she pickt him out alone, who thereupon had hir to the end of the gallerie, where she held him an houre in secret and private talke, that of his privie chamber was thought verie long, and therefore would have broken it off; but he made them a signe to let hir saie on." (4) SCENE II. Now am I like that proud insulting ship, Which Casar and his fortune bare at once.] This may have been suggested by a passage Steevens found in Plutarch's Life of Julius Cæsar, as translated by North :-"Cæsar hearing that, straight discovered himselfe unto the maister of the pynnase, who at the first was amazed when he saw him; but Cæsar, then taking him by the hand, sayd unto him, good fellow, be of good cheere, forwardes hardily, and feare not, for thou hast Cæsar and his fortune with thee." (5) SCENE II.-Was Mahomet inspired with a dove ?] Mahomet, it is related, had a dove," which he used to feed with wheat out of his ear; which dove, when it was hungry, lighted on Mahomet's shoulder, and thrust its bill in to find its breakfast; Mahomet persuading the rude and simple Arabians, that it was the Holy Ghost that gave him advice."-See SIR WALTER RALEIGH'S History of the World, b. i. part i. ch. vi. (6) SCENE V. A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal, Drives back our troops, and conquers as she lists.j Referring to Hannibal's escape by the stratagem of fixing burning twigs on the horns of oxen, as told in Livy, b. xxii. c. xvi. (7) SCENE V.-Than Rhodope's of Memphis.] The old text reads:-". Rhodope's or Memphis.' Capell first proposed the lection usually adopted. Of the pyramids near Memphis, Pliny records that "the fairest and most commended for workmanship was built at the cost and charges of one Rhodope, a verie strumpet." See also Elian, Var. His. xiii. 33; and Strabo, xvii. p. 180. (8) SCENE V.-Than the rich-jewell'd coffer of Darius.] This alludes to the costly casket which Alexander selected from the opima spolia of Darius at the taking of Gaza, as a befitting shrine for the Iliad of Homer. "In what price the noble poemes of Homer were holden with Alexander the great, in so much as every night they were layd under his pillow, and by day were carried in the rich iewell cofer of Darius, lately before vanquished by him in battaile."-PUTTENHAM'S Arte of English Poesie. chap. viii. ACT (1) SCENE V.-Mortimer.] "This Edmond Mortimer was, I believe, confounded by the author of this play, and by the old historians, with his kinsman, who was perhaps about thirty years old at his death. Edmond Mortimer was born in December, 1392, and consequently at the time of his death was thirty-two years old. "This family had great possessions in Ireland, in consequence of the marriage of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, with the daughter of the Earl of Ulster, about 1353, and were long connected with that country. Lionel was for some time Viceroy of Ireland, and was created by his father, Edward III., Duke of Clarence, in consequence of possessing the honour of Clare, in the county of Thomond. Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, who married Philippa, the duke's only daughter, succeeded him in the government of Ireland, and died in his office, at St. Dominick's Abbey, near Cork, in December, 1381. His son, Roger Mortimer, was twice Vicegerent of Ireland, and was slain at a place called Kenles, in Ossory, in 1398. Edmund, his son, the Mortimer of this play, was, as has been already mentioned, also Chief Governor of Ireland, in the years 1423 and 1424, and died there in 1425. His nephew and heir, Richard, Duke of York (the Plantagenet of this play), was in 1449 constituted Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, for ten years, with extraordinary powers; and his son George Duke of Clarence (who was afterwards murdered in the Tower) was born in the Castle of Dublin, in 1450. This prince filled the same office which so many of his ancestors had possessed, being constituted Chief Governor of Ire II. land for life, by his brother Edward IV. in the third year of his reign. "Perhaps I have been mistaken in one assertion which I have made in the former part of this note; Mortimer probably did not take his title of Clarence from his great Irish possessions (as I have suggested), but rather from his wife's mother, Elizabeth le Clare, third daughter of Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloster, and sister to Gilbert de Clare, the last (of that name) Earl of Gloster, who