# Joan of Arc (Southey)/Book 3

The line numbers referenced in the footnotes in this Book are a continuation of the numbering from Book the Second, whereas the line numbering in this Book begins at 1. The lines referred to by the footnotes are therefore Footnote reference - 725.
JOAN of ARC.
BOOK THE THIRD.
ARGUMENT.
DUNOIS and the Maid arrive at Chinon. DUNOIS announces the Mission of JOAN. Despondency and incredulity of the King. He attempts to deceive her. She discovers and addresses him. CHARLES still incredulous convenes the Doctors of Theology. They assemble and examine the Maid. Event of that Examination.
JOAN of ARC.
BOOK THE THIRD.
THE early sun beams on the latticed cot; Up spring the travellers, and along their way Holding high converse speed. So as they pass, Fast by a spring that welling at his feet With many a winding crept along the mead,5 A Knight they saw. He at his plain repast Felt the West wind play round his ungirt brow. Him, drawing near the Bastard recogniz'd, The gallant friend of Orleans, the brave chief Du Chastel; and the mutual greeting pass'd,10 They on the streamlet's mossy brink reclin'd, Paus'd on their way, the frugal fare partook And drank the running waters.
"Art thou bound
For the Court Dunois?" exclaim'd the aged Knight,
"I deem'd thee far away, coop'd in the walls15 Of Orleans; a hard siege her valiant sons
Right loyally endure."
"I left the town,"
Dunois reply'd, "thinking that my prompt speed
Might seize the hostile stores, and with fresh force
Re-enter. Fastolffe's better fate prevail'd,20 And from the field of shame my maddening horse
Bore me, for the barb'd arrow gor'd his flank.
Fatigued and faint with that day's dangerous toil,
My deep wounds bleeding, vainly with weak hand
Check'd I the powerless rein. Now thus reviv'd25 By Heaven's high aid, I seek the Court, and thence
To that beleager'd town shall lead such force
That the proud English in their fields of blood
Shall perish."
"I too," Tannegui reply'd,
"May haply in the battle once again30
Serve him my Royal Master; in his cause
My youth adventur'd much, nor can my age
Find better close than in the clang of arms
To die for him whom I have liv'd to serve.
Thou art for the Court; Son of the Chief I lov'd!35 Be wise by my experience. Look not thou
For happiness in that polluted scene.
Thou see'st me here Dunois, a banish'd man,
A not unwilling exile to appease
The proud and powerful Richemont, who long time40 Most sternly jealous of the royal ear
With midnight murder leagues, and down the Loire,
Rolls the black carcase of his strangled foe.
Now confident of strength, at the King's feet
He stabs the King's best friends, and then demands,45
As with a conqueror's imperious tone,
The post of honor. Son of that lov'd Chief
Whose death my arm aveng'd, may thy days
Be happy; serve thy country in the field,
And in the hour of peace amid thy friends50 Dwell thou without ambition."
So he spake.
But when the Bastard told the wond'rous tale,
How interposing Heaven had its high aid
Vouchsaf'd to France, the old man's eyes flash'd fire,
And rising from the bank, the stately steed55
That graz'd beside he mounts. "Farewell Dunois,
Thou too the Delegate of Heaven, farewell!
I go to raise the standard——we shall meet
At Orleans." O'er the plain he spurr'd his steed.   They journey on their way till Chinon's towers.60
Rose to the distant view; imperial seat Of Charles, for Paris with her servile sons A headstrong mutable ferocious race, Bow'd to the invader's yoke, since that sad hour When Faction o'er her streets with giant stride65 Strode terrible, and Murder and Revenge, As by the midnight torches' lurid light They mark'd their mangled victims writhe convuls'd, Listen'd the deep death groan. Ill-fated scene! Thro' many a dark age drench'd with innocent blood,70 And one day doom'd to know the damning guilt Of Brissot murder'd, and the blameless wife Of Roland! Martyr'd patriots—spirits pure, Wept by the good ye fell! Yet still survives
Sow'd by your toil and by your blood manur'd 75 Th' imperishable seed, soon to become That Tree, beneath whose vast and mighty shade The sons of men shall pitch their tents in peace, And in the unity of truth preserve The bond of love. For by the eye of God 80 Hath Virtue sworn, that never one good act Was work'd in vain! In Paris triumph'd now Th' Invader. On a cradled infant's head Had Bedford plac'd the crown of Charlemagne, And factious nobles bow'd the subject knee 85 In homage to their King, their Sovereign Lord, Their baby mighty one. "Belov'd of Heaven," So spake the Son of Orleans as they pass'd, "Lo these the walls of Chinon, this the abode Of Charles our monarch. Here in revelry 90 He of his armies vanquish'd, his fair towns Subdu'd, hears careless and prolongs the dance.
