OSF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLIf^OlS ' LIBRARY From the colleoiiiah.iq^’ Julius Doerner, Chicago Purchased, 1918. 944 i_5&s OAK ST. t The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN L161 — 0-1096 fHE UBRARy Of THE UHiVERSITY OF ILLINOIS ISee page 14. Stoi[1ES feom Frei(ch History BY EMMA LESLIE AUTHOR OF “dearer THAN LIFE “ AT THE SIGN OF THE BLUE BOAR ETC., ETC. 3Loni)ion THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY 56, Paternoster Row; 65, St. Paul’s Churchyard AND 164, Piccadilly Butler &• Tanner, The Sel-w»od Printing- Ji'crhs, Freme, and London. U5Co s TNthe compilation of the following stories, iL I have consulted some of the best authors T on French History. Those of which I have made the most use are Kitchin’s ‘History of France’ (Clarendon Press series) ; Guizot’s ‘History of France’; Froissart’s ‘Chronicles’; Smith’s (Student’s) ‘History of F ranee ’ ; and the ‘ Lives ’ of Bayard and St. Louis, by various authors; so that the historical data can be easily and fully verified. 469193 CONTENTS. <“hap. pack I. Saint Louis— Early Life .... 7 II. Saint Louis.— The Crusades . . .21 III. The Maid of Orleans.— Early Life. . 35 IV. The Maid of Orleans.— Conflict and Death 49 V. The Stainless Knight.— Early Life . 70 VI. The Stainless Knight.— Knighthood . 87 VII. Marguerite of Navarre. — The New Day 97 VIII. Marguerite of Navarre.— A Haven of Refuge 1 10 STORIES FROM FRENCH HISTORY. CHAPTER I. SAINT LOUIS. EARLY LIFE. "rT does not always follow that because a (I man has been canonized he deserves to ^ be called a saint. In fact, there are many cases recorded in history in which the life and character of a so-called saint are anything but saintly. Louis IX., the saint-king of France, cannot be reckoned in this category. He was only twelve years old when his father died, in 1227, and he was proclaimed king, under the regency of his mother. Queen Blanche. He was a gentle, sensitive, delicate lad, obedient and dutiful to his noble, prudent mother, who had undertaken the most difficult task, per- haps, that ever fell to the lot of any woman. Her husband had died in the midst of 8 Saint Louts, what was then considered a holy war, under- taken against the Albigenses and the south- ern provinces of France; but previous to this he had begun to curtail the powers and privileges of the great nobles, who had ruled over provinces almost independent of any but royal control. For generations France had been divided into petty kingdoms or dukedoms, the king exercising a very shadowy authority over these great feudal lords, who lived in their strong castles, surrounded by the huts of their vassals. They held their own courts of justice, and even had their own mints for coining money. But King Philip, Louis’ grandfather, who had died only three years before, was wise enough to see that France could never become a great country until it was more united ; for these great barons could oppress their vassals, and wage war with each other as they pleased, and so he set himself to the task of restrain- ing them. To find their power restricted was by no means pleasing to them ; but the king was strong, and they had to submit. During the short time his son reigned, they had no Early Life. 9 opportunity of recovering their power ; but when he died, and there was only a boy- king, with his mother to act for him, and she a foreigner, they thought it would be easy enough to regain more than all their lately vanished power. So when Louis was crowned king at Rheims, only two or three of the great barons came to swear fealty to him and his widowed mother ; and they did it in such a sullen, half-hearted way, that it must have made the watchful lady very anxious for her boy’s future. The actual domain under royal control at this time was little more than a barony ; and if these great lords banded together against her, the very throne itself might be imperilled. Her great love for her boy made her wise and cautious ; and although her heart must have been heavy with grief and anxiety, she put these aside, and entered into all the festivities of the coronation, bearing herself most graciously and plea- santly to the sulky barons, her guests ; but at the same time convincing them that Queen Blanche, though gracious and amiable £0 Saint Louis. to her friends, could be dangerous to her foes. They were won over to her side, and soon persuaded others to take the customary oath of allegiance to the young king ; but some held aloof, watching the course of events, and it was several years before they all finally gave in. Meanwhile the young king and his brave mother had given proof that they were not to be trifled with, and that they meant to carry out faithfully King Philip’s policy of curtailing the despotic power of the great nobles, by using the royal authority in a way in which it had scarcely ever been exercised before. Three Flemish students went rabbit-hunting in the warren of En- guerrand, the lord of Courcy. Had they been peasants, their fate would probably never have been heard of beyond their native village ; but when, to vindicate his game laws, the baron hung these three lads, he found, to his amazement, that he was called to account for it. Flanders at this time had flourishing cities, and the citizens were beginning to make their power felt ; and so the friends of these lads contrived to have Early Life. 1 1 their complaint carried to King Louis. He sent a summons for the murderer to appear before his court of justice. Such a thing was unheard of, and the angry baron re- fused to appear ; but, nothing daunted, the king had him arrested and thrown into prison. Then Enguerrand offered wager of battle, but this the king sternly refused, saying it was not the path of justice. And so the proud baron was tried and condemned to death; and although this was afterwards com- muted to a heavy fine, and the loss of his private court of justice and rights of warren, we may be sure neighbouring barons did not forget the lesson of stern justice exercised upon one of their order. By this act the king declared his resolu- tion to protect and raise the burgher class ; for under the feudal system there could be but two classes of society — the great barons and their families, and the serfs, or peasants. The growth of towns and commerce, and the progress of the arts of civilization, made it impossible for this state of things to con- tinue. Either the power of the burgher I 2 Saint Louis. class must be strangled in its birth, or the feudal oppression must give way before its advance ; and so this incident of the Flemish students was an important event for France at that time. The struggle between the king and the barons lasted some time; but when that was over, he proceeded to attack another and even more powerful class of offenders. This mnst have been painful indeed, for both King Louis and his mother were truly pious, and had been brought up to yield the most slavish obedience to the Pope and clergy of the Church of Rome. But amid all the darkness and superstition by which they were surrounded, the Spirit of God had taught them His truth, and they knew that cruelty and oppression were as evil under cope and mitre as under shirt of mail. Hence the feudal bishops were next brought to book. The following story will illustrate the high-handed injustice with which the clergy often treated their dependants. Some vil- lagers who were serfs to the canons of Notre Dame refused to pay some contribution Early Life. 13 which was demanded of them. The priests, in great wrath that their supremacy should thus be disputed, put them into a prison so small that they could scarcely move in it, and the poor fellows were almost suffocated for want of air. When the queen heard of it, she was greatly shocked, and sent to desire the canons to liberate the men, offering to be security herself for the taxes until they were paid. This interference of the queen made the canons still more angry ; and instead of setting the men at liberty, they seized their wives and families, and crowded them into the same place, where many of them died of suffocation. On hearing how her request had been received by the haughty priests, the queen summoned a few attendants, and went at once to the prison and ordered them to force open the doors ; but so great was the dread inspired by the Church against those who disobeyed her, that every one drew back ; and although they knew men and women were dying within, they were afraid to obey the queen, and force the doors open. Saint Louis, H At last the queen herself seized a hatchet, and struck at the door with all her might. This so encouraged her servants that they soon followed her example, and the doors were at last forced open, and the prisoners carried out ; for most of them were by this time so exhausted that they could not walk, and many of them fainted as they were brought into the open air. Those who were able fell on their knees at the queen’s feet, and blessed her as their deliverer from a horrible death. Her kindness did not end here, for she at once proceeded to enfranchise them, so that the canons should not have the power of wreaking vengeance upon them afterwards. Thus commenced the struggle with the great bishops and clergy, who were by no means disposed to yield their absolute power over the lives and property of their depend- ants at the bidding of the king. They appealed to the Pope, who of course took their side of the question, and threatened to excommunicate Louis. But the brave young king and his heroic mother would not yield, much as it pained them to displease one Early Life. 15 whom they had been taught to reverence ; and so at last the clergy, like the barons, had to submit to a curtailment of their power. Louis and his mother were thus inaugu- rating a wise and humane policy in the northern part of their dominion ; but no considerations of mercy were allowed to interfere with their determination to root out heresy in the south. Louis’ father had died in the midst of his crusade against the harmless Albigenses ; and at the close of the war, two years later, the infamous Inquisition was set up at Toulouse, in the interest of the French king and the Pope. The office of inquisitor was entrusted to the order of Dominican friars, and this tribunal became the most formidable engine of religious tyranny and domestic persecution the world has ever seen. Its proceedings took place in secret ; no advocates were permitted to plead, no witnesses were pro- duced. Strange that this system of cruelty should be sanctioned by such a king as Saint Louis, or that he should not see that by the establishment of this secret tribunal his own monarchy was lapsing into the very tyranny i6 Saint Louis. which he was struggling to overthrow in the barons and bishops. Queen Blanche, like a prudent, careful mother, began to look round early for a lady suitable to become the wife of her beloved son ; and in this matter she shows to less advantage than in the conduct of public business. She chose Margaret, the eldest daughter of Count Raymond of Provence, doubtless with an eye to the enlargement of the French monarchy; for the little lady was only in her thirteenth year when she was married to Louis, and he was but nineteen. But having secured this pledge of future possessions in the south, the queen regent seems to have suddenly grown jealous of pretty, gentle Margaret, and treated her in anything but a kindly fashion. The youthful couple were married at Sens, in May, 1234, and during the wedding festivities they saw enough of each other to make them wish to spend much time in each other’s company. This was not the plan of Queen Blanche. She still wanted to keep her son to herself, and so she took care that little Queen Margaret’s apartments were far Early Life. 17 away from her husband’s. Very lonely must the little Provence queen have felt in the cold, rough northern court of Queen Blanche. Language, occupation, and climate were all so different from her own gay, sunny land of flowers and poetry and song. One can fancy her watching her husband, as he went under the grim portcullis to fly his falcon in the neighbouring wood, and vainly wishing she might go with him, instead of being shut up with the court ladies, who always seemed to be finding fault with her. But sometimes, when Queen Blanche was very busy with the papal legate or other State affairs, Louis would come bounding up to the gallery where she walked, and they would have a happy half-hour together ; a faithful servant meanwhile watching the council chamber door, so that the lover- husband and wife might separate before the stately queen saw them. They sometimes would contrive to meet and walk together in the castle gardens ; and so they learned to love each other very dearly — more so, per- haps, than if they had been allowed to meet without any hindrance. The little lady seems i8 Saint Louis. to have caught much of her husband’s spirit during these stolen interviews, for we read of her that she was sweet and gentle, brave and loving, and her conduct in after-years proved her to be a most suitable wife for Saint Louis. At this time the affairs of England and France were almost inextricably mixed up together, and some of the French barons owed allegiance to the King of England for parts of their possessions, while for other portions they had to swear fealty to the King of France. This was a very unsatisfactory state of things ; and as soon as Louis was old enough, and felt his throne to be strong enough, he said it must end. No man could serve two masters, and his barons must choose whom they would serve — himself or the King of England ; for it had already brought about a war between the two nations in the following manner. In 1241 the king had invested his brother Alphonso with the government of Poitou and Auvergne, according to the provisions of his father’s will. The young prince called his barons to meet him at Poitiers, and Early Life. 19 demanded of them the oath of homage. Few responded to the summons, and it soon appeared that there was an organized opposi- tion to the claims of Louis and his family, based on the ancient connection of Poitou with the royal house of England, At the head of this confederacy was Count de la Marche, who had married the widow of King John ; and urged on by her, he had helped to form a league to reinstate her son, Henry III, of England, in the possessions of his ancestors ; and so successful was the attempt that Louis suddenly found himself in open hostility with the Kings of England and Aragon, Castile and Navarre, the Counts of Toulouse and La Marche, and most of the great lords of Poitou and Gascony. La Marche went to Poitiers and accused Alphonso to his face of usurping the domains of the Earl of Cornwall. Then, vowing in terms of insolent defiance that he would never become his liegeman, he set fire to the house in which he had passed the night, and