founded Clare Hall in Cambridge. "The error concerning Edmund Mortimer, brother-inlaw to Richard, Earl of Cambridge, having been kept in captivity untill he died,' seems to have arisen from the legend of Richard Plantagenet, Duke of Yorke, in the 'Mirrour for Magistrates,' 1575, where the following lines are found : 'His cursed son ensued his cruell path, And kept my giltlesse cosin strayt in duraunce, 'For whome my father hard entreated hath, 'But living hopelesse of his life's assuraunce, 'Hee thought it best by pollitike procuraunce 'To slay the king, and so restore his frend; 'Which brought himself to an infamous end: 'So whan King Henry, of that name the fifte, 'Had tane my father in his conspiracie, 'Hee, from Sir Edmund all the blame to shifte, 'Was fayne to say, the French king Charles, his alley 'Had hyred him this trayterous act to trye; 'For which condemned shortly hee was slain, 'In helping right this was my father's gaine." MALONE. (1) SOENE II.— These are the city-gates, the gates of Rouen, Through which our policy must make a breach.] ACT III. Both Hall and Holinshed relate, in nearly the same words, a stratagem employed at the siege of Evreux in 1442, which furnished the poet with materials for this scene: "The Frenchmen, a little before this season, had taken the town of Evreux by treason of a fisher. Sir Francis the Arragonois hearing of that chance apparelled six strong fellowes, like men of the countrie, with sacks and baskets, as cariers of corne and vittels, and sent them to the castell of Cornill, in the which diverse Englishmen were kept as prisoners, and he with an ambush of Englishmen laie in a vallie nigh to the fortresse. The six counterfet husbandmen entered the castell unsuspected, and streight came to the chamber of the capteine, and laieng hands on him, gave knowledge to them that laie in ambush to come to their aid. The which suddenlie made foorth, and entered the castell, slue and tooke all the Frenchmen, and set the Englishmen at libertie: which thing doone, they set fire in the castell, and departed to Rone with their bootie and prisoners."HOLINSHED. (1) SCENE I. ACT IV. Or whether that such cowards ought to wear This ornament of knighthood, yea, or no.] The imputation of cowardice which for a short time dimmed the fame of Sir John Fastolfe, arose at the battle of Patay, where the English forces under Lord Talbot, consisting of about six thousand men, were suddenly assailed by the French, in numbers of nearly four to one. "The Englishmen had not leysure to put themselves in aray, after they had pight up their stakes before their Archers, so that there was no remedie but to fight at adventure. This battaile continued by the space of three long houres: for the Englishmen, though they were oppressed with multitude of their enimies, yet they never fled backe one foote, tyl theyr Captayne the Lord Talbot was sore wounded at the backe, and so taken. Then theyr heartes began to faint, and they fledde, in which flight were slaine above twelve hundred, and fortie taken, of whome the Lorde Talbot, the Lorde Scales, the Lord Hungerforde, and Sir Thomas Rampston, were chiefe. From this battail departed, without any stroke striken, sir John Fastolfe, the same yeare for his valiantnesse elected into the order of the Garter, for which cause the Duke of Bedforde tooke from him the Image of saint George, and his Garter, though afterward, by meane of friends and apparaunt causes of good excuse, the same were to him againe delivered agaynst the mynde of the Lorde Talbot." HOLINSHED. * (2) SCENE II.-Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire.] So in Hall:-"The Goddesse of warre, called Bellona-hath these three hand maides ever of necessitie attendyng on her; Bloud, Fire, and Famine; whiche thre damosels be of that force and strength that every one of them alone is able and sufficient to torment and afflict a proud prince; and they all joyned together are of puissance to destroy the most populous countrey and most richest region of the world." (3) SCENE VII.