And little marvel I that to the cares Of empire still he turns the unwilling ear, For loss on loss, defeat upon defeat, 95 His strong holds taken, and his bravest Chiefs Or dead or captur'd, and the hopes of youth All blasted, have subdu'd the royal mind Undisciplin'd in Fortitude's stern school. So may thy voice arouse his sleeping virtues!" 100
The mission'd maid reply'd, "Go thou Dunois, Announce my mission to the royal ear. I on the river's winding banks the while Would roam, collecting for high enterprize My thoughts, troubled tho' firm. He who essays 105 Atchievements of vast import will perforce Feel his heart heave; and in my breast I feel Such perturbation." On the banks of Vienne Devious the Damsel turn'd. Thro' Chinon's gates The Son of Orleans press'd with rapid step 110
Seeking the King. Him from the public view He found secluded with his blameless Queen, And her partaker of the unlawful bed, The lofty-minded Agnes. "Son of Orleans!" So as he enter'd cried the haughty fair,115 "Thou art well come to witness the disgrace, The weak, unmanly, mean despondency Of this thy Sovereign Liege. He will retreat To distant Dauphine and fly the war! Go then, unworthy of thy rank! retreat 120 To distant Dauphine, and fly the war,
Recreant from Battle! I will not partake A fugitive's fate, but to my home returning In bitterness of memory curse the hour When to a coward basely I resign'd 125 My virgin worth." "Nay Agnes," Charles replied, "Add not the anguish of thy keen reproach! I have enough of sorrow. Look around, See this fair country ravag'd by the foe, My strong holds taken, and my bravest Chiefs 130 FalFn in the field, or captives far away. Dead is the Douglas—cold thy warrior frame, Illustrious Buchan; ye from Scotland's hills, Not mindless of your old ally distress'd, Rush'd to his succour: in his cause ye fought, 135 Ye perish'd. Gallant rash ill-destin'd Nabonne! Thy mangled corse waves to the winds of Heaven. Cold, Graville, is thy sinewy arm in death. Fall'n is Ventadaur. Silent in the grave Ramboilillet sleeps. Bretagne's unfaithful chief 140
Leagues with my foes, and Richemont or in arms Defies my weak controul, or from my side, (A friend more dreaded than the enemy) Drives my best servants with the assassin sword. Soon must the towers of Orleans fall. But now 145 These sad thoughts boot not. Welcome to our court, Dunois! We yet can give the friendly feast, And from the heavy cares of empire win One hospitable day of merriment.
The Chief reply'd, "So may thy future years150 Pass from misfortune free, as all these ills Shall vanish like a vision of the night! To thee, to France I come the messenger Of aid from Heaven. The delegated Maid With me, whom Providence all-wise decrees155 The saviour of the realm. Me, gash'd with wounds, And in mine own blood senseless on the plain, This more than mortal with celestial touch, Woke to new life."
Astonish'd by his speech Stood Charles. "At one of meaner estimation 160 I should have smil'd, Dunois. Thy well-known worth, The loyalty of all thy noble house, Compel me even to this a most strange tale To lend a serious ear. A woman sent From Heaven, the Saviour of this wasted realm,165 Whose magic touch awoke thee to new life When gash'd with wounds and senseless! Son of Orleans, Ill now beseems ought hazardous. My state Totters upon destruction. Is my person Known to this woman?" "She has liv'd retir'd," 170 The Bastard answer'd, "ignorant of courts, And little heeding, till the spirit of God Rous'd her to this great work." To him the King, "She knows not then my person. Thou, Dunois, Lead here the Maiden. On the throne meantime,175 I the while mingling with the menial throng,
Some courtier shall be seated. If this Maid Be by the holy spirit of God inspir'd, That holy spirit will gift her with the power To pierce deception. But if strange of mind 180 Enthusiast fancy fire her wilder'd brain, Thus prov'd, she to obscurity again May guiltlessly retire. Our English foes Might well exult to see the sons of France Led by a frenzied female." So he said; 185 And confident in faith the son of Orleans Sought on the banks of Vienne the missioned Maid.
