comte de Foix knew the truth (if the matter, his heart leapt with joy, and he said : " Sieur de Corasse, bind him to you in love. I would I had such a messenger. He costs you nothing, and knows all that passes throughout the world." '" Monseigneur," said the Chevalier, " thus will I do." ' Thus the Sieur de Corasse was served by Ortlion, and that for long. I know not if Orthon had more than one master, but certain it is that every week he came, twice or thrice during the night, to tell to the Sieur de Corasse the news of all the countries that he had visited, which the Sieur wrote at once to the Comte de Foix. who was of all men most joyed in news from other lands. One day when the Sieur de Corasse was with the Comte de Foix, the talk fell upon Orthon, and suddenly the Count inquired, " Sieur de Corasse, have you never seen your messenger? " ' He answered, " No, by my faith, Monseigneur, and I have never even asked to." '"Well," he replied, "it is very strange. If he had been as friendly to me as he is to you, I should long ago have begged him to show me who and what he is. And I pray that you will do all you can, so that I may know of what fashion he may be. You tell me tliat his speech is Gascon, such as yours or mine." ' " By my faith," said the Sieur de Corasse, " it is only the truth. His Gascon is as good as the best ; and, since you advise it, I will spare myself no trouble to see what he is lil^e." ' Two or three nights after came Orthon, and finding the Sieur de Corasse sleeping soundly, he pulled tlie pillow, so as to wake him. So the Sieur de Corasse awoke with a start and inquired, " Who is there?" ' He answered, " I am Orthon." ' " And whence do you come ? " ' " From Prague in Bohemia. The Emperor of Rome is dead." ' " And when did he die ? " ' " The daj' before yesterday." ' '" And how far is it from Prague to this ? " ' " How far ? " he answered. " Why, it is sixty days' journey." ' " And you have come so quickly ? " ' " But, by my faith, I travel more quickly than the wind." ' " And have you wings ? " THE STORY OF ORTHON 111 ' ■• By my faith, no."' ' '■ How, then, do yoii fly so fast '? " ' Said Orthon, '• That does not concern you." '"No," he replied; '"butl wouldgladly see of what form you are." ' Said Orthon, " My form does not concern you. Content you with what I tell ycu and that my news is true." ' " Now, as I live," cried the Sieur de Corasse, " I should love you better if I had but seen you." ' Said Orthon, " Since 3'ou liave such burning desire to see me, the first thing you behold to-morrow morning on getting out of bed will be I." • ' " It is enough," answered the Sieur de Corasse. " Go. I talie leave of jou for this night." ' "When the day dawned, the Sieur de Corasse arose from his bed, but liis wife was filled with such dread of meeting Orthon that she feigned to be ill, and protested she would lie abed all day ; for she said, " Suppose I were to see him '? " ' " Now," cried the Sieur de Corasse, " see what I do," and he jumped fi'oni his bed and sat upon the edge, and looked about for Orthon ; but he saw nothing. Then he threw back the windows so that he could note more clearly all that was in the room, but again he saw nought of which he could say, " That is Orthon." ' The day passed and night came. Hardly had the Sieur de Corasse climbed iip into his bed than Orthon arrived, and began to talk to him, as his custom was. '"Go to, go to," said the Sieur de Corasse; "you are but a bungler. You promised to show yourself to me yesterday, and you never appeared." ' " Never appeared," said he. " But I did, by my faith." ' " You did not." ' '• And did you see nothing," said Orthon, " when you leapt from jour bed ? " ' The Sieur de Corasse thought for a little ; then he answered. " Yes," he replied ; " as I was sitting on my bed and thinking of you, I noticed two long straws on the floor twisting about and playing together." ' " That was I," said Orthon. " Tliat was tlie form 1 had taken upon me." ' Said tlie Sieur de Corasse : " That is not enough. You must take another form, so that I may see you and know you." ' " You ask so uuich that I shall become weary of you 112 THE STOMY OF OUT HON and you will lose me," re- plied Ortlion. '"You will never be- come weary of me and I shall never lose you," an- swered the SieurdeCorasse; " if only I see you once, I shall be content." '" So be it," said Orthon ; " to-morrow you shall see me, and take notice that the first thing you see as you leave your room will be I." '"It is enough," spoke the Sieur de Corasse ; " and now go, for I fain would sleep." THE STORY OF OBTHON 113 ' So Orthon went ; and when it was the third hour next morning ' the Sieur de Corasse rose and di'essed as was his custom, and, leaving his chamber, came out into a gallery that looked mto the central court of the castle. He glanced down, and the first thing he saw was a sow, larger than any he had ever beheld, but so thin that it seemed nothing but skin and bone. The Sieur de Corasse was troubled at the sight of the pig, and said to his servants : " Set on the dogs, and let them chase out that sow." ' The varlets departed and loosened the dogs, and urged them to attack the sow, which uttered a great cry and looked at the Sieur de Corasse, who stood leaning against one of the posts of his chamber. They saw her no more, for she vanished, and no man could tell whither she had gone. ' Then the Sieur de Corasse entered into his room, pondering deeply, for he remembered the words of Orthon and said to himself : " I fear me that I ha\-e seen my messenger. I repent me that I have set my dogs upon him, and the more that perhaps he will never visit me again, for he has told me, not once but many times, that if I angered him he would depart from me." ' And in this he said well ; for Oithon caine no more to the castle of Corasse, and in less than a year its lord himself was dead." ' Six o'clock. B. 114 HOW GUSTAVUS VASA WON HIS KINGDOM "Vj EARLY four hundred years ago, on May 12, 1496, Gnstavns -L ' Vasa was born in an old house in Sweden. His father was a noble of a well-known Swedish family, and his mother could claim as her sister one of the bravest and most unfortunate women of her time. Now, it was the custom in those days that both boys and girls should be sent when very young to the house of some great lord to be taught their duties as pages or ladies-in-waiting, and to be trained in all sorts of accomplishments. So when Gustavus Vasa had reached the age of six or seven, he was taken away from all his brothers and sisters and placed in the household of his imcle by marriage, whose name was Bten Sture. At that time Sweden had had no king of her own for a hundred years, when the kingdom had become united with Norway and Denmark in the reign of Queen Margaret by a treaty that is known in history as the Union of Calmar (1397). As long as Queen Margaret lived the three kingdoms were well-governed and happy ; but her successors were by no means as wise as she, and at the period we are writing of the Danish stewards of King Hans and his son, Christian II., oppressed and ill-treated the Swedes in every possible way, and Sten Sture, regent though he was, had no power to protect them. From time to time the Danish kings came over to Sweden to look after their own interests, and on one of these visits King Hans saw little Gustavus Vasa at the house of Sten Sture in Stockholm. He is said to have taken notice of the boy, and to have exclaimed grimly that Gustavus would be a great man if he lived ; and the Regent, thinking that the less attention the King paid to his unwilling subjects the safer their heads would be, at once sent the boy back to his father. For some years Gustavus lived at home and had a merry time, learning to shoot by hitting a mark with his arrows before he was allowed any breakfast, and roaming all over the woods in his little HOW GUSTAVUS VASA WON HIS KINGDOM 115 coat of scarlet cloth. At thirteen he was sent for a time to school at Upsala, where he learned music as well as other things, and even Gustavus leaves school for good ! taufjht himself to make musical instruments. One day, however, the Danish schoolmaster spoke scornfully of the Swedes, and 1 2 116 HOW GUSTAVUS VASA WON HIS KINGDOM finsta\'ns, dashing the sword which he carried through the hook before him, vowed vengeance on all Danes, and walked out of the school for good. As far as we know, Gustavus probably remained with his father for the next few years, and we next hear of him in 1514 at the Court of Sten Sture the younger. Already he had obtained a reputation among his friends both for boldness and caution, and though so young had learned experience by carefully watching all tha.t was going on aroimd him. His enemies, too, even the wicked Archbishop Trolle of Upsala, had begun to fear him without knowing exactly why, and he had already made a name for himself by his courage at the Swedish victory of Briinkyrka, when the standard was borne by Gustavus through the thickest of the fight. This battle dashed to the ground the King's hopes of getting Sten Sture, the Regent, into his power by fair means, so he cried treachery to persuade the Swede to enter his ship. But the men of Stockholm saw through his wiles and declined this proposal, and the King was driven to offer the Swedes a meeting in a church, on condition that Gustavus Vasa and five other distinguished nobles should be sent first on board as hostages. This was agreed to ; but no sooner had the young men put off in their boat than a large Damsh vessel cut off their retreat, and they were at once carried off to Denmark as prisoners. For one moment it seemed likely that Giistavus would be hanged, and Sweden remain in slavery for manj^ years longer, and indeed, if his life was spared, it was only because Christian thought it might be to his own advantage. Still, spared it was, and the young man was delivered to the care of a distant relation in Jutland, who was to forfeit 400/. in case of his escape. Here things were made as pleasant to him as possible, and he was allowed to hunt and shoot, though always attended by keepers. One day, after he had behaved with such prudence that his keepers had almost given up vyatching him, he managed, Avhile strolling in the great park, to give them the slip, and to hide himself where there was no chance of anyone finding him. He contrived somehow to get hold of a pilgrim's dress ; then that of a cattie-driver, and in this disguise he made his way to the free city of Liibeck, and threw himself on the mercy of the burgo- master or mayor. By this time his enemies were on his track, and his noble gaoler. Sir Eric Bauer, claimed him as an escaped prisoner. But the people of Liibeck, who at that moment had a trade quarrel HOW GUSTAVUS VASA WON HIS KINGDOM 117 with Deniuark, declared that the fugitive was not a prisoner who had broken his parole, but a hostage who had been carried off by treacherj', and refused to give him up, though perhaps their own interest had more to do with their steadfastness than right and justice. As it was, Gustavus was held fast iii Liibeck for eight months before they would let him go, and it was not mitil May 1520 that he crossed the Baltic in a little fishing-smack, and sailed for Stockholm, then besieged by Danish ships and defended by the widow of the Regent. But finding the town closely invested, he made for Calmar, and after a short stay in the castle he found his waj' into the heart of the country, learning sadly at every step how the worst enemies of Sweden were the Swedes themselves, who betrayed each other to their Danish foes for jealousy and gold. I 'ike Prince Charlie, however, he was soon to find faithful hearts among his countrymen, and for every traitor there were at least a hundred who were true. While hiding on his father's property, he sent some of his tenants to Stockholm, to find out the state of affairs there. The news they brought was terrible. A fearful massacre, known in history as the Blood Bath, had taken place by order of the King. Citizens, bishops, nobles, and even servants had been executed in the public market, and the King's thirst for blood was not satisfied until some hundreds of Swedes had laid down their lives. Among those who fell on the first day was the father of Gustavus Vasa, who is said to have indignantly rejected the pardon offered him by the King for his fidelitj^ to his country. ' No,' he exclaimed ; ' let me die with all these honest men.' So he died, and liis son-in-law after him, and his wife, her mother, sister, and three daugliters were thrown into prison, where some of them were starved to death. To crown all, a price was set on the head of Gustavus. On hearing this last news Gustaviis resolved to take refuge in the province of Dalecarlia, and to trust to the loyalty of the peasants. By this time it was the end of November (1520), and the snow lay tliick upon the ground ; but this was ratlier in his favour, as his enemies would be less likely to pursue liim. So he ciit his hair short and put on the dress of a peasant, which in those days consisted of a short, thick jacket, breeches with huge buttons, and a low soft hat. Then he bought an axe and plunged into tlie forest. Here he soon made a friend for life in a very tall, strong woodcutter, known to his neighbours by the name of the 'Bear-slayer.' This wood- cutter was employed by a rich man, I'etersen by name, who had a 118 HOW GUSTAVUS VASA WON HIS KINGDOM large property near by, and had been at school with G ustavus Vasa at Upsala. But hearing that Danish spies were lurking around, Gustavus would not confide even in him, but patiently did what work was given him like a common servant. An accident betrayed liim. A maid-servant happened one day to see the golden collar that Gustavus wore next his skin, and told her master. Petersen then recognised his old schoolfellow; but knowing that he would lose his own head if he gave him shelter, he advised the young noble to leave his hiding-place, and take shelter with another old friend, Arendt, who had once served under him. Here he was received with open arms ; but this hospitality only concealed treachery, for his old comrade had formed a close friendship with the Danish stewards m ho ruled the land, and only wanted an opportunity to deliver Gustavus up to them. However, he was careful not to let his guest see anything of his plan, and even pretended to share his schemes for ridding the country of the enemy. So he hid Gustavus in an attic, where he assured him he would be perfectly safe, and left him, saying he would go round to all the neighbouring estates to enlist soldiers for their cause. But of course he was only going to give information about Gustavus, and to gain the reward. Now, it was only an accident that prevented his treachery being successful. The first man he applied to, though a friend to the Danes, scorned to take a mean advantage of anyone, and told the traitor to go elsewhere. Furiously angry, but greedy and determined as ever, the traitor set forth for the house of the Danish steward who lived nearest, well knowing that from him he would receive nothing but grati- tude. But the traitor's wife happened to be standing at her own door as her husband drove by, and guessed what had occurred and where he was going. She was an honest woman, who despised all tliat was base and underhand, so she stole out to one of her servants whom she could trust, and ordered him to make ready a sledge, for he woidd have to go on a journey. Then, in order that no one should know of Gustavus's escape imtil it was too late to overtake him, she let him down out of the window into the sledge, which drove off at once, across a frozen lake and jiast the copper-mines of Fahlun, to a little village at the far end, where Gustavus left his deliverer, giving him a beautiful silver dagger as a parting gift. Sheltered by one person after another, and escaping many dangers on the way, Gustavus found himself at last in the cottage of HOW GUSTAVUS VASA WON HIS KINGDOM 119 one of the royal foresters, where he receivetl a hospitable welcome from the man and his wife. But unknown to himself, Danish ' Lazy loon I Have you no work to do ? ' spies had lieen for some time on his track, and no sooner had Gustavns ^at 'lo'vn to wnvm liis tired limhs! hefnvp tlio f^<-p where 120 HOW GUSTAVUS VASA WON HIS KINGDOM the forester's wife was baking bread, than they entered and inc^uired if Gustavus Vasa had been seen to pass that way. Another moment and they nnght have become curious about the stranger sitting at tlie hearth, when the woman hastily turned round, and struck him on the shoulder with the huge spoon she held in her hand. ' Lazy loon ! ' she cried. ' Have you no work to do ? Off with you at once and see to your threshing.' The Danes only saw before them a common Swedish servant bullied bj^ his mistress, and it never entered their heads to ask an}' questions ; so once again Gustavus was saved. Next day the forester hid him under a load of hay, and prepared to drive him through the forest to the houses of some friends — foresters like himself — who lived in a distant village. But Gustavus was not to reach even this place witnout undergoing a danger different from those he had met with before ; for while they were jogging peacefully along the road they came across one of the numerous parties of Danes who were for ever scouring the country-, and on seeing the cart a man stepped up, and thrust through the hay with his spear. Gustavus, though wounded, managed not to cry out, but reached, faint with loss of blood, his next resting- place. After spending several days hidden among the boughs of a fir-tree, till the Danes began to think that their information must be false and Gustavus be looked for elsewhere, the fugitive was guided by one peasant after another through the forests till he found himself at the head of a large lake, and in the centre of many thickly-peopled villages. Here he assembled the dwellers in the country round, and spoke to them in the churchyard, telling of the wrongs that Sweden had suffered p.nd of her children that had been slain. The peasants were moved by his words, but thf y did not wish to plunge into a war till they were sure of being successful, so they told Gustavus that they imist find out something more before they took arms ; mean- time he was driven to seek a fresh hiding-place. Gustavus was terribly dejected at the dowmall of his hopes, for he had thought, with the help of the peasants, to raise at once the standard of rebellion ; still he saw that flight was theonl}- chance just now, and Norway seemed his best refuge. However, some fresh acts of tyranny on the part of their Danish masters did what Gusfcavus's own words had failed to do, and suddenly the peasants took their resolve and sent for Gustavus to be their leader. The messengers found him at the foot of the DovreFjeld Moun- HOW GUSTAVUS VASA WON HIS KINGDOM 121 tains between Norway and Sweeten, and he joyfully returned with them, rousing the peojjle as he went, till at last he had got together a force that far ontnumbered the army which was sent to meet it. Gustavus was not present at the first battle, which was fought on the banks of the Dale Eiver, for he was travelling about preach- ing a rising among the Swedes of the distant provinces, but he arrived just after, to find that the peasants had gained an over- whelming victory. The fruits of thia first victory were far-reaching. It gave the people confidence, thousands flocked to serve under Gustavus's banner, and within a few months the whole country, excepting Stockliolm and Calmar, was in his hands. Then the nobles, in gratitude to their deliverer, sought to proclaim him king, but this he refused as long as a single Swedish castle remained beneath the Danish yoke, so for two more years he ruled Sweden under the title of Lord Protector. Then in 1523, when Stockholm and Calmar at last surrendered, Gustavus Vasa was crowned king.' ' Cha.pma.u's IJislory o/ Gusldvus Vasa. 122 MONSIEUE DE BAYARD'S DUEL NOW, when Monsieur de Bayard was fighting in the kingdom of Naples, he made prisoner a vahant Spanish captain, Don Alonzo de Soto-Mayor by name, who, not Hkinghis situation, com- plained of the treatment he received, which he said was unworthy of his dignity as a knight. This was, however, quite absurd, and against all reason, for, as all the world knows, there never was a man more courteous than Monsieur de Bayard. At length, Mon- sieur de Bayard, wearied with the continued grumblings of the Spaniard, sent him a challenge This was at once accepted, whether the duel should be fought on foot or on horseback, for Don Alonzo refused to withdraw anything that he had said of the French knight. When the day arrived. Monsieur de la I'alisse, accompanied by two hundred gentlemen, appeared on the ground, escorting their champion Monsieur de Bayard, mounted on a beautiful horse, and dressed all in white, as a mark of humility, the old chronicler tells us. But Don Alonzo, to whom belonged the choice of arms, declared that he preferred to fight on foot, because (he pretended) he was not so skilful a horseman as Monsieur de Bayard, but really because he knew that his adversary had that day an attack of malarial fever, and he hoped to find him weakened, and so to get the better of him. Monsieur de la Palisse and Bayard's other supporters advised him, from the fact of his fever, to excuse him- self, and to insist on fighting on horseback ; but Monsieur de Bayard, who had never trembled before any man, would make no difficidties, and agreed to everything, which astonished Don Alonzo greatly, as he had expected a refusal. An enclosure was formed by a few large stones piled roughly one on another. Monsieur de Bayard placed himself at one end of the ground, accompanied by several brave captains, who all began to offer up prayers for their champion. Don Alonzo and his friends took up a position at the other end, MONSIEUR DE BAYAHD'S DUEL 123 and sent Bayard the weapons that they had chosen — namely, a short sword and a poignard. with a gorget and coat of mail. Monsieur de Bayard did not trouble himself enough about the matter to raise any objection. For second he had an old brother-at-arms, Bel-Arbre by name, and for keeper of the gi'ound Monsieur de la Palisse, who was very well skilled in all these things. The Spaniard also chose a second and a keeper of the ground. So when the •*y the surgeon, or to have any care from the other men, though The Captain shoots Mr. Cozens they begged to be allowed to carry him to their tent, but ordered that he should be left upon the ground, under a bit of canvas thrown over some bushes, until he died. This inhumanity on the part of Captain Cheap much embittered the men against him. Their numbers were now lessened, chiefly by famine, to one hundred souls; the weather was still tempestuous and rainy, and the difficulty of finding food daily increased. They had saved the long-boat from the wreck, and about this time John Bulkely, who had been a gunner on the 'Wager,' formed THE WRECK OF THE ' WAGER ' 203 a plan of trying to make the voyage home through the Straits of Magellan. The plan was proposed to the captain, and though he thought it wiser to pretend to fall in with it, he had no intention of doing so. And when Bulkely and his followers suggested that there should be some restrictions on his command, or that at least he should do nothing without consulting his ofiicers, the captain refused to consent to this; whereupon they imprisoned him, in- tending to take him to England on the charge of having murdered Mr. Cozens. But when the boats were ready for sailing they found there would not be enough room for everybody. So the captain, Mr. Hamilton, and the doctor were left on the island. John Byron did not know they were going to do this until the last moment. There were eighty-one men who left the island, who were distributed in the long-boat, the cutter, and the barge. After they had been out about two days it was thought neces- sary to send back to the old station for some spare canvas. John Byron was sent back with the barge on this errand. When he was well away from the long-boat he told those with him he did not mean to return, but to rejoin Captain Cheap; and they agreed to do so too. Although they were welcomed by those left on the island, there was little food for so many mouths, as almost everything had been carried off by the voyagers, and for a considerable time they were forced to live upon a kind of seaweed called slaugh, which with the stalks of wild celery they fried in the tallow of some candles they had saved. This poor food reduced them to a terrible condition of weakness. At last a really fair day broke upon them, when they went out to the remains of the wreck, and had the good fortune to hook up out of the bottom, three casks of beef which they brought safely to shore. The good food gave them renewed strength and energy, and again they became very anxious to leave the island. Accordingly they launched boMi boats on December 15. The captain. Lieutenant Hamilton, and John Byron were in the barge with nine men, and Mr. Campbell in the yawl ^\•itll six. And tlius they set out on their journey northward. Then followed weary days, during which they rowed over high seas, and weary nigiit.s of exposure and cold, when they landed on some barren shore for rest and to v/ait for da.\light. On Christmas Eve they found themselves tossing on a wide l)av, '204 THE WliECK OF THE nVAGEIi' find unable by tlie force of the currents to double the rocky head- lands that lay in front of them. Unable, too, by the fury of the breakers to make the land or to find harbour, they were forced to lie outside all that night upon their oars. They were so hungry then that they ate their shoes, which were made of raw sealskin. On Christmas Day some of them landed, and had the good fortune to kill a seal. Though the two men who were left in each boat to take care of it could see their companions on shore eating seal, they were unable to have any themselves, as again when night came on the wind blew very hard, and the mighty breakers beat with pulse-like regularity on the shore. John Byron, who had fallen into a comfortless sleep in the boat, was suddenly awakened by a shriek, and saw the yawl turned bottom upwards and go down. One man was drowned, the other was thrown up by the breakers on the beach and saved by the people there. At this place Mr. Hamilton, who was with the shore party, shot at a large sea-lion, which he hit with two balls ; and when the brute presently charged at him with open mouth, he thrust his bayonet down its throat, as well as a great part of the barrel of his gim. ^ But the sea-Hon bit this in two with the greatest ease, and in spite of all its wounds, and all other efforts to kill it, got away. As they had lost the yawl there was not enough of room to take all the men away from this place, therefore four of the marines agreed to remain and to try to make their way on foot to a more habitable country-. The captain gave them guns and food, and as the boat put off, they stood upon the beach and gave three cheers, and shouted ' God bless the King.' The others made another attempt to double the cape, but the wind, the sea, and currents were too strong for them, and again they failed. So disheartened were they now, that caring little for life, they agreed to return to their original station on "Wager's Island, and to end their days in miserable existence there. They went back to the place where they had left the four marines in order to try to get some seal for their return passage and to take these men back with them, but when they searched all traces of them had gone. It was here that the surgeon found in a curious cave the bodies of several Indians that were stretched out on a kind of platform. THE WRECK OF THE ' WAGEE 205 The flesh on the bodies had become perfectly dry and hard, and it was thought that it must be the kind of bm-ial given to the great men or Caciques of the Indians. After a terrible journey back to Wager's Island they reached it aUve, though again worn out by hunger and fatigue. The iirst thing they did on reaching their old station was to bury the corpse of the man who had been murdered on Mount Misery by James Mitchell, for the men thought that all their mis- fortunes had arisen from the neglect of this proper duty to the Mr. Hamilton's fight with the sea-lion dead, and they were sure that the restless spirit of this person haunted the waters around them at night, as they heard strange and unearthly cries from the sea. And one night, in bright moon- light, they saw and heard something which looked like a human being swimming near the shore. Inconsistent as this may seem, they were soon so terribly driven by hunger that tlie last dreadful suggestion for food was beginning to be whispered amongst them, when fortunately some Indians from the island of Chiloc appeared. It was supposed they had heard of the wreck from those first Indians who had visited them, 206 THE WliKCK OF THE 'WAGER' and had como to collect old iron iuid nails, which they value very niucli. Tliey were able to persuade the Cacique, who was a Christian named Martini, to promise to show them the safest and best way to some of the Spanish Settlements. Once more the barge was launched, with the fifteen souls on board who now remained on the island of the shipwrecked crew. They followed their Indian guide by day for some time, during Avhich their sufferings were so terrible that it was no unusual thing for one of their number to fall back dying from the oars, mean- while beseeching his comrades for two or three mouthfuls of food which they had not. Captain Cheap, who was always well provided with seal by tlie Indians, again showed how regardless he could be of the sufferings of others, and often though he could have relieved his men by giving up a small portion of his own food when he heard their heart- rending appeals for it, let them die at their posts unheedful of iheir want and misery. They were rather taken in by their Christian Indian Martini. He made them row the heavy barge a very long way up a river and then deserted them for several days. They found he wished to secure the barge here, which was to be a part of his reward, and M liicli was too heavy to be carried over the rocks of the headlands in the way they carried their own canoes — and by which.they escaped the heavy seas that ran round those places. However, the Caci(iue returned again, and after a time he con- sented to take the captain with John Byron to row his canoe on to another part of the coast where there were more Indians. They reached this camp late one evening, and while the captain was at once taken by Martini to a wigwam, Byron was left outside to shift for himself as best he could. He was so exhausted that all he could do was to creep into the shelter of a wigwam, and chance what fate might bring him. These wigwams were built of branches of trees placed in a circle, which are bound at the top by a kind of creejier called supple-jack. The frame of the wigwam is covered with boughs and bark. The fire is lit in the very centre, round which the Indians lie. As there is no outlet for the smoke, it is not a very comfortable place to sleep in. There were only two Indian women in the wigwam ins of finding out whether it was a pretence to see what I should do. But after making a noise and walking about, sometimes touching them with my feet, I found that they reall}' slept. My heart exulted at the hope of freedom, but it sank again when I thought how easily I might be recaptured. I resolved, if possible, to get one of their guns, and if discovered to die in self-defence rather than be taken ; and I tried several times to take one from under their heads, where they always secure them. But in vain ; I could not have done so without rousing them. So, trusting myself to the divine protection, I set out defence- loss. Such was my terror, however, that at first I halted every four or five yards, looking fearfully towards the spot where I had left the Indians, lest they should wake and miss me. But when I was about two hundred yards off I mended my pace, and made all the haste I could to the foot of the mountains. Suddenly I was struck with the gi"eq,test terror and disma^^ hearing behind me the fearful cries and bowlings of the savages, far w'orse than the roaring of lions or the shrieking of hyaenas ; and I knew that they had missed me. The more my dread increased the faster I hurried, scarce knowing where I trod, sometimes falling and bruising myself, cutting my feet against the stones, yet, faint and maimed as I was, rushing on through the woods. I fied till daybreak, then crept into a hollow tree, where