-Enter Soldiers, bearing the body of John Talbot.] This John Talbot was the earl's eldest son by a second wife; he was created Viscount Lisle in 1551, only two years before the engagement in which his father and he were killed. The circumstances attending the death of the "renowned Talbot" and his gallant son are graphically told by Hall:-"When the Englishmen were come to the place where the Frenchmen were encamped, in the which were iii. C peces of brasse, beside divers other small peces, and subtill Engynes to the Englishmen unknowen, and nothing suspected, they lyghted al on fote, the erle of Shrewesbury only except, which because of his age, rode on a litle hakeney, and fought fiercely with the Frenchmen, and gat thentre of their campe, and by fyne force entered into the same. This conflict continued in doubtfull judgement of victory two longe houres: durynge which fight the lordes of Montamban and Humadayre, with a great companye of Frenchemen entered the battayle, and began a new felde, and sodaynly the gonners perceivynge the Englishmen to approche nere, discharged their ordinance, and slew iii. C persons, nere to the erle, who perceivynge the imminent ieopardy, and subtile labirynth, in the which he and hys people were enclosed and illaqueate, despisyngo his owne savegarde, and desirynge the life of his entierly and welbeloved sonne the lord Lisle, willed, advertised, and counsailled hym to departe out of the felde, and to save hym selfe. But when the sonne had answered that it was neither honest nor natural for him, to leve his father in the extreme ieopardye of hys life, and that ho would taste of that draught, which his father and parent should assay and begyn: the noble erle and comfortable caiptayn sayd to him: Oh sonne, sonne, I thy father which onely hath bene the terror and scourge of the French people so many yeres, which hath subverted so many townes, and profligate and discomfited so many of them in open battayle, and marcial conflict, neither can here dye, for the honor of my countrey, without great laude and perpetuall fame, nor flye or depart without perpetuall shame and continualle infamy. But because this is thy first iourney and enterprise, neither thy flyeng shall redounde to thy shame, nor thy death to thy glory: for as hardy a man wisely flieth, as a temerarious person folishely abidethe, therefore the fleyng of me shal be the dishonor, not only of me and my progenie, but also a discomfiture of all my company: thy departure shall save thy lyfe and make thee able another tyme, if I be slayn to revenge my death and to do honor to thy Princo and profyt to his Realme. But nature so wrought in the sonne, that neither desire of lyfe, nor thought of securitie, could withdraw or pluck him from his natural father: Who consideryng the constancy of his chyld, and tho great daunger that they stode in, comforted his soldiours, cheared his capitayns, and valeantly set on his enemies, and slew of them more in number than he had in his company. But his enemies havyng a greater company of men, and more abundance of ordinaunce then before had bene sene in a battayle, fyrst shot him through the thyghe with a handgonne, and slew his horse, and cowardly killer' him, lyenge on the ground, whome they never durst loko in the face, whyle he stode on his fete, and with him, there dyed manfully hys sonne the lord Lisle." ACT V. "The monarch of the North was Zimimar, one of the four principal devils invoked by witches. The others were, Amaimon king of the East, Gorson king of the South, and Goap king of the West. Under these devil kings were devil marquesses, dukes, prelates, knights, presidents, and earls. They are all enumerated, from Wier De præstigiis dæmonum, in Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, book XV. c. 2 and 3."-DOUCE. (2) SOENE III.-La Pucelle is taken.] In illustration of the capture and martyrdom of this heroic female, the accompanying extracts from a brief memoir of her by Lord Mahon, (Quarterly Review, No. 138,) are well deserving perpetuation: "On leaving Picardy in the preceding year, Charles had confided his newly-acquired fortress of Compiègne to the charge of Guillaume de Flavy, a captain of tried bravery, but, even beyond his compeers in that age, harsh and pitiless. He was now besieged by the Duke of Burgundy, at the head of a powerful army. Joan, hearing of his danger, courageously resolved to share his fortunes, and threw herself into the place on the 24th of May, accompanied by Xaintrailles, Chabannes, Valperga, and other knights of renown. The very evening of her arrival, she headed the garrison in a sally on the side of the bridge across the Oise. She found the Burgundians scattered and unprepared; twice she drove them from their entrenchments, but, seeing their numbers increase every moment, she gave the signal to retreat, herself maintaining the post of honour, the