rode at full speed out of the city. Henry HI. came over to help his allies, and a battle was fought at Sens in 1242, 20 Saint Louis. between the English and French armies, in which the English and the barons were defeated, and this one engagement decided the campaign. The barons laid down their arms, and returned to their allegiance, and Louis acquired all the north of Aquitaine as far as the Gironde. This war established the supremacy of the Crown over the feudal barons, and Louis somewhat unravelled the tangled skein of politics, by insisting that his nobles should renounce their fealty to the crown of England, CHAPTER II. ST. LOUIS. — THE CRUSADES. ^AiNT Louis was never a strong, robust ^ man, and the care, fatigue, and anxiety of the war with the English king and his rebel barons brought on a very serious illness. To the grief of all his subjects, it was at last made known that their monarch was not expected to live. While lying in this desperate condition at the chateau of Pon- toise, and expecting each moment to be his last, he motioned for a crucifix to be brought to him, which he placed upon his breast, and then sank into a deathlike sleep. His wife and mother, and anxious friends, were gathered round his bed, to watch for the last breath to be drawn ; but he slept on, and the deathlike pallor of his face began to look less ashy, his breathing grew more regular, his sleep more natural, and at last, to the joy and astonishment of all, the 2T 22 Saint Louis. physicians said the danger was passing away, and the king might yet recover. What re- joicing there was in the royal home when he at last woke up, and the doctors declared him out of danger ! The queen regent, in her joy over her son’s recovery, could forget her jealousy of Queen Margaret, and let the husband and wife spend a few happy hours together at the bed- side ; but the joy of this was soon dimmed for the young queen, when her husband told her of the vow he had made when he took the crucifix, and thought he was dying. One can imagine the young queen’s consternation when she heard that her delicate husband had vowed to go on a crusade to the Holy Land. Her cheek must have paled, and her hands trembled, as she saw the passionate earnestness, the eager joy, with which her husband spoke of this, when he told her how he had long desired to go and rescue the Holy Sepulchre from the hands of the paynim, but his duty to France had kept him at home hitherto. Now his life had been given back to him by God, that he might engage in this blessed, The Crusades. 23 holy work, and henceforth all his energies must be given to prepare for it. If the king had only recalled something of what he had doubtless read concerning the Christian philosophy taught by St. Anselm, who was at one time Abbot of Bee, he would have known that God did not desire such service as this. To do justly, to love mercy, to walk humbly before God, trusting in the Lord Jesus Christ for help and guidance in ruling the people of France, should have been the aim of his life; and the doing this — the duty that was nearest to him — would have been a truer fulfilment of the vow he had made to dedicate his life to God than by following his own will, and going off on a crusade, while others were left to do the work he ought to have done himself. Brave as Queen Margaret was, she could not restrain her tears, or refrain from begging him not to attempt this ; but the most that she could gain was a promise that she should go with him, and share in the danger of the enterprise, whatever it might be ; and with this she had to be content. 24 Saint Louis. His mother, however, and his friends and counsellors, remonstrated with him in a differ- ent fashion, using every argument they could think of to turn him from his purpose. But Louis was not to be dissuaded. To his mistaken piety, no enterprise seemed so honourable ; and the more danger, the more hardship to himself, the more necessary was it that he should undertake it. So when Saint Louis rose from his sick bed, he wore the cross on his shoulder, and messengers were sent round to his nobles, commanding them to prepare for the crusade. Such an expedition could not then be fitted out so quickly as in these days, and for the next three years the king and his servants were busy making ready for it. In every peasant’s hut, as well as in every lady’s bower, women’s fingers spun and sewed at clothes; while the stouter arms of fathers and brothers stitched at leather jerkins, or hammered plates of iron into helmets and corslets, while horses were bought and trained, as well as men-at- arms. The bustle and activity would have been pleasant and even joyous, but for that dread future that lay beyond ; but mothers. The Crusades. 25 as they sewed, could not help casting wistful glances at the children playing round, and wondering whether they would ever again see the father for whom these things were being prepared. Many were as eager to join in this crusade as the king himself ; but women’s hearts will ache and bleed, however brave they may be. At last the extensive preparations were complete, and in June, 1 248, the king received at St. Denis the oriflamme, or sacred banner, blessed by the Pope, that was to go before the crusaders. Having committed the govern- ment of his kingdom to his mother during hi.s absence. Saint Louis, with Queen Mar- garet, two of his brothers, and a host of nobles and ladies, set out from Paris — the rhost splendidly equipped army that France had ever seen. At every |^halting-place along the route fresh contingents joined the main body of steel-clad warriors, and all France watched them and bade them God speed. Amid the joyous singing of hymns they set sail for Cyprus in August. The island of Cyprus was then held by Henry de Lusignan, the grandson of a former cru- 26 Saint Louis. sader, to whom it had been given at the time it was taken in the third crusade, and here the final arrangements for the campaign had to be settled. Fresh contingents joined the army, and then the first blunder was made. It was resolved that instead of pro- ceeding at once to Palestine, an attack upon the Sultan of Egypt should be made, as a decisive success there would at once ensure the possession of the Holy Land. The plan was a wise one, and, if it had been at once carried out, the crusade might have proved a success ; but they lingered at Cyprus for eight months, giving the Sarace ns time to prepare for defence. In May, 1249, sixteen hundred vessels sailed from Cyprus, conveying about three thousand knights and a hundred thousand' infantry, and landed at Damietta early in June. Such was the terror inspired by the mighty hosts of assailants that the Saracens abandoned Damietta the next day, and the Kings of France and Cyprus, at the head of the crusading army, made their triumphal entry into the city. If they had now pressed on after the dis- The Crusades. 27 heartened enemy, the former blunder might have been retrieved ; but Louis, though a good man, was a bad general, and committed the fatal mistake of lingering again when he should have pressed forward. Five months were wasted here — worse than wasted; for the soldiers of the cross gave themselves up to every kind of excess and riot, and the whole army grew demoralized. Not until November did they attempt to march forward again, and it is pitiful to read of the splendid bravery, the heroic deeds wasted on both sides, and the fearful slaughter each army committed. Louis was taken prisoner, most of his knights killed, while the queen was ill at Damietta, where her third little boy was born in the midst of all this terrible sorrow and suffering, and utterly at the mercy of her foes. Louis displayed, in his adversity, calm, unshaken firmness and magnanimity. His first care always was for his poor soldiers, and he scarcely heeded his own share in the general misery. The hearts even of his captors were touched, and the Sultan soon offered to treat for his release. The price 28 Saint Louis. demanded was the restitution of Damietta, and the payment of a million gold bezants, or about ^380,000. These terms were accepted by Louis, and so nobly did he act throughout the conduct of this bargain that the Sultan, not to be outdone in magnanimity, remitted two hundred thousand bezants, and sent the queen splendid presents in honour of the birth of her son. But this was poor consolation for Louis, when he had to sign a truce for ten years, and all hope of rescuing the Holy Places had to be given up. As soon as he was released, messengers arrived from his mother, pressing him to return to France at once; but a mistaken sense of duty made him refuse to do this. His vow Avas still unaccomplished ; and although he could not now do what he had hoped, he yet thought he might help the poor Christians who were still scattered about in the half-ruined cities of the Holy Land. It was in the character of a pilgrim rather than a crusading king that Louis, with a small and grief-stricken remnant of his noble The Crusades. 29 friends, went to Palestine. Here he spent four years, helping the Christians to rebuild the fortifications of the maritime cities, and using all his influence to bring about a better state of feeling between them and the native princes. Doubtless it was some consolation to him, in his disappointment, to be able to do even the smallest service for the followers of that Master he so truly longed to serve. In 1253 Queen Blanche died, and, as soon as her son heard of it, he hastened to leave Palestine. Travelling was very slow in those days, and it was not until September, 1254, that Louis made his public entry into Paris again, having been absent six years on his disastrous errand. Resuming the labours of his ordinary government, Louis exemplified more and more his characteristic virtues ot moderation, forbearance, self-denial, and scrupulous love of justice. On his way home from morning mass it was his custom to seat himself under a tree, and any of his subjects having a cause of complaint to make could here lay it before the king, and Louis would most patiently listen, and then, if pos- sible, set right the wrong. 30 Saint Louis. And not only his own subjects went to him to settle difficult disputes, but neigh- bouring princes and nobles took their quarrels to him, and among these was the King of England and his revolted barons, who, after years of sanguinary strife, agreed to submit the question to Louis, each confident that his justice would allow no party feeling to sway his verdict. So scrupulously just was he, that he offered to restore to the English king some of the possessions taken by his grandfather, and an exchange of provinces was made, much to his own disadvantage. He also refused the crown of Sicily when it was offered him by the Pope. Personal aggrandizement and worldly am- bition offered no temptations to Louis ; but when he saw a certain thing to be his duty, no matter what sacrifice or personal suffering it cost, it was done, and in this light he viewed his unaccomplished vow. The last crusade had laden his years with sorrow, and he was scarcely ever seen to smile after it ; yet he was cherishing the hope and deter- mination to engage in another so soon as The Crusades. 31 the ten years’ truce with the Sultan was at an end. It was customary to give every courtier a new robe at Christmas-tide, and the courtiers were invited to attend the king to early mass that morning. It was a strange time to bestow a gift ; but one Christmas morning, every knight, as he entered the dusky chapel, had a cloak thrown over his shoulder. They laughed at first at the curious way the customary gift had been bestowed ; but when daylight shone in upon them, they saw that every one had a cross upon his shoulder, and then they knew that the king had decided upon another crusade, and they were expected to join him. Brave men wept at the madness of the project. A crusader — why, their beloved king was now so weak and frail that he actually had to be carried in the arms of his sturdy seneschal, Joinville, for the clumsy carriages of the time shook him so much he could not endure the jolting. His blunt but faithful friend, this same seneschal, told him he might go crusading by himself, for he would not go with him this 32 Saint Louis. time ; and it would have been well had all his barons used the same plainness of speech as this old soldier. But in spite of sage counsels the fire of enthusiasm proved all too infectious, and very soon Louis had gathered round him a numerous body of princes and nobles from all quarters, notwithstanding the dangerous nature of the enterprise. Three of his own sons assumed the cross, the youngest being the baby born at Damietta amid the horrors of the last crusade. He was also joined by his two brothers, Charles and Alphonso, and his nephew Robert, and with a host of knights and men-at-arms he set sail in J uly, 1 2 70, and stopped at Sardinia. Here some vague report of the King of Tunis desiring to become a Christian was brought to him, and he formed the singular plan of making Tunis his first step towards the Holy Land. Little did he dream that this first stage of his journey would indeed prove the ante-chamber of that ‘ sweet and blessed country,’ holier, lovelier than any land on earth ; but so it was. Pestilence broke out in his camp as he lay before the ancient citadel of Carthage, and among the first to The Crusades. 33 fall a victim to its ravages was the king’s youngest son. Hundreds followed this young prince, and at last King Louis himself was attacked by the epidemic. Although so weak and frail, he seems to have lingered for twenty-two days, spending the time in devotion, giving counsel to his sons, and speaking words of comfort and cheer to his friends. Feeling his end to be near, he asked to be lifted from his bed to some ashes spread on the floor, then raising his eyes to heaven, he murmured, ‘ I will enter into Thy house, O Lord ; I will wor- ship in Thy holy tabernacle ; ’ and so entered the heavenly kingdom. He had reached the age of fifty-six, and his reign had lasted forty-four years. France may well be proud of such a man and such a monarch, for no sovereign ever exercised a more widespread influence over his age, and none ever promoted more effectually the advancement, happiness, and true greatness of his kingdom. Among other means by which King Louis endeavoured to help the poor was a charity for blind people. He also built several c 34 Samt Louis. churches and monasteries at Paris ; but he used to say, when speaking of this, ‘that living men were the stones of God’s temple, and that the church was more beautified by good manners than rich walls.’ Prince Edward of England placed himself at the head of the crusading army after the death of Saint Louis, and led them to the Holy Land ; but very little good was effected, and this was the last effort made to rescue Palestine from the hands of its Saracen conquerors. CHAPTER III. THE MAID OF ORLEANS. — EARLY LIFE. Tt was a cold night in January, 1393, but (1 the dark, ill-kept streets of Paris were ^ illuminated by the numerous torch-bearers, lighting their masters and mistresses to the Palace of the Louvre. A grand masked ball was to take place there, in honour of the marriage of one of the queen’s ladies. The elder noblemen for the most part wore long robes, but the younger portion of the company were dressed in close-fitting gar- ments of gay and costly material, while their shoes were fashioned to imitate a bird, the toes being lengthened and bent like a beak, and the heels drawn out to imitate a claw. This was the usual shape for fashion- able shoes in those days ; but being a masked ball, other and even more quaint devices were followed by many of the guests. 35 36 The Maid of Orleans. Of all the masques, perhaps those chosen by the king and five young noblemen were the most grotesque. They were disguised as savages, in close-fitting dresses, covered with pitch and tow, to resemble hair. Those were rough times, and rude play was enjoyed by everybody, and no doubt the king and his fellow -savages promised themselves some fine fun among their gaily dressed compan- ions, in their sticky, inflammable dresses. The danger of being daubed with pitch and tow, and romping in a room lighted with flaring torches, never occurred to the gay masquers. Orders had been given that the flambeaux-bearers should stand close to the wall ; but the young Duke of Orleans, not knowing this, and never thinking of the con- sequences that might follow, took one of these from the bearer, and holding it close to one of the savages, to find out who he was, set fire to the flax. Five of them were instantly in flames. The sixth, who was the king, stood a little apart, talking to the Duchess of Berri, and she had the presence of mind to envelop him in her mantle, and so saved his life. Of Early Life. 37 the others, four were burnt to death in the ball room ; but one remembered that he had seen a large tub of water in the buttery, placed there to rinse the drinking-cups, and he ran thither and plunged in, and so saved his life. The noise and confusion in the palace that followed upon this terrible accident was ex- treme, and a report went abroad that the king himself was dead. Meanwhile he was carried to bed, but could get no sleep until morning dawned, and by that time the excit- able mob well-nigh filled the streets, and would not believe that the king had been saved, unless they saw him. So the king, who had just dropped into a doze, had to be roused, and paraded through the streets of Paris to pacify his excited subjects. Better would it have been had he perished — a thousand times better for France would it have been if her king had died that night. That ball inaugurated one of the most woeful periods in French history. Charles VI. had never been mentally strong, and a few months before, a shock had com- pletely overturned his reason for a time ; and 38 The Maid of Orleans. now this dreadful catastrophe, and the ex- citement of walking about the streets after- wards, brought on a return of his delirium. From that time until his death, nearly thirty years afterwards, he was never entirely restored to reason. If he had lucid intervals, they were very short, and only made him feel more the misery of his situation. He took a strong dislike to the queen, he failed to recognise his children, and the only person who had any influence with him was his gentle and amiable sister-in-law, the Duchess of Orleans. Jealousy and superstition ascribed this to sorcery, and the lady was banished from court. This increased ten- fold the growing animosity of the king’s brother and uncle, the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy. No regent had been appointed to act for the king, no one had the supreme authority in the State, and so both dukes struggled for it, and France might at this time be compared to a prostrate lion over whose body the jackal and panther were fighting. Some- times the Burgundians and sometimes the Armagnacs were in the ascendency, but they Early Life. 39 were alike in their cruel oppression of the people. Hence it mattered little to them whether the white scarf and St, George’s cross, the badge of the Armagnacs, imposed the taxes, or whether the red scarf and St. Andrew’s cross robbed them of nearly all they possessed. If the Burgundians were in power, every one who chanced to offend them, or failed to wear their badge, was plundered, persecuted, and murdered without remorse, until the streets of Paris ran down with the blood of the Armagnacs, and the prisons were full to overflowing. Thus driven to desperation, the Orleanist party at last determined to invite the King of England to seize all his former possessions in France; and although this was never carried out, one can well imagine that the news of it reached the English court, and had some share in moving Henry V. to the invasion of France a year or two after- wards. He laid siege to Harfleur first, which was soon obliged to surrender, as it received no help from the Government. The English then marched along the coast, almost to 40 The Maid of Orleans. Calais, without meeting any opposition. But at Agincourt the French army came up ; and although the English were wasted by death and disease, the French suffered a most dis- astrous defeat. When the battle was over, Henry found himself too weak to improve his victory ; he therefore led his tired soldiers to Calais, and embarked for England, with a great number of noble prisoners. One would have thought that in the face of a common foe, the two French parties would have united ; but so far from this being the case, it proved a fresh source of contention as to who should obtain the vacant office of Constable of France. The Count of Armagnac obtained it, and with it the control of Paris and the king’s three sons. In the course of the next year, the two eldest of these died, and the younger, Charles, though only about sixteen when he became Dauphin, took an active part in affairs, and joined the Armagnac party. Meanwhile Henry of England had landed in France again, and made himself master of Rouen and the whole of Normandy before the con- Early Life. 41 tending parties seemed aware of his presence. They now saw that it was too late to use force against him ; they therefore resolved to try what could be done by treaty. The Dauphin and the Duke of Burgundy, at a friendly meeting near Melun, at last agreed to forget their mutual jealousy, and use their utmost efforts conjointly to expel the foreigner from France. A second inter- view was arranged to take place on the bridge of Montereau ; and as a proof how much these royal cousins trusted each other, a barrier of wood-work was erected in the centre of the bridge, and this wooden railing kept the two princes and their attendants apart. Twelve years before, the Duke of Burgundy had murdered the Duke of Orleans, and an attached servant, now in the Dauphin’s em- ploy, had sworn to revenge his master’s death. Whether the Dauphin knew of this or not, he brought the man with him ; and when the duke doffed his plumed cap, and knelt to kiss the Dauphin’s hand, this old servant struck him on the head with a hatchet, then leaped over the barrier, and killed him with his sword. 42 The Maid of Orleans. This revengeful murder brought fresh misery to France, for the young Duke of Burgundy, in retaliation for the murder of his father, threw himself into the arms of the English, and the wicked queen, out of hatred to her son and the Armagnac party, did the same. It was soon arranged that Henry of England should marry the young Princess Catherine, and should at once be invested with the regency and administration of the kingdom, and further, that he should be declared heir to the crown of France at the death of Charles VI. These terms being finally settled, the marriage of Henry and the Princess Catherine took place at Troyes, in June, 1420. Such was the misery and horror that the country had endured for the last twenty-five years, that this marriage and treaty of Troyes was hailed with universal satisfaction, and few regarded it in its true light, as the most deplorable act of national humiliation to be found in the annals of their history. The Dauphin Charles and his party now retired to the provinces beyond the Loire, utterly vanquished for the time by the all- Early Life. 43 victorious Duke of Burgundy and the hated English. Henry of England did not long enjoy his new honour ; he died two years after his marriage, at Vincennes, leaving a baby heir only nine months old. Two months after- wards, the poor crazy King of France died, and the little year-old baby was proclaimed King of France and England with regal pomp at Paris as Henry VI. At the same time the Dauphin claimed the crown of France as the rightful heir, at the modest little chapel of the castle of Melun, and he was known henceforth as Charles VII. of F ranee. The Duke of Bedford now assumed the government of France in the name of his infant nephew, and of course supported by the powerful Duke of Burgundy, while Charles caused himself to be crowned at Poitiers and fixed his government at Bourges. Indolent though he was, he was not disposed to yield his kingdom without a struggle, and so another civil war began. It went on in a desultory fashion for the next six years, bringing infinite misery to the French peo- 44 The Maid of Orleans. pie, and bringing to the contending parties very little gain. From king to peasant, everybody was in a state of despairing misery. The open land from the Loire to the Somme, instead of being cultivated, was a desert of woods and thickets ; while the few inhabitants of the villages were forced to become beggars or brigands. Highways ceased, churches were polluted and sacked, castles burnt to a heap of blackened ruins, commerce was at a stand- still, for the towns were distracted and half in ruins, while the villages were destroyed and agriculture was almost unknown. Even in Paris wolves fought over the bodies in the burial grounds. No wonder was it, therefore, that the people, half crazed with misery, should be ready to listen and give credence to the wildest stories of portents and prodigies and superstitious miracles. There was no outlet for their energies but in wild imaginings, and they knelt before the defaced images of the saints in their half-ruined churches, and im- plored that Saint Louis, or some one amongst the host of heaven, would send them a de- Early Life. 45 liverer, with a yearning and desperation born of despair concerning all reasonable hope of help. Among those who often went thus to pray for her oppressed country and rightful king was a peasant girl, now about seventeen years of age, Jeanne Dare. The little village of Domremy, on the borders of Burgundy and Lorraine, suffered like the rest in the general misery, and yet it must have been somewhat sheltered from the worst woes of the time, for the peasant-farmer Dare seems to have been able to keep his cattle, and Jeanne, a healthy, rosy girl, spent a good deal of time in the fields, where there was plenty of opportunity for musing and dreaming as she kept the beasts from straying. Here she often saw gaunt, half-starved beggars, who told her tales of the usurping English, who held half fair France in their cruel grip ; and after sharing with them her little store of dry rye bread, she turned to pray to her favourite saint, Catherine, whose image stood in the village church, where she never failed to kneel every morning before ascending the hill to look after her cattle. 46 The Maid of Orleans. As true and devout a saint as Saint Louis himself was this peasant girl of Domremy. Pure-minded, single-hearted, simple, and un- selfish was sweet Jeanne Dare, with a passion of loyalty and love for her king and country that none but great souls know. What wonder was it that, brooding and dreaming over her country’s woes all day long in the lonely fields, and hearing at last that there was a tradition now being talked of, derived from the prophecies of Merlin, to the effect that France should be saved by a virgin from the borders of Lorraine — what more natural to an enthusiastic soul, utterly self-forgetful, than to imagine herself the destined instrument of Heaven for her coun- try’s deliverance ? With this belief at length firmly rooted in her mind, and her whole soul’s energies bent in one long passionate prayer to God and His saints for help, was it wonderful that, in this state of nervous excitement and spiritual exaltation, she should see ‘ visions ’ and hear ‘ voices ’ which to everyday mortals, wrapped up in their own small affairs, seem quite absurd ? Early Life. 47 Very real were they to Jeanne — more real than the small concerns of her father’s farm, where she did her mother’s bidding dutifully enough, and took her share of the work that was going on with the rest of her brothers and sisters, living the outward life of a simple peasant maiden, going to the village church on Sundays in her best gown of thick red stuff like that of her companions — a little more grave perhaps, a little less disposed to join in any boisterous fun, but with a depth of happiness shining in her clear dark eyes. I think Jeanne must have been very happy at this period of her life, with a sweet, sacred happiness that nothing could ruffle or disturb. Her secret was her own as yet, and she was waiting for the call to go forth and deliver her beloved country and crown her rightful king. What the deliverance of the Holy Land was to Saint Louis, the crowning of Charles VII. at Rheims was to Jeanne Dare, and she waited as calmly and as fearlessly and con- fidently for the call to come to her as Louis laboured patiently to prepare for his great crusade. Her beloved France was to her 48 The Maid of Orleans. ‘ the realm of J esus,’ the earthly rightful monarch, Charles, the divinely appointed lieutenant of the King of kings ; while the English and their allies were the embodi- ment of evil which she was destined to fight and conquer. CHAPTER IV. THE MAID OF ORLEANS. CONFLICT AND DEATH. HE Regent of France, the Duke of Bedford, governing in the name of his little seven-year-old nephew, Henry VI., after carrying on a long, fruitless war with the French king and his party beyond the Loire, at length decided to use more energetic measures. To crush out the rebellion, as he chose to consider it, in October, 1428, the English army, under the Earl of Salisbury, laid siege to Orleans. This city was the key to the provinces beyond the Loire, and both parties were aware of its importance. If the English succeeded in taking Orleans, the cause of Charles was well-nigh hopeless. The brave garrison of two thousand men did all they could to put the city into a state of defence, for it was fully understood that the final 50 The Maid of Orleans. fate of Charles and his kingdom was to be decided under the walls of Orleans. The English general surrounded the town by a number of towers, and put a good garrison in each ; but military tactics were very imperfect in those days, and there were so many unguarded places between the towers, that the Count of Dunois, who com- manded Charles’ troops, found little difficulty in bringing succour to the town at first. Soon after the siege began, the English general, the Earl of Salisbury, was killed ; but his place was soon taken by the Earl of Suffolk, and the siege went on. A belt of ruin had been made round the city — farm- houses burned, and vineyards uprooted — all that had escaped the long civil war was destroyed now, and so provisions for be- siegers and besieged had to be brought from a distance. The besieged were worse off in this particular than their enemies, and had to get their supplies at greater risk. At last the English had so closely invested the city that famine was feared more than the swords of the English. Things were at this pass in February, Conflict and Death. 