I lay concealed, thanking God for so far having favoured my escape. I liad nothing to eat but a little corn. But my repose did not last long, for in a few hours I heard the voices of the savages near the tree in which I was hid threatening me with what they woi;ld do if they caught me, which I already guessed too well. However, at last they left the spot where I heard them, and I stayed in my shelter the rest of that day without any fresh alarms. At niglit I ventured out again, tremblingat every bush I passed, and thinking each twig that touched me a savage. Tlie next day I concealed myself in the same manner, and at night ti-avelled •2-i4 PETER WILLIAMSON forwiiril, kccpin.i; off the main road, used by the Indians, as much as possible, which made my journey far longer, and more painful than I can express. But how shall I describe my terror when, on the fourth nifj;lit, a party of Indians lying round a small fire which I had not seen, hearing the rustling I made among the leaves, started from the ground, seizing their arms, and ran out into the wood ? I did not know in my agony of foar whether to stand still or rush on. I expected nothing but a terrible death ; but at that very moment a troop of swine made towards the place where the savages were. They, seeing the hogs, guessed that their alarm had been caused by them, and returned merrily to their fire and lay down to sleep again. As soon as this happened I pursued my way more cavitiously and silently, but in a cold perspiration with terror at the peril I had just escaped. Bruised, cut, and shaken, I still held on my path till break of day, when I lay down under a huge log, and slept undisturbed till noon. Then, getting up, I climbed a great hill, and, scanning the country round, I saw, to my unspeak- able joy, some habitations of white people, about ten miles distant. My pleasure was somewhat damped by not being able to get among them that night. But they were too far off; therefore, when evening fell, I again conunended myself to Heaven, and lay down, utterly exhausted. In the morning, as soon as I woke, I made towards the nearest of the cleared lands which I had seen the day before ; and that afternoon I reached the house of John Bull, an old acquaintance. I knocked at the door, and his wife, who opened it, seeing me in such a frightful condition, flew from me like lightning, screaming, into the house. This alarmed the whole family, who immediately seized their arms, and I was soon greeted by the master with his gun in his hand. But when I made myself known — for at first he took me for an Indian— he and all his family welcomed me with great joy at finding me alive ; since they had been told I was murdered by the savages some months ago. No longer able to bear up, I fainted and fell to the ground. When they had recovered me, seeing my weak and famished state, they gave me some food, but let me at first partake of it very sparingl3^ Then for two days and nights they made me welcome, and did their utmost to bring back my strength, with the kindest hospitality. Finding myself once more able to ride, I borrowed a PETEB WILLIAMSON 225 horse and some clothes of these good people, and set out for my father-in-law's house in Chester county, about a hundred and forty miles away. I reached it on January 4, 1755 ; but none of the family could believe their eyes when they saw me, having lost all hope on hearing that I had fallen a prey to the Indians. They received me with great joy ; but when I asked for my dear wife I foimd she had been dead two montlis, and this fatal news greatly lessened the delight I felt at my deliverance. Q 2-26 A WONDEEFUL VOYAGE THIS is a story of a man who, when iu command of his ships and when everything went prosperously with him, was so overbear- ing and cruel that some of his men, in desperation at the treatment they received, mutinied against him. But the story shows another side of his character in adversity which it is impossible not to admire. In 1787 Captain Bligh was sent from England to Otaheite in charge of the ' Bounty,' a ship which had been specially fitted out to carry young plants of the breadfruit tree, for transplantation to the West Indies. ' The breadfruit grows on a spreading tree, about the size of a large apple tree ; the fruit is round, and has a thick tough rind. It is gathered when it is full-grown, and while it is still green and hard ; it is then baked in an oven until the rind is black and scorched. This is scraped off, and the inside is soft and white like the crumb of a penny loaf.' The Otaheitans use no other bread but the fruit kind. It is, therefore, little wonder that the West Indian planters were anxious to grow this valuable fruit in their own islands, as, if it flourished there, food would be provided with little trouble for their servants and slaves. In the j)assage to Otaheite, Captain Bligh had several distur- bances with his men. He had an extremely irritable temper, and would often fly into a passion and make most terrible accusations, and use most terrible language to his officers and sailors. On one occasion he ordered the crew to eat some decayed pumpkins, instead of their allowance of cheese, which he said they had stolen from the ship's stores. The pumpkin was to be given to the men at the rate of one pound of pumpkin to two pounds of biscuits. The men did not like accepting the substitute on these terms. When the captain heard this, he was infuriated, and ordered the A WONDERFUL VOYAGE 227 first man of each mess to be called by name, at the same time say- ing to them, ' I'll see who will dare refuse the pumpkin or anything else I may order to be served out.' Then, after swearing at them in a shocking way, he ended by saying, ' I'll make you eat grass, or anything else you can catch before I have done with yon,' and threatened to flog the first man who dared to complain again. "While they were at Otaheite several of the sailors were flogged for small offences, or without reason, and on the other hand, during the seven months they stayed at the island, both officers and men were allowed to spend a great deal of time on shore, and were given the greatest possible liberty. Therefore, when the breadfruit plants were collected, and they weighed anchor on April 4 in 1787, it is not unlikely they were loth to return to the strict discipline of the ship, and to leave an island so lovely, and where it was possible to live in the greatest luxury without any kind of labour. From the time thej' sailed until April 27, Christian, the third officer, had been in constant hot water with Captaiia Bligh. On the afternoon of that day, when the captain came on deck, he missed some cocoanuts that had been heaped up between the guns. He said at once that they had been stolen, and that it could not have happened without the officers knowing of it. "When they told him they had not seen any of the crew touch them, he cried, 'Then yon must have taken them yom'selves ! ' After this he questioned them separately ; when he came to Christian, he answered, ' I do not know, sir, but I hope you do not think me so mean as to be guilty of stealing j-om's.' The captain swore terribly, and said, ' Yoii must have stolen them from me, or you would be able to give a better account of them ! ' He turned to the others with nnich more abuse, and saying, ' D — n you ! you scoundrels, you are all thieves alike, and combine with the men to rob me. I suppose you'll steal my yams next, but I'll sweat you for it, you rascals ! I'll make half of you jump over- board before you get through Endeavour Straits ! ' Then he turned to the clerk, giving the order to ' stop the vil- lains' grog, and to give them but half a pound of yams to-morrow : if they steal tlicm, I'll reduce them to a (quarter.' That niglit Christian, who was hardly less passionate and resentful than the captain, told two of the midshipmen, Stewart and ITayward, that he intended to leave tlie ship on a I'aft, as lie could no longer endure the captain's suspicion and insults. He was q2 228 A WONDEEFUL VOYAGE very angry and excited, and made some preparations for carrying out liis plan, though these had to be done with the greatest secrecy and care. It was his duty to take the morning watch, which is from four to eight o'clock, and this time he thought would be a good opportu- nity to make his escape. He had only just fallen into a restless slumber when he was called to take his turn. He got iTp with his brain still alert with the sense of injury and The captain guarded by the mutineers VvTong, and most curiously alive to seize any opportunity which might lead to an escape from so galling a service. On reaching the deck, he found the mate of the watch had fallen asleep, and that the other midshipman was not to be seen. Then he made a sudden determination to seize the ship, and rushing down the gangway ladder, whispered his intention to Matthew Quintal and Isaac Martin, seamen, both of whom had been flogged. They readily agreed to join him, and several others of the watch were found to be quite as willing. A WONDERFUL VOYAGE 229 Someone went to the armonrer for the lien's of tlie arm chest, telUng him they wanted to fire at a shark alongside. Christian then armed those men whom he thought he could trust, and putting a guard at the officers' cabins, went himself with three other men to the captain's cabin. It was just before sunrise when they dragged him from his bed, and tying his hands behind his back, threatened him with instant death if he should call for help or offer any kind of resistance. He was taken up to the quarter deck in his nightclothes, and made to stand against the mizzen mast with four men to guard him. Christian then gave orders to lower the boat in which he intended to cast them adrift, and one by one the men were allowed to come up the hatchways, and made to go over the side of the ship into it. Meanwhile no heed was given to the remonstrances, reasoning, and pi'ayers of the captain, saving threats of death unless he was quiet. Some twme, canvas, sails, a small cask of water, and a quadrant and compass were put into the boat, also some bread and a small quantity of rum and wines. "When this was done the officers were brought up one by one and forced over the side. There was a great deal of rough joking at the captain's expense, who was still made to stand by the mizzen-mast, and much bad language was used by everybody. When all the officers were out of the ship. Christian said, ' Come, Captam Bligh, yom- officers and men are now in the boat, and you must go with them ; if you make the least resistance you will be instantly put to death.' He was lowered over the side with his hands still fastened behind his back, and directly after the boat was veered astern with a rope. Someone with a little pity for them threw in some pieces of pork and some clothes, as well as two or three cutlasses ; these were the only arms given. There were altogether nineteen men in this pitiful strait. Al- though much of the conduct of the mutineers is easily understood with regard to the captain, the wholesale crime of thrusting so many innocent persons out on to the mercy of tlie winds and waves, or out to the death from hunger and thirst which they must have believed would inevitably overtake them, is incomprehensible. As the ' Bounty ' sailed away, leaving them to their fate, those in the boat cast anxious looks to the captain as wondering what should then be done. At a time when his mind must have been full of the injury he had received, and the loss of his ship at a moment when his 230 A WONDEBFUL VOYAGE plans were so flourishing and he had every reason to congi-atnlate himself as to the ultimate success of the undertaking, it is much in his favour that he seems to have realised their unfortunate position and to have been determined to make the best of it. His first care was to see how much food they had. On ex- aminuag it they found there was a hundred and fifty pounds of bread, thirty-two pounds of pork, six quarts of rum, six bottles of wine, and twenty-eight gallons of water. As they were so near Tofoa they determined to pi;t in there for a supply of breadfruit and water, so that they might keep their other provisions. But after rowing along the coast for some time, they only discovered some cocoani;t trees on the top of a stony cliff, against which the sea beat furiously. After several attempts they succeeded in getting about twenty nuts. The second day they failed to get anything at all. However, some natives came down to the boat and made inqtiiries about the ship ; but the caj)tain unfortunately told the men to say she had been lost, and that only they were saved. This proved most disastrous ; for the treacherous natives, finding they were defenceless, at first brought them presents of breadfruit, plantains and cocoaniits, rendering them all more hopeful and cheerful by their kindness. But towards night their numbers increased in a most alarming manner, and soon the whole beach was lined by them. Presently they began knocking stones together, by which the men knew they intended to make an attack upon them. They made haste to get all the things into the boat, and all but one, named John Norton, succeeded in reaching it. The natives rushed upon this poor man and stoned him to death. Those in the boat put to sea with all haste, but were again terribly alarmed to find themselves followed by natives in canoes from which they renewed the attack. Many of the sailors were a good deal hurt by stones, and they had no means at all with which to protect themselves. At last they threw some clothes overboard ; these tempted the enemy to stop to pick them up, and as soon as night came on they gave up the chase and returned to the shore. All the men now begged Captain Bligh to take them towards England ; but he told them there could be no hope of relief until they reached Timor, a distance of full twelve hundred leagues ; and that, if they wished to reach it, they would have to content them- A WONDERFUL VOYAGE 233 selves with one ounce of bread and a quarter of a pint of water a day. Tliey all readily agi'eed to this allowance of food, and made a most solemn oath not to depart fi'om their promise to be satis- fied with the small quantity. This was about May 2. After the compact was made, the boat was put in order, the men divided into watches, and they bore away under a reefed lug-foresail. A fiery sun rose on the ord, which is commonly a sign of rough weather, and fiUed the almost hopeless derelicts with a new terror. In an hour or two it blew very hard, and the sea ran so high that their sail was becahned between the waves ; they did not dare to set it when on the top of the sea, for the water rushed in over the stern of the boat, and they were obliged to bale with all their might. The bread was in bags, and in the greatest danger of being spoiled by the wet. They were obhged to throw some rope and the spare sails overboard, as well as all the clothes but what they wore, to lighten the boat, then the carpenter's tool-chest was cleared and the bread put into it. They were all very wet and cold, and a teaspoonful of rum was served to each man, with a (Quarter of a breadfruit which was so bad that it could hardly be eaten ; but the captain was determined at all risks to keep to the coiaipact they had entered into, and to make their provisions last eight weeks. In the afternoon the sea ran even higher, and at night it became very cold ; but still they did not dare to leave off baling for an in- stant, though their legs and arms were numb with fatigue and wet. In the morning a teaspoonful of rum was served to all, and five small cocoanuts divided for their dinner, and everyone was satis- fied. When thp gale had subsided they examined the bread, and found a great deal of it had become mouldy and rotten ; but even this was carefully kept and used. The boat was now near some islands, but they were afraid to go on shore, as the natives might attack them ; while being in sight of land, where they might replenish their poor stock of provisions and rest themselves, added to their misery. One morning they hooked a fish, and were o^■erjoyed at their good fortune ; but in trying to get it into the boat it was lost, and again they had to content themselves with the damaged bread and small allowance of water for their supper. They were dreadfully- cramped for room, and were obliged to 234 A WONDEBFUL VOYAGE manage so that hall' their mimher should lie down in the bottom of the boat or upon a chest, while the others sat up and kept watch : their limbs became so stiff from being constantly wet, and from want of space to stretch them in, that after a few hours' sleep they were hardly able to move. About May 7 they passed what the captain supposed must be the Fiji Islands, and two large canoes put off and followed them for some time, but in the afternoon they gave up the chase. It rained heavily that day, and everyone in the boat did his best to catch some water, and they succeeded in increasing their stock to thirtj-four gallons, besides having had enough to drink for the first time since they had been cast adrift ; but the rain made them very cold and miserable, and as they had no dry things their shiverings were terrible. The next morning they had an ounce and a half of pork, a tea- spoonful of rmn, half a pint of cocoanut milk, and an omice of bread for breakfast, which was quite a large meal for them. The rum, though (or because) in such small quantities, is said to have been of the greatest service to them. Through fifteen weary days and nights of ceaseless rain they loiled, sometimes through fierce storms of thunder and lightning, and before terrific seas lashed into foam and fury by swift and sudden squalls, with only their miserable pittance of bread and water to keep body and soul together. Now and then a little rum was given after any extra fatigue of baling, but only at the times set apart for meals. In this rain and storm the little sleep they got only added to their discomfort, save for the brief forgetfi;lness it brought ; for they had to lie down in water in the bottom of the boat, and with no covering but the streaming clouds above them. The captain then advised them to wring their clothes through sea- water, which they found made them feel much warmer for a time. On May 17 everyone was ill and complaining of great pain, and begging for more food ; but the captain refused to increase their allowance, though he gave them all a small quantity of rum. Until the 24th they flew before the wild seas that swept over stem and stern of their boat, and kept them constantly baling. Some of them now looked more than half dead from starvation, but no one suffered from thirst, as they had absorbed so much water through the skin. A fine morning dawned on the 25th, when they saw the sun for A WONDERFUL VOYAGE 235 the first time for fifteen days, and were able to eat their scanty allowance in more comfort and warmth. In the afternoon there were numbers of birds called boobies and noddies near, which are never seen far from land. The captain took this opportunity to look at the state of their bread, and found if they did not exceed their allowance there was enough to last for twenty-nine days, when they hoped to reach Timor. That afternoon some noddies came so near the boat that one was caught. These bhds are about the size of a small pigeon ; it was divided into eighteen parts and given by lot. The men were much amused when they saw the beak and claws fall to the lot of the captain. The bird was eaten, bones and all, with bread and water, for dinner. Now they were in calmer seas they were overtaken by a new trouble. The heat of the sun became so great that many of them were overcome by faintness, and lay in the bottom of the boat in an apathetic state all day, only rousing themselves towards evening, when the catching of bhds was attempted. On the morning of the 28th the sound of breakers could be heard plainly; they had reached the Great Barrier Eeef, which runs up much of the east coast of Australia. After some little time a passage nearly a quarter of a mile in width was discovered through the reef, and they were carried by a strong current into the peaceful waters which lie within the Barrier. For a little time they were so overjoyed that their past troubles were forgotten. The dull blue-gre^- lines of the mainland, with its white patches of glaring sandhills, could be seen in the distance, and that afternoon thej' landed on an island. They found the rocks aroimd it were covered with ofysters and huge clams, which could easily be got at low tide. Some of their party sent out to reconnoitre returned greatly pleased at having foimd plenty of fresh water. A fire was made by help of a small magnifying-glass. Among the things thrown into the boat from the ship was a small copper pot ; and thus with a mixture of oysters, bread, and pork a stew was made, and everyone had plenty to eat. The day after they landed was the 29th of May, the anniversary of the restoration of King Charles II., and as the captain thought it applied to their own renewed health and strength, he named it Restoration Island. After a few days' rest, which did much to revive the men, and 236 A WONDEEFUL VOYAGE wlien tliey liad liiled all their vessels with water and had gathered a large siipph' of oysters, they were ready to go on again. As they were about to start everybody was ordered to attend prayers, and as they were embarking about twenty naked savages cauie running and shouting towards them, each carrying a long barbed spear, but the English made all haste to put to sea. For several days they sailed over the lake-like stillness of the Barrier reef-bound waters, and past the bold desolations of the Queensland coast, every headland and bay there bearing the names Cook gave them only a few years before, and which still tell us by that nomenclatm-e each its own story of disappointment and hope. Still making way to the north, they passed many more islands and keys, the onward passage growing hot and hotter, until on June 3, when they doubled Cape York, the peninsula which is all but unique in its northward bend, they were again in the open sea. By this time many of them were ill with malaria, then for the first time some of the wine which they had with them was used. But the little boat still bravely made its way with its crew, whose faces were so hollow and ghastly that they looked lilie a crew of spectres, sailing beneath the scorching sun that beat down from the pale blue of the cloudless sky upon a sea hardly less blue in its greater depths. Only the hope that they would soon reach Timor seemed to rouse them from a state of babbling delirium or fitful slumber. On the 11th the captain told them they had passed the meridian of the east of Timor ; and at three o'clock on the next morning they sighted the land. It was on Sundaj-, June 14, when they arrived at Company Bay, and were received with every kindness by the people. Thus ended one of the most remarkable voyages that has ever been made. They had been sent out with provisions only sufficient for their number for five days, and Captain Bligh had, by his care- ful calculation, and determination to give each man only that equal portion they had agreed to accept, made it last for fift?/ days, diu-ing which time they had come three thousand six hundred and eighteen nautical miles. There had been days when the men were so hunger-driven that they had besought him with pitiful prayers for more to eat, and A WONDERFUL VOYAGE 237 when it was his painful duty to refuse it ; and times, as they passed those islands where plentiful food could be got, when he had to tmn a deaf ear to their longings to land. He had to endure the need of food, the cramped position, the uneasy slumber, as did his men ; as well as the more perfect knowledge of their dangers. There had been days and nights while lie worked out their bearings when he had to be propped up as he took the stars or smi. It was, therefore Captain Bligli's good seamanship, his strict discipline and fain. ess in the method of giving food and wine to those who were sick, that enabled them to land at Timor with the whole of their number alive, with the exception of the one man who was stoned to death hy the savages at Tofoa. 238 THE PITCAIRN ISLANDERS IT will be remembered that nothing had been heard of the ' Bounty ' since she was seen off Point Vemis on the morning of Septem- ber 22, 1789. In 1809, just twenty years after, when Captain Folger, of the American ship ' Topaz,' landed at Pitcairn Island, one of the most remote of the islands in the Pacific, he found there a solitary Englishman and five Otaheitan women and nineteen children. The man, who gave his name as Alexander Smith, said he was the only remaining person of the nine who had escaped in the ' Bounty.' Although this information was given to the Admiralty shortly after, it was not until the year 1814, when the ' Briton,' under the command of Sir Thomas Staines, and the ' Tagus,' under that of Captain Pipon, were cruising in the Pacific, that one day on which the ships were sailing in the same direction about six leagues apart, both commanders were greatly surprised to see an island in lat. 24° 40' and long. 130° 24' W. They were puzzled to know what it could be, as Pitcairn Island (named after a son of Major Pitcairn who was lost in the ' Am-ora '), the only one known in the neighbourhood, was marked on their charts as in long. 133° 24' W., more than three degrees out. They thought they had made a new discover^', and as they ran in for the land they were astonished to see some neatly-built huts surrounded by gardens and plantations. Some people were seen coming down the cliff with canoes on their shoulders. Presently one was launched and made off through the heavy surf towards the ships. They were more surprised than ever when one of the young men in it cried out in English as they came alongside, ' Won't you heave us a rope, now ? ' He sprang up the side of the ship swiftly. When on deck he told Sir Thomas Staines and Captain Pipon, when they asked him wlio he was, that his name was Thursday October Christian, and that he TEE PITCAIEN ISLANDEBS >39 was the son of the late Fletcher Christian by an Otaheitan mother ; that he was the first born on the island, and his name was given him as he had been born on a Thursday in October. He was now twenty-four years of age, and had a fine muscidar figure, dark hair, and a brownish complexion, and ' in his good-natured and benevo- lent countenance he had all the features of an honest English face.' He wore no clothmg except a small piece of cloth about his loins ' / hH The Pitcau-n islanders on board the English frigate and a straw hat trimmed with cock's feathers. He spoke English correctly and pleasantly both as to grammar and pronunciation. He also told them he was married to a woman much older than himself, one of tliose who had come witli his father from Otalieite. His companion was a fine boy of about seventeen or eighteen years, named George Young, son of Young the mids]iii)man. The islanders were much surprised at the many things new to 240 THE PITCAIBN ISLANDEBS them in the sliip, at tlie snna, aiul everything; around them. They were greatly entertained at the sight of a little dog. ' Oh, what a pretty little thing it is ! ' exclaimed Young. ' I know it is a dog, for I have heard of such an animal.' The young men told the captains of many of the events that had happened among the first settlers ; but said that John Adams, now an old man, could tell them much more. He was the only surviving Englishman that came away in the ' Bounty,' and at that time he was called Alexander Smith. The captains determined to go on shore to see Adams, and to hear from him the true story of Christian's fate, and of that of his companions. Adams, who had been concealed since the arrival of the ships, when he found that the two captains had landed and were not armed, and that they did not intend to take him prisoner, came to the beach to meet tliem, and brought his wife with him, who was a very old woman and nearly blind. After so many years the sight of the King's uniform no doubt brought back the scene of the ' Bounty ' to Adams, for at first he was very nervous and ill at ease. However, when Sir Thomas Staines assured him they were not there with any intention of taking him away, that they were not even aware that such a person as himself existed, he regained confidence, and then told them he had taken the name of John Adams since the sole care of the women and children on the island had fallen upon him. He pretended he had not taken any great share in the mutiny, that he was sick in bed when it took place, and that he had been roused up and compelled to take a musket in his hand. He said he was now ready and willing to go back to England in one of the ships. When the islanders heard him say this, all the women and children wept bitterly, and the young men stood motionless and absorbed in grief. When the officers again assured them that he shonld on no account be molested, the people were overcome with joy and gratitude. Adams then told them of the fate of the ' Bounty ' and of the rest of the mutineers. It is easy to suppose that when Christian sailed for the last time from Otaheite his mind was full of misgiving; that he bitterly repented the rash act by which the ship had fallen into his hands and l)y which in all probabihty nineteen men had lost their lives, THE PITCAIBN ISLAXDEliS 241 and also the wrecked and criminal lives of his followers. The picture of the derelict crew in their little boat was ever in his mind as he had last seen them watching with despaii'ing eyes their ship sail away ; and again as distance blurred all form, and it lay a blot on the sunny waters, immediately before it was hidden by the horizon line. That blot became ever blacker and heavier to his mental vision as one by one his projects failed. A sullen and morose outcast for ever from civilisation, he sailed out into the miknown seas with his little band of desperate followers, to find if possible some solitary island, some miknown spot, where they might be lost for ever from the world. Curiously, the place which he pictured, the object for which he sought, was soon after given to him to find. Its steep cliffs rise from the sea precipitously, and beyond and above them a ridge of rocky hills runs from north to south, fr'om which, again, two momitainous peaks of a thousand feet and more in height stand up like sentinels. At a little distance from the coast-lins a white wall of surf lashes itself into fury, and breaks everlastingly over the hidden reefs that raise so formidable a guard around the island as to render safe landing unpossible save only at particular places and times. Encouraged by this forbidding coast-line, after they had sailed all round the island they effected a landing, and finding it unin- habited, they decided to make it their home. The ' Bounty ' was run into an inlet between the cliffs, and after she had been dis- mantled and her materials used for building houses, in 1790 they burnt her, as they feared she might attract the notice of an}' ship that should chance to pass. The first thing they did after their arrival was to di\ide the land into nine equal parts, giving none to the Otaheitan men, who it is said had been carried off' fi'om their own island by force. At first they were kindly treated by the white men; but afterwards they made them their .slaves. AYhen they had been on the island a few weeks Christian became more gloomy and taciturn, and his conduct to the others grew more overbearing and unreasonable day b^' day. Fear entered into his soul, and he looked with dislike and suspicion upon all around him, shunned their companionship and sought a place where he could be alone with his dark thoughts. Up at the c.