last of the rear-guard. Never had she shown greater intrepidity; but as she approached the town-gate, she found it partly closed, so that but few could press in together; confusion spread amongst her friends, less eager to succour her than to save themselves, and she found herself surrounded by her enemies. Still she made those before her recoil, and might have effected her retreat, when an archer from Picardy, coming up from behind, seized her by her coat of crimson velvet, and drew her from her horse to the ground. She struggled to rise again, and reached the outer fosse : there, however, she was overpowered, and compelled to surrender to Lionel, a bastard of Vendone, and a soldier in the company of John of Luxemburg. The battlements of Compiègne have long since mouldered away; choked by the fallen fragments, the fosse is once more level with the plain; even the old bridge has been replaced by another higher up the stream-yet, amidst all these manifold changes, the precise spot of the catastrophe is still pointed out by popular tradition to the passing stranger. "The captive heroine was first conducted to the quarters of John of Luxemburg, and transferred in succession to the prisons of Beaurevoir, Arras, and Le Crotoy, at the mouth of the Somme. She made two intrepid attempts to escape. Once she had broken a passage through the wall, but was arrested on her way, and still more closely confined. Another time she threw herself headlong from the summit of her prison tower, but was taken up senseless on the ground. "The English were, however, impatient to hold the prisoner in their own hands; and, in the month of November, 1430, she was purchased from Johu of Luxemburg for a sum of ten thousand livres. Her cruel treatment in her new captivity is well described by M. de Barante:'Joan was taken to Rouen, where were then the young King Henry, and all the chiefs of the English. She was led into the great tower of the castle, an iron cage was made for her, and her feet were secured by a chain. The English archers who guarded her treated her with gross contumely, and more than once attempted violence towards her. Nor were they merely common soldiers who showed themselves cruel and violent towards her. The Sire de Luxembourg, whose prisoner she had been, happening to pass through Rouen, went to see her in her prison, accompanied by the Earl of Warwick and the Earl of Stafford.+ Joan," said he in jest, "I am come to put you to ransom, but you will have to promise never again to bear arms against us." "Ah! mon Dieu, you are laughing at me," said she, "you have neither the will nor the power to ransom me. I know weil that the English will cause me to die, thinking that after my death they will win back the kingdom of France; but even were they a hundred thousand Goddams more than they are, they shall never have this kingdom." Incensed at these words, the Earl of Stafford drew his dagger to strike her, but was prevented by the Earl of Warwick.' "The forebodings of the unhappy woman were but too true; her doom was indeed already sealed. **** On the 21st of February, 1431, Joan was brought for the first time before her judges. She underwent, nearly on successive days, fifteen examinations. The scene was the castle-chapel at Rouen; and she appeared clad, as of yore, in military attire, but loaded with chains. Undepressed either by her fallen fortunes, or by her long and * Not Vendome, as most writers have supposed. The place meant is now called Wandomme. in the Département du Pas de Calais. Quicherat, Procès de Jeanne d'Arc,' vol. i. p. 13. + Not Strafford, as written by M. de Barante. cruel captivity, she displayed in her answers the same courageous spirit with which she had defended Orleans and stormed Jargeau. Nor was it courage only; her plain and clear good sense often seemed to retrieve her want of education, and to pierce through the subtle wiles and artifices elaborately prepared to ensnare her. Thus, for example, she was asked whether she knew herself to be in the grace of God? Had she answered in the affirmative, then arrogance and presumption would forthwith have been charged upon her; if in the negative, she would have been treated as guilty by her own confession. 'It is a great matter,' she said, 'to reply to such a question.' So great a matter,' interposed one of the assessors, touched with pity, his name deserves to be recorded: it was Jean Fabry, -'that the prisoner is not bound in law to answer it.' "You had better be silent,' said the Bishop of Beauvais fiercely to Fabry; and he repeated the question to Joan. 