51 1429, when it somehow came to be known in the city that a large convoy of provisions, mostly salted herrings for Lent, was on its way to the English camp. So reduced was the garrison of Orleans by this time, that its commander, Dunois, formed the desperate plan of going out to intercept and capture the convoy, A hundred cartloads of food, even if it did consist mainly of salt herrings, was worth its weight in gold to Orleans, for their last hope had almost failed them. There had already been some talk of sur- rendering to the Duke of Burgundy, when the news of this convoy came ; and the besieged clutched at the hope it offered like drowning men at a straw. But, alas ! their veryea gerness betrayed them into disaster. Six thousand brave F renchmen, led by Dunois, advanced to meet the tempting prize ; but the attack was so hasty, and managed with so little judgment, that they were driven back, with the loss of many killed and wounded. News of the ‘ Battle of the Herrings,’ as it was called, and the desperate straits to which the garrison of Orleans was reduced. 52 The Maid of Orleans. was soon noised abroad, and proved the trumpet call to the peasant girl at Domremy. Orleans must be saved, and there was no time to lose now. Jeanne had asked her uncle to go to the great man of the neigh- bourhood, the lord of Baudricourt, to beg him to help her get to the king at Chinon, before this. If the count had heard of the prophecy that France was to be lost by a wicked woman — as indeed it was, through Isabel, the queen — and saved by a pure maiden, he could not believe that a poor peasant girl, from an insignificant place like Domremy, was likely to do it. So he told her kindly uncle that she ought to be slapped, and dismissed him. But now Jeanne went herself, and her simple, straightforward earnestness, and the strange tale she told of her ecstatic ‘ visions ’ and ‘voices,’ made the governor of Vaucou- leurs, the lord of Baudricourt, decide to send a messenger to the king, and ask what he would have done. Meanwhile, one had offered to lend Jeanne a horse, and another little man had given her Conflict and Death. 53 a suit of his clothes, and all Vaucouleurs heard that the Maid for whom they had been waiting had appeared at last. The people, worn out with the miserable state of things, and earnestly longing for the triumph of the national party, as represented by Charles, were ready to seize upon any wild scheme that offered a hope of succour to the besieged in Orleans. So all eyes and all hopes were fixed upon Jeanne, the Maid. When the governor’s messenger returned, bringing word from the king that she was to be sent with all speed to the court at Chinon, the people followed her with their prayers, and upborne by a nation’s hope and supplications, Jeanne reached Chinon early in March. There she heard that a messenger had arrived from the besieged^ advising the king to retreat, and he was considering which country would afford him the best asylum, Spain or Scotland. It was not until the fourth day after her arrival that she was admitted to the presence of Charles, and, by way of testing her, the king placed himself among a crowd of nobles, dressed exactly as they were. But Jeanne, looking round, advanced at once towards him. 54 The Maid of Orleans. and bending the knee, addressed him as her king, and with simple dignity announced her errand. The king was impressed at once, and took her apart for some private conver- sation ; and when this was over he no longer doubted ; but, in order to dispel all suspicion that might arise in the minds of others afterwards, the personal character of J eanne, both as to religious and moral purity, was subjected to strict investigation, and pro- nounced on all points unimpeachable. The news that the longed-for Maid had arisen at last spread like wildfire through the town, and was rapidly carried to other parts of the oppressed country. All hopes and prayers and longings were centred in her now ; she became the object of reverence, admiration, and confidence to the king’s party, and of dread and suspicion to the English. Rumour of course exaggerated her sudden appearance into a miracle in the eyes of her friends, while foes were seized with an equally unreasonable fear of her magic spells ; for witchcraft and sorcery entered largely into the popular belief of the fifteenth century. 55 Conflict and Death. 57 It was speedily decided by the king to send her, according to her own earnest desire, to the relief of Orleans, She was furnished with a complete suit of steel armour, mounted on a white war-horse, and girt with a sword brought from the church of St. Catherine de Fierbois, A page bore her banner, a white field fleur-de-lis, blazoned with a figure of the Saviour, and the motto ‘ Jesu Maria.’ Thus equipped, on the 27th of April, 1429,. the Maid advanced from Blois towards Orleans, attended by a little company of officers and friends. Before starting, she despatched a messenger to Paris, calling upon the Duke of Bedford to surrender all his fortresses, and quit F' ranee with his army. It was delivered in the name of ‘ the Maid sent hither by the King of heaven,’ and doubtless formed the theme of many a jest at the court of Paris, where, if they had heard of Jeanne, they chose to call her a mad woman. The wealthy and noble might suspect and despise her, but the common people on both sides — the archers and bowmen of the English host, and the brave defenders and 58 The Maid of Orleans. half-starved citizens of Orleans — regarded her with widely different feelings. The fear of the Maid had disheartened the English before she came near the city. At her presence wind and water seemed to help the besieged, for on the evening of the 29th of April she crossed the Loire with her little company and some provisions she had brought from Blois,and the people went almost wild with rejoicing as, like a ray of sunlight, she entered the doomed city without oppo- sition from the enemy. A few days longer, and the helpless women and children, and old men, too feeble to man the walls and citadel, but not too feeble to eat the small store of bread left, would have been driven forth to perish between besiegers and be- sieged, according to the cruel custom of war in those days. The coming of the Maid had saved them from sharing the fate of the citizens of Rouen a few years before, and little wonder was it that they pressed forward with rapture to touch the trappings of her white horse, and thank God that their deliverer had come. Modest and quiet, as in her own fields Conflict and Death. 59 at Domremy, the Maid sought a church first, where she could thank God for bringing her here in safety, and sought His guidance as to what she should do next. For this was the secret of her power — that she believed in God utterly ; she calculated no chances, had no doubts, but firmly believing that she was sent on a Divine mission, that it was not her work, but God’s, she was to per- form, she moved on serenely to its accom- plishment. The next morning she sent a message to the English commander to surrender to her king, which of course was refused with scorn. But a sortie made soon afterwards against one of the newly erected towers was so successful that its English defenders were slain to a man, and the place demolished. At daybreak, on the 8th of May, Jeanne headed a concentrated attack on the fort of the Tournelles, the strongest point of the English position. Here, in the hottest of the fight, the heroine received a severe wound in the bosom, and cried out with the pain, as any other girl of seventeen would have done. But only for a moment were 6o The Maid of Orleans. the tears allowed to run down her cheeks, then bravely conquering the fear and the pain, she drew out the dart that still quivered in the wound, and then went aside, the tears still in her eyes, to have it dressed. That was a critical moment in the history of France — aye, and of England too ; for the soldiers who had seen her fall took heart, and were driving back the French towards the beleaguered city. Jeanne saw it, and forgetful of her pain and weakness, and the tears still wet on her cheek, seized her white banner, and hurried to the front again. The sight of the Maid, whom they thought they had killed, struck panic into the English host ; while her own troops, borne along by a superhuman impulse when they saw their glorious warrior-maiden at their head, once more carried all before them. After a brief struggle, the English leader, Gladsdale, was precipitated by a cannon shot into the Loire, and the fortress was won. The fall of the Tournelles so discomfited the English that the very next day they broke up their camp and retreated, leaving behind them their baggage and artillery. Conflict and Death. 6i The victorious Maid of Orleans now urged the king to march without delay upon Rheims. ‘ I shall not last more than a year,’ she said ; ‘ I must employ the time well.’ After some hesitation, her counsel was adopted. On the loth of June, the French stormed Jargeau, where the Earl of Suffolk was taken prisoner. The tide of victory had turned in behalf of Charles and his army, and it passed on, taking town after town. They met with a check at Troyes, where the gates were closed, and the gar- rison refused to surrender. But the energy of Jeanne overcame all obstacles; she led the troops undauntedly to the assault, and at the sight of the Maid the men in the citadel threw down their arms, and opened the gates to her victorious train. On the 1 6th of July, Charles VII. was crowned in the cathedral of Rheims, for only here could a French coronation take place, according to ancient usage. The Maid stood beside the altar, with her lily standard in her hand, far more regal in her simple dignity of purity and truth than the easy-going, indolent king, who let others 62 The Maid of Orleans. fight his battles, but gave himself very little concern as to how they fared while doing it. But to Jeanne he was the earthly repre- sentative of the King of kings, and, as such, worthy of her utmost devotion ; and no flouting from his courtiers, no jealousy and ill-will from his counsellors, or supreme in- difference on his own part, could make the zealous Maid relax her efforts to save him and ‘fair France’ from falling again under the domination of the English, They were still at Paris, the Duke of Bedford trying to patch up a peace with the Duke of Burgundy, with whom he had quarrelled, while Charles and his counsellors were trying to win over the powerful duke to their side. They were bitterly jealous of Jeanne, and the love evinced for her by the common people everywhere ; and though they might be almost sure of winning Paris if she marched at the head of the army to meet the English, as she proposed, still they would almost rather lose it than have it said the Maid was everywhere victorious. At last, after delaying and temporizing, she did succeed in bringing the royal army Conflict and Death. 63 face to face with Bedford and his English host. But they retired when they saw the white charger and the girl-warrior^ who never carried any weapon but a lily-bordered banner, with the image of the Saviour pic- tured on it. Losing all patience at last, and fearing that the enemy would yet escape from her to stir up fresh trouble in some other part of France, Jeanne led the army on after the regent to Paris, and took St. Denis un- opposed. But this so angered the king’s favourites that, instead of following up this advantage, they thwarted all her efforts, and that so effectually, that in an attack made on the Porte St. Honore, on the 8th of Sep- tember, the French were repulsed. They were within reach of the prize, but Charles was tired of the campaign. He hated to be stirred up and pushed on, and he wanted to get back to the easy-going life of the court, where he could hunt and flirt, and not be reminded of his own poor life con- tinually, as he was here, by the holy earnest- ness of the Maid. So back they marched beyond the Loire, 64 The Maid of Orleans. where they could live safely protected by the fortress of Orleans; and Jeanne, looking altogether another Maid from what she did when she led her soldiers to victory, followed the king, as he desired. Another page had opened before her prophetic eyes now. Orleans had been saved, and her king crowned ; she had not looked beyond that before, but now a dark path stretched before her, and her mind was full of forebodings of evil, and her heart was very sad. She must have longed now for the peaceful rest of her own village home, and the quiet fields where she fed her cows ; but duty commanded that she should follow her king to his court in Touraine, and Jeanne ever followed the call of duty. It must have been a sad winter to the Maid, idling her time away in the country of the Loire, while the English were desolating all the provinces of France she had won since the siege of Orleans. But nothing could rouse the king from his indolence, and the blind, infatuated folly of yielding to the influence of his favourite. La Tremouille, and other court flatterers. To quiet Jeanne, and Conflict and Death. 