\treme end of the ridge of hills that runs across the 11. Xi 242 THE PITCAIBN ISLANDERS island the almost inaccessible cave may still be seen to which he carried a store of provisions and ammunition, and thus shut himself off from the others, and with only the sound of the roaring breakers as they beat on the shore below to disturb his solitude, the madman dwelt alone with his terrible history of the past. One story is that in a fit of maniacal insanity he flung himself over the rocks into the sea. Another that he was shot by one of the mutineers whilst digging in a plantation. The accounts are contradictory. But whether from suicide or murder, his death happened within a year after he landed at Pitcairn Island. For about two years, while they all worked at the building of the houses and at cultivating the ground, the Otalieitan men toiled without a murmur. But when Williams, who had lost his wife, insisted that he would take one of theirs or leave the island in one of the 'Bounty's' boats, the other Englishmen, who did not want to part with him, compelled one of the Otaheitans to give his wife to him. From this time the Otaheitans became discontented, until the man whose wife had been taken away was murdered in the woods ; then things went on more quietly for a year or two longer, when two of the most desperate and cruel of the mutineers. Quintal and M'Koy, at last drove them to form a plot to destroy their op]3ressors. A day was fixed by them to attack and put to death all the Englishmen when they were at work in the yam plots. They killed Martin and Brown, one with a maul, the other with a musket, while Adams made his escape, though he was wounded in the shoulder by a bullet. Young, who was a great favourite with the women, was hidden by them during the attack, while M'Koy and Quintal fled to the woods. That night all the native men were murdered by the widows of the Europeans. This happened in 1793. From that time till 1798 the colonists went on quietly, until ]\I'Koy, who had once been employed in a Scotch distillery, and had for some time been making experiments on the ti root, succeeded in extracting from it an intoxicating liquor. After this Quintal also gave his whole time to making the spirit, and in consequence the two men were constantly drunk, and in one of his fits of delirium M'Koy threw himself fi:om a cliff, and was instantly killed. Quintal became more and more unmanageable, ' i'HE ilADilAN DWEliX ALONJS K2 THE PITCAIBN ISLANDERS 245 and frequently threatened to destroy Adams and Young— who. knowing that he would carry out his threat, determined to kill him. This they did by felling him with an axe as they would an ox. Thus it was that at last only two men were left on the island, Adams and Young. The latter, who was of a quiet and studious nature, resolved to have px-ayers every morning and evening, and regular services on Sunday, and to teach the children, of whom there were nineteen, several of them then being between the ages of seven and nine years. Young, however, did not live long, but died of asthma about a year after the murder of Quintal. ^i^^,!«S 'If :|3f : ,|!t g^l ;'i/>',- Old John Adams teaches tlie children In their beautiful island of the sea, where the lordly banyans grow, and where the feathery cocoanut palms stand boldly along the cliffs, or here and there fringe the rocky beach— for in this temperate climate just without the tropics there are but few trees and vegetables that will not grow — there, unknown for many years to the world, and far away from its busy jar and fret, the simple and kindly natures that these children of Pitcairn Island must have inherited from their Otaheitan mothers were trained to an almost perfect sense of duty and piety by old John Adams. ^Yith a Bible and Prayer-book to aid him he persevered with his self-imposed task. It was a task that must often have cost him mucli labour and patient studJ^ for though he could read lie was not able to write until he was a very old man. 246 THE PITCAIR'^ ISLANDERS Though in the eyes of the law his cvimc can never be wiped out, in the eyes of humanit3% his sincere repentance and long and tender devotion to his charge — a charge that ended only on the day of his death — will for ever render the last of the mutineers a character to be remenabered with admiration and respect. 247 A RELATION OF THEEE YEARS' SUFFERING OF ROBERT EVERARD UPON THE ISLAND OF ASSADA, NEAR MADAGASCAR, IN A VOYAGE TO INDIA, IN THE YEAR 1C86 ' WHEN I was a boj-, my father, Mr. William Everard, appren- ticed me to the captain of a ship bound for Bombay in India, and thence to Madagascar, for blacks. I left London on August 5, 168G, and after different adventures on the voj-age, of which I need not here speak, our ship reached Madagascar. The King of Madagascar received us kindly enough, and promised in about a month to furnish the captain with as many negroes as he desired. This satisfied us very well, and, mooring the ship, we staj-ed some days, trading with the negi'oes for rice and hens and bananas. Now one day the supercargo and six of the men and mj-self went ashore, taking gims and powder, and knives and scissors to trade with, and the ship's dog went with us. And, carrying our chest of goods to the house of one of the natives, we traded, and the negi-oes brought us such things as they had in exchange. But presently we heard a great noise, and a crowd began to gather, so that we thought the King was coming. But, alas ! we soon found that the people of the town had risen against us, and ten or twelve broke in with their lances, and killed five of the boat's crew and the man who took care of the boat ! The supercargo, running out of the house to get to the King, was thrust through by one of these murderous natives, and died immediately. I myself, being knocked down by the fall of the others, lay among the dead like one dead. AVhen the blacks took them uj), however, they saw I was alive, and did not kill me in cold blood, but carried me to the King's house, which was just by the house where they had killed our men, ' Taken from the Churchill Collection, 1732. Written by himself. 248 BOBELT EVEHABL whose bodies I saw them carrying: down to fling into the sea as i looked out at the Kinre- PBINCE CHARLIE'S WAR 291 pared to meet them at that pomt. At two in the afternoon, to his amazement, they suddenly appeared from the south, inarching over the ridge of the hill. The Hanoverian soldiers had enough spirit to receive them with cheers, to which the Highlanders responded by wild yells. They longed ardently to sweep down the slope and give instant battle, but the nature of the ground made this impossible even to a Highland army. Intersecting the hillside were high stone walls, which wculd have to be scaled under a hot lire from below, and at the bottom was a swamp, a wide ditch, and a high hedge. A certain gentleman in the Prince's army — Mr. Ker of Gordon — rode over the ground on his pony to examine its possibilities. He went to work as coolly as if he were on the himting-field, making breaches in the wall and leading his pony through, in spite of a dropping fire from the Hanoverians. He reported that to charge over such ground was impossible. The Highlanders were bitterly disappointed ; their one fear was that Cope should again slip away under cover of darkness. To prevent this Lord Nairne and GOO Perthshire nien were sent to guard the road to Edinbm-gh. Seeing that nothing more could be done that night, both armies settled down to rest ; General Cope lay in comfort at Cockenzie, Prince Charles on the field ; a bundle of peastraw served for his pillow ; a long white cloak thrown over his plaid for a covering. Among the vohmteers who had recently joined the Prince was an East Lothian laird en lied Anderson. He had often shot over the fields about Prestonpans. During the night he suddenly remem- bered a path which led from the heights, down through the morass on to the plain, slightly to the east of Cope's army. He sought out Lord George and told hun of this path, and he, struck with the possibility of making inmiediate use of the information, took him without delay to the Prince. Charles was alert on the instant, entered into the plan proposed, and the next moment the word of command was passed along the sleeping lines. A fe^\■ moments later the whole army was moving along the ridge in the dim star- light. But here a difficulty occurred. At Bannockburn, and in all great battles afterwards, except Killiekrankic, the Macdonalds had held the place of lionoin- on the right wing of the army. They claimed that position now with haughty tenacity. The other clans, equally brave and equally proud, disputed the claim. It was decided to draw lots to settle the question. Lots were drawn, and the place of honour fell to the Camerons and Stewarts. An ominous cloud u2 292 PlilNCE CHARLIE'S WAB, gathered on the brows of the Macdonald chiefs, but Locheil, as sagacious as he was courteous, induced the other chiefs to waive their right, and, well content, the clan Macdonald marched on in the van. Up on the hill the sky was clear, but a thick white mist covered the plain. Under cover of this the Highlanders passed the morass in the one fordable place. In the darkness the Prince missed a stepping-stone and slipped into the bog, bat recovered so quickly that no one had time to draw a bad omen from the accident. A Hanoverian dragoon, standing sentinel near this point, heard the march of the soldiers while they were still invisible m the dusk, and galloped off to give the alarm, but not before the Highland army was free from the swamp and had formed in two lines on the plain. Macdonalds and Camerons and Stewarts were in the first line ; behind, at a distance of fifty yards, the Perthshiremen and other regiments led by Charles himself. Learning that the enemy was now approaching from the east side of the plain. Cope drew up his men to face their approach. In the centre was the infantry — the steadiest body in his army — on his left, near the sea and opposite the Macdonalds, Hamilton's dragoons, on the right, the other dragoons under Gardiner, and in front of these tlie battery of six cannon. This should have been a formidable weapon against the Highlanders, who, unfamiliar with artillery, had an almost superstitious fear of the big guns, but they were merely manned by half-a- dozen feeble old sailors. There was a brief pause as the two armies stood opposite each other in the sea of mist. The Highlanders muttered a short prayer, drew their bonnets down on their ej'es, and moved forward at a smart pace. At that moment a wind rose from the sea and rolled away the curtain of mist from between the two armies. In front of them the Highlanders saw their enemy drawn up like a hedge of steel. With wild yells they came on, their march quickening to a run, each clan charging in a close compact body headed by its own chief. Even while they rushed on, as resistless as a torrent, each man fired his musket deliberately and with deadly aim, then flung it away and swept on, brandishing his broadsword. A body of Stewarts and Camerons actually stormed the battery, rushing straight on the muzzles of the guns. The old men who had them in charge had fled at the first sight of the Highlanders ; even the brave Colonel Whiteford, who alone and unassisted stood to his guns, had to yield to their furious onset. Gardiner's dragoons PRINCE CHABLIE'S WAB 2'.)3 standing behind the battery were next seized by the panic ; they made one miserable attempt to advance, halted, and then wheeling round, dashed wildly in every direction. Nor could Hamilton' 5 dragoons on the other wing stand the heavy rolling fire of the advancing Macdonalds. Mad with terror, man and horse fled in blind confusion, some backwards, confounding their own ranks, some along the shore, some actually through the ranks of the enem3\ James More wounded at Prestonpans Only the infantry in the centre stood firm and received the onset of the Highlanders with a steady fire. A small band of jMacgregors, armed only with scytheblades, charged against this hedge of musketrj-. This curious weapon was invented by James IMore, a son of Rob Roy Macgregor. He was the leader of this party, and fell, pierced by five bullets. "With undaimtod courage lie raised himself on his elbow, and shouted, ' Look ye, my lads, I'm not dead ; by Heaven I shall see if any of you does not do his duty.' la 294 PRINCE CHABLIE'S WAB that wild charge, none of the clansmen failed to ' do his duty.' Heedless of the rain of bullets, they rushed to close quarters with the Hanoverian infantry, who, deserted by the dragoons, were now attacked on both sides as well as in front. A few stood firm, and the gallant Colonel Gardiner put himself at their head. A blow from a scj'theblade in the hands of a gigantic Macgregor ended his life, and spared him the shame and sorrow of another defeat. The Park walls at their back prevented the infantry from seeking ig- noble security in flight, after the fashion of the dragoons, and they were forced to lay down their weapons and beg for quarter. Some 400 of them fell, struck down by the broadswords and dirks of their enemy, more than 700 were taken prisoners, and only a few hundreds escaped. The battle was won in less than five minutes. Charles himself commanded the second column, which was only fifty yards behind the first, but, by the time he arrived on the scene of action, there was nothing left to be done. Nothing, that is, in securing the victory, but Charles at once occupied himself in stopping the carnage and protecting the wounded and prisoners. ' Sir,' cried one of his staff, riding up to him, ' there are your enemies at your feet.' ' They are my father's subjects,' answered Charles sadly, turning away. In vain did Sir John Cope and the Earl of Home try to rally the dragoons. Holding pistols to the men's heads, they succeeded in collecting a body in a field near Clement's Wells, and tried to form a squadron ; but the sound of a pistol-shot renewed the panic and off they started again at the gallop. There was nothing for it but for the officers to put themselves at the head of as many fugi- tives as they could collect, and conduct the flight. Hardly did they draw rein till they were safe at Berwick. There the unfortunate general was received by Lord Mark Ker with the well-known sar- casm — ' Sir, I believe you are the first general in Eiu'ope who has brought the first news of his own defeat.' ^ In the meantime, the wounded they had left on the field were being kindly cared for by the victorious army. Charles despatched a messenger to bring medical aid — an errand not without danger to a single horseman on roads covered with straggling bodies of dragoons. But the adventure just suited the gallant spirit of young Lawrence Oliphant. At Tranent the sight of him and his servant at their heels sent off a body of dragoons at the gallop. Single fugitives he disarmed and dismounted, sending the horses back to ' Others were Frederick the Great, and David Leslie ! ' HE GALLOPED Ul' THE STREETS OF EUIXBLltGH SUOUTINO, " VigTOKY I VICTORY ! " ' PRINCE CHABLIE'S WAR 297 the Prince by the hands of country lads. Once he had to discharge his pistol after a servant and pony, but for the most part the terrified soldiers yielded at a word. Entering the Netherbow, he galloped up the streets of Edinburgh shouting, ' Victory ! victory ! ' From every window in the High Street and Luckenbows white caps looked out, while the streets wex-e crowded with eager citizens, and joyful hurrahs were heard on every side. At Lucky Wilson's, in the Lawn Market, the yoimg gentle- man alighted, called for breakfast, and sent for the magistrates to deliver his orders that the gates were to be closed against any fugitive dragoons. Hat in hand, the magistrates waited on the Prmce's aide-de-camp, but at that moment the cry arose that dragoons and soldiers were coming up the street. Up jumps Mr. Oliphant and out into the street, faces eight or nine dragoons, and commands them to dismount in the Prmce's name. This the ci'aven Hanoverians were quite prepared to do. Only one presented his piece at the young officer. Mr. Oliphant snapped his pistol at him, forgetting that it was empty. Immediately half a dozen shots were fired at him, biit so wildly that none did him any harm beyond shattering his buckle, and he retreated hastily up one of the dark steep lanes that led into a close. The commander of the Castle refused to admit the fugitives, threatened even to fire on them as deserters, and they had to gallop out at the AYest Port and on to Stii'ling. Another of the Prince's officers, Colquhoun Grant, drove a party of dragoons before him all the way into Edinburgh, and stuck his bloody dirk into the Castle gates as a defiance. Sadder was the fate of another Perthshire gentleman, as young and as daring as Lawrence Oliphant. David Thriepland, with a couple of servants, had followed the dragoons for two miles from the field ; they had fled before him, but, coming to a halt, they discovered that their pursuers mimbered no more than three. They turned on them and cut them down with their swords. Many years afterwards, when the grass was rank and gi-een on ^Ir. Thricp- land's grave, a child named Walter Scott, sitting on it, heard the story from an old lady who had herself seen the death of the young soldier. The next day (Sunday) the Prince held his triumphant entry up the High Street of Edinburgli. Clan after clan marched past, witli waving plaids and brandished weapons ; the wild music of the pipes sounded as full of menace as of triumph. From every window 298 FBINCE CHABLIE'S WAR in the dark, high liouses on each side, fair faces looked down, each adorned willi the wliite cockade. In their excitement the High- landers let off their pieces into the air. By an unfortunate accident one musket thus fired happened to be loaded, and the bullet grazed the temple of a Jacobite lady, Miss Nairne, inflicting a slight wound. ' Thank God that this happened to me, whose opinions are so well known,' cried the high-spirited girl. ' Had a Whig lady been wounded, it might have been thought that the deed had been inten- tional.' ^ VI THE MARCH TO DERBY A SUCCESSFUL army, especially an insurgent army, should never pause in its onward march. If Prince Charles could have followed the flying dragoons over the Border into England he would have found no preparations made to resist him in the Northern coimties. Even after the King and Government were alarmed by the news of the battle of Preston, a full month was allowed to pass before an amny under General Wade arrived at Newcastle on the 2rth of Oc- tober. Dutch, Hessian, and English troops were ordered home from Flanders and regiments were raised in the country, though at first no one seems to have seriously believed in anything so daring as an invasion of England by Prince Charles and his Highlanders. So far there had come no word of encoiiragement from the English Jacobites. Still, Charles never doubted but that they would hasten to join him as soon as he crossed the Border. On the very morrow of Prestonpans he sent messengers to those whom he considered his friends in England, telling of his success and bidding them be ready to join him. In the meantime he waited in Edin- burgh till his army should be large and formidable enough to undertake the march South. After the battle numbers of his soldiers had deserted. According to their ci;stom, as soon as any clansman had secured as much booty as he could conveniently carr3% he started off home to his mountains to deposit his spoil. A stalwart Highlander was seen staggering along the streets of Edinburgh with a pier glass on his back, and ragged boys belonging to the army adorned themselves with gold-laced hats, or any odd finery they could pick np. Many new adherents flocked to join the Prince. Among these ' In Waverley this generous speecli is attributed to Flora Macivor, PBINCE CHABLIE'S WAE 299 was the simple-minded old Lord PitsHgo. He commanded a body of horse, though at his age he could hardly bear the fatigues of a campaign. In Aberdeenshire — alwaj^s Jacobite and Episcopalian — Lord Lewis Gordon collected a large force ; in Perthshire Lord Ogilvy raised his clan, though neither of these arrived in time to join the march South. Even a Highland army could not start in mid- winter to march through a hostile country without any pre- parations. Tents and shoes were provided by the city of Edinburgh, and all the horses in the neighbourhood were pressed for the Prince's service. On the first day of November the arm^-, numbering 0,000 men, started for the Border. Lord George led one division, carrying the supplies by Moffat and Annandale to the West Border. Charles him- self commanded the other division. They pretended to be moving on Newcastle, marched down Tweedside and then tvarned suddenly westward and reached England through Liddesdale. On the 8th they crossed the Border. The men unsheathed their swords and raised a great shout. Unfortunately, as he drew his claj-more, Locheil wounded his hand, and his men, seeing the blood flow, declared it to be a bad omen. But fortune still seemed to follow the arms of the Adventurer. Carlisle was the first strong town on the English Border, and though insufficiently garrisoned, was both walled and defended h\ a Castle. The mayor, a vain-glorious fellow, was ambitious of being the first man to stay the victorious army, and publislied a proclama- tion saying that he was not ' Patterson, a Scotchman, but Pattieson, a true-hearted Englishman, who would defend his town against all comers.' A false report that Wade was advancing from the AVest made Charles turn aside and advance to Brampton in the hope of meeting him, but the roads were rough, the weather was wild and cold, the Hanoverian general was old, and again, as at Corryaracis, Charles prepared to meet an enemy that never appeared. In the meantime a division of the army had returned to Carlisle ' and was laying siege to it with great vigour. Lord George Murray and the Duke of Perth worked in the trenches in their shirt sleeves. The sound of bullets in their ears, the sight of formidable prepaia- tions for an assault, were too much for the mayor and his citizens ; on the 13th, the ' true-hearted Englishmen ' hung out a white flag, and the Prince's army marched in and took possession. It was another success, as sudden and complete as any of the former ones. But 300 PBINCE CHABLIE'8 WAR there were ominous signs even at this happy moment. The command of the siege of Cavhsle had been given to the Duke of Perth, and Lord George Murray, the older and abler general, resented the slight. He sent in his resignation of the command of the forces, but with proud magnanimity offered to serve as a volunteer. Charles accepted the resignation, but the idea of losing the one general of any ex- perience they had, created consternation among the chiefs. The crisis would have become serious but for the generous good sense and modesty of the Duke of Perth, who sent in his resignation also to the Prince. A more ominous fact was that they had been almost a week in England and no one had declared for them. Charles refused to let anything damp his hopefulness. Lancashire was the stronghold of Jacobitism. Once in Lancashire, gentlemen and their following would flock to join him. The road between Carlisle and Preston lies over bare, stony heights, an inhospitable country in the short, bleak days and long nights of November. Charles shared every hardship with his soldiers. He had a carriage but he never used it, and it was chiefl}^ occupied by Lord Pitsligo. With his target on his shoulder he marched alongside of the soldiers, keeping up with their rapid pace, and talking to them in his scanty Gaelic. He seldom dined, had one good meal at night, lay down with his clothes on, and was up again at four next morning. No wonder that the Highlanders were proud of ' a Prince who could eat a dry crust, sleep on pease-straw, dine in four minutes, and win a battle in five.' Once going over Shap Fell he was so overcome by drowsiness and cold that he had to keep hold of one of the Ogihies by the shoulderbelt and walked some miles half asleep. Another time the sole of his boot was quite worn out, and at the next village he got the blaeksmitli to nail a thin iron plate to the boot. ' I think you are the first that ever shod the son of a king,' he said, laughing as he paid the man. Still entire silence on the part of the English Jacobites. The people in the villages and towns through which they passed looked on the uncouth strangers with ill-concealed aversion and fear. Once going to his quarters in some small town the ' gentle Locheil ' found that the good woman of the house had hidden her children in a cupboard, having heard that the Highlanders were cannibals and ate children ! The town of Preston was a place of ill omen to the superstitious Highlanders. There, thirty years before, their countrymen had been disastrously defeated. They had a presentiment that they too PEINCE CHARLIE'S WAB 301 would never get beyond that point. To destroy this fear, Lord George Mm-ray marched half his anuy across the river and en- camped on the further side. Manchester was the next halting-place, and there the prospects were rather brighter. An enterprising Sergeant Dickson hurried on in front of the army with a girl and a drummer boy at his side. He marched about the streets recruiting, and managed to raise some score of recruits. In Manchester society there Crossing Shap Fell was a certain Jacobite element; on Sunday the church showed a crowd of ladies in tartan cloaks and white cockades, and a non- juring clergyman preached in favour of the Prince's cause. Among the officers who commanded the handful of men calling itself the Manchester Eegiment, were three brothers of the name of Deacon, whose father, a nonjuring clergyman, devoted them all gladly to the cause. Another, Syddel, a wig-maker, had as a lad of eleven seen his father executed as a Jacobite in the '15, and had vowed undying vengeance against the house of Hanover. Manchester 802 PlilNCE CHARLIE'S WAB was the only place in England that had shown any zeal in the Praice'^ canse, and it only contributed some few hundred men and 3,000?. of money. The situation seemed grave to the leaders of the Prince's army. He himself refused to recognise any other fact than that every day brought him nearer to London. On October 31 the army left Manchester. At Stockport they crossed the Mersey, the Prince wading up to the middle. Here occurred a very touching incident. A few Cheshire gentlemen met Charles at this point, and with them came an aged lady, Mrs. Skyring. As a child she remembered her mother lifting her up to see Charles II. land at Dover. Her parents were devoted Cavaliers, and despite the ingratitude of the royal family, loyalty was an hereditary passion with their daughter. For years she had laid aside half her income and had sent it to the exiled family, only concealing the name of the donor as being of no interest to them. Now, she had sold all her jewels and j^late, and brought the money in a purse as an offering to Charles. With dim eyes, feeble hands, and feelings too strong for her frail body, she clasped Charles's hand, and gazing at his face said, ' Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace.' The Highland forces were in the very centre of England and had not yet encountered an enemy, but now they were menaced on two sides. General ^Yade — ' Grandmother AVade ' the Jacobite soldiers called him — by slow marches through Yorkshire had arrived within three days' march of them on one side, while, far more formidable, in front of them at Stafford lay the Duke of • Cumberland with 10,000 men. He was a brave leader, and the troops under him were seasoned and experienced. At last the English Government had wakened ;;p to the seriousness of the danger which they had made light of as long as it only affected Scotland. When news came that the Scots had got beyond Manchester, a most unmanly panic prevailed in London. Shops wei'e shut, there was a rim on the Bank, it has even been asserted that George 11. himself had many of his valuables removed on to yachts in the Thames, and held himself in readiness to fly at an}' moment. The Duke of Cumberland and his forces were the only obstacle between the Prince's army and London. Lord George Murray, with his usual sagacity, determined to slip past this enemy also, as he had already slipped past Wade. While the Prince, with one division of the army, marched straight for Derby, he himself led PBINCE CHARLIE'S WAR 303 the remaining troops apparently to meet the Duke of Cmnherland. That able general fell into the snare and marched up his men to meet the Highlanders at Congleton. 'llien Lord George broke up his camp at midnight (of December 2), and, marching across country in the darkness, joined the Prince at Leek, a day's journey short of Derby. By this clever stratagem the Highland army got a start of at least a day's march on their way to London. On the 4tli, the Highland army entered Derby, marching in all day in detachments. Here Charles learned the good news from Scotland that Lord John Drummond had landed at Montrose with 1,000 French soldiers and supplies of money and arms. Never had fortinie seemed to shine more brightly on the young Prince. He was sure now of French assistance, he shut his eyes to the fact that the English people were either hostile or indifferent ; if it came to a battle he was confident that hundreds of the enemy would desert to his standard. The road to London and to a throne lay open before him ! That night at mess he seriously discussed how he should enter London in triumph. Should it be in Highland or English dress ? On horseback or on foot ? Did he notice, one wonders, that his gay anticipations were received in ominous silence by the chiefs ? At least the private soldiers of his army shared his hopes. On the afternoon of the 5tli many had their l)roads\vords and dirks sharpened, and some partook of the Sacra- ment in the churches. They all felt that a battle was innuinent. Next morning a council of war was held. Charles was eager to arrange for an immediate advance on London. Success seemed to lie within his grasp. Lord George Murray rose as spokesman for the rest. He urged immediate retreat to Scotland ! Two armies lay one on either hand, a third was being collected to defend London. Against 30,000 men what could 5,000 avail ? He had no faith in a French invasion, he was convinced that nothing was to be looked for from the English Jacobites. ' liathcr tlian go back, I would I were twenty feet underground,' Charles cried in passionate disap- pointment. He argued, he commanded, he implored ; the chiefs were inexorable, and it was decided that the retreat should begin next morning before daybreak. This decision broke the Prince's heart and quenched his spirit ; never again did his buoyant courage put life into his whole army. Next morning he rose snllcn and entaged, and marched in gloomy silence in the rear. All the private soldiers and miny of the officers believed that they were being led against the Duke of Cumbcrl iiid. \Vhcn return- 304 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WAR ing daylight showed that they were retreating by the same road on which they had marched so hopefully two days before, they were filled with grief and rage. ' Would God,' writes a certain brave Macdonald, ' we had pushed on though we had all been cut to 4-^ ' Many had their broadswords and dirks sharpened ' pieces, when we were in a condition for fighting and doing honour to our noble Prince and the glorious cause we had taken in hand.' The distrust caused in the Prince's mind by Lord George's action had, later, the inost fatal effect. YII THE RETREAT Never, perhaps, in any history was there a march more mournful than that of the Highland army from Derbj'. These soldiers had never known defeat, and yet there they were, in full retreat through a hostile country. So secret and rapid were their movements that they had gained two fidl days' march before the Duke of Cumber- land had any certain news of their retreat. Though he started at PBINCE CHABLIE'S WAB 805 once in pursuit, mounting a body of infantry on horses that they might keep up with the cavah-y, and though all were fresh and in good condition, it was not till the 18th that he overtook the Prince's army in the wilds of Cumberland. Lord George Murray, looking upon himself as responsible for the safety of the army, had sent on the tirst division under the Prince, and himself brought up the rear with the baggage and artillery. In the hilly country of the North of England, it was no light task to travel with heavy baggage. The big wagons could not be dragged up the steep ill-made roads, and the country people were sullenly unwilling to lend their carts. The general was reduced to paymg sixpence for every cannon ball that could be carried up the hills. The Prince was already at Penrith on the 17th, but Lord George had been obliged to stop six miles short of that point. Marching before daybreak on the 18th, he reached a village called Clifton as the sun rose. A body of horsemen stood guarding the village ; the Highlanders, exhilarated at meeting a foe again, cast their plaids and rushed forward. On this the Hanoverians — a mere body of local yeomanrj^ — fled. Among a few stragglers who were taken prisoner was a footman of the Duke of Cumberland, who told his captors that his master with 4,000 cavalry was following close behind them. Lord George resolved to make a stand, knowing that nothing wovild be more fatal than allowing the dragoons to fall suddenly on his troops when they had their backs turned. He had a body of Macdonalds and another of Stuarts with him ; he found also some two hundred Macphersons, under their brave commander Cluny, guarding a bridge close to the village. The high road here ran between a wall on one side, and fields enclosed by high hedges and ditches on the ether. On either side he could thus place his soldiers under cover. As evening fell he learned that the Hanoverian soldiers were drawn up on the moor, about a mile distant. He sent some of his men to a point where they should be partly visible to the enemy over a hedge ; these he caused to pass and repass, so as to give a delusive idea of numbers. When the night fell the Highland soldiers were drawn up along the wall on the road, and in the enclosures behind the hedges ; Lord George and Cluny stood with drawn swords on the highway. Every man stood at his post on the alert, in the breathless silence. Though the moon was up, the night was cloudy and dark, but in a fitful gleam the watchful general saw dark forma approaching in a mass behind a hedge. In a ra2)id whisper ho asked Cluny what was to be done. 