'If I am not in the grace of God,' she said, 'I pray God that it may be vouchsafed to me; if I am, I pray God that I may be preserved in it.' *** "The two points on which Joan's enemies and judges (the terms are here synonymous) mainly relied were-first, the Tree of the Fairies,' near Domremy; and secondly, the banner borne by herself in battle. Both of these it was attempted to connect with evil spirits or magical spells. As to the first, Joan replied, clearly and simply, that she had often been round the tree in procession with the other maidens of the village, but had never beheld any of her visions at that spot. With regard to the banner, she declared that she had assumed it in battle on purpose to spare the lance and the sword; that she wished not to kill any one with her own hand, and that she never had. "So plain and candid had been the general tenor of her answers, that it being referred to the assessors whether or not she should be put to the rack, in hopes of extorting. further revelations, only two were found to vote in favour of this atrocious proposal. It is said that one of our countrymen present at the trial was so much struck with the evident good faith of her replies, that he could not forbear exclaiming, 'A worthy woman-if she were only English!' * "Her judges, however, heedless of her innocence, or perhaps only the more inflamed by it, drew up twelve articles of accusation, upon the grounds of sorcery and heresy, which articles were eagerly confirmed by the University of Paris. On the 24th of May, 1431,-the very day on which Joan had been taken prisoner the year before she was led to the churchyard before Saint Ouen, where two scaffolds had been raised; on the one stood the Cardinal of Winchester, the Bishop of Beauvais, and several prelates; the other was designed for the Maid, and for a preacher named Erard. The preacher then began his sermon, which was filled with the most vehement invectives against herself; these she bore with perfect patience; but when he came to the words: Your King, that heretic and that schismatic,' she could not forbear exclaiming aloud, Speak of me, but do not speak of the King-he is a good Christian..... By my faith, sir, I can swear to you, as my life shall answer for it, that he is the noblest of all Christians, and not such as you say.' Bishop of Beauvais, much incensed, directed the guards to stop her voice, and the preacher proceeded. At his conclusion, a formula of abjuration was presented to Joan for her signature. It was necessary, in the first place, to explain to her what was the meaning of the word abjuration; she then exclaimed that she had nothing to abjure, for that whatever she had done was at the command of God; but she was eagerly pressed with arguments and with entreaties to sign. At the same time, the prelates pointed to the public hangman, who stood close by in his car, ready to bear her away to instant death if she refused. Thus urged, Joan said at length: 'I would sign rather than burn,' and put her mark to the paper. The object, The C'est une bonne femme-si elle était Anglaise !' Supplement aux Mémoires, Collection, vol. viii. p. 294. Deposition, at the Trial of Revision, of Massieu, a priest and rural dean, who had stood by her side on the scaffold.-Qur CHERAT, Procès, vol. i. p. 8. however, was to sink her in public estimation; and with that view, by another most unworthy artifice, a much fuller and more explicit confession of her errors was afterwards made public, instead of the one which had been read to her, and which she had really signed. "The submission of Joan having been thus extorted, the Bishop of Beauvais proceeded to pass sentence in the name of the tribunal. He announced to her, that out of grace and moderation' her life should be spared, but that the remainder of it must be passed in prison, 'with the bread of grief and the water of anguish for her food.'