65 make her content among the nobles of the court, the king granted patents of nobility to her and her family for ever — as though any earthly title could make the Maid more noble and worthy, when she was the only royal soul in that ignoble court. At last, leaving the king at the castle of Sully, in the spring of 1430, the Maid placed herself at the head of the army once more, and took possession of Compiegne, where she was besieged by the Duke of Burgundy. On the 23rd of May, she headed a sortie ; but the Burgundians met her in overpower- ing numbers, and drove her back under the walls of the town. Most of her followers had re-entered, the Maid, as usual, placing herself in the most exposed position. She was behind the rest, when the city gates were suddenly closed, and the drawbridge raised. Whether this was through a mis- take, or the act of traitors, was never clearly known. Jeanne defended herself desperately, until all her little company were slain or made prisoners, when she surrendered to a knight in the service of John of Luxemburg, and was carried off prisoner to the Burgun- dian camp at Margni, k 66 The Maid of Orleans. A more shameful story than the rest of Jeanne’s life discloses cannot be found in the annals of history. All that spite and hatred could do against this innocent girl was perpe- trated by those whose lives she shamed by her whole-souled patriotism, her pure and simple piety, and her utter indifference to the pomps and vanities of a selfish court. John of Luxemburg kept Jeanne some time, in the hope that her king, Charles, whom she had led to his coronation, would bestir himself sufficiently to ransom her ; but no word came from the king concerning Jeanne. He at last sold her to her bitterest enemy, the Duke of Bedford, whom she had told to go home with his soldiers to England, and till the fields there, instead of ravaging those of France. All through that summer she lingered in prison, and in November was delivered to the duke’s officers at Crotoy, and being con- veyed to Rouen was heavily chained and put into an iron cage in the castle of that town. The Inquisition had claimed her, as suspected of heresy, sorcery, and other crimes, and she was consigned to the hands of one Conflict and Death. 67 of the most unscrupulous partisans of the English, Pierre Cauchon, Bishop of Beau- vais. In order to obtain materials to use against her at her trial, revelations were drawn from her by a priest, under the seal of confession, that she had left home without her parents’ leave, and taken down by notaries, concealed in the adjoining chamber. On the 21st of February, 1431, the trial commenced in the chapel of the castle of Rouen, and for sixteen days did this infamous tribunal exhaust every artifice to entrap poor Jeanne. But she was not to be moved by cunningly devised ques- tions ; she maintained immovably the Divine origin of her ‘ visions ’ and ‘ voices,’ and made no single admission that could justify a con- viction for sorcery or witchcraft. She was sent back to prison, and the case submitted to the University of Paris. It was all a mockery of a trial from beginning to end, but they wanted to convince the people of France that their maiden deliverer was an emissary from the evil one — to black- en her name and her memory for ever. So on the i8th of April, Jeanne’s ‘visions’ and 68 The Maid of Orleans, ‘ voices ’ were declared to have come from Satan. She was found guilty of blasphemy and imposture, and of course every charge that had been brought against her. She was persuaded to admit this afterwards, under the threat of being instantly burned ; but her enemies never intended to let her escape. Part of her sentence was that she was to lay aside man’s attire — the most fitting garments for the work she had to do, and to her an outward and visible sign that this work had been given her by God, so that women’s clothes came to mean that her mission was from the evil one. But while condemninsf her to these, a suit of men’s garments was placed in her cell, and, as was hoped, Jeanne soon put them on, declaring to her gaolers once more that her ‘ visions ’ and ‘ voices ’ were from God and His saints. It was what her enemies had been waiting for. She was handed over as a relapsed penitent to the secular arm, and on the 30th of May, 1431, she was brought out to the market-place at Rouen and burnt to death. Never was a truer martyr than the Maid of Orleans. Amid the gloom of that dark Conflict and Death. 69 fifteenth century the heroine of France stands out a figure of amazing beauty ; she towers above her nation and her age, a woman for all good men and women to reverence while the world shall last. CHAPTER V. THE STAINLESS KNIGHT. — EARLY LIFE. HERE was a dull little castle near Grenoble, in the province of Dauphiny, standing among its vineyards and corn- fields, where a family named Bayard had lived for generations. The low doors and narrow windows in the thickness of the walls must have made it dim and dark in the brightest weather. Yet a happy family lived beneath the quaint, steep roof of Bayard Castle, and the mother’s room, at the top of the tower forming the outside staircase, was a haven of refuge, and the sweetest, most sacred spot in all the world to the four boys who lived here. Their uncle was the Bishop of Grenoble, but their own mother was more sacred than any bishop, and her little tower-room, where 70 Early Eife. 7 ‘ she taught them to pray, was more to them than any church or cathedral. Sorrow had come to this home a short time before our story begins. The brave father, who had fought in so many battles for the King of France, had died. Just before his death, he called his boys to his bedside, and asked them each what they would like to be. The eldest said he should like to stay at home, and take care of his mother and father. Perhaps he knew that, being the eldest, it was his duty to stay and take care of the old castle and retainers ; and it certainly must have been a comfort to his mother to know that one of her boys wished to stay with her when the rest went away. The next boy, Pierre, said he would like to be a knight, and fight the enemies of his country, as his grandfather had fought the English at Agincourt. Of the others, one wanted to be a bishop, like his uncle, and the other an abbot. Soon after the funeral of their father, the bishop came to see if he could do anything for the widow and her boys, and then hear- ing of Pierre’s wish, he offered to take him 72 The Stainless Knight. back to Grenoble with him, for he could get him a place as a page to the Duke of Savoy. Of course such a good offer could not be re- fused ; and though the mother’s voice trembled as she gave the orders, the village tailor was sent for, and her stores turned out, to make Pierre the new clothes necessary for him to go out in the world. Such a bustle as there was in the castle ! No one thought of going to bed that night, for there was velvet and satin and cloth for the tailor to make up into doublets, and mantles and hose, while the maids sewed at the linen garments, and somebody else at the leather jerkins. Pages were for use as well as ornament, in those days, and Pierre would have to work in his new place. But when everything was ready the next day, and the mother saw the lively little roan that the bishop had bought for Pierre, and how delighted the boy was over it all, her heart quite gave way. She was obliged to run up to her tower and shed a few tears, and ask God’s help to bear this fresh sorrow. Then she was called down, for Pierre had mounted his pony, and the bishop was ready Gnu 74 i Early Life. 75 to start on the sixteen-mile ride to Grenoble. She contrived to draw her boy aside for a few parting words. With tears in her eyes, she charged him ‘ to love and serve God, to be courteous to his peers, and merciful to the poor ; to tell the truth, to be sober, and free from envy and flattery or tale-bearing ; to be loyal, loving, and liberal.’ Pierre was deeply touched by his mother’s earnest love ; and happy as he was at the prospect of seeing the great world, and join- ing in battles, as his father and grandfather had done, he solemnly vowed that he would remember and obey his mother’s words. For a minute or two he felt awed as he made this vow, not only in obedience to his mother’s wish, but also to be a law to himself ever- more ; but, like a happy boy of fourteen, he rode away with his uncle on his sprightly little horse, chattering of the things that interested him and of the brothers he had left behind. At parting, his mother had given him a little purse, with six crowns in gold, and one in lesser coin for himself, that he might be able to help the poor who came in his way. 76 The Stainless Knight. She also gave him two crowns for the ser- vant of the squire under whom he might be placed. The great castle of Savoy was a very different household from the little homestead he had left, and opened up an altogether new world to Pierre — a world within a world, for he was assigned to a squire, to be taught the duties appertaining to that office, so that by- and-by he might become a knight in out- ward seeming as well as inward truth. A book lately published on chivalry gives us a detailed account of the duties of a squire, all which little Pierre had to learn, under the direction of the squire set over him, from which we shall see, that to obey his mother’s loving counsel needed constant watchfulness and prayerfulness. ‘ The squire u:;ed to rise early. His first duty took him to the stables, where he had to spend several hours every day, brush and curry-comb in hand, beginning with his master’s horses, ending with his own. He was often trusted with the delicate task of training the young colts, and he delighted in that hard and perilous occupation. Then he Early Life. 77 watched for the awakening of his master ; for upon him devolved the duty of dressing the knight. Was a visitor expected, was a guest received in the castle ? the squires had to go and meet him, to take off his armour, look after his horse, conduct the new-comer to his room, undress him, bid him welcome. ‘ But, lo ! a horn has sounded. It is dinner time, and all the guests arrive to wash their hands before sitting down. Who has given the water ? who has laid the cloth ? who stands behind each guest, baron or lad}^ silent, attentive, eager? who hands the bread? who carves ? The squires, still the squires, and they boast of being as clever at that business as the best servants. ‘ If their lord is on a journey, they watch over his coffers, which are full of gold and jewels. If he goes to a tournament, they rejoice at accompanying him, and do unto him the same service as at war, proclaiming their master’s name, taking charge of the horses he had won, providing him with fresh armour when he needed it. On a hunting expedition, the employment, the zeal, the 78 The Stainless Knight. joy are the same. The knight and the squire are inseparable from each other. ‘ On his return from the chase, the tour- nament, or the war, it is still the squires who receive the baron at the castle gate, and bring him some wine. ‘ But night is beginning to fall, but the day’s work of our squire is not yet over. They must undress their master, whose bed they made in the morning. Is all finished now ? No ; they have to walk through the stables, and go their rounds all over the castle.’ Amid all these multifarious duties, in which the pages took their share as well as their masters the squires, little Pierre Bayard must have found ample opportunity to carry into practice his mother’s loving counsel, if he strove to resist the temptation to shirk little duties, to be patient under reproof, not to grasp more than his share of the gifts bestowed by the guests, to be gentle and obliging to his fellow-pages, as well as to his master the squire, and not to hector and domineer over the turnspits and scullions that came in his way. Early Life. 79 Life was rather hard sometimes for the fatherless boy in the big, strange castle, and he often thought of his mother, for we know that he never forgot her parting words ; but, following the advice of the wise man given in the Bible concerning wisdom, he wrote them on the table of his heart, that they might bring forth fruit in his life. After two years of obedience and dis- cipline as a page, he was made an esquire, and thence, in addition to the duties already enumerated, he had to learn all those ex- ploits that best fitted him for successful warfare. War was the profession of knights in this rough age, but chivalry was to teach them to be as humane and merciful as they could, even to their enemies. It was the practical carrying out of the gospel of Christ amid the horrors and wrongs of war. Pierre learned all manner of feats of strength and agility, tilting, and riding, as well as the military evolutions in the rudiments of which he had been instructed when a page. Among his new duties he would learn to spring on his horse armed at all points — no small feat to accomplish, when we consider the armour 8o The Stainless Knight. of that day, so stiff, heavy, and cumbrous. Running, dancing, throwing somersaults fully armed except his helmet ; raising himself between two partition walls to any height, by placing his back against one and his hands and feet against the other ; mounting a high ladder on the under side by his hands, not touching the rounds with his feet ; throw- ing the javelin and pitching the bar, were all diligently practised. As a page, Pierre Bayard had distinguished himself by his industry and painstaking atten- tion to all the small details of his work. As a squire, he soon distanced all his companions by his skill and dexterity in these martial exercises, bringing himself very soon under the notice of the Duke of Savoy himself, who took care that such a promising young man should be engaged in those duties that brought him near to his own person. When his master went to court, Pierre Bayard was among the first to be selected to go with him ; and wishing to please the king, Charles VIII., he could think of nothing so valuable as the services of such a true and faithful squire as Bayard. So the duke Early Life. 8i gave Pierre to the king; and temptations undreamed of in a country castle presented themselves to the squire in his new life at court. He had probably tasted some ot the glory and danger of the battle-field while in the service of the duke, for it was here that the squire’s office was most important. He had to take charge of his master’s shield and horse, and when in the actual fight, to be at hand to help him in any and every way possible. Soon after taking service with the king, Pierre probably went with him to Brittany ; but this war soon ended in a marriage. The Duke of Brittany had died, leaving all his wide province to a thirteen-year-old girl — a poor ruler for such stormy times. She had chosen a husband to help her rule her people, and married him by proxy ; but he had never been to see his little wife and help her in her wars. So it was easy to persuade the little lady that she was neglected, and there- fore had better take the King of France for her husband. The Pope consented to dis- solve the marriage with the husband she had 82 The Stainless Knight. never seen, and then pretty Anne of Brittany was married to ignorant, ugly, awkward Charles VIII., and became Queen of France — a greater France than had ever existed before, for Brittany now became for the first time part of the royal kingdom. Pierre Bayard was busy enough at the wedding and coronation that followed ; for jousts and tournaments, where martial skill and prowess were displayed, were the fashionable amusements of the day. One so bold and venturesome, and yet known in the court as the most gentle, courteous, and truthful squire, would naturally attract much attention, especially among the ladies. Amid all this, it was not easy for young Bayard to resist the flattery and adulation, or to carry out truly and faithfully his mother’s last words. But that dear mother in the little tower- room had taught her boy to look beyond the saints, whom all invoked, to God Him- self, and so, at the cry often used at the tournament, ‘ St. George,’ or ‘ St. Louis,’ or ‘ St. Michael,’ Bayard would join in ; but his heart would spring up to God Himself, Early Life. 83 and there would be a momentary prayer that the God who had helped these saints to conquer the powers of evil would also help him — help him to tread down and overcome temptation, even as he overcame his foes in the lists. Many who became squires did not care to go beyond this rank, and take upon themselves the solemn vows of knighthood ; but Pierre Bayard was not one of these. When he rode away from the old home in Dauphiny, he had to all intents and purposes taken the vows of a true knight, and as a little page-boy had lived by them, looking up to God for help in every difficulty. So when his king offered him this honour, he did not shrink from its responsibilities. He had long been preparing to undertake them, and avow to the whole world that henceforth he would be a Christian soldier. The ceremony of investiture of knight- hood, whenever time and place permitted, was long and splendid. Preparatory to enter- ing upon his new dignity, the squire was stripped of his garments and took a bath. On leaving this, he was clad in a white tunic. 