'I will charge sword in hand K. X 306 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WAR if yoii order me,' came the reply, prompt and cheery. A volley from the advancing troops decided the question. ' There is no time to be lost ; we must charge,' cried Lord George, and raising the Highland war cry, ' Claymore, Claymore,' he was the first to dash through the hedge (he lost his hat and wig among the thorns, and fought the rest of the night bareheaded !). The dragoons were forced back on to the moor, while another body of horse was similarly driven back along the high road by the Stuarts and Macdonells of Glengarrj-. About a dozen Highlanders, following too eagerly in pursuit, Avere killed on this moor, but the loss on the other side was far greater. Nor did the Duke of Cumberland again attack the Vetreating enemy ; he had learned, like the other generals before him, the meaning of a Highland onset.' A small garrison of Highlanders had been left in Carlisle, but, these rejoined the main army as it passed through the town. There was an unwillingness among the soldiers to hold a fort that was bound to be taken by the enemy. Finallj' the Manchester regiment consented to remain, probably arguing, in the words of one of the English volunteers, that they ' might as well be hanged in England as starved in Scotland.' The Esk was at this time in ilood, running turbid and swift. But the Highlanders have a peculiar way of crossing deep rivers. They stand shoulder to shoulder, with their arms linked, and so pass in a continuous chain across. As Charles was fording the stream on horseback, one man was swept away from the rest and was being rapidly carried down. The Prince caught him by the hair, shouting in Gaelic, ' Cohear, cohear ! ' ' Help, help ! ' They were now again on Scottish ground, and the question was, whither were they to go next ? Edinburgh, immediately after the Prince's departure, had gladly reverted to her Whig allegiance. She was garrisoned and defended ; any return thither was practically out of the question. It was resolved that the army should retire to the Highlands through the West country. Dumfries, in the centre of the Covenanting district, had always been hostile to the Stuarts. Two months before, when the High- land army marched south, some of her citizens had despoiled them of tents and baggage. To revenge this injury, Charles marched to Dumfries and levied a large fine on the town. The Provost, Mr. Carson, was noted for his hostility to the ,) acobites. He was warned 1 Readers of Waverleij will remember that in this fight Fergus Macivor was taken prisoner. PBINCE CHABLIE'S WAB 307 tnat his house was to be burned, though the threat was not carried out. He had a httle daughter of six years old at the time ; when she was quite an old lady she told Sir AValter Scott that she re- membered bemg carried out of the house in the arms of a Highland officer. She begged him to point out the Pretender to her. This he consented to do, after the little girl had solemnlj' promised always to call him the Prince in future. ' The Prince caught him by the hair ' An army which had been on the road continuously for more than two winter months, generally presents a sufficiently dilapidated appearance; still more must this have been the case with the Highland army, ill-clad and ill-shod to begin with. The soldiers— hardly more than 4,000 now — who on Christmas day marched into Glasgow, had scarcely a whole pair of boots or a complete suit of tartans among them. This rich and important tt)\vn was even more hostile than Dumfries to the .Tacobites, but it was necessity more than revenge that forced the Prince to lev3- a liea\y sum on x2 308 PBINCE CHABLIF/S WAR the citizens, and exact besides 12,000 shirts, 6,000 pairs of stockings, and 6,000 pairs of shoes. At Stirhng, whither the Prince next led his army, the prospects were much brighter. Here he was joined by the men raised in Aberdeenshire under Lord Lewis Gordon, Lord Strathahan's Perth- shire regiment, and the French troops under Lord John Drummond. The whole number of his army must have amounted to not much less than 9,000 men. The Duke of Cumberland had given up the pm-suit of the High- land army after Carlisle ; an alarm of a French invasion having sent him hurrying back to London. In his stead General Hawley had been sent down to Scotland and was now in Edinburgh at the head of 8,000 men. He was an officer trained in the Duke of Cumber- land's school, severe to his soldiers and relentlessly cruel to his enemies. A vain and boastful man, he looked with contempt on the Highland army, in spite of the experience of General Cope. On the 16th he marched out of Edinburgh with all his men, antici- pating an easy victory. Lord George Murray was at Linlithgow, and slowly retreated before the enemy, but not before he had obtained full information of their numbers and movements. On the nights of January 15 and 16, the two armies lay only seven miles apart, the Prince's at Bannockburn and General Hawley's at Falkirk. From the one camp the lights of the other were visible. The High- land army kept on the alert, expecting every hour to be attacked. All the day of the 16th they waited, but there was no movement on the part of the English forces. On the 17th the Prince's horse reconnoitred and reported perfect inactivity in Hawley's camp. The infatuated general thought so lightly of the enemy that he was giving himself up to amusement. The fair and witty Lady Kihnarnock lived in the neighbourhood at Callender House. Her husband was with the Prince, and she secretly favoured the same cause. By skilful flattery and hospi- tality, she so fascinated the English general that he recklessly spent his days in her company, forgetful of the enemy and entirely neglectful of his soldiers. Charles knew that the strength of his army lay in its power of attack, and so resolved to take the offensive. The high road between Bannockburn and Falkirk runs in a straight line in front of an old and decaying forest called Torwood. Along this road, in the face of the English camp, marched Lord John Drummond, dis- playing all the colours in the army, and making a brave show with PBINCE CHARLIE'S WAR 309 the cavalry and two regiments. Their advance was only a feint. The main body of the army skirted round to the south of the wood, then marched across broken country — hidden at first by the trees and later by the inequalities of the ground — till they got to the back of a ridge called Falkirk Muir, which overlooked the English camp. Their object was to gain the top of this ridge before the enemy, and then to repeat the manoeuvres of Prestonpans. Meanwhile, the English soldiers were all unconscious, and their general was enjoying himself at Callender House. At eleven o'clock General Huske, tlie second in connnand, saw Lord John Drummond's advance, and sent an urgent message to his superior officer. He, however, refused to take alarm, sent a message that the men might put on their accoutrements, and sat down to dinner with his fascinating hostess. At two o'clock. General Huske, look- ing anxiously through his spy-glass, saw the bulk of the Highland army sweeping round to the back of the ridge. A messenger was instantly despatched to Callender House. At last Hawley was aroused to the imminence of the danger. Leaving the dinner table, he leaped on his horse and arrived in the camp at a gallop, breathless and bare-headed. He trusted to the rapidity of his cavalry to redeem the day. He placed himself at the head of the dragoons, and up the ridge the3' rode at a smart crot. It was a race for the top. The dragoons on their horses were the first to arrive, and stood in their ranks on the edge of the hiU. From the opposite side came the Highlanders in three lines ; first the clans (the Macdonalds, of course, on the right), then the Aberdeenshire and Perthshire regunents, lastly cavalry and Lord John Drum- mond's Frenchmen. Undismayed, nay, rather exhilarated by the sight of the three regiments of dragoons drawn up to receive them, they advanced at a rapid pace. The dragoons, drawing their sabres, rode on at full trot to charge the Highlanders. "With the steadi- ness of old soldiers, the clans came on in their ranks, till within ten yards of the enemy. Then Lord George gave the signal by presenting his own piece, and at once a withering volley broke the ranks of the dragoons. About 400 fell imder this deadly fire and the rest fled, fled as wildly and ingloriousl}- as their fellows had done at Coltbridge or Prestonpans. A wild storm of rain dashing straight in their faces during the attack added to the confusion and helplessness of the dragoons. The right and centre of Ilawley's infantry were at the same instant driven back by the other clans. Camerons and Btev^arts and Macphersons. The victory would 310 PBINCE CHARLIE'S WAR have been complete but for the good behaviour of three regiments at the right of Hawley's army, Price's, Ligonier's, and Barrel's. From a point of vantage on the edge of a ravine they poured such a steady tire on the left wing of the Highlanders, that they drove them back and forced them to fly in confusion. Had the victorious MacJonalds only attacked these three steady regiments, the High- land army would have been victorious all along the line. Unfortu- nately they had followed their natural instinct instead of the word of command, and flinging away their guns, were pursuing the fugitive dragoons down the ridge. The flight of the Hanoverians was so sudden that it caused suspicion of an ambush. The Prince was lost in the darkness and rain. The pipers had thrown their pipes to their boys, had gone in with the claymore, and could not sound the rally. It was not a complete victory for Charles, but it was a sufficiently complete defeat for General Hawley, who lost his guns. The camp at Falkirk was abandoned after the tents had been set on fire, and the general with his dismayed and confused followers retired first to Linlithgow and then to Edinburgh. Hawley tried to make light of his defeat and to explain it away, though to Cumberland he said that his heart was broken; but the news of the battle spread consternation all over England, and it was felt that no one but the Duke of Cumberland was fit to deal with such a stubborn and daring enemy. The Prince's army did not reap so much advantage from their victory as might have been expected ; their forces were in too great confusion to pursue the English general, and on the morrow of the battle many deserted to their own homes, carrying off their booty. A more serious loss was the defection of the clan Glengarry, The daj' after the battle a young Macdonald, a private soldier of Clanranald's company, was withdrawing the charge from a gun he had taken on the field. He had abstracted the bullet, and, to clean the barrel, fired oft' the piece. Unfortunately it had been double loaded, and the remaining bullet struck Glengarry's second son, ^neas, who was in the street at the time. The poor boy fell, mortally wounded, in the arms of his comrades, begging with his last breath that no vengeance should be ex- acted for what was purely accidental. It was asking too much from the feelings of the clansmen. They indignantly demanded that blood should atone for blood. Clanranald would gladly have saved his clansman, but dared not risk a feud which would have weakened the Prince's cause. So another young life as PRINCE CHARLIE'S WAR 311 innocent as the first was sacrificed to clan jealousj^. The young man's own father was the first to fire on his son, to make sure that death should be instantaneous. Young Glengarry was buried with The poor boy fell, mortally wounded all military honours, Charles himself being chief mourner ; but nothing could appease the angry pride of the clan, and the greater part of them returned to their mountains without taking any leave. VIII IN THE HIGHLANDS On January 30 the Duke of Cumberland arrived in Edinburgh. His reception was a curious parody of Charles's brilliant entry four months before. The fickle mob cheered the one as well as the other ; the Duke occupied the very room at Holyrood that had been Charles's ; 81^ ria^CE CHAliLIE'S WAli ■svhere the one had danced with Jacobite beauties, the other held a reception of ^Vhig Lxdies. Both were fighting their father's battle ; both were yoimg men of five-aud-tvventy. Bnt liere likeness gives way to contrast ; Charles was graceful in person, and of dignified and attractive presence ; his cousin, Cumberland, was already stout and unwieldy, and his coarse and cruel nature had traced uni)leasant lines on his face. He was a poor general but a man of undoubted courage. Yet he had none of that high sense of personal honour that we associate with a good soldier. In Edinbtirgh he found many of the English ofhcers who bad been taken prisoner at Preston- pans. They had been left at large on giving their word not to bear arms against the Prince. Cumberland declared that this ' parole ' or promise was not binding, and ordered them to return to their regiments. A small number — it is right that we should know and honour their names— Sir Peter Halket, Mr. Boss, Captain Lucy Scott, and Lieutenants Farquharson and Cumming, thereupon sent in their resignations, saying that the Duke was master of their commissions but not of their honour. On the 30th the Duke and his soldiers were at Linlithgow, and hoped to engage the Highland army next day near Falkirk. But on the next day's march they learned from straggling Highlanders that the enemy had already retired beyond the Forth. They had been engaged in a futile siege of Stirling Castle. The distant sound of an explosion which was heard about midday on the 1st, proved to be the blowing up of the powder magazine, the last act of the Highlanders before withdrawing from Stirling. This second, sudden retreat was as bitter to the Prince as the return firom Derby. After the battle at Falkirk he looked forward eagerly and confidently to fighting Cumberland on the same ground. But there was discon- tent and dissension in the camp. Since Derby the Prince had held no councils, and consulted with no one but Secretary Murray and his Irish officers. The chiefs were dispirited and deeply hurt, and, as iisual, the numbers dwindled daily from desertion. In the midst of his plans for the coming battle, Charles was overwhelmed by a resolution on the part of the chiefs to break up the camp and to retire without delay to the Highlands. Again he saw his hopes suddenly destroyed, again he had to yield with silent rage and bitter disappointment. The plan of the chiefs was to withdraw on Inverness, there to attack Lord Loudon (who held the fort for King George) ; to rest and recruit, each clan in its own country, till in the spring they PBINCE CHARLIE'S WAR 313 could take the field again with a fresher and larger army. Lord George Murray led one division by the east coast and Aberdeen, to the rendezvous near Inverness, Charles led the other by General Wade's road through Badenoch and Athol. Cumberland with his heavy troops and baggage could not overtake the light-footed Highlanders ; by the time he reached Perth he was six days' march behind them. He sent old Sir Andrew Agnew to garrison the house of Blair, and other small companies to occupy all the chief houses in Athol. He himself retired with the main body to Aberdeen, and there waited for milder weather. In the neighbourhood of Inverness lies the coimtry of the Mackintoshes. The laird of that ilk was a poor-spirited, stupid man. It was his simple political creed that that king was the right one who was willing and able ' to give a half-guinea to-day and another to-morrow.' That was probably the pay he drew as officer in one of King George's Highland companies. Of a very different spirit was his wife. Lady Mackintosh was a Farquharson of Invercauld ; in her husband's absence she raised a body of mixed Farquharsons and Mackintoshes, several hundred strong, for the Prince. Tliese she commanded herself, riding at their head in a tartan habit with pistols at her saddle. Her soldiers called her ' Colonel Anne.' Once in a fray between her irregular troops and the militia, her husband was taken prisoner and brouglit before his own wife. She received him with a military salute, ' Your servant, captain ; ' to which he replied equally shortly, ' Your servant, colonel.' This high-spirited woman received Charles as her guest on February 16 at the castle of Moy, twelve miles from Inverness. Having learnt that C'liarles was staying there with a small guard. Lord Loudon conceived the bold plan of caiJturing the Prince, and so putting an end to the war once for all. On Sunday llie IGth, at nightfall, he started with l,.'jO0 men with all secrecy and despatch. Still the secret had oozed out, and the dowager Lady Mackintosh sent a boy to warn her daughter-in-law and the Prince. The boy was both faithful and sagacious. Finding tlie high road already full of soldiers, he skulked in a ditch till they were past, then, by secret ways, over moor and moss, running at the top of his pace, he sped on, till, faint and exhausted, he reached the house at five o'clock in the morning, and panted out the nev.s that Loudon's men were not a mile away ! The Prince was instantly aroused, and in a few minutes was out of the house and off to join Lochiel not more than a mile distant. As it happened, Lord Loudon's troops had 314 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WAR already been foiled and driven back by a bold manoeuvre of some oi ' Colonel Anne's ' men. A blacksmith with some half-dozen men — two pipers amongst them — were patrolling the woods near the high road, when in the dim morning twilight they saw a large body of the enemy approaching. The}- separated, planted themselves at intervals under cover, fired rapidly and simultaneously, shouted the war cries of the various clans, Lochiel, Keppoch, Glengarry, while the pipers blew up their pipes furiously behind. The advan- cing soldiers were seized witli panic, and flying wildly back, upset the ranks of the rear and filled them with the same consternation. The ' Eout of Moy ' was hardly more creditable to the Hanoverian arms than the ' Canter of Coltbridge.' In this affair only one man fall, MacKimmon, the hereditary piper of the Macleods. Before leaving Skye he had prophesied his own death in the lament, ' Macleod shall return, but MacRunmon shall never.' The next day, February 18, Charles, at the head of a body of troops, marched out to besiege Inverness. He found that town already evacuated : Lord Loudon had too little faith in his men to venture another meeting with the enemj'. Two days later Fort George also fell into the Prince's hands. During the next six weeks the Highland army was employed in detachments against the enemies who siuTounded them on all sides. Lord .John Drummond took Fort Augustus, Lochiel and others besieged — but in vain — the more strongly defended Fort William. Lord Cromarty pursued Lord Loudon into Sutherland. But the most notable and gallant feat of arms was performed by Lord George Murray. He marched a body of his own Atliol men, and another of Macpliersons under Climy — 700 men in all — down into his native district of Athol. At nightfall they started from Dalwhinnie, before midnight thej' were at Daluaspidal, no one but tlie two leaders having any idea of the object of the expedition. It was the middle of March ; at that season they might coiint on five hours of darkness before day- break. It was then explained to the men that they were to break up into some thirty small companies, and each was to march to attack one of the English garrisons placed in all the considerable houses in the neighbourhood. It was necessary that each place should be attacked at the same time, that the alarm might not spread. By daybreak all were to reassemble at the Falls of Bruar, within a mile or two of Castle Blair. One after the other the small parties moved off swiftly and silently in the darkness, one marching some ten miles off to the house of Faskally, others attacking Lude, Kinnachin, Blairfettie, PBINCE CHARLIE'S WAH 315 ami many other houses where the Enghsh garrisons were sleeping in security. Meanwhile Lord George and Chmy, with five-and-twenty men and a few elderly gentlemen, went straight to the Falls of Bruar. In the grey of the morning a man from the village of Blair came up hastily with the news that Sir Andrew Agnew had got the alarm, JSTi Ml k.<'. :^\ 'A, . t^V /^^' .V^' ■''^■^"W The ' Eout of Moy ' and with several hundred men was scouring the neighbourhood and was now advancing towards the Falls ! Lord George might easily have escaped up the pass, but if he failed to be at the rendezvous, each small body as it came in would be surrounded and overpow'ered by the enemy. The skilful general employed precisely the same ruse as had been so successful at the Eout of Moy. 316 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WAR He put liis followers behind a turf wall at distant intervals, displayed the colours in a conspicuous place, and placed his pipers to advantage. As Sir Andrew came in sight, the sun rose, and was flashed back by brandished broadswords behind the turf wall. All along the line plaids seemed to be waving, ano heads appeared and disappeared as if a large body of men were behind ; while the pipes blew up a clamorous pibroch, and thirty men shouted for three hundred. Sir Andrew fell into the snare, and promptly marched his men back again. One by one the other parties came in : some thirty houses had yielded to them, and they brought three hundred prisoners with them. After this success Lord George actually attempted to take the House of Blair. It was a hopeless entei'prise ; the walls of the house were seven feet thick, and Lord George had only two small cannons. ' I daresay the man's mad, knocking down his own brother's house,' said the stout old commander. Sir Andrew, watch- ing how little effect the shot had on the walls. Lord George sent to Charles for reinforcements when it began to seem probable that he could reduce the garrison by famine, but Charles, embittered and resentful, and full of unjust suspicion against his general, refused any help, and on March 81 Lord George had to abandon the siege and withdraw his men. The Prince's suspicions, though xxnjust, were not unnatural. Lord George had twice advised retreat, where audacity was the only way to success. IX CULLODEN In the meantime the weeks were rolling on. The grey April of the North, if it brought little warmth, was at least lengthening the daylight, and melting the snow from the hills, and lowering the floods that had made the rivers impassable. Since the middle of February the Duke of Cumberland and his army of at least eight thousand men — horse and infantry — had been living at free quarters in Aberdeen. He bullied the inhabitants, but he made careful pro- vision for his army. English shijjs keeping along the coast were ready to supply both stores and ammunition as soon as the forces should move. With the savage content of a wild animal that knows that his prey cannot escape, the duke was in no hvu-ry to force on an engagement till the weather should be more favourable. PEINCE CHAB LIE'S WAR 317 To the Highland army every week's delay was a loss. Many of the clansmen had scattered to their homes in search of subsis- tence, for fimds were falling lower and lower at Inverness. Fortmie was treating Charles harshly at this time. Supplies had been sent once and again from France, but the ships that had brought them had either fallen into the enemy's hands, or had been obliged to return with their errand unaccomplished. His soldiers had now to be paid in meal, and that in insufficient quantities. There was thus discontent in the ranks, and anaong the chiefs there was a growing feeling of discoiu-agement. Charles treated with reserve and suspicion the men who were risking property and life for his cause, and consulted only with Secretary Murray and his Irish officers. On April 8 the Duke of Cumberland began his march from Aberdeen. Between the two armies lay the river Spey, always deep and rapid, almost impassable when the floods were out. A vigilant body of men commanding the fords from either bank would have any army at its mercy that might try to cross the stream under ■fire. Along the west bank Lord John Drummond and his men had built a long, low barrack of turf and stone. I'rom this point of vantage they had hoped to pour their fire on the Hanoverian soldiers in mid-stream, but the vigilant Duke of Cumberland had powerful cannons in reserve on the opposite bank, and Lord John and his soldiers drew off before the enemy got across. On Monday the 15th this retreating party arrived at Inverness, bringing the news that the Duke was already at Nairne, and would probably next day approach to gi^'e battle. Prince Charles was in the highest spirits at the news. In the streets of Inverness the pipers blew the gatherings of the various clans, the drums beat, and with colours flying the whole army marched out of the town and encamped on the plain of CuUoden. The Prince expected to be attacked next morning, Tuesday the 16th, and at six o'clock the soldiers were di-awn up in order of battle. There was an ominous falling away in numbers. The Mac- phersons with Cluny had scattered to their homes in distant Badenoch ; the Frasers were also absent. [Neither of these brave and faithful clans was present at the battle the next day.] The Keppoch Macdonalds and some other detachments only came in next morning. By the most fatal mismanagement no provision hud been made for feeding the soldiers that day, though there was meal and 318 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WAR to spare at Inverness. A small loaf of the driest and coarsest bread was served out to each man. By the afternoon, the starving soldiers had broken their ranks and were scattering in search of food. Lord Elcho had reconnoitred m the direction of Nairne, twelve miles off, and reported that the English army would not move that day ; they were resting in their camp and celebrating their commander's birthday. Charles called a council of war at three in the afternoon. Lord George Murray gave the daring counsel that instead of waiting to be attacked they should march through the night to Nairne, and while it was still dark surprise and overwhelm the sleeping enemy. By dividing the Highland forces before reaching Nairne they might attack the camp in front and rear at the same moment ; no gun was to be fired which might spread the alarm ; the High- landers were to fall on with dirk and broadsword. The Prince had meant to propose this very plan : he leaped iip and embraced Lord George. It was a dangerous scheme ; but with daring, swiftfooted, enterprising men it did not seem impossible. Yes ! but with men faint and dispirited by hunger '? At the review that morning the army had numbered about 7,000 men, but hardly more than half that nuniber assembled in the evening on the field, the rest were still scattered in search of food. By eight o'clock it was dark enough to start. The attack on the enemy's camp was timed for two in the morning, six hours was thus allowed for covering the twelve miles. The army was to mai'ch in three columns, the clans first in two divisions, Lochiel and Lord George at the head with 30 of the Mackintoshes as guides. The Prince himself commanded the third column, the Lowland troops, and the French and Irish regiments. The utmost secrecy was necessary ; the men marched in dead silence. Not only did they avoid the high roads, but whei- ever a light showed the presence of a house or shelling they had to make a wide circuit round it. The ground they had to go over was rough and uneven ; every now and then the men splashed into imexpected bogs or stumbled over hidden stones. Add to this that the night was unusually dark. Instead of marching in three clear divisions, the columns got mixed in the darkness and mutually kej)! each other back. Soon the light-footed clansmen got ahead of the Lowland and French and Irish regiments unused to such heavy walking. Every few minutes messengers from the rear harassed the leaders of the van by begging them to march more slowly. It was a cruel task to restrain the pace while the precious hours of darkness were slipping past. At Kilravock House PEINCE CHARLIE'S WAR 319 the van halted. This was the point where it was arranged that the army was to divide, one part marching straight on the EngHsh camp, the other crossing the river so as to fall on the enemy from the opposite side. The rear had fallen far behind, and there was more than one wide gap between the various troops. The Duke of Perth galloped up from behind and told Lord George that it was necessary that the van should wait tiU the others came up ; other officers reported that the men were dropping out of their ranks, and falling asleep by the roadside. "Watches were now consulted. It was already two o'clock and there were still four miles to be covered. Some of the officers begged that, at all risks, the march might be continued. As they stood consulting an aide-de-camp rode up from the rear saying tliat the Prince desired to go forward, but was prepared to yield to Lord George's judgment. Just then through the darkness there came from the distance the rolling of drums I All chance of surprising the English camp was at an end. With a heavy heart Lord George gave the order to march back. This affair increased the Prince's suspicions of Lord George, which were fostered by his Irishry. In the growing light the retreat was far more rapid than the advance had been. It was shortly after five that the army found themselves in their old quarters at Culloden. Many fell down where they stood, overpowered with sleep ; others dispersed in search of food. Charles himself and his chief officers found nothing to eat and drink at Tulloden House but a little dry bread and whisky. Instead of holding a council of war, each man lay down to sleep where he could, on table or floor. But the sleep they were able to snatch was but short. At about eight a patrol coming in declared that the Duke of Cumberland was already advancing, his main body was within four miles, his horse even nearer. In the utmost haste the chiefs and officers of the Highland army uried to collect their men. Many liad straggled off as far as Inver- ness, many were still overpowered with sleep ; all were faint for lack of food. When the ranks were arrayed in order of battle, their numbers only amounted to 5,000 men. They were drawn up on the open plain ; on the riglit, high turf walls, enclosing a narrow field, protected their flank (though, as it proved, quite inefl'ectually), on their left lay Culloden House. In spite of hunger and fatigue, the old fighting instinct was so strong in the clans tliat they took up their positions m the first line witli all their old fire and enthu- 320 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WAR siasm, all but the Macdonalds. By extraordinary mismanagement the clans Glengarry, Keppoch, and Clanranald — they who had so nobly led the right wing at Prestonpans and Falkirk — were placed on the left. It was a slight that bitterly hurt their pride ; it was also, to their superstitious minds, a fatal omen. Who was the cause of the blunder '? This does not seem to be certainly known. On the right, where the Macdonalds should liave been, were the Athol men, the Camerons, the Stewarts of Appin, Macleans, Mackintoshes, and other smaller clans, each led by their own chiefs, and all com- manded