* Joan heard the sentence unmoved, saying only: 'Well, then, ye men of the church, lead me to your own prisons, and let me no longer remain in the hands of these English." But she was taken back to the same dungeon as before. "Nor was it designed that her life, should indeed be spared. Her enemies only hoped, by a short delay and a pretended lenity, to palliate the guilt of her murder, or to heap a heavier load upon her memory. She had promised to resume a female dress; and it is related that a suit of men's apparel was placed in her cell, and her own removed during the night; so that she had no other choice next morning but to clothe herself again in the forbidden garments. Such is the common version of the story. But we greatly fear that a darker and a sadder tale remains behind. A priest, named Martin l'Advenu, who was allowed to receive her confession at this period, and to shrive her in her dying moments, was afterwards examined at the trial of revision, and declared that an English lord (un millourt d'Angleterre) had entered her prison and attempted violence; that, on his departure, she was found with her face disfigured and in tears; and that she had resumed men's apparel as a more effectual safeguard to her honour.† "But whether the means employed in this infamous transaction were of fraud or of force, the object was clearly the same to find a pretext for further rigour. For, according to the rules of the Inquisition, it was not heresy in the first instance, but only a relapse into heresy, that could be punished with death. No sooner, then, was the Bishop of Beauvais apprised of Joan's change of dress than he hastened to the prison to convict her of the fact. He asked her whether she had heard 'her Voices' again? 'I have,' answered Joan; 'St. Catherine and St. Margaret have reproved me for my weakness in signing the abjuration, and commanded me to resume the dress which I wore by the appointment of God.' This was enough; Au pain de douleurs et à l'eau d'angoisse.'-Collection des Mémoires, vol. viii. p. 304. + Compare Sismondi, vol. xiii. p. 190, with the Supplément aux Mémoires (Collection, vol. viii. p. 304). the Bishop and his compeers straightway pronounced her a heretic relapsed: no pardon could now be grantedscarce any delay allowed. "At daybreak, on the 30th of May, her confessor, Martin l'Advenu, was directed to enter her cell and prepare her for her coming doom-to be burned alive that very day in the market-place of Rouen. At first hearing this barbarous sentence the Maid's firmness forsook her for some moments; she burst into piteous cries, and tore her hair in agony, loudly appealing to God, the great Judge,' against the wrongs and cruelties done her. But ere long regaining her serene demeanour, she made her last confession to the priest, and received the Holy Sacrament from his hands. At nine o'clock, having been ordered to array herself for the last time in female attire, she was placed in the hangman's car, with her confessor and some other persons, and was escorted to the place of execution by a party of English soldiers. **** At the market-place (it is now adorned by a statue to her memory) she found the wood ready piled, and the Bishop of Beauvais, with the Cardinal of Winchester and other prelates, awaiting their victim. First a sermon was read, and then her sentence; at this her tears flowed afresh, but she knelt down to pray with her confessor, and asked for a cross. There was none at hand, and one was sent for to a neighbouring church; meanwhile, an English soldier made another by breaking his staff asunder, and this cross she devoutly clasped to her breast. But the other soldiers were already murmuring at these long delays. 'How now, priest?' said they to l'Advenu; do you mean to make us dine here!' At length their fierce impatience was indulged; the ill-fated woman was bound to the stake, and upon her head was placed a mitre with the following words inscribed : HERETIQUE RELAPSE, APOSTATE, IDOLATRE.' The Bishop of Beauvais drew nigh just after the pile was kindled; It is you,' said she to him, 'who have brought me to this death.' To the very last, as l'Advenu states in his deposition, she continued to protest and maintain that her Voices were true and unfeigned, and that in obeying them she had obeyed the will of God. As the flames increased, she bid l'Advenu stand further from her side, but still hold the cross aloft, that her latest look on earth might fall on the Redeemer's blessed sign. And the last word which she was heard to speak ere she expired was JESUS. Several of the prelates and assessors had already withdrawn in horror from the sight, and others were melted to tears. But the Cardinal of Winchester, still unmoved, gave orders that the ashes and bones of 'the heretic' should be collected and cast into the Seine. Such was the end of Joan of Arc-in her death the martyr, as in her life the champion, of her country.' |