84 The Stainless Knight. the symbol of purity ; a red robe, emblema- tical of the blood he was to shed in the cause of truth ; and a black doublet, in token of the death that awaited him as well as all mankind. Thus purified and clad, he entered the church, where he passed a whole night in prayer, sometimes alone, and some- times with a friend who prayed with him, and certain other knights who acted as sponsors in this ceremony. The following morning the first act of the candidate for knighthood was confession, after which the priest administered to him the sacrament. The novice then advanced to the altar, and kneeling before the lord who was to confer the order of knighthood upon him, received the accolade. This was three strokes upon the neck with the flat part of a sword, while at the same time he was addressed thus : ‘In the name of God and St. Michael, I make thee a knight ; be faithful, true, and fortunate.’ After this, bishops and priests, and often ladies, helped to array the newly made knight in the garb of his order, putting on first his gilt spurs, then his coat of mail, his breast- Early Life. 85 plate and arm pieces, gauntlets, and last of all his sword, which had previously been laid upon the altar. The oath of chivalry was then administered to him, which was to the effect that he would be faithful to God, to the king, and to the ladies — which every true knight like Pierre Bayard understood to mean the weak and defenceless, and all whom he could help. After this, his helmet was brought to him, and a horse, upon which he sprang without the aid of stirrups, and caracoled inside the church, brandishing his lance and sword. Then, leaving the church, he went through similar evolutions outside, where crowds were waiting to see the new-made knight, and the gorgeously dressed ladies, knights, nobles, and clergy, who had filled the church to witness the investiture. Thus did Pierre Bayard enter upon his stainless knighthood, seeing and thinking less of the outward pomp and show that accompanied it than of the inward meaning of each mystical act. The whole ceremony was linked in his mind to the little tower- room at home, where his mother taught him The Stainless Knight. when a boy, and where she was praying for him, that his knightly vows might ever be kept truly and faithfully, and he become a Christian soldier. CHAPTER VI. THE STAINLESS KNIGHT. KNIGHTHOOD. f AYARD was ever in the forefront of a battle, ever at the post of danger ; and so when Charles VIII. entered upon the wild scheme of conquering Naples, to which he thought he had some claim, Bayard, like a true knight sworn to protect his king, went with him, whatever he thought of the wisdom ot the proceeding. Italy at this time was the wealthiest and most intellectual country in Europe. The large, prosperous towns had swallowed up the powers of the feudal nobles ; but they had begun to grow jealous of each other, and it was through this rivalry that the King of France was able to revive an old claim to the throne of Naples. 87 88 The Stainless Knight. In 1492, just when Columbus had dis- covered the new world of America, France discovered across the Alps an altogether new world in Europe — one that was to modify and revolutionize all her future life, and bring a new factor into the political life of Europe. Wealthy, industrious, art-loving, fastidious Italy had few soldiers with whom to resist this new invader ; and so the first French campaign was little more than a march of triumph, for conquerors and con- quered could only stare in amazement at each other. Had the King of France been as wise as he was ignorant, an easy conquest of Italy might have been made. Charles foolishly thought he had conquered it, because the towns opened their gates and allowed his court and soldiers to give themselves up to every riotous pleasure. But after a year or two of this military promenade, Italy grew tired of such troublesome guests, and drove them all out. Then the king died, and his cousin, Louis XII,, succeeded him. He had taken part in that merry expedition to Italy with Knighthood. 89 Charles, and saw where the mistakes had been made, and resolved to remedy them in a war he soon entered upon. But he found the Italians prepared for his coming ; and although Bayard and other brave captains had also learned to know the country and something of the people, the French soon met with a defeat before Milan, and one of the first to be taken prisoner was Bayard. But the brave knight had won for himself a renown during his former campaign that was well known in Milan ; and when the duke heard who had been taken prisoner from the French, he at once ordered him to be set at liberty, for was he not known already as the knight sans peur et sans re- proche — the knight who, if he entered a town, ordered his soldiers to protect its women and children ; who never robbed convents, or ruthlessly sacked houses ; who was ready to share his last morsel of bread with the poorest soldier when rations ran short ; who would give his share of the spoil to hospital or church, rather than rob the town he had conquered ? 90 The Stainless Knight. Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan, was a knight himself, and could respect one who was so loyally true to his knightly vows, even though he was a Frenchman and an enemy, and so Bayard was sent back to his wondering but delighted soldiers, who were bitterly mourning the capture of their brave captain. In all the wars waged at this time, — and France, Italy, and Spain were in a chronic state of warfare, — Bayard everywhere won fresh laurels for bravery and generosity and tenderness to all prisoners. The two old foes, French and English, went to war with each other in 1513, for Henry VIII. wanted to seize Picardy, and besieged Terouanne. On one occasion the French, finding their capture was inevitable, laid down their arms ; but Bayard made another dash for victory, and, riding forward, met the English officer in command, and, pointing his sword to his breast, said, ‘ Sur- render, or I take your life.’ The Englishman gave his sword to Bayard, but he could see by this time that his men had laid down their arms, so he at once gave Knighthood. 91 up his own, saying, ‘ 1 am Bayard, your prisoner, and you are mine ; ’ and the two generous foes were marched off to the op- posite camps. But neither remained a prisoner long, for they were soon exchanged, and no ransom was asked for Bayard. In fact, it seems soon to have become an unwritten law among these quarrelsome nations, that whoever captured ‘ the stainless knight ’ should treat him with all honour while in captivity, and re- lease him without ransom at the first op- portunity. It was a splendid testimony to the moral worth of the man, and proved that though others might fail to follow his bright example, they could not but admire it. He never became wealthy, for the spoil that fell to his share was restored to the owners or given to the poor ; and brave though he was, he spoke the truth too uncompromisingly, with too little flattery, ever to rise to any great dignity. At the time of his death he was only a simple captain in the French army. And yet Francis I., the third King of France whom he served, valued and revered him. 92 The Stainless Knight. When Francis asked to be made a knight, he chose to receive that honour from the hands of Bayard. Doubtless, Bayard was an uncompromising foe to the flatterers and pleasure-seekers about the court. What could they do with this man, whose clear truthfulness scorned their little underhand tricks and crooked ways, and the flattery and meanness by which they hoped to win favour and get on } He marched straight through their cleverly woven webs, and upset all their plans, by his plain outspokenness. Kings are but men, and very paltry ones too sometimes, so that none of the three king’s he served could ever get far enough away from the flatterers to see the undimmed lustre of Bayard’s character, and honour themselves by honour- ing him. But the people loved him, and recognised his worth; and after he had successfully kept back the Emperor Charles from taking Champagne, Paris hailed him as its saviour, and he was appointed over a company of a hundred men, led in his own name — an Knighthood. 93 honour which until then had only been held by princes of the blood- royal. Now we come to the last scene in the eventful life of Bayard. A coalition of sove- reigns had been formed against France and her pleasure-loving king, Francis. The English were harassing them on one side, the Spaniards on the other, while the Italians were driving them out of Italy. The French army was in the neighbour- hood of Milan, but not commanded by Bayard. The favour of a wicked woman had given the command to an incapable, dissolute man, who knew nothing about the art of war. He sent an order to Bayard to hold an utterly untenable position. Bayard knew that the order was a grievous blunder, but he marched with his company at once to obey it. ‘ Not though the soldier knew Some one had blundered. Theirs not to make reply. Theirs not to reason why. Theirs but to do and die.’ And Bayard died as he had lived, true to 94 The Stainless Knight. his knightly vow of obedience, as he had been to all others. He was struck by a stray stone from an arquebuse that fractured his spine. He lived for several hours after he fell into the hands of the enemy ; but when they knew who their prisoner was, some of them were moved to tears, and all tried to soothe the last hours of the dying hero. A camp bed and pavilion were provided for him, and a priest fetched to hear his last confession. All that tenderest friends could do, these enemies did for him ; but the end came in a few hours, and Bayard went home to that Lord and Master in whose footsteps he had striven to walk. It must not be forgotten that in the war- like times of which we write there were many brave and noble soldiers ; but Bayard stood out from among them all, the knight sans peur et sans reproche, because he, more than any other, tried to carry mercy and justice, as well as valour, into all he did. He tempered with the gospel of Jesus Christ the rude, rough warfare in which he was engaged. Knighthood. 95 Not only France, but all Europe mourned, when they heard that Bayard, the flower of knighthood and chivalry, had gone to serve the King of kings in a higher realm. Every French soldier mourned for him as for a father. The Italians allowed the French to take away his body, and carry it home to Gre- noble. Everywhere, as it passed, the in- habitants turned out to meet it, with the mournful honours due to a prince. H e was buried in the church of the Minorite monastery, built by his uncle, and where his brother was probably the abbot. Amid the moral darkness and gloom of this fifteenth century, Bayard obeyed his Master’s command: ‘ Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.’ All may follow his example. In the narrower ways of life we are called to tread, we may exhibit the virtues that shone with such lustre in Bayard, for they are the common ones of truthfulness and kindliness, 96 The Stainless Knight. gentleness and unselfishness. Every life affords ample scope for the exercise of these. CHAPTER VII. MARGUERITE OF NAVARRE. THE NEW DAY. Tn the year 1510, Louis XII., the “ Father of his people,” as he was called, and cer- ^ tainly one of the best kings P' ranee ever had, assembled a Parliament at Tours, to consider whether it was lawful to go to war with a Pope ‘ who breaks treaties, and com- mits all sorts of injustice, who leads armies to the battle-field, but never preaches from a pulpit.’ It is a difficult question to decide, for the Pope was the head of the Church, and all men were bound to yield obedience to the spiritual father ; but at last it was conceded that such a warlike pontiff as now disturbed the peace of Europe might be opposed. ‘It is lawful,’ said this Parliament, ‘ for the king to act, not only defensively, but 97 G 98 Marguerite of Navarre. ofifensively against such a man ; ’ and Louis at once prepared to march an army into Italy against his spiritual pastor and master. While this was going on at Tours, there was a little old man at Paris who might be seen any morning going the round of the churches, prostrating himself before the im- ages of the saints, and devoutly ‘ repeating his hours.’ But with him it was no vain repetition or formal service, but an inward longing to grow pure and holy, that prompted this devotion. Everybody knew the little bent, withered - looking old man was Dr. Jacques Lefevre, the most learned professor of the Sorbonne, and withal so meek and gentle, so full of loving-kindness, that everybody who knew him loved him, and his classes were more crowded than any other in the university. To lead the minds of his students to con- template what was pure and holy in the lives of men and women of old, he decided to write the lives of the saints, and he had made some progress with this work when the thought struck him that he might find in the Bible some useful materials for his work. The New Day. 99 The Bible was almost an unknown book at this time, for unless a man had learned the ancient languages — Greek and Hebrew — he could not read it ; but Dr. Lefevre had learned both while on a visit to Italy, and now he turned to this unknown book for help to honour the saints. He thought he had well-nigh exhausted all fields of knowledge, for his keen thirst for it had overcome innumerable difficulties in the way, and he had visited almost every country in Europe, as well as Asia and Africa, in its pursuit ; and history, mathe- matics, philosophy, and theology, as well as modern and ancient languages, had all been mastered, but it was the first time he had set himself to the patient study of God’s Word. Now the learned old man of seventy came to it with the spirit of a little child, willing to learn whatever God should teach him, but little dreaming what wonders were to be re- vealed to his soul through the crabbed black letters of the old tome he was studying. He had unwittingly opened the portals of a new world, as wonderful to his soul as Italy had been to his bodily sight, when crossing the lOO Marguerite of Navarre. Alps he had first caught sight of the ‘garden of Europe/ lying at his feet in all her trans- cendent loveliness. Never would he forget that moment. Earth had no greater joy to offer him than he had tasted when he looked down on sunny Italy ; but a newer, deeper joy came to him now, for he had gained a sight, not of an earthly paradise, but of the kingdom of heaven itself. Saints of another sort than those who had up to this moment engaged his attention now stood before him. The teaching of the real saints wholly eclipsed that of the legendary and fanciful ones he had so long honoured, and St. Paul soon became his chief study. He had often said that a new day was dawning for the world, but he little dreamed that he was to be its harbinger for France — the Wicklif of its reformation ; but when the new day broke upon his soul, and the plan of justification by faith stood revealed before him, he could not do otherwise than teach others what he himself had learned. His lives of the saints grew into a commentary on the Epistles of Paul, in which he says, ‘ It is God who gives us by faith that righteous- The New Day. lOI ness which by grace alone justifies to eternal life.’ This doctrine was the keystone of the Re- formation, and now Lefevre taught it to the students attending the classes, as well as setting it forward in his book. Opposition was soon stirred up against him by the other doctors of the Sorbonne, who were jealous of his popularity, and they might have prevailed to silence him, but the new method of teaching had suddenly grown fashionable in France ; for owing to the Italian war, the nobles who had gone with King Louis into Italy had been brought into contact with the learned men there, and were anxious that France should know something of the new learning they alone could teach. Italy had given them shelter when they fled, with what books they could save, from Con- stantinople before the barbarous, all-conquer- ing Turks ; but they were willing to go to Paris, and many of them had accepted invi- tations and come. So Italian learning, and in fact everything Italian, had suddenly grown fashionable, and by this means Lefevre was able to continue his work. 102 Marguerite of Navarre. French genius is one of marvellous adapt- ability, and the new doctrine taught by Lefevre was readily received by numbers of earnest-minded men and women. Among these was Madame de Chatillon, the gover- ness and friend of the king’s niece, Mar- guerite de Valois, now Duchess of Alen^on. Although surrounded by wealth and lux- ury, and all the frivolity of the French court, this young lady had been taught by her excellent governess that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and that piety, modesty, purity, and beneficence would be the brightest ornaments of her exalted rank ; and so the teaching of Lefevre, which came a little later, found this lady well pre- pared to receive the wonderful truth the Bible had revealed to him. The beloved and accomplished Marguerite of Valois had been forced to marry the Duke of Alengon, for whom she felt no regard, and who seems to have cared very little for her. Except in wealth, he was greatly her inferior; and she must have missed the companion- ship of her brother Francis and other friends very sorely when she left Amboise, where The New Day. 103 the happiest years of her life were spent. Here, under the guidance of Madame de Chatillon, she learned Latin and Italian, Spanish and English, while philosophy and theology also came in for a share of the studious girl’s attention. She mingled freely too with the young French nobles who were chosen by the king to be the companions of her brother, who was heir to the French throne. Among these youthful playmates was Henry d’Albret, Prince of Navarre, the Montpensiers and Montmorencys, and others of the French nobility, who were ready to do anything for Marguerite. But her mar- riage with the Duke of Alen^on, when she was only seventeen, changed her from a light-hearted girl to a sad and disappointed woman. Mere pleasure could never satisfy the earnest, ardent soul of Marguerite ; and emptied of earthly comfort and companion- ship, her mind was the more ready to receive the good news — the gospel of salvation by faith in Christ, now taught by Lefevre and his disciple, Briconnet, Bishop of Meaux. At the time of her marriage. Marguerite 104 Marguerite of Navarre. had begged that she might not be separated from all her friends at once, and that her beloved governess might become her lady of honour, and accompany her to her new home in Normandy ; and this wish was gratified, so that both ladies lived together still, and frequently came to Paris together, where they would not fail to hear Lefevre or some of his disciples. In 1514 the elderly king married an English girl-wife, Mary, the sister of Henry VIII. ; and with her, among other English ladies, came Anne Boleyn, a beautiful, sprightly girl, for whom the young Duchess of Alen9on soon evinced a decided preference. Amid the gay scenes that apparently left no time or opportunity for serious thought, the two friends would contrive to exchange confidences, and Anne learned here of the wonderful day that had dawned for France and the world through the discovery of the truth made by Lefevre. The worship of God at this time was little more than a spectacle provided to amuse people. The gorgeous dresses of the priests, the rich altars, the gleaming vessels of silver The New Day. 105 and gold, the wax candles, the music and chanting, were all calculated to divert the mind, for not a word could be understood, the whole service being in an unknown language. There was no preaching except on great festivals, when some ignorant monk would mount the pulpit and recite the legend of a Romish saint, or the virtues of holy water or crossing or exorcism. It may therefore be imagined what a sensation was caused when Lefevre or Briconnet or other teachers of the new doctrine occupied a Parisian pulpit, and instead of sleepily drawling out some tale of Romish superstition, declared in burning words and with heartfelt earnestness that for ages the Church had been wrong in representing God as a cruel tyrant, who must be appeased or bought off or flattered into complaisance; that, on the contrary, He so loved men, so pitied them, that out of His infinite grace and mercy He had sent His only Son to redeem them from their sins, and, believing in Him, they were justified by faith, and needed neither the intercession of saints and martyrs nor to perform penance io6 Marguerite of Navarre. or go on pilgrimage. Now, this proclama- tion of deliverance from sin through faith in Christ cut at the root of a most profitable traffic established by the Church of Rome, for the Popes encouraged the doctrine, and priests and monks were only too ready to teach the people that sins could be pardoned for money, and pardons bought for every form of iniquity. There were years of jubilee also proclaimed, when those who went on pilgrimage to Rome, and contri- buted to the support of the Pope, received pardon and promises of heaven. Religion thus became a question of buying and selling only, in which the rich might engage, and at the same time commit every kind of sin, while the poor were left poor indeed. It was a doctrine that pleased the thoughtless and vicious, if they only happened to have money enough to purchase indulgences ; and so, when these began to hear that the new teachers declared their pardons were not worth the parchment they were written upon, and that if they wanted to be saved they must leave their sins and begin a new life, they grew angry, and stirred up all the The New Day. 107 opposition they could against Lefevre and his disciples. The priests and monks, whose profits had begun to fall off through the preaching and teaching of this doctrine of salvation by faith in Christ, were already enraged, and so were many of the Sorbonne professors ; but the Duchess Marguerite of Alen^on, and her mother and brother through her influence, favoured the reformers, and so for several years Lefevre continued to teach unmolested in Paris, while Briconnet did all he could to forward the movement in his diocese of Meaux. In 1515 Louis XII. died, and Marguerite’s brother, Francis, became king. The brother and sister were ardently attached to each other, and the young king and the young duchess often discussed the new doctrine, and went to hear Lefevre and the Bishop of Meaux, or some of their disciples, when- ever they were in Paris. It seemed as though the reformation must soon conquer the old superstition, for the new doctrine taught by the reformers was so closely allied to the new learning brought from Italy, that in the minds of many they were all but io8 Marguerite of Navarre. identical. But the Renaissance, the revival of Greek literature and art, with its refining influence on the coarse manners of the age, made no such demands on the heart and life as the gospel taught by Lefevre. Francis was in love with the Renaissance, and ready to do anything to promote it. Artists, painters, sculptors, and men of learning were encouraged to come and settle in Paris, and never was there a more liberal patron of the arts of civilized and polished society than Francis I. A pope had succeeded the turbulent old Julius, too, who was determined that life should be more refined and polished ; but neither Leo X. nor Francis ever thought of going below the surface. Life must be less rude, but not more pure and true and holy, for both these men loved pleasure more than anything else, and were ready to do anything in its pursuit. Greed and luxury, vice and corruption grew rampant underneath the sur- face of the refined, polite society that formed the court of Francis, and it must have been a sore grief to the Duchess Marguerite to see how these daily increased. The New Day. 109 Not so had the Renaissance and the new doctrine touched her. Religion had grown to be a matter of life and conscience to the beautiful Duchess of Alen^on, and she was not ashamed to confess Christ before men, even in the midst of her brother’s corrupt court ; for, after the fanciful fashion of the times, she chose for her badge the marigold, which always turns to the sun, plainly in- timating to all who cared to know, that Marguerite was determined to look ever upwards to Christ as her Sun of righteous- ness, from whom she expected to receive help and guidance in every time of need. CHAPTER VIII. MARGUERITE OF NAVARRE. — A HAVEN OF REFUGE. f OR a few years Lelevre and his disciples, Fare!, Roussel, and Vatable, all four professors in the University of Paris, were allowed to teach the new doctrine un- molested, although the enemies of truth and righteousness were eager to silence them ; for light and darkness cannot dwell together, and such uncompromising truth as the re- formers taught left no room for vice and greed on the one hand, or ignorant super- stition on the other. So priests and monks and pleasure-loving courtiers were alike in their hatred of the new doctrine, and the Duchess of Alen^on soon became aware that a storm was gather- ing, and she exerted all her powerful influence no A Haven of Refuge. 1 1 1 to protect the reformers ; and for a time she succeeded, forP'rancis dearly loved his sister, and was ready to do almost anything to please her — anything but give up his plea- sure, and he loved this more than the truth he was willing to hear proclaimed some- times. He declined to have it branded as heresy at the bidding of the other doctors of the Sorbonne, but he could not accept it as his sister did — he was willing to hear with his ears, but not understand with his heart, all the wonderful truth now for the first time proclaimed to France and the world. Still he was ready to protect the re- formers as long as he could without incon- venience to himself, and also to place some power in his sister’s hands, by which she would be able to do it when he had to give it up. He doubtless foresaw that the tide of clerical opposition, slowly but surely gathering against the reformers, would presently prove too strong for him, unless he intended to identify himself more closely with them than was convenient ; and this was doubtless the I 12 Marguerite of Navarre. reason why he made his sister Duchess of Berry in her own right two years after he became king. They were together at their old home at Amboise, and away from the frivolities and gaieties of Paris, and amid the scenes of their happy childhood the brother and sister could talk over the old times and the new, and Marguerite would have an opportunity of pleading the cause of the Reformation, begging her brother not to allow it to be crushed out, but to protect the reformers against all their enemies. We can imagine the gay, handsome king and his stately sister walking in the castle gardens or on the terrace ; she so earnest in her pleading that he would not allow this new doctrine to be denounced as heresy, and he laughing and joking at her fears, treat- ing it all as lightly as he did everything else, but at last suggesting in a gay tone that he should make her a little queen by resigning the Duchy of Berry to her, with all its royal prerogatives, privileges, and the revenues of the crown lands in that pro- vince. This offer Marguerite most willingly ac- A Haven of Refuge. 1 1 3 cepted. The wealth it would bring her was almost princely, but this was the least valu- able part of the gift, for it also gave her the patronage of the University of Bourges ; and so, if ever her friends should be driven from the Sorbonne and Paris, they could take refuge in her Duchy of Berry, and Bourges would become the centre from which the light of the Reformation would radiate over the rest of France. None were more earnest than the Bishop of Meaux in spreading the knowledge of Divine truth. He was not content that crowds came to hear him preach in Paris — Paris was not France, and all France needed the Reformation, and so he soon turned his attention to his own diocese. His rectors and curates walked in the old paths. They squandered their revenues in the dissolute gaieties of Paris, while they appointed ignorant deputies to do duty for them at Meaux. In other days Briconnet had looked upon this as a matter of course ; now it appeared to him as a scandalous abuse, and he published a mandate pro- claiming all to be ‘ traitors and deserters who, H Marguerite of Navarre. 