by Lord George. At the extremities of the two wings the guns were placed, four on each side, the only artillery on the Prince's side. The second line consisted of the French, Irish, and Lowland regiments. The Prince and his guards occupied a knoll at the rear, from which the whole action of the fight was visible. His horse was later covered with mud from the cannon balls striking the wet moor, and a man was killed behind him. By one o'clock the Hanoverian armj' was drawn up within five hundred paces of their enemies. The fifteen regiments of foot were placed in three lines, so arranged that the gaps in the first line were covered by the centres of the regiments in the second line. Between each regiment in the first line two powerful cannons were placed, and the three bodies of horse were drawn up, flanking either wing. The men were fresh, well fed, confident in their general, and eager to retrieve the dishonour of Prestonpans and Falkirk. A little after one, the day clouded over, and a strong noi'th- easterly wind drove sudden showers of sleet in the faces of the Highland army. They were the first to open fire, but their guns were small, and the firing ill-directed ; the balls went over the heads of the enemy and did little harm. Then the great guns on the other side poured out the return fire, raking the ranks of the Highlanders, clearing great gaps, and carrying destruction even into the second line. For half an hour the Highlanders stood exposed to this fire while comrade after comrade fell at their side. It was all they could do to keep their ranks ; their white, drawn faces and kindling eyes spoke of the hunger for revenge that possessed their hearts. Lord George was about to give the word to charge, when the Mackintoshes impatiently rushed forward, and the whole of the centre and left wing followed them. On they dashed blindly, through the smoke and snow and rattling bidlets. So irresistible was the onset that they actually swept through two regiments in the first line, though almost all the chiefs and front rank men had PKINCE CHARLIE'S WAR 321 fallen in the chaige. The regiment in the second rank — Sempill's — was drawn up three deep — the first rank kneeling, the third iipright — all with bayonets fixed. They received the onrushing Highlanders with a sharp fire. This bronght the clansmen to a halt, a few were forced back, more perished, Hinging themselves against the ba^'onets. Their bodies were afterw ar Js found in heaps three or four deep. "While the I'ight and centre perished in this wild charge, the Macdonalds on the left remained sullenlj" in their ranks, rage and angry pride in their souls. In vain the Duke of Perth urged them to charge. ' Your courage,' he cried, ' v.ill turn the left into the right, and I will henceforth call myself Macdonald.' In vain Keppoch, with some of his kin, charged alone. ' My God ! have the children of my tribe forsaken me ? ' he cried, looking back to where his clansmen stood stubborn and motionless. The stout old heart was broken by this dishonom". A few minutes later he fell pierced by many bullets. In the meantime the second line had been thrown into confusion. A detachment of the Hanoverians— tlie CanipbelLs, in fact — had broken down the turf walls on the Prince's right. Through the gaps thus made, there rode a body of dragoons, wlio fell on the rear and flanks of the Lowland and French regiments, and scat- tered them in flight. Gillie MacBane held a breach with the claymore, and slew fourteen men before he fell. But the day was lost. All that courage, and pride, and devotion, and fierce hate could do had been done, and in vain. Charles had, up to the last, looked for victory. He offL-red to lead on the second line in person ; but his otlicers told him that Highlanders would never return to such a charge. Two Irish officers dragged at his reins ; his army was a flying mob, and so he left his latest field, unless, as was said, he fought at Lafi'en as a volunteer, when the Scots ]>rigade nearly captured Cumberland. He had been eager to give up Holyrood to tlie wounded of Preston- pans ; his wounded were loft to die, or were stabbed on tlie field. He had refused to punish fanatics who tried to nnn-der him ; his faithful followers were tortured to extract information which they never gave. He lost a throne, but he won hearts, and, while i)oetry lives and romance endures, tlie Prince Charles of the Forty-Five has a crown more imperisliable than gold. This was the ending of that Jacobite cause, for which men had fought and died, for which women had been content to lose homes and Inis- bands and sons. K. V 322 PRINCE CHARLIE'S WAR It was the end of that gifted race of Stuart kings who, for three centuries and more of varying fortunes, had worn the crown of Scotland. The end of CuUoden But it was not the end of the romance of the Highland clans. Crushed down, scattered, and cruelly treated as these were in the PRINCE CHARLIE'S WAR 323 years that followed Cullotlen, nothing coulJ break their fiery spirit nor kill their native aptitude for war. In the service of that very government which had dealt so harshly with them, they were to play a part in the world's history, wider, nobler, and not less romantic than that of fiercely faithful adherents to a dying cause. The pages of that history have been written in imperishable deeds on the hot plains of India, in the moimtain passes of Afghanistan, in Egypt, in the Peninsula, on the fields of Waterloo and Quatre Bras, and among the snows of the Crimea. And there may be other pages of this heroic history of the Highland regiments that our children and our chikU-en's children shall read with proud emo- tion in da^s that are to be. t2 324 THE BUEKE AND WILLS THE BUBKE AND WILLS EXPLOBING EXPEDITION ON An.2;ust 21, 1860, in the most lovely season of the year — that of early spring — the citizens of Melbourne crowded to the Royal Park to witness the departure of the most liberally etjuipped explorin."^ party that had yet set out to penetrate the unknown regions of Australia. Their object was to cross the land from the South to the Northern Seas, a task whicli had never before been accomplished, as well as to add to the scientific knowledge of the interior. The extradition started under the leadership of Robert O'Hara Burke, who began his career as a cadet at Woolwich, but left at an early age to enter a regiment of Hussars in the Austrian service, in which he subsequently held a captaincy. When this regiment was disbanded, in 1848, he obtained an appointment in the Irish Constabulary, which he exchanged for the Police Force of Victoria in 1853, and in this he was at once made an inspector. A Mr. Landells, in charge of the camels, went as second in command, and William John Wills, an astronomer and surveyor, as third. Wills was the son of Dr. William Wills, and was born at Totnes, in Devonshire, in 18o-4 ; he was cousin to Lieutenant Le Viscomte, Avho perished with Sir John JFranklin in the ' Ei'ebus.' In 1852 the news of the wonderful gold discoveries induced him to try his fortune in Victoria ; but he soon became attached to the staff of the Melbourne Observatory, where he remained until selected for the post of observer and surveyor to the exploring expedition. From the time that the exi:)edition first took shape the names of these leaders were associated in . the minds of the people with those of other brave men who had toiled to solve the mystery that lay out in the great thirsty wilderness of the interior. Some of EXPLORING EXPEDITION 825 them had tried, and, failing, had returned broken in health by the terrible privations thej- had met with. Others, having failed, had tried again ; but the seasons and years had rolled on since, and had brought back no story of their fate. Therefore, as late in the afternoon Burke, mounted on a pretty grey, rode forth at the head of the caravan, cheer after cheer rang out from either side of the long lane formed by the thousands of sympathetic colonists who were eager to get a last glimpse of the adventurers. Immediately following the leader came a number of pack horses led by the European servants on foot ; then Landells and Dr. Beckler mounted on camels ; and in their train sepoys, leading two by two twenty-four camels, each heavily burdened with forage and provisions, and a mounted sepoy brought iip the rear. At intervals after these several wagons rolled past, and finally when nearly dusk, AVills and Fergusson, the foreman, rode out to their first camping-ground at the village of Essendon, about seven miles distant. Before the evening star, following close the crescent moon, had dropped below the dark and distant hill range, the green near the church was crowded by the picturesque confusion of the camp. Above the fires of piled gum-tree bark and sticks rose soft plumes of white smoke that scented the air fragrantly, and the red light of the flames showed, as they would show many times again, the explorers' tents in vivid relief against the coming night. The horses and camels were unloaded and picketed, and the men sat at the openings of their tents eating their supper, or stood in groups talking to those anxious friends who had come out from Melbourne to any the last good sp6ed, or to repeat fears, to which imagination often lent the wildest colouring, of perils that awaited the adventin-ers in the great imknown land. The wet weather which set in soon after their start made travelling very slow as they crossed Victoria, though at that time all seemed to go well with the part3\ On fine days AVills found he was able to write his journal and do much of his work whilst riding his camel ; he sat behind the linmp, and had his instruments packed in front of it ; thus he only needed to stop when the bearings had to be carefully taken. They halted for several days at Swan TTill, which was thoir last resting-place before leaving the Colony. They were very hospitably entertained there by the people. 326 THE BUBKE AND WILLS This may have had somethino^ to do with the ill-content of some of the party when on the march again, as at llalranald, beyond the Murray, Burke found himself obliged to discharge the foreman, Fergnsson. The plan of their route had to be changed here, as they were told that all along tha Lower Darling, where they intended to travel, there was absolutely no food for their horses, but a plant called the Darling Pea, which made the animals that ate it mad. Burke was at this time constantly irritated by Landells refusing to allow the camels to travel the distance of a day's march, or to carry their proper burden ; he was naturally full of anxiety to push on while the season was favourable, and impatient and hasty when anything occurred to hinder their progress. Landells insisted upon taking a (piantity of rum for the use of the camels, as he had heard of an officer who took two camels through a two years' campaign in Cabul, the Punjab, and Scind by allowing them arrack. He had also been sowmg dissension in the camp for some time ; and, in short, the camels and the officer in charge of them seemed likely to disorganise the whole of the enterprise. Complaints were now continually reaching Burke from the managers of the sheep stations through which they passed, that their shearers had got drunk on some of the camels' rum, which had been obtained from the wagons. He therefore, at last, determined to leave the rum behind. Landells, of course, would not agree to this, and in the end sent in his resignation. In the course of the same day Dr. Beckler followed his example, giving as his reason that he did net like the manner in which Burke spoke to Landells, and that he did not consider the party safe without him to manage the camels. Burke did not, however, accept the Doctor's resignation. This happened shortly before they left Menindie, the last station of the settled districts, and it was impossible to find anj'one to take Landells' place. Wills was, however, at once promoted k) be second in charge. Burke now divided the expedition into two parts — one to act with him as an exploring party to test the safety of the route to Cooper's Creek, which was about four hundred miles farther on ; the other to remain at Menindie with the heavy stores, under the care of Dr. Beckler, until arrangements were made to establish a permanent depot in the interior. EXPLORING EXPEDITION 327 The advance party of eight started on October 29, under the guidance of a man named "Wright, who was said to have practical knowledge of the ' back countrv.' ' The advance party of eight started on October 29 ' They were F.nrke, AVills, Brahe, Patten, ]\r'Donough, King, Gray, and Dost Mahomet, with lifteen liorsos and sixteen camels. When this journey was made it was iiunudiately after one of those wonderful seasons that transform these parts of Central Aus- 328 THE BIJBKE AND WILLS tralia from a treeless and pfi-assless desert to a land where the swelling plains that stretch from bound to bound of the horizon are as vast fields of ripening corn in their yellow summertide. Eiding girth high through the lovely natural grass, from which the ripe seed scattered as they passed, or camping at night sur- rounded by it, the horses and canaels improved in condition each day, and were never at a loss for water. Sometimes they found a sufficiency in a natural well or claypan ; or again they struck for some creok towards the west or north, whose irregular curves were outlined on the plain by the gum-trees growing closely on its banks. Nowhere did they experience great difficulty or serious obstacle on their northward way, though sometimes, as they crossed the rough ironstone ranges which crop up now and then on this great and ever rising table-land, there was little feed, and the sharp stones cut the feet of the animals as they trod with faltering footsteps down the precipitoiTs gulleys, out of which the floods had for ages torn a path. As they followed the dry bed of such a path leading to rich flats, they would come upon quiet pools deeply shaded by gums and marsh mallow, that had every appearance of being per- manent. After they had been out ten days and had travelled over two hundi'ed miles, Burke had formed so good an opinion of Wright that he made him third in charge, and sent him back to Menindie to replace Dr. JJeckler — wliose resignation was now accepted — in command of the portion of the expedition at that place. Wright took with him despatches to forward to Melbourne, and his instructions were to follow up the advance party with the heavy stores imme- diately. Burke now pushed on to Cooper's Creek ; and though the last part of their journey led them over many of those tracts of country peculiar to Australia where red sandy ridges rise and fall for many miles in rigid uniformity, and are clothed for the most part in the monotonous grey of salt and cotton-bush leafage, yet thej- saw before them what has since proved to be 07ie of the finest grazing lands in the world. Still, as they went on, though the creeks and watercourses were more frequent, everywhere they showed signs of rapid drying up. The party reached the Cooper on November 11, and after resting fi:)r a day, thej' set about preparing the depot. For about a fortnight from this point Burke or Wills made ffequent short journeys to the EXPLORING EXPEDITION 329 north or north-east, to feel then- way before starting for the northern coast. On one occasion Wills went out taking with him M'Donough and three camels, and when about ninety miles from the head camp he walked to a rising ground at some distance from where they intended to stop to make some observations, leaving M'Donough in charge of the camels and to prepare tea. On his return he found that the man had fallen asleep, and that the camels had gone. Night closing in almost directly pi-e- vented any search for the missing animals. Next morning nothing could be seen of them, though their tracks were followed for many miles, and though Wills went to some distant hills and searched the landscape on all sides with his tield- glasses. With a temperature of 112° in the shade, and the dazzling sxm- rays beating frcun a pallid and cloudless sky, they started on their homeward walk of eighty miles, with only a little bread and a few johnny cakes to eat, each carrying as much water as he could. They feared to light a fire even at night, as it might have attracted the blacks ; therefore they took it in turn to sleep and watch when the others rested; while the dingoes sneaked from their cover in the belts of scrub, and howled dismally around them. They readied the depot in three days, having found only one pool of stagnant water, from which they drank a great deal and refilled the goatskin bag. Wills was obliged to return afterwards with King to recover the saddles and things that were left when the camels strayed. For some time Wright had been expected to arrive with the caravan from Menindie ; yet a whole month passed and he did not come. Burke who had now become very impatient at the loss of oppor- tunity and time, determined to make a dash across the continent to the sea. He therefore left Brahe, a man who could travel by compass and obser\ation, in charge at Cooper's Creek depot until Wright should arrive, giving him positive instructions to remain there until the return of the ex[)l<>ring party from tlie Gulf of Carpentaria, which he thought would be in about three or four months. Burke started northwards on December 16, in company w ith Wills, King, and Gray, taking with them six camels, one horse, and 330 THE BURKE AND WILLS provisions for three months, while Brahe, three men, and a native were left at the Creek with the rest of the horses and camels. The expedition was now in tln-ee parts, and Wright, who perhaps knew more about the i;ncertainty of the seasons and the terrible consequences of drought than any of the party, still delayed leaving Menindie with his contingent, thougli he well knew that as the summer advanced the greater would be the ditBculty to travel. He had become faint-hearted, and every day invented some new excuse for not leaving. One day it was that there were not enough camels and horses to carry the necessary provision ; the next, that the country through which they must pass was infested by blacks ; the next, that he waited for his appointment to be confirmed by the authorities at Melboiu-ne ; and all this time he knew that Burke depended solely upon him to keep up communication with the depot from the Darling. Finally he started at the end of January (summer in Austraha), more than a month after his appointment was officially confirmed, and more than two months after his return from Menindie. For the first few days after Burke and Wills set off they followed up the creek, and though the banks were rugged and stony, there was plenty of grass and soft bush near. They soon fell in with a large tribe of blacks, the first they had seen, who followed them for some time, and constantly tried to entice them to their camp to dance. When they refused to go the natives became very trouble- some, until they threatened to shoot them. They were fine-looking men, but easily frightened, and only carried as a means of defence a shield and a large kind of boomerang. The channel of the Creek was often quite dry for a great dis- tance ; then a chain of magnificent water-holes followed, from whose shady pools pelicans, black swans, and many species of duck flew up in flocks at the approach of the travellers. After a few days they reached what seemed to be the end of Cooper's Creek, and, steering a more north easterly course, they journeyed for some time over great plains covered by dry grass- stalks or barren sandy ridges, on the steep sides of \vhich grew scant tufts of porcupine grass ; sometimes following the lines of a creek, or, again, travelling along the edge of a splendid lagoon that stretched its placid waters for miles over the monotonous land- scape. EXPLORING EXPEDITION 331 Even the stony desei't they found far from bad traveRinfT ground, and bnt little different from much of what they had ah-eady crossed. Yet ever before them there, from the sunrise to its setting, the spectral illusive shapes of the mirage floated like restless spirit betwixt heaven and earth on the (pii\ ering heat-haze. On January 7 they crossed the Tropic of Capricorn, and their way bej'ond it soon began to improve. In the excitement of exploring fine country Burke rushed on with almost headlong feverishness, travelling in every available hour of the day, and often by night, even grudging the necessary time for food and rest. He walked with Wills in fi'ont, taking it in turn with him to steer by a pocket compass. Before they left each camp its number w'as cut deeply into the bark of some prominent tree. ^Yills kept the little record there is of their journej', and as they went it was the duty of King or Gray to blaze a tree to mark their route. They passed now ovei; many miles of the richly grassed slopes of a beautiful open forest, intersected by frequent watercourses where the land trended gradually upward to the distant mountain-range. Sometimes they had to go out of their course in order to avoid the tangle of tropic jungle ; but onward north l)y east they went, beneath the shade of heavj'-fruited palms, their road again made difficult by the large and numerous anthills that give these northern latitudes so strange a soleninitj^ and appearance of desolation. After leaving Cooper's Creek they often crossed the paths the blacks made for themselves, but had hitherto seen nothing of the natives. One day Golah, one of the camels (who were all now begin- ning to show great signs of fatigue), had gone down into the bed of a creek to drink, and could not be made to climb its steep sides again. After several unsuccessful attempts to get him up, they deter- mined to try bringing him down u.ntil an easier ascent could be found. King thereupon went on alone with him, and had great difficulty in getting him through some of the deeper water-holes. But after going in this way for two or three miles they were forced to leave him behind, as it separated King from the rest of the party, and they found that a number of lilacks were hiding' in the box-trees on the banks, watching, and following them with stealthy footsteps. It now became a very difficult matter for the camels to travel 832 THE BUBKE AND WILLS as the heavy rains that had fallen made the land so wet and that with every footstep they sank several inches into it. At Camp 119 Burke left them in char^^e of Gray and Kin walked on to the shores of Carpentaria with Wills, and , , , '>ii7>.n£.^«#'rN took only the horse Billy to carry their provisions. They followed the hanks of a river which Burke named the Cloncurry. A few hundred yards below the camp Billy got bogged i" ^ quicksand bank so deeply as to be un- able to stir, and they had to undermine him on the creek side and pull him into the water. About five miles ^oggy g, and Golah is abandoned EXPLOBING EXPEDITION 333 farther on he bogged again, and afterwards was so weak that he could hardly crawl. After tioundering along in this way for some time they came upon a native path which led through a forest ; following it, they reached a large patcli of sandy groinid where the blacks had been digging yams and had left numbers lying on the surface ; and these the explorers were glad enough to eat. A little farther on they saw a black lying coiled round his camp fire, and by him squatted his lubra and piccaninny yabbering at a great rate. They stopped to take out their pistols in case of need before disturbing them ; almost immediately the black got up to stretch his limbs, and presently saw the intruders. He stared at them for some time, as if he thought he nuist be dreaming, then, signing to the others, they all dropped on their haunches, and shuffled off in the quietest manner. Near their fire was a worley (native hut) large enough to shelter a dozen blacks ; it was on the northern outskirt of the forest, and looked out across a marsh which is sometimes flooded by sea-water. Upon this were hundreds of wild geese, plover, and pelicans. After they crossed it they reached a channel through which the sea-water enters, and there passed three blacks, who silently and unasked pointed out the best way to go. Next day, Billy being completely tired, they short-hobbled and left him, going forward again at daybreak in the hope of at last reaching the open sea. After following the Flinders (this country had already been explored by Gregory) for about fifteen miles, and finding that the tide ebbed and flowed regularly, and that the water was quite salt, they decided to go back, having snccossfnlly accom- plished one great object of their mission, by crossing the Australian continent from south to north. After rejoining Gray and King on February 13, the whole party began the return march. The incessant and heavy rains that had set in rendered travelling very ditlicult ; but the provisions were running short, and it was necessary to try to get back to tlie depot without delay. The damp and suffocating heat that brooded in the air over- powered botli man and beast, who were weak and weary from want of rest ; and to breast the heavy rains and to swim the rapid creeks in flood well-)iigh exhausted all tlieir strength. Day after day they stumbled listlessly onward ; wliilc tlie poor camels, sweating, bleeding, and groaning from fear, had their feet at 334 THE BURKE AND WILLS almost every step cntan.cilecl by the cliinLiiifr plants that eluiij,' to the rank grasses, which had rushed in magical growth to a height of eight or ten feet. If for a moment they went to windward of their camp fires they were maddened by swarms of mosquitoes, and everywhere were pestered by ants. Wonderful green and scarlet ants dropped upon them from the trees as they passed ; from every log or stick gathered for the fires a new species crept ; inch-long black or brown ' bulldogs ' showed fight at them underfoot : midgets lurked in the cups of flowers ; while the giant white ant ate its stealthy way in swarms through the sap of the forest trees from root to crown. Every night fierce storms of thimder crashed and crackled over- head, and the vivid lightning flaring across the heavens over- powered the moonlight. Gray, who had been ailing for some time, grew worse, though probably, as they were all hi such evil plight, they did not think him really ill. One night ^Yills, returning to a camp to bring back some things that had been left, found him hiding behind a tree eating skilligolee. lie explained he was suffering from dysentery, and had taken the flour withoiit leave. It had alreadj^ been noticed that the provisions disappeared in an unaccountable way ; therefore Wills ordered him back to report himself to Burke. But Gray was afraid to tell, and got King to do so for him. "When Burke heard of it, he was very angry, and flogged him. On March 20 they overhauled the packs, and left all they could do without behind, as the camels were so exhausted. Soon after this they were again beyond the line of rainfall, and once more toiling over the vast plains and endless stony rises of the interior. At the camp called Boocha's Eest they killed the camel Boocha, and spent the whole day cutting up and jerking the flesh — that is, removing all bone and fat and drying the lean parts in the sun ; they also now made use of a jjlant called portulac as a vegetable, and found it very good, and a great addition to their food. For more than a week it had become very troublesome to get Gray to walk at all ; he was still in such bad odour from his thieving that the rest of the party thought he pretended illness, and as they EXPLORING EXPEDITION 335 had to halt continually to wait for him when niarching, he was always in mischief. The faithful Billy had to be sacrificed in the Stony Desert, as he was so reduced and knocked up that there seemed little chance of his reaching the other side ; and another day was taken to cut iip and jerk his tlesh. At dawn on the foui-th day before they reached the depot, wlien they were pi-eparing to start they were shocked to find poo.- Gray was dying. His companioris, full of remorse for bygone harshness, their better natures stirred to the depths of humanity by his pitiful case, knelt around to support him in those last moments as he lay stretched speechless on his desolate sand bed. Thus comforted, his fiiding eyes closed for ever as tlie red sun rose above the level plain. The party remained in camp that day to bury him, though they were so weak that they were hardly able to dig a grave in the sand sufficiently deep for the purpoee. The\- had lived on the flesh of the worn-out horse for fifteen days, and once or twice were forced to camp without water. Though the sun was always hot, at night a gusty v. iiid blew from the south with an edge like a razor, which made their fire so irregular as to be of little use to them. The sudden and cruel extremes of heat and cold racked the exhausted frames of the explorers with pain, and Burke and King wore hardly able to walk. They pushed on, only sustained by the thought that but a few hours, a few miles, now separated them from the main party, where the first felicitations on the success of their exploit awaited them, and, what was of greater im])ortance to men shattered by hardsliips and privation, wholesome food, fresh clotlmig, and tlie comfort of a properly organised camp. On the morning of April 21, with every impatient nerve strung to its utmost tension, and full of hope, the^' urged their two remain- ing camels forward for the last thirty miles ; and Burke, who rode a little in advance of the others, shouted for joy when they struck Cooper's Creek at the exact spot where Brahd had been left in charge of the depot. ' I think I see their tents,' he cried, and putting his weary camel to its best speed, he called out the names of the men he had left tliere. ' There they are ! There they are ! ' he shouted eagerly, and ■with a last spurt left the others far behind. 386 THE BURKE AND WILLS When "Wills and Kint^ reached the depot they saw Burke stand- ing by the side of his camel in a deserted camp, alone. He was standing, lost in amazement, staring vacantly around. Signs of recent departure, of a final packing-up, everywhere met the eye : odd nails and horseshoes lay about, with other useful tilings that would not have been left had the occupants merely decamped to some other spot. Then, as one struck by some terrible blow, Burke reeled and fell to the ground, overcome by the revulsion of feeling from exultant hope to sudden despair. "Wills, who had e\er the greater control of himself, now walked in all directions to make a careful examination, followed at a little distance by King. Presently he stopped, and pointing to a tree, into the bark of which had been newly cut the words — ' Dig. 'April 21, 1861' he said : — ' Kiiir/, thcij are gone ! They have only gone to-day—there are the things they liave left ! ' The two men immediately set to work to uncover the earth, and found a few inches below the surface a bojx containing provisions and a bottle. In the bottle was a note, which was taken to Burke at once, who read it aloud : — ' Depot, Cooper's Creek, 'April 21, 1861. ' The depot party of the Victorian Exploring Expedition leaves this camp to-day to retiu-n to the Darling. ' I intend to go S.E. from Camp 60, to get into our old track near BuUoo. Two of my companions and myself are quite well ; the third — Patten — has been unable to walk for the last eighteen days, as his leg has been severely hurt when thrown by one of the horses. ' No person has been up here from the Darling. ' We have six camels and twelve horses in good working con- dition. ' William Brake.' When the leader had finished reading it, he turned to the others and asked if they would start next day to try to overtake Brahe's party. They replied that they could not. With the slightest exertion EXPLORING EXPEDITION 337 all felt the iudescribable languor and terrible aching in back and legs that had proved fatal to poor Gray. And, indeed, it was as much as any one of them could do to crawl to the side of the creek for a billy of water. They were not long in getting out the stores Brahe had left, and in making themsehes a good supper of oatmeal porridge and sugar. ' King, they are gone This and the excitement of their unexpected position did much to revive them. Burke presently decided to make for a station on the South Australian side which he believed was only one hundred and twenty miles from the Cooper. Both Wills and King wanted to follow down their old track to the Darling, but afterwards gave in to Burke's idea. Therefore it was arranged that after they hud rested they would proceed by gentle stages towards the Mount Hopeless sheeprun. K. Sm THE BUEKE AND WILLS Accordingly, on the next day Biivke wrote and deposited in the cache a letter giving a sketch of tlie exploration, and added the foUowmg postscript : ' The camels cannot travel, and we cannot walk, or we should follow the other partj% We shall move very slowly down the Creek.' The cache was again covered with earth, and left as they had found it, though nothing was added to the word ' Dig,' or to the date on the tree ; which curious carelessness on the part of men accustomed to note every camping-ground in this way seems un- accountable. A few days after their return they started with the month's sujiply of provisions that had been left. They had every reason to hope, with the help of the camels, they might easily reach Mount Hopeless in time to preserve their lives and to reap the reward of their successful exertions. It will be remembered that when Burke formally appointed Brahe as officer in command of the depot until Wright should arrive, he was told to await his leader's return to Cooper's Creek, or not to leave it until ohligrd hij absolute necessity. Day after day, week after week passed, and Wright, with the rest of the stores from Menindie, never came. It was more than four months since Burke's party went north, and every day for the last six weeks Brahe had looked out anxiously for their return. On one hand he was worried by Patten, who was dying, and who wanted to go back to the Darling for advice ; on the other, by M'Donough's continually pouring into his ears the assurance that Burke would not return that way, but had doubtless by this time made for some port on the Queensland coast, and had returned to Mel- bourne by sea ; and that if they stayed at the depot they would all get scurvy, and in the end die of starvation. Thoiigh they had sufficient provisions to keep them for another month, they decided to start on the morning of April 21, leaving the box of stores and the note hidden in the earth which the explorers found on their return. Following their former route towards the Darling, they fell in with Wright's party at BuUoo, where they had been stationary for several weeks, and where three of the men had died of scurvy. Brahe at once put himself under Wright's orders ; but he did not rest mitil Wright consented to go to Cooper's Creek with him, so that EXPLOBING EXPEDITION 339 before abandoning the expedition he might feel assured that the explorers had not returned. Wright and Brahe reached the depot on May 8, a fortnight after the othei-s had left, and Brahe seeing nothing above ground in the camp to lead him to think anyone had been there, did not trouble to disturb the box which he had originally planted— as Wright suggested the blacks would be more likely to find it ; therefore, run- ning their horses several times over the spot, they completed by their thoughtless stupidity the most terrible blunder the explorers had begun. Wright and Brahe then rejoined the camp at Bulloo, when all moved back to Menindie, and reached that place on June 18. Brahe at once set off for Melbourne, and by this time everyone there seemed to be alive to the necessity of sending out to look for the explorers. Two steamers were despatched to the Gulf of Carpentaria, and a relief party, in charge of Alfred Howitt, up to the Cooper. From South Australia an organised expedition of twenty-six men, with McKinlay as leader, was already engaged in the search, as well as several smaller parties from the neighbouring colonies. Burke, Wills, and King, much revived with the rest of a few days and the food they had found at the depot, left for Mount Hopeless, with the intention of following as nearly as jjossible the route taken by Gregory many years before. Shortly after their departure Landa, one of the camels, bogged at the side of a water-hole and sank rapidly, as the groimd beneath was a bottomless quicksand ; all their efforts to dig him out were useless, and they had to shoot him where he lay, and cut off what flesh they could get at to jerk. They made a fresh start next day with the last camel, llajah, only loaded with the most useful and necessary articles ; and each of the men now carried his own swag of bed and clothing. In addition to these misfortunes they had now to contend with the blast of drought that lay over the land ; with the licry sun, that streamed from cloudless skies, beneath which the very earth shrunk from itself in gaping fissures ; with the wild night wind, that shrieked and skirled with devastating breath over the wildoniess beneath the cold iiglit of the crowding stars. For a few days they followed the Creek, but found that it split up into sandy channels which became rapidly smaller as they z2 340 THE BURKE AND WILLS advanced, and sent off large billabongs (or backwaters) to the south, slightly changing the course of the Creek each time, until it dis- appeared altogether in a north-westerly direction. Burke and Wills went forward alone to reconnoitre, and found that the land as far as they could see stretched away in great earthy plains intersected by lines of trees and empty watercourses. Next day they retraced their steps to the last camp, and realised that their rations were rapidly diminishing and their boots and clothing falling to pieces. Eajah was very ill and on the point of dying, when Burke ordered him to be shot, his tiesh being afterwards dried in the usual manner. Some friendly blacks, whom they amused by lighting fires with matches, gave them some tish and a kind of bread called nardoo. At various times they had tried to learn from the blacks how to procure the nardoo grain, which is tlie seed of a small clover-like plant, but had failed to make them understand what they wanted. Then Wills went out alone to look for it ; but as he expected to find it growing on a tree, was of course unsuccessful, and the blacks had again moved off to some other branch of the Creek. The terrible fate of death from star\'ation awaited thern if they could not obtain this knowledge, and for several days they all per- severed with the search, until quite by chance King at last caught sight of some seeds which proved to be nardoo lying at the foot of a sandhill, and they soon found the plain beyond was blacji with it. With the reassurance that they could now support themselves they made another attempt to reach Mount Hopeless. Burke and King each carried a billy of water, and the last of the provisions was packed up in their swags ; but after travelling for three days they found no water, and were forced to turn back to the Creek, at a point where — though they knew it not— scarce fifty miles remamed to be accomplished, and just as Mount Hopeless would have appeared above the horizon had they continued their route for even another day. Wearily tliey retraced their footsteps to the water and to the prospect of existence. They at once set about collecting nardoo ; two of them were employed in gathering it, while one stayed in camp to clean and crush it. In a few days Burke sent Wills back to the depot to bury the field-books of their journey north in the cache, and another letter to tell of their present condition. EXPLORING EXPEDITION 341 When Wills reached the spot he could see no trace of anyone having been there but natives, and that the hiding-place had^ not been touched. Having deposited the field-books and a note, with an account of their sufferings and a pitiful and useless appeal for food and cloth- ing, he started back to rejoin Burke, terribly fatigued and weak from his long walk. It had taken him eleven days to cover the seventy miles to and fro, and he had had very little to eat. However, to his surprise, one morning, on his way back he heard a cooee from the opposite bank of the Creek, and saw Pitchery, the chief of the friendly blacks, beckoning to him to come to their camp. Pitchery made him sit down l)v a fire, upon which a large pile of fish was cooking. This he thought was to provide a breakfast for the half-dozen natives who sat around ; but to his astonishment they made liim eat the whole lot, while they sat by extracting the bones. Afterwards a supply of nardoo was given him ; at which he ate until he could eat no more. The blacks then asked him to stay the night with them ; but as he was anxious to rejoin Burke and King, he went on. In his absence Burke, while frying some fish that the natives had given him, had set fire to the mia-mia (a shelter made bj' tiie blacks of bushes and trees). It burnt so quickly that every remnant of their clothing was destroyed, and nothing saved but a gun. In a few days thcj- all started back towards the depot, in the hope that they could live \\ ith tlie blacks ; but they found thej' had again disappeared. On again next morning to another of the native camps; but, finding it empty, the wanderers took possession of the best mia- mia, and Wills and King were sent out to collect nardoo. This was now absolutely' their only food, with the exception of two crows which King shot ; he alone seemed to be uninjured by the nardoo. Wills had at last suddenly collapsed, and could only lie in the mia-mia, and pliilosophically contemplate the situation. He strongly advised Burke and Iviiig to leave liiiii, as ilie only chance for the salvation of any one of them now was to find the blacks. Very reluctantly at last Burke consented to go; and Mfur 342 THE BURKE AND WILLS placing a large supply of nardoo, wood, and water within easy reach, Burke said again : ' I will not leave you, Wills, under any other circumstance than that of your own wish.' And Wills, again repeating ' It is our only chance,' gave him a letter and his watch for his father. King had already buried the rest of the field-books near the mia-mia. The first day after they left Wills Burke was very weak, and complained sadly of great pain in his back and legs. Next day H^tVjt-a. ■ '- Death of Burke he was a little better, and walked for about two miles, then lay down and said he could go no farther. King managed to get him up, but as he went he dropped his swag and threw away everything he had to carry. When they halted he said he felt much worse, and could not last many hours longer, and he gave his pocket-book to King, saying: — ' I hope you will remain with mS till I am quite dead — it is a comfort to know someone is by ; but when I am dying, it is my EXPLORING EXPEDITION 343 wish that you should place the pistol in my right hand, and that you leave me unburied as I lie.' Doubtless he thought of King's weak state, and wished to spare him the labour of digging a grave. The last of the misfortunes that had followed the enterprise from the outset, misfortunes in manj- cases caused bj^ the impatient zeal of its leader, was drawing to its close. Tortured by disappointment and despair, racked by starvation and disease, he lay in the desert dying. Flinging aside the last poor chance of succour, renouncing all hope that he might yet live to reap the reward of his brilliant dash across the continent, he met death ' With the pistol clenched in his failing hand. With the death mist spread o'er his fading ej-es He saw the sun go down on the sand, And he slept — and never saw it rise.' King hngered near the spot for a few hours ; but at last, feeling it to be useless, he went on up the Creek to look for the natives. In one of their deserted mia-mias he found a large store of the nardoo seed, and, carrying it witli him, returned to Wills. On his way back he shot three crows. This addition to their food would, he felt, give them a chance of tiding over their difficul- ties until the blacks could again be found. Hut as he drew near the mia-mia where he and poor Burke had left Wills a few days before, and saw his lonely figure in the distance lying nmch as they had left him, a sudden fear came upon him. Hitherto the awful (juiet of these desolate scenes had little im- pressed him, and now it came upon him heavily. The shrilling of a solitary locust somewhere in the gums, the brisk crackle of dry bark and twigs as he trod, the melancholy sighing of the wind- . stirred leafage, otiered him those inexplicable contrasts that give stress to silence. Anxious to escape thoughts so little comprehended. King hurried on, and essayed a feeble ' cooee ' when a few yards from the slee2)er. No answering sound or gesture greeted him. Wills had fallen peacefully asleep for ever. Footprints on the sand showed tiiat tlie blacks had already been there, and after King had buried the corpse with sand and rushes as well as he was able, he started to follow tlieir ti-acl\s. Feeling desperately lonely and ill, he wcjit on. and as he went 344 THE BIJBKE AND WILLS he shot some more crows. The blacks, hearing the report of the gun, came to meet him, and taking him to their camp gave him food. The next day they talked to him by signs, putting one finger in the ground and covering it with sand, at the same time pointing up the Creek, saying ' AVhite fellow.' By this they meant that one white man was dead. King, by putting two fingers in the sand and covering them, made them understand that his second companion was also dead. Finding he was now quite alone, they seemed very sorry for him, and gave him plenty to eat. However, in a few days they became trred of him, and by signs told him they meant to go i:p the Creek, pointing in the opposite direction to show that that must be his way. But when he shot some more crows for them they were very pleased. One woman to whom he gave a part of a crow gave him a ball of nardoo, and, showing him a wound on her arm, intimated that she would give him more, but she was unable to pound it. "When King saw the wound he boiled some w'ater in his billy and bathed it. "While the a\ hole tribe sat round, watching and yabbering excitedly, he touched it with some lunar caustic ; she shrieked and ran off, crying ' mokow ! mokow ! ' (fire ! fire !) She was, however, very grateful for his kindness, and from that time she and her husband provided him with food. About two months later the relief party reached the depot, where they found the letters and journals the explorers had placed in the cache. They at once set off down the Creek, in the hope still of finding Burke and "Wills. The.y met a black wlio directed them to the native camp. Here they found King sitting alone in the mia-mia the natives had made for him, wasted and worn to a shadow, almost imbecile from the terrible hardships he had suffered. He turned his hopeless face upon the new-comers, staring vacantly at them, muttering indistinctly words which his lips refused to articulate. Only the remnants of his clothing marked him as a civilised being. The blacks who had fed him sat round to watch the meeting with most gratified and delighted expressions. Howitt waited for a few days to give King an opportunity of reco^■ering his strength, that he might show them where the bodies of his unfortunate leaders lay, that the last sad duty to the dead miglit be performed before they left the place. Burke"s body had been dragged a short distance from where it originally lay, and was partly eaten by the dingoes (wild dogs). The EXPLORING EXPEDITION 34") remains were carefully collected, wrapped in a Union Jack, and placed in a grave dug close to the spot. A few weeks later the citizens of Melbourne, once again aroused to extravagant enthusiasm, lined the streets through which the only survivor of the only Victorian Exploration Expedition was to pass. ' Here he comes ! Here he comes ! ' rang throughont the crowd as King was driven to the Town Hall to tell his narrative to the company assembled there. ' There is a man ! ' shouted one — ' There is a man who has lived in hell.' A few months later Howitt was again sent to Cooper's Creek to exhume the bodies of Burke and Wills and bring them to Melbourne. They were honoured by a public funeral, and a monument was erected to their memoi-y — ' A statue tall, on a pillar of stone. Telling its story to gi'eat and small Of the dust reclaimed from the sand-waste lone.' 346 THE STOBY OF EMUND (a.d. 1020) THERE was a man named Emnnd of Skara; lawman in Western Gantland, and very wise and eloquent. Of high birth he was, had a mimerons kin, and was very wealthy. Men deemed him cunning, and not very trusty. He passed for the man of uaost weight in West Gautland now that the Earl was gone away. At the time when Earl Rognvald left Gautland the Gauts held assemblies, and often murnaured among themselves about what the Swedish king was intending. They heard that he was wroth with them for having made a friendship with Olaf, King of Norway, rather than quarrel. He also charged with crime those men who had accompanied his daughter Astridr to Norway's king. And some said that they should seek protection of the Norse king and offer him their service ; while others were against this, and said that the West Gauts had no strength to maintain a quarrel against the Swedes, ' and the Norse king is far from us,' they said, ' because the main power of his land is far : and this is the first thing we must do, send men to the Swedish king and try to make agreement with him ; biit if that cannot be done, then take we the other choice of seeking the protection of the Norse king.' So the landowners asked Emund to go on this mission, to which he assented, and went his way with thirty men, and came to East Gautland. There he had many kinsmen and friends, and was well received. He had there some talk with the wisest men aljout this difficulty, and thej^ were quite agreed in thinking that what the King was doing with them was against use and law. Then Ennmd went on to Sweden, and there talked with many great men; and there too all were of the same mind. He then held on his way till he came on the evening of a day to Upsala. Tliere THE STORY OF EMUND 347 they found them good lodging and passed the night. The next day Emund Avent befoi'e the King as he sat in council with many around him. Ennnid went up to the King, and bowed down before him, and greeted him. The King looked at him, retm-ned his greeting, and asked him what tidings he brought. Emund answered : ' Little tidings are there with \\s Gauts. But this we deem a novelty : Atti the Silly in Vermaland went in the winter ug to the forest with his snowshoes and bow ; we call him a might}' hunter. On the fell he got such store of grey fur that he had filled his sledge with as much as he could manage to draw after him. He tin-ned him homeward from the forest ; but then he saw a squirrel in the wood, and sliot at him and missed. Then was he A\roth, and, loosing from him his sledge, he ran after the squirrel. But the scjuirrel went ever where the wood was thickest, sometimes ilear the tree roots, sometimes high among the boughs, and passed among the boughs from tree to tree. But when Atti shot at him, the arrow always flew above or below him, while the squirrel never went so that Atti could not see him. So eager was he in this chase that he crept after him for the whole day, but never could he get this squirrel. And when darkness came on, he lay down in the snow, as he was wont, and so passed the night; 'twas drifting weather. Next day Atti went to seek his sledge, but he never found it again ; and so he went home. Such are nay tidings, sire.' Said the King : ' Little tidings these, if there be no more to say.' Emund answered: 'Yet further a while ago happened this, which one may call tidings. Gauti Tofason went out with i\\o warships by the river Gaut Elbe ; but \v\um he lay by the Eikr Isles, some Danes came there with five large merchant sliips. Gauti and his company soon captured four of tlie merchant sliips without losing a man, and t(K)k gi-eat store of wealth ; but the fifth ship escaped out to sea by sailing. Gauti went after that one sliip, and at first gained on it ; but soon, as the wind freshened, the merchant sliip went faster. They had got far out to sea, and Gauti wished to turn back ; bat a storm came on, and his sliip was wrecked on an island, and all tlie wealtli lost and tlie mere part of tlie men. Meanwhile his comrades had had to stay at the Eikr IsKs. Then attacked them fifteen Danish merchant sliii)s. and slew tbem all, and took all the wealtli which they had before gotten. Sucli was tlie end of this covetousness.' 348 THE STOBY OF EMUND Tlie Kinj? answered : ' Great tidings these, and worth teUing ; but what is thy errand liither ? ' Ennind answered : ' I come, sire, to seek a solution in a difficulty where our law and Upsala law differ.' The Kin," asked : ' What is it of which thou wouldst complain ? ' Emnnd answered : ' There were two men, nobly born, equal in family, but unequal in possessions and disposition. They quarrelled about lands, and each wrought harm on the other, and he wrought the more who was the more powerful, till their dispute was settled and judged at the general assembly. He who was the more powerful was condemned to pay ; but at the first repayment he paid wildgoose for goose, little pig for old swine, and for a mark of gold he put down half a mark of gold, the other half-mark of clay and mould, and yet further threatened with rougli treatment the man to w4iom he was paying this debt. What is thy judgment herein, sire ? ' The King answered : ' Let him pay in full what was adjudged, and to his King thrice that amount. And if it be not paid within the year, then let him go an outlaw from all his possessions, let half his wealth come into the King's treasury, and half to the man to whom he owed redress.' Emund appealed to all the greatest men there, and to the laws valid at Upsala Thing in witness of this decision. Then he saluted the King and went out. Other men brought their compliiints before the King, and he sat long time over men's suits. But when the King came to table he asked where was lawman Emund. He was told that he was at home in liis lodging. Then said the King : ' Go after him, he shall be my guest to-day.' Just then came m the viands, and afterwards players with harps and fiddles and other music, and then drink was served. The King was very merry, and had many great men as his guests, and thought no more of Emund. He drank for the rest of the day, and slept that night. But in the morning, when the King waked, then he bethought him of what Emund had talked of the day before. And so soon as he was dressed he had his wise men summoned to him. King Olaf had ever about him twelve of the wisest men ; they sate with him over judgments and counselled him in difficulties ; and that was no easy task, for while the King liked it ill if judgment was perverted, he yet would not hear any contradiction of himself. W'hen they THE STORY OF EMUND 349 were met thus in council, tlie King took the word, and bade Euuuid be called thither. But the messenger came back and said : ' Sire, Emuud the lawman rode away yesterday immediately after he had supped.' Then spake the King : ' Tell me this, noble lords, whereto pointed that law question of which Emund asked yesterday '? ' They answered : ' Sire, thou wilt have understood it, if it meant more than his mere words.' The King said : ' By those two nobly-born men of whom he told the story that they disputed, the one mor^ powerful than the other, and each wrought the other harm, he meant me and Olaf Stout.' ' It is even so, sire,' said they, ' as thou sayest.' The King went on : • Judgment there was in our cause at the Upsala Thing. But what did that mean which he said about the under-payment, wildgoose for goose, little pig fur old swine, half clay for gold '? ' Arnvid the Blind answered : Sire,' said he, ' very unlike are red gold and clay, but more different are king and thrall. Thou didst promise to Olaf Stout thy daughter Ingigerdr, who is of royal birth on both sides, and of Up-Swedish family, the highest in the North, for it derives fi'om the gods themselves. But now King Olaf has gotten to wife Astridr. And though she is a king's child, yet her mother is a bondwoman and a Wendlander.' There were three brothers then in the council ; Arnvid the Blind, whose sight was so dim that he could scarce bear arms, but he was very eloquent ; the second was Thorvid the Stannncrer, who could not speak more than two words together, he was most bold and sincere ; the third was called Frey vid the Deaf, he was hard of hearing. These brothers were all powerful men, wealthy, of noble kin, prudent, and all were dear to tlj^ King- Then said King Olaf: ' What mcffitis that wliicli Emund told of Atti tlie Silly ? ' None answered, but they looked at one another. Said the King, ' Speak now.' Then said Thorvid the Stammerer : ' Atti (juarreLsome, coveton.=!. ill-willed, silly, foolish.' Then asked the King, 'Against whon'i is aimed this cut? ' Then answered Frey vid the Deaf: ' Sire, men will speak more openly, if that may be with thy permission.' Said the King : ' Speak now, Frey vid, with permission what thou wilt.' 350 THE STORY OF EMVXD Frevvid then took the word : ' Thorvid my brother, who is called the wisest of ns, calls the man Atti quarrelsome, silly, and foolish. He calls him so be^nse. ill-conteni with peace, he hunts eagerly af: - " - ■ r=. and v - i- -- them not. while for their sake he tii, . .: and p ^-ss. I am deaf, but now so many have qjoken that I have been able to nnderstand that men both jrreat and small like it ill that thou. sire. ' " not thy word with the King of Xorway. And still worse . ^-^7 this : that thou makest of none eSeet the judgment of the General Assembly at Upsala. Thou hast no need to fear King of Norway or of Danes, nor anyone else, while the anuies of Sweden will follow thee. But if the people of the land turn against thee with one eonsent. then we thy friends see no counsel that is sure to avaiL' T: ~ ^ ">rd: ' Who are mt leading men in this counsel to take t^ ;- -^ me?' Freyvid answered : * All the Swedes wish to hare old law and their fidl right. Look now, sire, how many of thy nobles sit in eooneil here " * "ee. I think we be here but six whom thou eaUest thy e< . - ; all the others have ridden away, and are gcme into the provinees, and are holding meetings with the people of the land : and, to teU thee the truth, the war-arrow is cut, and sent round all the land, and a high court appointed. All we brothers have been asked to take part in this counsel, but not one of us will bear this name and be c-aUed traitor to his king, for our fathers were never such.' T-^ ■ said the King: • "What expedient can we find"? A great d:: is upon ns : give ye counsel, noble sirs, that I may keep the kingdom and my inheritance from my fathers ; I wish not to contend against all the L - .veden.* Amvid the Blind ai- =1-: 'Sire, this seems to me good eotmsel : that thou ride down to Aros with such as will follow thee, take ship there, and go out to the lake ; there appoint a meeting •F. ■ ' " Behave not with hardne^- ' " ~^t men law and h. -'.^ . - doT*-n the war-arrow, it . have gone far round the land in so short a time ; send men of thine whom thou canst trust to meet those men who have this btisiness in hand, and try if- : - eted.' T old accept this cotmseL ' I will,' said he, ' tha.t ye brothers go on this mission, fe»r I tmst you best of my men.' THE STOBY OF EMUXD 351 Then said Thorvid the Stammerer : • I will remain benind, but let thy son -Jacob go ; this is needfid.' And Freyvid said : ' Let us do, sire, even as Thorvid says ; he will not leave thee in this peril ; but I and Arnvid will go.' So this counsel was followed King Olaf went to his ships and stood out to the liike, and many men soon joined him there. But the brothers Freyvid and Amvid rode out to Ullar-acre. taking with them Jacob, the King's son, but his going they kej t secret They soon got to know that there was a gathering and rush to arms, and the country people held meetings both by day and night. But when Freyvid and his party met their kinsmen and friends they said that they would join their company, and this offer all accepted joyfully. At once the deliberation was referred to the two brothers, and numbers followed them, yet aU were at one in saying that they would no longer have Olaf king over them, and would not endure his breaches of law and his arrogance, for he wotild hear no man's cause, even though great chiefs told him the truth. But when Freyvid found the vehemence of the people, then he saw into what danger matters had come, and he held a meeting with the chiefs, iind thus spoke before them : ' It seems to me that if this great measure is to be taken, to remove Olaf Ericsson from the kingdom, we Up- Swedes ought to have the ruling of it ; it has always been so, that what the chiefs of the Up- Swedes have re- solved among them, to this the other men of the land have Ustened. Om- fathers needed not to receive ad\-ice from the AYest Gauts about their rulmg of the land. Now are we not so degenerate that Emmad need teach us counsel ; I would have us bmd our counsel together, kinsmen and friends.' To this all agreed, and thought it well said. After that the whole multitude of the people tiuned to join this luiion of the Up- Swedish chiefs ; so then Freyvid and Arnvid became chiefs over the people. But when Emund found this, he guessed how the matter would end. So he went to meet these brothers, and they had a talk together ; and Fro vvid asked Emund : "What mean ye to do if Olaf Ericsson is killed ; what king will ye have ? ' Emund answered : ' Whosoever suits us best, whether of royal family or not.' Freyvid answered : • We Up-Swedes will not that the kingdom in our days go out of the family who from father to son have long held it. while such good means mav be taken to shim that as now 352 THE STORY OF EMUND can be. King Olaf has two sons, and we will have one of thein for king. There is, however, a great difference between them ; one is nobly born and Swedish on both sides, the other is a bond- woman's son and half Wendish.' At this decision there was great acclaim, and all would have Jacob for king. Then said Eniiind: 'You Up-Swedes have power to rule this for the time ; but I warn you that hereafter some of those who will not hear now of anything else but tliat the kingdom of Sweden go in the royal line, will themselves live to consent that the kingdom pass into other families, and that will turn out better.' After this the brothers Freyvid and Arnvid caused Jacob the King's son to be led before the assembly, and there they gave him the title of king, and therewith the Swedes gave him the name Onund, and henceforth he was so called. He was then ten or twelve years old. Then King Onund took to him guards, and chose chiefs with such force of men about them as seemed needful ; and he gave the common people of the land leave to go home. Thereafter mes- sengers passed between the kings, and soon they met and made their agreement. Olaf was to be king over the land ^\■hile he lived; he was to hold to peace and agreement with the King of Norway, as also with all those men who had been implicated in this counsel. Onund was also to be king, and have so much of the land as father and son might think fit; but was to be bound to follow the' landowners if King Olaf did any of those things which they would not tolerate. After this messengers went to Norway to seek King Olaf with this errand, that he should come with a fleet to Konunga Hella (Kings' Stone) to meet the Swedish king, and that the Swedish king wished that they should there ratify their treaty. King Olaf was still, as before, desirous of peace, and came with his fleet as proposed. The Swedish king also came, and when father-in-law and son-in-law met, they bound them to agreement and peace. Olaf the Swedish king showed him affable and gentle. Thorstein the Learned says that there was in Hising a portion of land that had sometimes belonged to Norway, sometimes to Gautland. The kings agreed between them that for this possession they would casts lots with dice ; he was to have it who should cast the higher throw. The Swedish king threw two sixes, and said that King Olaf need not cast. THE SfOBir OF EMUND 358 He auswereil, while shakiiiG; the dice in his hand : ' There are yet two sixes on the dice, and it is but a little thing for God to let them turn xi]).' He east, and turned iip two sixes. Then Olaf the Swedish king cast, and again two sixes. Then cast Olaf, King of Norway, and there was six on one die, but the other split in two, and there were then seven. So he got the portion of land. AVe have heard no more tidings of that meeting. The kings parted reconciled. u. A A 354 A THE MAN IN WHITE LITTLE while ago,' writes Mademoiselle Aisse, the Greek captive who was such a charming figure in Paris during the opening years of Louis XV.'s reign, ' a little while ago a strange thing happened here, which caused a great deal of talk. It camiot be more than six weeks