114 abandoning their flocks, show plainly that what they love is the fleece and wool.’ He also established a theological seminary at Meaux, where there might be trained ‘ able ministers of the New Testament,’ and mean- while he did all he could to spread the new doctrine by preaching himself — ‘a thing which had long since gone out of fashion,’ we are told — and the only times the pulpits were used were at feasts and festivals, when some wandering friar would mount it and turn some popular topic into ridicule, and retail all the latest jests he had been able to collect. This was the friar’s contribution to the gene- ral merriment, and then he would share in the feast and go away with a well-stuffed wallet for his pains. Now the reforming bishop stopped all this. He would not have the pulpits used for buffoonery, but to proclaim the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ, which roused against him the wrath of all the begging friars, who saw their means of living thus threatened. It is always thus. To disturb abuses is to raise enemies, but Briconnet could laugh at them now. These were but as morning A Haven of Refuge. 1 1 5 clouds flecking the sky, which the rapidly rising sun of the Reformation would speedily dissipate. In 1522 another step forward was taken. The Gospels in French were published, and two years later the remaining books of the New Testament; for, like our own Wicklif, the aged Lefevre was most anxious that every man in France should be able to read God’s Word for himself But Paris, or rather the Sorbonne, was growing so seriously alarmed now, that the king was called upon to put down this new doctrine by force. Francis did not respond as the Sorbonne would have liked ; but still little reliance could be placed in the wavering, pleasure- loving king, and so Lefevre was persuaded to leave Paris and retire to Meaux, with Farel and most of the other prominent men of the Reformation. Henceforth Meaux became the centre of the light, and by means of its wool markets and corn markets strangers from all parts of F ranee — a different class from the gay crowds that flocked to Paris — heard of the new doc- Marguerite of Navarre. 1 16 trine, and that God’s Word in their native tongue could be bought here, and by this means the light was carried into many a dark corner of the kingdom. Meanwhile trouble had come to Marguerite, and she felt very lonely amid the gay splen- dours of Paris when the reformers fled to Meaux. The only person to whom she could speak of what was of such vital im- portance to her — her Aunt Philiberta of Savoy — was leaving her now to return to Italy, and so she wrote to Briconnet, begging him to send to her one of the reformed pastors, who might become her chaplain and teach her and her household more of Divine truth, for there was no one to teach it now in Paris. In compliance with her wish, Michel d’Arande returned to Paris, and became Marguerite’s almoner as well as her chaplain, and not only preached to her household, but wherever they might be staying he contrived to gather some of the townspeople together and declare to them the way of salvation by faith in Christ Jesus. Through this means the gospel was carried to Lyons when Mar- A Haven of Refuge. 117 guerite went there ; and although the public declaration of this truth had by this time been prohibited at Meaux as well as Paris, still the Reformation made considerable progress at Lyons owing to Marguerite’s visit. At Meaux everything promised well for some time, until the virulence of the Sor- bonne, aided by the king and his mother, put an end to it. They pretended that the new doctrines endangered the throne, and Par- liament was convoked to deal with the ques- tion. They summoned the Bishop of Meaux before them on the charge of heresy, Briconnet was at first firm, and refused to make any concession ; but at length the alternative was plainly put before him — he must abandon the new doctrine or go to prison, perhaps the stake. One can imagine the conflict in the good man’s soul ; for he was a good man, although not the strong veteran he had promised to be. Perhaps he thought he could yet do something for the Reformation in France, when this storm had blown over ; at all events, he yielded all that was demanded of him. On the 12th of ii8 Marguerite of Navarre. April, 1523, he was compelled to pay a fine, and was sent back to his diocese to publish three edicts — the first restoring public prayers to the Virgin and the saints, which he had so often denounced ; the second forbidding any one to buy or read the books he had so long laboured to distribute ; while the third enjoined silence on all his friends, and those teachers he had trained in his seminary to preach the gospel. This unfaithfulness of Briconnet was a great blow to the Reformation in France, and a great sorrow to the royal lady, who had done all she could to protect the reformers, and still continued that protection, in spite of the opposition of her mother and brother. Angry as the Sorbonne had been with Briconnet, it was Lefevre whom they most bitterly hated and whom they most wished to punish, and so he was persuaded to go to Blois, when he was driven from Meaux, for here the powerful duchess could protect him from his enemies, and he could live in peace and finish his work of translating the New Testament. The other reformers turned in different directions. Farel went A Haven of Refuge. 119 to Switzerland, where a great work awaited him. The two Roussels carried the gospel to Navarre; and so, while the Sorbonne was thinking it had stamped out the light of gospel truth, its disciples were spreading it further and further abroad. It was by no means extinguished in Meaux either. The shepherds had been driven away, but the flock were faithful, and humble wool-combers and vine-dressers disdained to follow the example of their bishop. He might plead with his own conscience and the Duchess Marguerite, that he could still love his Saviour with his heart, though he did not confess Him with his mouth; but they saw more clearly than he did, that the kingdom of heaven and the Reformation in France could not grow if all men followed his example, and from the midst of humble congregations, meeting in garrets and secluded copses around Meaux, the first contingent of the ‘ noble army of martyrs ’ in F ranee went to bear their testimony to the truth of the gospel. While the Duchess Marguerite was staying at Lyons, greater troubles still came upon I 20 Marguerite of Navarre. her. The king was taken at the disastrous battle of Pavia, and imprisoned by his rival, Charles V., while her husband fled from the battle-field ''and returned home branded as a coward. It must have been bitter indeed to a high-spirited, noble woman like Marguerite to hear such things as were freely spoken of concerning her husband, and at first she was so indignant she refused to see him. But he was ill, and soon she remembered that, whatever his faults might be, she was his wife, and bound to succour him in his distress, and she went and nursed him through his illness, and spoke to him of that Saviour so precious to herself. He did not live long after his return to Lyons. Disappointment added to the dis- ease from which he was suffering, and in a few weeks he passed away, leaving his wife free to arrange some plan for the release of her brother. King Francis, who was still kept a close prisoner. The defeat of Pavia proved a great calamity to the French reformers, for the friars and monks, urged on by the doctors of the Sorbonne, everywhere taught the people A Haven of Refuge. I 2 I that the disasters which had fallen upon France were judgments sent upon them for not adopting more vigorous measures to stamp out the new opinions. The king’s mother, also, in her anxiety to secure the interference of the Pope on her son’s behalf, wrote a very humble letter, asking how he would have her act as regent of the kingdom with regard to heretics, and expressing her readiness to obey his orders, whatever they might be. So, in reply to this, a brief was sent to the Parliament by the Pope, and they directed that an Act should be passed empowering the Bishop of Paris and other prelates to appoint two laymen and two ecclesiastics to investigate all causes of heresy, and all convicted were to be doomed to the flames. This commission at once undertook the work of persecution, and many perished at the stake. Marguerite was overwhelmed with sorrow when she knew what was happening, and sent off an appealing letter to her brother in his distant prison, to interfere and stop these cruel proceedings. The captive king 122 Marguerite of Navarre. was touched by his sister’s earnest re- monstrance, and many were saved from the flames. He also commanded the Parliament to release one or two of the leaders whom they had seized, ordering them to suspend all further proceedings against heretics until his return. To Marguerite’s delight, she heard, too, about this time, that by journeying herself to Madrid, she might do more to forward her brother’s release than all the ambassadors that could be sent, and she joyfully undertook the journey. The emperor and his council received her very graciously, for the beautiful widow pleaded very eloquently for her brother’s release, even while she told Charles some home truths about his treatment ot Francis he was not likely to hear often ; but she failed to accomplish her errand, and was obliged to return to France without her brother. The terms of his release were agreed to soon afterwards ; but they were disgraceful to both parties, and France was greatly humiliated by the transaction. While Marguerite was so busily engaged A Haven of Refuge. 123 protecting the reformers, and striving to gain her brother’s release, secret negotiations were being carried on by her mother and Cardinal Wolsey for her marriage with Henry VIII. of England. The Emperor Charles also, at one time, wished to make her his wife, but the widowed duchess married neither. A fellow-prisoner of her brother, who had escaped from Madrid before Francis’s release, — Henry d’Albret, the eldest son of the King of Navarre, — became her second husband, and a year afterwards a daughter was born, Jeanne d’Albret, who followed closely in her mother’s footsteps afterwards in befriending the reformers, and protecting the reformed faith. So long as Marguerite lived in France, she did not openly follow the reformed doctrine, for fear of offending her brother, to whom she was strongly attached, and also lest she should injure his popularity with the very powerful party who hated it ; but when she became Queen of Navarre, she could act with less restraint, and her palace and dominions became asylums for the 1 24 Marguerite of Navarre. persecuted. Many of the French reformers fled to her when driven from France, and never failed to find protection and hospitality, while in return they helped the queen in many of her efforts to improve the condition of her people. Navarre was at this time in a very wild, unsettled state, the inhabitants caring little for anything but hunting the chamois in the Pyrenees. Now Marguerite introduced skilful French agriculturists to teach them the most improved methods of cultivating the soil, architects to enlarge the cities and improve them in every way possible, while painters, poets, and musicians, as well as scholars and eloquent preachers of the reformed faith, were encouraged to come and settle at her court at Pau, so that in talent and refinement of manners, if not in splendour, it soon rivalled that of France itself. The presence of such a court in the midst of the people, combined with Queen Mar- guerite’s other efforts on their behalf, soon began to bear visible fruit, and order, prosperity, and happiness soon succeeded to A Haven of Reftige. 125 the violence and pillage that ’{had hitherto prevailed, and thus this little kingdom of Navarre became the nursery of true religion, when popes and bishops would have driven it from the earth. Lefevre, the Wicklif of the French Reformation, lived until he was nearly ninety, and ended his days in peace at the court of Marguerite. For years he had lived at Bio is under her protection; and when she wanted him to come to her at Bearn, so bitter was the hostility felt against him that a special permit from the king had to be obtained before he could venture to begin his journey, or he might have been seized and cast into prison the moment he left the gates of his city of refuge. Calvin also sought and found protection with this noble lady, and the Sorbonne loudly complained of her as a heretic and protector of here- tics. Indeed, but for her help and counte- nance, the struggling Reformation in France would speedily have been crushed ; but she was truly ‘ a nursing mother ’ to the infant Church of God — a light shining in the midst of darkness and corruption, and 126 Marguerite of Navarre. one of the noblest ladies of the sixteenth century. She continued to be the unswerving friend of the Reformers and the reformation, until her death, in 1549, in spite of all the opposi- tion that it often aroused against her, and that she never publicly severed herself from the Church of Rome. Indeed, while repudiating many of the popish doctrines of that Church, and holding the great principles of evangelical truth, still she does not seem to have discovered the idolatry and superstition of much of its ritual. She tried to make them helpful means of devotion, instead of discarding them as hin- drances. But, although we could wish that this had been otherwise, and that she could have ranged herself altogether on the side of the despised Reformation, yet, taking into consideration her family and position, the times in which she lived, and the evil and corrupting influences by which she was surrounded, Margaret of Valois was a won- derful woman, and we may thank God for such a bright example as she has left us of purity where all else was impure, and of A Haven of Refuge. 127 steadfast devotion to a despised and un- popular cause, and of faithfully following all the light she was able to receive. THE END. Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Froine, and London. 4 ^* THE I^ELIGIOUS ©RACT Society’s FOR Birthday Bipts, Sshool Prizes. AND FOR PRESENTATION AT A3Gi3k SEASONS. Chief Office: 56, PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON. 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