since Besse the surgeon received a note, begging him to come without fail that afternoon at six o'clock to the Rue an Fer, near the Luxembourg Palace. Punctually at the hour named the surgeon arrived on the spot, where he found a man awaiting him. This man conducted the surgeon to a house a few steps further on, and motioning him to enter through the open door, promptly closed it, and remained hhnself outside. Besse was sur- prised to find liimself alone, and wondered why he had been brought there ; but he had not to wait long, for the housekeeper soon appeared, who informed hhn that he was expected, and that he was to go up to the first story. The surgeon did as he was told, and opened the door of an anteroom all hung with white. Here he was met by an elegant lackey, dressed also in white, frizzed and pow- dered, with his white hair tied in a bag wig, carrying two torches in his hand, who requested the bewild.ered doctor to wipe his shoes. Besse replied that this was quite unnecessary, as he had only just stepped out of his sedan chair and was not in the least muddy, but the lackey rejoined that everything in the house was so extraordi- narily clean that it was impossible to be too careful. ' His shoes being wiped, Besse was next l&d into another room, hung with white like the first. A second lackey, in every respect similar to the other, made his appearance ; again the doctor was forced to wipe his shoes, and for the third time he was conducted into a room, where carpets, chairs, sofas, and bed were all as white as snow. A tall figure dressed in a white dressing-gown and night- cap, and having its face covered by a white mask, sat by the fire. The moment this ghostly object perceived Besse, he observed, " My THE MAN IK WHIT/-: 355 body is possessed by the devil," aud theu was sileut. For tiirce- quarters of an hour they remained thus, the white figure occupyin'^ himself with incessantly putting on and taking off six pairs of white gloves, which were placed on a white table beside him. The strangeness of the whole affair made Besse feel very uncomfortable, but when his eyes fell on a variety of firearms in one corner of the room he became so frightened that he was obliged to sit doA\n, lest his legs should give way, ' At last the dead silence grew more than he could bear, and he turned to the white figure and asked what they wanted of him, and begged that his orders might be given him as soon as tin !l lii . jUi-i 1 % ■1 Bess6 introduced to the Man in While possible, as his time belonged to the pubUc and he was needed elsewhere. To this the white figure only answered coldly, " What does that matter, as long as you are well paid ? " and again was silent. Another quarter of an hour passed, and then the white figure suddenly pulled one of the white bell-ropes. "When the summons was answered bj' the two white lackeys, the figure desired them to bring some bandages, and commanded Besse to bleed liim, and to take from him five pounds of blood. The surgeon, amazed at the quantity, inquired what doctor had ordered stich extensive blood-letting. " I myself," replied the white figure. Besse felt that he was too much upset by all he had gone through 856 THE MAN IN WHITE to trust himself to bleed in the arm without i^reat risk of injury, so ho decided to perform the operation on the foot, which is far less dangerous. Hot water was brought, and the white phantom re- moved a pair of white thread stockings of wonderful beauty, then another and another, up to six, and took off a slipper of beaver lined with white. The leg and foot thus left bare were the prettioft in the world; and Besse began to think that the figure before him nnist be that of a woman. At the second basinful the patient showied signs of fainting, and Besse wished to loosen the mask, in order to give him more air. This was, however, prevented by the lackeys, who stretched him on the floor, and Besse bandaged the foot before the patient had recovered from his fainting fit. Directly he came to himself, the white figure ordered his bed to be warmed, and as soon as it was done he lay down in it. The servants left the room, and Besse, after feeling his pulse, walked over to the fireplace to clean his lancet, thinking all the while of his strange adventure. Suddenly he heard a noise behind him, and, turning his head, he saw reflected in the mirror the Avhite figure coming hopping towards him. His heart sank with terror, but the figure only took five crowns from the chimneypiece, and handed them to him, asking at the same time if he would be satisfied with that payment. Trembhng all over, Besse rephed that he was. " Well, then, be off as fast as you can," was the rejoinder. Besse did not need to be told twice, but made the best of his way out. As before the lackeys were awaiting him with lights, and as they walked he noticed that they looked at each other and smiled. At length Saw reflected in the niiiror the white figure ' THE MAN IN WHITE 357 Besse, provoked at this behaviour, inquired what they were laughing at. " Ah, Monsieur," was their answer, '■ what cause liave you to complain ? Has anyone done you any harm, and have you not been well paid for your services ? " So saying they conducted him to his chair, and truly thankful he was to be out of the house. He rapidly made up his mind to keep silence aboiit his adventures, but the following day someone sent to inquire how he was feeling after having bled the Man in White. Besse saw that it was use- less to make a mystery of the affair, and related exactly what had happened, and it soon came to the ears of the King. But who was the Man in "White ? Echo answers " Who ? " ' 358 THE ADVENTURES OF 'TEE BULL OF EABLSTOUN' THIS is the story of the hfe of Alexander Gordon, of Earlstonn in Galloway. Earlstonn is a bonny place, sitting above the waterside of the Ken in the fair strath of the Glenliens, in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright. The grey tower stands ruinous and empty to-day, but once it was a pleasant dwelling, and dear to the hearts of those that had dwelt in it when they were in foreign lands or hiding out on the wild wide moors. It was the time when Charles II. wished to compel the most part of the people of Scotland to change their religion and worship as he bade them. Some obeyed the King ; but most hated tlie new order of things, and cleaved in their hearts to their old ways and to their old ministers, who had been put out of their kirks and manses at the coming of the King. Many even set themselves to resist the King in open battle rather than obey him in the matter of their consciences. It was only in this that they were rebellious, for many of them had been active in bringing him again to the throne. Among those who tlms A\ent out to fight were AYilliam Gordon and his son Alexander. William Gordon was a grave, courteous, and venerable man, and his estate was one of the best in all the province of Galloway. Like nearly all the lairds in the south and west he was strongly of the Presbyterian party, and resolved to give lip life and lands rather than his principles. Now the King was doubtless ill-advised, and his councillors did not take the kindly or the wise way with the people at this time ; for a host of wild Highlanders had been turned into the land, who plundered in cotter's hut and laird's hall without much distinction between those that stood for the Covenants and those that held for the King. So in the year 1679 Galloway was very hot and angry, and many were ready to fight the King's forces wherever they could be met with. So, hearing news of a revolt in the West, "William Gordon rode ADVENTURES OF ' THE BULL OF EARLSTOUN' 359 away, with many good riders at his back, to take his place in the ranks of the rebels. His son Alexander, whose story we are to tell, was there before him. The Covenanting army had gained one success in Drumclog, which gave them some hope, but at Bothwell Bridge their forces were utterly broken, largelj- through their own quarrels, by the Duke of Monmouth and the disciplmed troops of the Government. Alexander Gordon had to dee from the held of Bothwell. He came home to Earlstoun alone, for his father had been met about six miles from the battle-field by a troop of horse, and as he refused to surrender, he was slain there and buried in the parish of Glassford. Immediately after Bothwell, Alexander Gordon was compelled to go into hiding with a price upon his head. Unlike his father, he was very ready-witted, free with his tongue, even -boisterous upon occasion, and of very great bodily strength. These qualities stood him in good stead during the long period of his wandering and when l3'ing in concealment among the hills. The day after Bothwell he was passing through the town of Hamilton, when he was recognised by an old retainer of the family. ' Save us, Maister Alexander,' said the man, who remembered the ancient kindnesses of his family, ' do you not know that it is death for you to be fomid here ? ' So saying he made his young master dismount, and carried away all his horseman's gear and his arms, which he hid in a heap of field-maniu-e beliind the house. Then he took Earlstoun to his own house, and put upon him a long dress of his wife's. Hardly had he been clean-shaven, and arrayed in a clean white mutch (cap), when the troopers came clattering into the town. They had heard that he and some others of the prominent rebels had passed that way ; and they went from door to door, knocking and asking, ' Saw ye anything of Sandy Gordon of Earlstomi ? ' So going from house to house they came to the door of the ancient Gordon retainer, and Earlstoun had hardly time to run to the corner and begin to rock the cradle with his foot before the soldiers came to ask the same question there. But they passed on without suspicion, only saying one to the other as they went out, ' My certes, Billy, but yon was a sturdy hizzie ! ' After that there was nothing but the heather and the mountain cave for Alexander Gordon for many a d.-iy. He had wealth of adventures, travelling by niyht, hiding and sleeping by day. Sometimes he would venture to the house of one who sympathised 360 ADVEN TUBES OF ' THE BULL OF EABLSTOUN' \\\{\\ the Covenanters, only to find that the troopers were ah-eady in possession. Sometimes, in utter weariness, he slept so long that when he awoke he wonkl find a party searching? for him quite close at hand ; then there was nothing for it but to he close like a hare in a covert till the danger passed by. Once when he came to his own house of Earlstoun he was only an hour or two there before the soldiers arrived to search for him. ) //■ ^^ --''K^.\ ) ^(/(L'h'"-^ < ^-i 'J '^^"^^hk -"""^M''' ' Sometimes he would find a party searching for him quite close at hand ' His wife had hardly time to stow him in a secret recess behind the ceiling of a room over the kitchen, in which place he abode several days, having his meals passed to him from above, and breathing through a crevice in the wall. After this misadventure he was sometimes in Galloway and sometimes in Holland for three or four years. He might even have ADVENTURES OF ' THE BULL OF EAELSTOUN' 361 remained in the Low Countries, but his services were so necessary to his pai'ty in Scotland tliat he was repeatedly summoned to come over into Galloway' and the "West to take up the work of organising resistance to the Government. During most of this time the Tower of Earlstoun was a barracks of the soldiers, and it was only by watching his opportunity that Alexander Gordon could come home to see his wife, and put his hand upon his bairns' heads as they lay a-row in their cots. Yet come he sometimes did, especially ^\•hen tlie soldiers of the garrison were away on duty in the more distant parts of Gallo^\'ay. Then the wanderer would steal indoors in the gloaming, soft-footed like a thief, into his own house, and sit talking with his wife and an old re- tainer or two who were fit to he trusted with the secret. Yet while he sat there one was ever on the watcli, and at tlie slightest signs of King's men in the neighbourhood Alexander Gordon rushed out and ran to the great oak tree, which you ma}' see to this day standing in sadly-diminished glory in front of the great house of Earlstoun. Now it stands alone, all the trees of the forest having been cut away from around it during the subsequent poverty which fell upon the family. A rope ladder lay snugly concealed among the ivy that clad the trunk of the tree. Up this Alexander Gordon climbed. "When he arrived at the top he pulled the ladder after him, and found himself upon an ingeniously constructed platform built with a shelter over it from the rain, high among tlie branchy tops of the great oak. His faithful wife, Jean Hamilton, could make signals to him out of one of the top windows of Earlstoun whether it was safe for him to approach the house, or whether he had better remain hidden among the leaves. If you go now to look for the tree, it is indeed plain and easy to be seen. But though now so shorn and lonely, there is no doubt that two hundred years ago it stood undistinguished among a thousand others that thronged the wood- land about the Tower of Earlstoun. Often, in order to give Alexander Gordon a false sense of security, the garrison would be withdrawn for a week or two, and then in the middle of some mirky night or early in tlie morning twiliglit the house would be surrounded and the whole place ransacked hi search of its absent master. On one occasion, the man who came running along the narrow river path from Dairy had liardly time to arouse Gordon before llic dragoons were heard clattering down tlu'ough tlie wood from tlie hisrh-road. There was no time to gain the great oak in safety, 362 ADVENTURES OF ' THE BULL OF EABLSTOUN' Avhere he had so often liid m time of need. All Ale>;ander Gordon oonld do was to put on the rough jerkin of a labouring man, and set to cleaving firewood in the courtyard with the scolding assistance of a maid-servant. AVhen the troopers entered to search for the master of the house, they heard the maid vehemently >\ /M. Alexander Gordon wood-chopping in the disguise of a labourer ' flyting ' the great hulking lout for his awkwardness, and threat- ening to ' draw a stick across his back ' if he did not work to a better tune. The commander ordered him to drop his axe, and to point out ADVENTURES OF ' THE BULL OF EABLSTOUN' 363 the different rooms and hiding-places about the castle. Alexander Gordon did «o with an air of mdifference, as if hunting Whigs were much the same to him as cleaving firewood. He did his (hity with a stupid unconcern which successfully imposed on the soldiers ; and as soon as they allowed him to go. he fell to his wood-chopping with the same stolidity and rustic boorishness that had marked his conduct. Some of the officers came up to him and questioned him as to his master's hiding-place m the woods. But as to this he gave them no satisfaction. ' My master,' he said, ' has no hiding-place that I know of. 1 always find him here when I have occasion to seek for him, and that is all I care about. But I am sure t-hat if he thought you were seeking him he would immediately show himself to you, for that is ever his custom.' This was one of the answers with a double meaning that were so much in the fashion of the time and so characteristic of the people. On leaving, the commander of the troop said, ' Ye are a stupid kindh' nowt. man. See that ye get no harm in such a rebel ser- vice.' Sometimes, howe^■er, searching waxed so hot and close that Gordon had to withdraw himself altogether out of Galloway and seek quieter parts of the country. On one occasion he was speed- ing up the Water of JE when he found himself so weary that he was compelled to lie down under a bush of heather and rest before proceeding on his journey. It so chanced that a noted King's man, Dalyell of Glena-, was riding homewards over the moor. His horse started back in astonishment, having nearly stumbled over tlie body of a sleeping man. It was Alexander Gordon. Hearing the horse's feet he leaped up, and l>alyell called upon him to surrender. But that was no word to say to a Gordon of Earlstoun. Gordon instantly drew his sword, and, though un- mounted, his lightness of foot on the heather and moss more tluin counterbalanced the advantages of the horseman, and the King's man found hunself matched at all points ; for the Laird of Earls- toun was in his day a famous sworder. Soon the Covenanter's sword seemed to wrap itself about Dalyell's blade and sent it twirling higli in tlic air. In a little lie found himself lying on the heather at the mercy of the man whom he had attacked. He asked for his life, and Alexander Gordon 364 ADVENTURES OF ' THE BULL OF EARLSTOUN' granted it to liiin, making him promise by his honour as a gentleman that whenever he had the fcjrti;ne to approach a conventicle he wonld retire, if he saw a white flag elevated in a particular minncr upon a flagstaff. This seemed but a little condition to weigh against a man's life, and Dalyell agreed. ■Now the Cavalier was an exceedingly honourable man and valued his spoken word. So on the occasion of a great conventicle at Mitchelslacks, in the parish of Closeburn, he permitted a great field meetmg to disperse, drawing off his party in another direction, because the signal streaming from a staff told him that the man who had spared his life was amongst the company of worshippers. After this, the white signal was frequently used in the neigh- bourhood over which Dalyell's jiu'isdiction extended, and to the great credit of the Cavalier it is recorded that on no single occasion chd he violate his plighted word, though he is said to have re- marked bitterly that the Whig with whom he fought must have been the devil, ' for ever going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it.' But Alexander Gordon was too great a man in the affairs of the Praying Societies to escape altogether. He continually went and came from Holland, and some of the letters that he wrote from that country are still in existence. At last, in 1C83, having received many letters and valuable papers for delivery to people in refuge in Holland, he went secretly to Newcastle, and agreed with the master of a ship for his voyage to the Low Countries. But just as the vessel was setting out from the mouth of the Tyne, it was accident- ally stopped. Some watchers for fugitives came on board, and Earlstoun and his companion were challenged. Earlstoun, fearing the taking of his papers, threw the box that contained them over- board ; but it floated, and was taken along with himself. Then began a long series of misfortunes for Alexander Gordon. He was five times tried, twice threatened with torture — which he escaped, in the judgment hall it-self, by such an exhibition of his great strength as terrified his judges.' He simulated madness, foamed at the mouth, and finally tore up the benches in order to attack the judges with the fragments. He was sent first to the castle of Edinburgh and afterwards to the Bass, ' for a change of air ' as the record quaintly says. Finally, he was despatched to Blackness Castle, where he remained close in hold till the revolu- tion. Not till June 5, 1689, were his prison doors thrown open, ' See the story of ' How tliey held the Bass for King James.' ADVENTURES OF ' THE BULL OF EABLSTOUN' 365 but even then Alexander Gordon would not go till he had ob- tained signed documents from the govei'nor and oflticials of the prison to the effect that he had never altered any of his opinions in order to gain privilege or release. Alexander Gordon retiu'ned to Earlstoun, and lived there quietly far into the next century, taking his share in local and county busi- ness with Grierson of Lag and others who had hunted him for years— which is a strange thing to think on, but one also very characteristic of those times. On account of his great strength and the power of his voice he was called ' the Bull of Earlstoun,' and it is said that when he was rebuking his servants, the bellowing of the Bull could plainly be heard in the clachan of Dairy, which is two miles away across hill and stream. 366 THE STORY OF GBISELL BAILLIES SHEEP'S HEAD THE Lady Grisell Baillie, as she was called after her marriage, was the daughter of a very eminent Covenanter, Sir Patrick Hnme of Polwarth. Grisell was born in 1665, and during all the years of her girlhood her father was seldom able to come home to his house of Polwarth, for fear of the officers of the Government seizing him. On one occasion he was taken and cast into prison in Dumbarton Castle for full fifteen months. Grisell was but a little girl at the time, but she had a wisdom and a quaint discretion beyond her years. Often she was entrusted with a letter to carry to him past the guard, and succeeded in the attempt where an elder person would certainly have been suspected and searched. When her father was set at liberty, it was not many weeks till the soldiers again came seeking him ; for new troubles had arisen, and the suspicion of the King was against all men that were not active in his service. Parties of soldiers were continually searching the house in pur- suit of him. But this occasioned no alarm to his family, for they all, with three exceptions, thought him far from home. Only Sir Patrick's wife, his little daughter Grisell, and a carpen- ter named James Winter were trusted with the secret. The ser- vants were frequently put to the oath as to when they saw their master ; but as they knew nothing, all passed off quite welh With James W' inter's assistance the Lady Polwarth got a bed and bed-clothes carried in the night to the burying-place, a vault under the ground at Polwarth Church, a mile from the house. Here Sir Patrick was concealed a whole month, never venturing out. For all light he had only an open slit at one end, through which nobody could see what was below. To this lonely place little Grisell went every night by herself at midnight, to carry her father victuals and drink, and stayed with STORY OF GEISELL BAILLIE'S SHEERS HEAD 8r,7 him as long as she could with a chance of retnrninj; home belbre the naorning. Here in this dismal habitation did they often laugh heartily at the incidents of the day, for they were both of tliat cheerful disposition which is a continual feast. ^'. > :-r '^A Grisell brings the sheep's head to her father in the vault Grisell had ordinarily a terror of the clnnrhyard, especially in the dark, for being but a girl, and having been frightened with nursery stories, she tliuught to see ghosts behind every tomb. But when she came to help her father, she had such an.vious care for liinj 368 STORY OF GEISELL BAILLIE'S SHEEP'S HEAD that all fear of ghosts went away from her. Slic stumbled among the graves every niglit alone, being only in dread that the stirring of a leaf or the barking of a dog betokened the coming of a party of soldiers to carry away her father to his death. The minister's house was near the church. The first night she went, his dogs kept up such a barking that it put her in tlie utmost fear of a discovery. The next day the Lady Polwarth sent for the curate, and, on pre- text of a mad dog, got him to send away all his dogs. A considerate curate, in sooth ! There was great difficulty in getting victuals to carry to Sir Patrick without the servants, who were not in the secret, suspecting for what purpose they were taken. The onlj^ way that it could be done was for Grisell to slip things off her plate into her lap as they sat at dinner. Many a diverting story is told about this. Sir Patrick above all things was fond of sheep's head. One day while the children were eating their broth, Grisell had conveyed a whole sheep's head into her lap. Her brother Sandy (who was afterwards Lord Marchmont) looked up as soon as he had finished, and cried out with great as- tonishment, ' Mother, will ye look at our Grisell. While we have been supping our broth, she has eaten up the whole sheep's head ! ' For indeed she needed to be looked to in these circumstances. This occasioned great merriment when she told her father of it in his hiding-place at night. And he desired tliat the next time there was sheep's head Sandy shculd have a double share of it. His great comfort and constant entertainment while in this dreary abode (for he had no light to read by) was to repeat over and over to himself Buchanan's Latin Psalms. And to his dying day, nearly fortj' years after, he would give the book to his wife, and ask her to try him at any place to see if he minded his Psalms as well as he had done in the hiding-hole among the bones of his ancestors in Polwarth Kirkyard. After this, James Whiter and the Lady Polwarth made a hole in the ground under a bed that drew out of a recess in the wall. They lilted the boards and took turns at digging out the earth, scratching it with their hands till they were all rough and bleeding, for only so could they prevent a noise being 'heard. Grisell and her mother helped James Winter to carry the earth in bags and sheets to the garden at the back. He then made a box bed at his own house, large enough for Sir Patrick to lie in, with bed and bed- clothes, and bored holes in the boards for air. But in spite of all STORY OF GBISELL BAILLIE'S SHEEP'S HEAD 369 this, tlie difficulty of their position was so great, and the danger so certainly increasing, that it ^\as judged better that Sir I'atrick should attempt to escape to Holland. It was necessary to tell the grieve, -Tohn Allen, who was so much astonished to hear that his master had been all the time about the house, that he fainted away. However, he made up willingly enough a story that he was going to Morpeth Fair to sell horses, and Sir Patrick having got forth from a window of the stables, they set out in the dark. Sir Patrick, being absent-minded, let his horse carry him whither it would, and in the morning found him- self at Tweedside, far out of his way, at a place not fordable and Asithout his servant. But this also was turned to good. For after waiting a while he found means to get over to the other side, where with great joy he met his servant. Then the grieve told him that he had never missed him till, looking about, he heard a great galloping of horses, and a party of soldiers wlio had just searched the house for Sir Patrick, surrounded him and strictly examined him. He looked about everywhere and could not see his master, for he was in much fear, thinking him to be close behind. But in tiiis manner, by his own absent-mindedness, Sir Patrick was preserved, and so got safely first to London and afterwards to Holland. Thence Sir Patrick sent home for his wife and family. They came to him in a ship, and on the way had an adventtu-e. The captain was a sordid and brutal man, and agreed with them and with several other people to give them a bed on the passage. So when there arose a dispute who would have the bed, the Lady Polwarth said nothing. But a gentleman coming to her said, ' Let them be doing. You will see how it will end.' So two of the other gentlewomen lay on the bed, the Lady Polwarth with Griseli and a little sister lying on the floor, with a cloak-bag of books slie was taking to Sir Patrick for their only ])illow. Then in came the captain, and tirst ate up all their provisions with a gluttony incredible. Then he said to tlie women in the bed, ' Turn out, turn out ! ' and laid himself down in place of them. But Providence was upsides with him, for a terrible storm came on, and he had to get up immediately and go out to try to save the ship. And so he got no more sleep that niglit, wliicii pleased the gentlewomen greatly in spite of all their own fears nii »> 402 THE CONQUEST OF PERU Inca sent word to Pizarro that he was coming? armed, as the Spaniards had come to him. To which the general rephed that, come as he might, he would be received as a friend and a brother. At last the procession was seen approaching. First came a large body of attendants, sweeping every particle of rubbish from the road. Then high above the crowd the Inca appeared, carried in a gorgeous litter and surrounded by his nobles, who wore such quantities of golden ornaments that they blazed like the sun. The road was lined with Peruvian troops, who also covered the level meadows as far as the eye could reach. When the company had arrived within half a mile of the city gate Pizarro observed with dismay that they halted, and seemed to be preparing to encamp, and word was brought him that the Inca would enter the city on the following morning. This was far from suiting the general's plans ; his men had been under arms since daylight, and to prolong the suspense at this critical moment would he felt be fatal. He re- turned an answer, therefore, to Atahuallpa, deprecating his change of purpose, and saying that everything was provided for his enter- tainment and he expected him that night to sup with him. This message turned the Inca from his purpose, his tents were struck agai i, and the procession re-formed. Only he sent Pizarro word that he should prefer to pass the night at Caxamalca, and so would bring into the town with him only a few unarmed men. It was near sunset when the Peruvians, chanting their triumphant songs, entered the city gate. According to their different ranks their robes were of various colours, some chequered in white and red, some pure white, while the guards and attendants of the Inca were distinguished by their gay blue uniform and the profusion of their ornaments. Atahuallpa sat in an open litter, lined with the brilliantly coloured plumes of tropical birds and studded with burnished plates of gold and silver. His dress was far richer than on the preceding evening ; roiind his neck hung a collar of large and brilliant emeralds, and his short hair was decorated with golden ornaments. He was at this time about thirty years old, and was taller and stronger than most of his countrymen. His head was large, and he might have been called handsome but for his fierce and bloodshot eyes. His bearing was calm and dignified, and he gazed upon the multitudes about him like one accustomed to command. Not a Spaniard was to be seen as the procession, in admirable order, entered the great square of the building that had been assigned to them, and when the place was occupied by some six thousand of his people Atahuallpa halted, THE CONQUEST OF PERU 40:3 and asked, ' Where are the strangers ? ' Upon this Father Valverde, Pizarro's chaplain, came forward Bible in hand, and pro- ceeded to expound to him the doctrines of his faith, declarin'^; finally that the Pope had commissioned the Spanish Emperor to conqiier and convert the inhabitants of the western ^vorld, and be- seeching the Inca to embrace the Christian faith and acknowledge himself a tributary of the Emperor Charles, who would aid and protect him as a loyal vassal. The eyes of Atahuallpa flashed fire as he answered : ' I will be no man's tributary ; I am greater than any prince upon earth. Your Emperor may be a great prince. I do not doubt it when I see that he has sent his subjects so far across the waters, and I am willing to hold him as a brother. As for the Pope of whom you speak, he must be crazy to talk of giving away countries which do not belong to him. For my faith, I will not change it. Yom- own God, you say, was put to death by the very men whom he created, but mine' — and here he pointed to the setting sini— ' my god still lives in the heavens and looks down upon his children.' He then demanded of Valverde by what authority he had said these things. The friar pt)iiited to the book he held. Atahuallpa took it, looked at it for an instant, and then threw it violently down, exclaiming: ' Tell your conu-ades they sliall give an account of their doings in my land. I will not go fi-om here till they have made me full satisfaction for all the wrongs they have com- mitted.' The friar thereupon rushed to Pizarro crying : ' Do you not see that while we stand here wasting our breath in talking witli tliis dog -full of pride as he is -the fields are filling with Indians? Set on at once ; I absolve you.' Pizarro saw that the hour had come. He waved a white scarf, the fatalgim was fired, and from every opening the Spaniards poured nito the great square, sword in hand, sliouting tlicir old 1 altlc-cry, ' Ki. Jago, and at them!' The Indians, unarmed, taken by surprise, stunned by the noise of the artillery, and blinded with smoke, knew not which way to fly. Nobles and soldiers were ruthlessly cut down, or trampled underfoot by tlie horses, the entrance to the s.piarc was choked with the fallen bodies of men, but the desperate struggles of the masses of natives driven together by their fierce assailants actually broke down the wall of clay and stone for a space of a hundred pnfos, through whicli the wretched fugitives endeavoured to reach the open country, hotly pursued by the cavah-yand struck down in all directions. 404 THE CONQUEST OF PERU THE CAI'TIVITY OF THE INC A Meanwhile, a desperate struf,'gle was goin.f,' on for the person of the Inca. His nobles surrounded and faithfully strove to defend him ; as fast as one was cnt down another took his place, and with tlicir dying grasp they clung to the bridles of the cavaliers, trying to force them hack. Atahuallpa sat as one stunned in his swaying The friar urges Pizavro to attack the Peruvians litter, forced this way and that by the pressure of the throng. The Spaniards grew tired at last of tlie work of destruction, and, fearing that in the gathering darkness the Inca might after all escape them, they made an attempt to end the fray at once by taking his life. But Pizarro, seeing this, cried out in a mighty voice, ' Let no man who values his life strike at the Inca,' and, stretching out his arm to shield him^ received a wound on the hand fi-om one of his own THE CONQUEST OF PERU 405 men— the only wound received by any Spaniard in the action. The strife now became fiercer romid the htter, and several of the nobles who bore it having been slain, it was overturned, and the Inca would have come violently to the ground had not Pizarro and some of his men caught him in their arms. A soldier instantly snatched the crimson fringe from his forehead, and the unhappy monarch was taken into the nearest building and cai-efully guarded. All attempt at resistance now ceased. The news of the Inca's fate spread over town and coimtrj^ and the only thing which had lield them together being gone, each man thought only of his own safety. The Spaniards pm-sued the fugitives till night fell and the sound of the trumpet recalled them to the sc^uare of Caxamalca. That night the Inca supped with Pizarro as he had said, while ten thousand of his faithful followers lay dead about the cit}-. He seemed like one in a dream, not understanding the calamity that had fallen upon him. He even commended the adroit way in which the Spaniards had entrajiped him, adding that since the landing of the white men he had been made awai-e of all their doings, but had felt siu'c of being easily able to overpower them as soon as he thought fit to do so, and had allowed them to reach Caxamalca unmolested because he desired to see them for himself, and to obtain possession of their arms and liorses. This, at least, was the interpretation of what the Inca said given by Felipillo ; but he was a malicious youth, who bore Atahuallpa no good will, and the Spaniards were only too ready to believe anytliing that seemed to justify their cruel deeds. Pizarro replied that tlie fate of the Inca was the lot that fell to all who resisted the white men, but he bade Atahuallpa take courage, for the Spaniards were a generous race, warring only against those who would not submit themselves. That same night the general reviewed liis men, con- gratulating them upon the success of their stratagem, but warning them to be strictly upon their guard, since they were but a handful of strangers in tlie heart of a mighty kingdom, encompassed by foes who were deeply attaclied to their own sovereign. Next niorning, the prisoners, of whom there were many in the camp, were em- ployed m burying tlie dead and removing all traces of tlie massacre, while a troop of Spaniards was despatclied to spoil the camp of Atahuallpa and scatter the renmant of tlie Peruvian forces. At noon this party returned, bringing the wives and attendants of tlie Inca, and a rich booty in gold, silver, emeralds, and other treasures, beside droves of llamas. 406 THE CONQUEST OE PEEU Pizarro would now liinc liked to march directly upon the capital, but tlie distance was great and his force was small. So after sending a message to San Miguel for reinforcements, he set his men to work at rebuilding the walls of Caxamalca, and fitting up a church, in which mass was celebrated daily. Atahuallpa soon discovered that gold was what the Spaniards chiefly coveted, and he determmed to try and buy his freedom, for he greatly fjared that Huascar might win back his liberty and his kingdom if the news once reached him of his brother's captivity. So he one day promised Pizarro to fill with gold the room in which they stood, not merely covering the floor, but piling it up to a line drawn round the walls as high as he could reach, if he would in return set him free. The general hardly knew how to answer. All he had seen confirmed the rumom-s of the wealth of the country, and if it could be collected thus by the Inea's order, he might really hope to secure it, whereas if he trusted to being able to seize it for himself the chmces were that most of it would disappear for ever, hidden by the natives beyond recovei'y. At all events he decided it would be safe to agree to Atahuallpa's proposal ; when the gold was collected it would be time enough to think about setting the captive at liberty. The room to be filled was seventeen feet broad by twenty-two feet long, and the line upon the wall was drawn nine feet from the ground. A smaller room which adjoined it the Inca offered to fill with silver twice over, and he demanded two months' time to accomplish all this. As soon as the arrangement was made, Atahuallpa sent couriers to Cuzco and all the other chief places in the kingdom, with orders to strip the royal palaces of their treasures and send them without delay to Caxamalca. Meanwhile he lived in the Spanish quarters, treated with consideration, and allowed to see his subjects freely, but at the same time strictly guarded. THE INCA'S ransom The news of Atalmallpa's capture and the immense ransom he had offered soon reached the ears of Huascar, who was encouraged by the tidings to make vigorous efforts to regain his own liberty, and sent a message to the Spanish connnander saying tliat he woidd jiay a much larger ransom than that promised by Atahuallija, who, never having lived in Cuzco, could not know the quantity of treasure there, or where it was stored. This was told to Atahuallpa, who also THE CONQUEST OF PERU 407 knew that Pizarro had said that Huascar should be brought to Caxamalca, that he himself might determine which of the two brothers had the better right to the sceptre of the Incas. Fm-ioiisly jealous, and fearing that the decision would surely be in favour of the more docile Huascar, Atahuallpa ordered secretlj' that he should be put to death by his guards, and he was accordingly drowned in the river of Andamarca, declaring with his dying breath that the white men would avenge his miu-der, and that his rival would not The Spaniards destroy tl-.e idol at rachacamac long survive him. ^Veek by week the treasure poured in from all quarters of the realm, borne on the shoulders of tlie Indian porters, and consisting mainly of massive pieces of plate, soiue of thorn weigliing seventy-five pounds; but as the distances were great, and"the progress necessarily slow, tlic Spaniards became impatient, and believed, or pretended to believe, that tlie Inca was idamiing some treachery, and wilfully delaying till he could sirninge a gon.nil rising of the Peruvians against the wliite men. Tliis cliargc the Inca"indignantly denied, and to prove his good faith offered to give 408 THE CONQUEST OF PERU a safe-conduct to a party of Spaniards, that they might visit Cuzco for themselves and see that the work of cohecting the treasure was really going on. Pizarro gladly accepted this offer, and three cavaliers started for the capital. Meanwhile, Hernando Pizarro with a small troop had set out to make sure that the country round was really quiet, and, finding that it was, he continued his march to the town of Pachacamac, to secure the treasures of its famous temple before they could be hidden by its priests. The city was a hundred leagues from Caxamalca, and the way lay across the table- land of the Cordilleras ; bvit after weeks of severe labour the Spaniards reached it, and, breaking into the temple, in spite of the remonstrances of the priests, they dragged forth and destroyed the hideous idol it contained, and secured the greater part of the treasure of gold and jewels, though the priests, having had warning of his approach, had managed to conceal a good deal, some of which the Spaniards afterwards discovered buried in the surrounding land. The people, seeing that their god was unable to defend himself against the wonderful strangers, now came and tendered their homage, and Hernando Pizarro, hearing that one of the Inca's two great generals, a chief named Challcuchima, was lying with a con- siderable force in the town of Xanxa, resolved to march there and attack him in his own quarters. The road across the mountains was even rougher and more difficult than the one by which he had come, and, to add to his troubles, the shoes of the horses were all worn out, and they suffered severely on the rough and stony ground. Iron there was none, but silver and gold abounded, so Pizarro ordered the Indian smiths to make horseshoes of silver, with which the horses of the troop were shod. On reaching Xanxa the Spaniards found it a large and populous place, and the Indian general with five-and-thirty thousand men was encamped at a distance of a few miles ; but, nothing daunted, Hernando Pizarro sent messages to him, and when he at last consented to an interview, informed him that the Inca demanded his presence in Caxamalca. Having been utterly bewildered since the capture of the Inca, and uncertain as to what com^se to take, Challcuchima obeyed at once, and accompanied by a numerous retinue journeyed back with the Spaniards. He was everywhere received by the natives with the deepest respect, yet he entered the presence of the Inca barefooted and with a burden laid upon his back, and kneel- ing before his master he kissed his hands and feet, exclaiming, ' Would that I had been here ! This would not then have happened.' THE CONQUEST OF PERU 409 Atahuallpa himself showed uo eiuotiun, oiily coldly bade him welcome : even in his present state of captivity he was immeasiu*- ably above the proudest of his vassals. The Spaniards still treated him with all respect, and with his own people lie kept up his usual state antl ceremony, being attended upon by his wives, while a nmuber of Indian nobles waited always in the antechamber, but never entered his presence unless sent for, and then only with c^•cry mark of humility. His dress, which he often changed, \\as some- times made of vicuna wool, sometimes of bats' skins, sleek as velvet. Nothing which he had worn could be used by another ; when he laid it aside it was burned. To while away the time the Spaniards taught him to play chess, at which he became expert, spending upon it many of the tedious hoiu-s of his imprisonment. Soon after the retiu-n of Hernando Pizarro the tliree cavaliers came back from Citzco. They had travelled six htindred miles in the greatest luxvu-y, carried in litters by the natives, and received everywhere with awe and respect. Then- accounts of the wealth of the capital confirmed all that Pizarro had, heard, and though they had stayed a week there, they had not seen all. They had seen the ro3'al numnnies in their golden chairs, and had left them untouched by the Inca's orders ; but they had caused the plates of pure gold to be stripped from the Temple of tlie Sun — seven hundred of them, compared in size to the lid of a chest ten or twelve inches wide. The cornice was so firmly embedded in the stonework that it defied their efforts to remove it. But they brought with them full two hundred loads of gold, beside much silver, all hastily collected, for the arrogant behaviour of the emissaries had greatly exasperated tlie people of Cuzco, who were glad to get rid of them as soon as possible. About this time Almagro reached San ^Miguel, having, after many difficul- ties, succeeded in collecting a few more adventurers, and heard witii amazement of Pizarro's successes and of the change in his fortunes. In spite of the feelings of rivalry and distrust that existed between himself and his old comrade, Pizarro was delighted to hear of his arrival, as the additional troops he brought with him made it pos- sible to go forward with the conrjuest of the country. So when Almagro reached Caxanaalca in tlie middle of rebruary ir*;!.'!. lie and his men were received with every mark of jny. Only Atiilin- allpa looked on sadly, seeing the chances of regaining his ireedom, or maintaining it if lie did rcgnin it, lessened by the increased number of his enemies, and to add to his dejection a comet just then made its appearance in the heavens. As one hud been seen 410 THE CONQUEST OF PEBU shortly before the death of the Inca's father, Huayna Capac, he looked npon it as a warning of evil to come, and a dread of the future took possession of him. The Spaniards now began to clamour for a division of the gold which had been already collected : several of them were disposed to return home with the share that would fall to them, but by far the greater number only wished to make sure of the spoil and then hurry on to Cuzco, where they believed as much more awaited tliem. For various reasons Pizarro agreed to their demands ; the gold — all but a few particularly beautiful speci- mens of the Indian goldsmith's work, which were sent to Castile as part of the royal fifth — was melted down into solid bars, and when weighed was found to be wortli nearly three and a half millions of poiinds sterling. This was divided amongst Pizarro and his men, the followers of Almagro not being considered to be entitled to a share, though a small sum was handed over to them to induce them to give up their claim. The division being completed, there seemed to be no further obstacle to their resuming active operations ; but then the question arose what was to become of Atahuallpa, who was loudly demanding his freedom. He had not, indeed, paid tlie whole of liis promised ransom ; but an immense amount had been received, and it would have been more, as he urged, but for the impatience of tlie Spaniards. Pizarro, telling no one of tlie dark purposes he was brooding over in his own mind, issued a proclama- tion to the effect that the ransom was considered to be completely paid, but that the safety of the Spaniards required that the Inca should be held captive until they were still further reinforced. Soon rumours began to be spread, probably by Felipillo, who hated the Inca, that an immense army was mustering at Quito, and that thirty thousand Caribs, of whom the Spaniards had a peculiar horror, were oh their way to join it. Both Atahuallpa and his general Challcu- chima denied all knowledge of any rising, but their protestations of innocence did them little good. The soldiers clamoured against the unhappy Inca, and Pizarro, taking advantage of the temporary absence of some of the cavaliers who would have defended him, ordered him to be brought to instant trial. The evidence of Indian witnesses, as interpreted by Felipillo, sealed his doom, and in spite of the efforts of a few Spaniards he was found guilty by the majority on the cliarge, among other things, of having assassinated his brother Iluascar and raised up insurrection against the Spaniards, and was sentencfid to be burnt alive. When Atahuallpa was told of his ap- THE CONQUEST OF PEBU 411 proaching fate his courage gave way for a moment. ' What have I or my children done,' he said to Pizarro, ' that I should meet such a doom '? And from your hands, too ! — you -who have met with nothing bi;t friendship and kindness from my people, with whom I have shared my treasures, who have received nothing but benefits from my hands.' Then in most piteous tones he begged that his lite might be spared, offering to answer for the safety of every Spaniard, and promising to pay double the ransom he had already given. But it was all of no avail. He was not, however, burnt to death ; for at the last moment, on his consenting to abjure his own religion and be baptized, he was executed in the usual Spanish manner— by strangulation. A day or two after, the other cavaliers retm-ned, and found Pizarro making a show of great sorrow for what had happened. Thej- reproached and blamed him, saying that there was no truth in the story of treacherj'— all was quiet, and the people showed nothing but goodwill. Then Pizarro accused his treasurer and Father Valverdc of having deceived him in the matter and brought about the catastrophe ; and they in their turn exculpated themselves, and upbraided Pizarro as the only one responsible for the deed, and the (puirrel was fierce between them. Meanwhile, the death of tlie Inca, whose power over his people had been so great, caused the breaking-up of all the ancient institutions. The Indians broke out into great excesses ; villages were burnt and temples plundered ; gold and silver acquired a new importance in their eyes, and were eagerly seized and hidden in caves and forests ; the remote provinces threw off their allegiance to the Incas ; the great captains at the head of distant armies set up for themselves— one named Kuminavi sought to detach Quito from the Peruvian Empire and assert ils independence. Pizarro, still in Caxamalca, looked round for a suc- cessor to Atahuallpa, and chose his young brother Toparca. wlio was crowned with the usual ceremonies; and then the Spaniards set out for Cuzco, taking the new Inca with them, and after a toil- ful journey and more tlian one encounter with hostile luilives reached Xanxa in safety. Here Pizarro remained for a time, Bending one of liis captains, named Hernando de Soto, forward witli a small body of men to recoimoitre. This cavalier found villages biunl, bridges destroyed, and heavy rocks and trees placed in the patli to impede his cavalry, and realised at length that the natives had risen to resistance. As he ncared the Sierra of Vilcaconga lie heard that a considerable body of Indians lay in wait for hiui in its dangcroUB 412 THE CONQUEST OF PERU passes; but though his men and horses were weary, he rashly determined to push on and pass it before nightfall if possible. No sooner had they fairly entered the narrow way than he was attacked by a multitude of armed warriors, who seemed to spring from every bush and cavern, and rushed down like a mountain torrent upon the Spaniards as they struggled up the steep and rocky pathway. Men and horses were overthrown, and it was only after a severe struggle that they succeeded in reaching a level spot upon which it was })Ossible to face the enemy. Night fell while the issue of the light was still uncertain, but fortunately Pizarro, when lie heard of the unsettled state of the country, had despatched Almagro to the support of De Soto. He, hearing that there was the chance of a tight, had pushed on hastily, and now advanced under cover of the darkness, sounding his trumjiets, which were joyfully answered by the bugles of De Soto. AVlien morning broke and the Peruvians saw that their white enemies had been mysteriousl}' reinforced in the night, they hastily retreated, leaving the passes open, and the two cavaliers continued their march through the mountains, and took ap a secure position in the open country beyond, to await Pizarro. Their losses had not been very great, but they were quite unprepared to meet witli any resistance ; and as this seemed a well-organised attack, suspicion fell upon Challcuchima, who was accused by Pizarro of conspiring with Quizcpiiz, the other great general, against the yoimg Inca, and was told tliat if he did not at once compel the Peruvians to lay down their arms he should be burnt alive. Challcucliima denied the charge, and declared that, captive as he was, he had no power to bring his countrj'men to submission. Nevertheless, he was put in irons and strongly guarded. Unfortunately for him, the j^oung Toparca died just at this time, and suspicion at once fell on the hapless general, who, after the mockery of a trial, was burnt to death as soon as Pizarro reached Almagro's camp — his own fol- lowers piling up the faggots. Soon after this Pizarro was surprised by a friendly visit from the young brother of Huascar, Manco Capac, and seeing that this prince was likely to be a useful instrument in his hands, Pizarro acknowledged his claim to be the Inca, and, keeping him with him, resumed the march to Cuzco, which they entered on November 15, 1533. The suburbs were thronged with people, who came from far and near to gaze upon the white faces and the shining armour of the ' Children of the Sun.' The Spaniards rode directly to the great square, and took up their quarters in the IN ONE CAVK Tin: SOLDIERS FOUNP VASES OF rmE GOLI>, ETC. THE CONQUEST OF PERU 41.-) palaces of the Incas. They were greatly struck by the beauty and order of the city, and though Pizarro on entermg it had issued an order that the dwellings of the inhabitants were not to be plundered or injured, the soldiers soon stripped the palaces and temples of the valuables they contained, even taking the golden ornaments of the royal mummies and rifling the Peruvian graves, which often contained precious treasures. Believing that the natives had buried their wealth, they put some of them to the torture, to induce them to disclose their hiding-places, and by seeking everywhere they occasionally stumbled upon mines of wealth. In one cave near the city the soldiers found a number of vases of pure gold, embossed with figm-es of animals, serpents, and locusts. Also there were four life-sized figures of llamas, and ten or twelve statues of women, some of gold and some of silver. The magazines were stored witli robes of cotton and featherwork, gold sandals and slippers, and dresses composed entirely of beads of gold. The stores of grain and other food the conquerors utterly despised, though the time was to come when they would have been of far gi'oater value to them than all the treasure. On the whole, the riches of the capital did not come up to the expectation of the Spaniards, but tliey liad collected much plunder on the way to it, securing in one place ten bai's of solid silver, each twenty feet in length, one foot in broadtli. and two or three inches thick. The natural consequence followed the sudden acquisition of so much wealth. The soldiers, as soon as they had received their share, squandered it recklessly, or lost it over dice or cards. .V man who had for his portion one of the great golden images of tlio Sun taken from the chief temple, lost it in a single night's gaming, whence came the proverb common to this day in Spain, * He pla\s away the sun before sunrise.' Another etl'ect of such a superlliiity of gold and silver was the instant rise in the prices of all ordinary things, till gold and silver seemed to be the only things in Cuzco that were not wealth. Yet very few indeed of the Spaniards wcip wise enough to be contented and return to enjoy their spoils in their native country. After the division of the treasure. Pizarro's first care was to place the Inca Manco upon the throne, and demand for him the recognition of his countrymen. All the coronation ceremonies were duly observed. The peopb acipiiesccd readily, and there were the usual feastings and rejoicings, at which the royal mummies were paraded according to custom, decked with sucii ornaments as remained to them. Pizarro then organised a govern- 416 THE CONQUEST OF PERU ment for the city of Cuzco after the fashion of his own country, and turned the temples into churches and monasteries. He himself was henceforward styled the Governor, Having heard that Ata- Iniallpa's general Quizquiz was stationed not far from Cuzco with a large force of the men of Quito, Pizarro sent Almagro and the Tnca Manco to dislodge him, which they did after some sharp fighting. The general fled to the plains of Quito, where, after holding out gallantly for a long time, he was massacred by his own soldiers, weary of the ineffectual struggle. About this time, Don Pedro de Alvarado, with five hundred well-equipped men, landed at the Bay of Caraques and marched upon Quito, affecting to believe that it was a separate kingdom, and not part of that conquered by Pizarro. This Alvarado was the celebrated cavalier who had been with Cortes in the conquest of Mexico, and earned from the Aztecs the title of ' Tonatiuh,' or ' Child of the Sun.' He had been made Governor of Guatemala, bvit his avarice being aroused by the reports of Pizarro's conquests, he turned in the direction of Quito a large fleet which he had intended for the Spice Islands. The Governor was much disturbed by the news of his landing, but as matters turned out he need not have been, for Alvarado, having set out to cross the sierra in the direction of Quito, was deserted in the midst of the snowy passes by his Indian guide. His unhappy followers, fresh from the warm climate of Guatemala, were perished with the cold, and still farther distressed by suffocating clouds of dust and ashes from the volcano of Cotopaxi. After days of incredible suffering they emerged at last, but leaving behind tliem at least a fourth of their number, beside two thousand Indians, who had died of cold and hunger. "When, after all, he did reach Quito, he found it in the hands of Benalcazah, a cavalier who had been left by Pizarro at San ]\liguel, and who had deserted his post in order to take possession of Quito, tempted by the reports of the treasure it contained, which, however, he failed to find. Almagro, too, had reached the city before Alvarado got there ; moreover, his men had heard so much of the riches of Cuzco that they were inclined to desert him and join Pizarro. On the whole, Alvarado judged it expedient to give up all claim to Quito, and for a sum of money which, though large, did not cover his expenses, to hand over to the Governor his fleet, forces, stores, and munitions. This being settled, he went to Pachacamac to meet Pizarro, who had left his brother Juan in charge of Cuzco, and was inspecting the defences of the coast. There being now no THE CONQUEST OF PEEU 417 question of rivalry, the two cavaliers met in all courtesy, ami Alvarado was hosioitably entertained by the Governor, after which he sailed for Guatemala. Peru mi^^ht now in a manner be con- sidered as conquered ; some of the tribes in the interior still held out, but an able officer had been told off to subdue them. Quito and Cuzco had submitted, the army of Atahuallpa had been beaten and dispersed, the Inca was the mere shadow of a king, ruled by thb conqueror. The Govex-nor now turned his attention to building a city which should be the capital of this new colonial empire. Cuzco laj^ too far inland, San Miguel too far to the north. Pizarro fixed upon a spot near the mouth of a wide river which flowed through the "\' al- ley of Rimac, and here soon arose what was then called the ' City of the Kings,' but is now known as Lima. Meanwhile, Hernando Pizarro returned to Castile with the royal fifth, as the Spanish Emperor's share of the treasure was called ; he also took with hiiu all the Spaniards who had had enough of the life of adventure and wished to settle in their native land to enjoy theu- ill-gotten spoils. Pizarro judged rightly that the sight of the gold would bring him ten recruits for every one who thus returned. And so it was, for when he arain sailed for Peru it was at the head of the most numerous and the best-appointed fleet that had yet set out. l>ut as so often happened, disaster pursued him, and only a broken riiin- nant finally reached the Peruvian shore. Quarrels now arose between Almagro and Pizarro, the former claiming to be Governor of Cuzco; and when after many difficulties peace was again made, and Almagi-o, withdrawing his claim, had led his partisans off to conquer ChiH, a new trouble began. The Inca Mawco. under pretext of showing Hernando Pizarro a hidden treasure, managed to make his escape ; the Peruvians flocked to his banner, and the party of Spaniards under Juan Pizarro who were sent out to recapture him retmnied to Cuzco weary and wounded after many unsuccessful struggles with the enemy, only to find tlie city closely surrounded by a mighty host of Indians. They were, however, allowed to enter the capital, lyid then began a terrible sicgc which lasted for more than five months. Day and night the Spaniards were harassed by showers of missiles. Sometimes tlie flights of burning arrows or red-hot stones wrai)ped in some inflam- mable substance would cause fearful fires in all .piartcrs .pf tlie town at once ; three times in one day did the flames attack the very building which sheltered the Spaniards, but fortunately th.-y were I. K R. 418 THE CONQUEST OF PEBU extinguished without doing much harm. In vain did the besieged make desperate salHes ; the Indians planted stakes to entangle their horses, and took the riders prisoners by means of the lasso, which they used with great skill. To add to their distress the great citadel which dominated the town had fallen into the hands of the enemy, and though after a gallant struggle it was retaken, yet it was at the cost of Juan Pizarro's life. As for the Inca noble who defended it, when he saw that the citadel must fall, he cast away his war-club, and, folding his mantle about him, threw himself head- lung from the battlements. Famine now began to be felt sharply, and it added horror to the situation of the besieged when, after they had heard no tidings of their countrymen for months, the blood-stained heads of eight or ten Spaniards were one day rolled into the market place, leading them to believe that the rising of the Indians had been simultaneous all over the country, and that then* friends were faring no better than themselves. Things were not, however, quite so desperate as they imagined, for Francisco Pizarro when attacked in the City of the Kings had sallied forth and inflicted such a severe chastisement upon the Peruvians that they afterwards kept their distance from him, contenting theiuselves with cutting off his commimication with the interior. Several detachments of soldiers whom he sent to the relief of his brothers in Cuzco were, however, enticed by the natives into the mountain passes and there slain, as also were some solitary settlers on their own estates. At last, in the month of August, the Inca drew off his forces, and intrenching himself in Tambo, not far from Cuzco, with a consider- able body of men, and posting another force to keep watch upon Cuzco and intercept supplies, he dismissed the remainder to the cultivation of their lands. The Spaniards thereupon made frequent forays, and on one occasion the starving soldiers joyfully seciu'ed two thousand Peruvian sheep, which saved them from hunger for a time. Once Pizarro desperately attacked Tambo itself, but was driven off with heav.y loss, and hunted back ignominiously into Cuzco ; but this was the last triumph of the Inca. Soon afterwards Almagro appeared upon the scene, and sent an embassy to the Inca, with whom he had formerly been friendly. Manco received him well, but his suspicions being aroused by a secret conference between Almagro's men and the Spaniards in Cuzco, he fell suddenly upon the former, and a great battle ensued in which the Peruvians were decidedly beaten and the power of the Inca was broken. He died THE CONQUEST OF PERU 419 some few years later, lea\ing the Spaniards still fightin;;^ among themselves for the possession of the covmtry. Ahnagro after some years of strife and adventure was put to death by Hernando Pizarro when he was nearly seventy years old. His son, a gallant and well- beloved youth, who succeeded him, met the same fate in the same place— the great square of Cuzco — a few years later. Hernando himself suffered a long imprisonment in Spain for the mm-der of Almagro, with serene courage, and even lived some time after his release, being a hundred years old when he died. Gonzola Pizarro was beheaded in Peru, at the age of forty-two, for rebelling against the authorit}^ of the Spanish Emperor. Francisco Pizarro was murdered in his own house in the City of the Kings, in the montli of Jime 1541, by the desperate adherents of the young Almagro, or the 'Men of Chili 'as they were called, and was buried hastily and secretly by a few faithful servants in an obscure corner of the cathedral. Such was the miserable end of the conqueror of Peru. ' There was none even,' saj-s an old chronicler, ' to cry " God forgive him ! '" PRINTED nT spornswooDE a.nu co., .skw-strket sqcauk LONUO.N .; i^a-f THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Santa Barbara STACK COLLECTION THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW. 10m-6,'62(C9724s4)476D yrr :.^^ik ; SOUTHERN REGIONA ■:• I : ^*-. k/»''^t<" ■ '■' -4 '-^3 ;!"i %m