Soon is the court conven'd; the jewell'd crown Shines on a menial's head. Amid the throng The Monarch stands, and anxious for the event, 190 His heart beats high. She comes—the inspired maid! And as the Bastard led her to the throne, Quick glancing o'er the mimic Majesty, Fix'd full her eye on Charles. "Thou art the King. I come the avenging Delegate of Heaven,195
Wielding the wrathful weapon, from whose death, Their stern hearts palsied by the arm of God, Far from Orleans shall the English wolves Speed their disastrous flight. Monarch of France! Spread the good tidings through thy ravag'd realm. 200 The Maid is come—the mission'd Maid—whose hand Shall in the consecrated walls of Rheims Place on thy head the crown." In wonder mute The courtiers heard. The astonish'd King exclaim'd "This is indeed the agency of Heaven! 205 Hard, Maiden, were I of belief," he cried, "Did I not now with full and confirm'd faith Thee the redeemer of this ravag'd realm Believe. Not doubting therefore the strange will Of the all-wise, nor those high miracles 210 Vouch'd by the Son of Orleans, do I now Delay to marshal the brave sons of France Beneath thy banners; but to satisfy Those who at distance from this most clear proof
May hear and disbelieve, or yield at best 215
A cold assent. These fully to confirm
And more to manifest thy holy power,
Forthwith with all due speed I shall convene
The Doctors of Theology, wise men
And skilful in the mysteries of Heaven. 220 By these thy mission studied and approved,
As needs it must be; of these holy men
The sanction to the dubious minds of all
Shall bring conviction, and the firm belief
Lead on thy favour'd troops to mightiest deeds, 225
Surpassing human credibility."   Well pleas'd the maiden heard. Her the King leads
From the disbanding throng, meantime to dwell
With Mary. Watchfull for her Lord's return
She sat with Agnes. Agnes proud of heart, 230
Majestically fair, whose large full eye
Or flashing anger, or with scornful scowl
Deform'd her beauteous features. Yet with her
The lawless idol of the Monarch's heart,
Mary, obedient to her husband's will, 235
Dwelt peaceful, from the proudly generous mind
Of Agnes winning friendship. Soon the Maid
Lov'd the mild Queen, and sojourning with her,
Expects the solemn summons.
Thro' the realm
Meantime the King's convoking voice was heard, 240
And from their palaces and monasteries
Swarm'd forth the Doctors, men acute and deep,
Grown grey in study; Priests and Bishops haste
To Chinon.—Teachers wise and with high names,
Seraphic, Subtile, or Irrefragable, 245 By their admiring pupils dignified.
Nor Superstition to embrace the hour
Neglects. She hastens from the English court,
Where mad Ferocity led the holy war,
Arm'd with the mitred helmet. By her side 250 Inanely learn'd, came reverend Ignorance,
His grey eye large and rayless; o'er his beads Aye wont to mutter forth the drowsy prayer. And meet companion came with these the form Of Cruelty, like monk Dominican 255 His garb. One hand Tertullian's volume grasp'd, Volume beloved! and high the other rear'd The thirsty sword, whose impious hilt display'd The cross. These join'd the theologic train.
The Doctors met—from cloister gloom recluse 260 Or from the haunts luxurious of the abode, Episcopal they met, and sought the place Of judgment. Very ancient was the dome, The floor with many a monumental stone O'erspread, and brass-ensculptur'd effigy 265 Of holy abbots honor'd in their day, Now to the grave gone down. The branching arms Of many a ponderous pillar met aloft, Wreath'd on the roof emboss'd. The windows gleam'd Awful and dim their many-colour'd light270
Thro' the rich robes of Eremites and Saints, Trees, mountains, castles, ships, sun, moon, and stars, Splendid confusion! the pure wave beneath Reflects and trembles in the purpling beam. On the altar burns that mystic lamp whose flame 275 May not be quench'd. Circling round the vase They bow the knee, uttering the half-heard prayer; Mysterious power communicating thus To the hallowed water, deem'd a mightier spell O'er the fierce fiends of Satan's fallen crew, 280 Than e'er the hell-hags taught in Thessaly, Or they who sitting on the rifled grave, Seen by th' exhalations lurid light, Partake the Vampire's banquet. This perform'd, The maid is summon'd. Round the holy vase 285 Mark'd with the mystic tonsure and enrob'd In sacred vests, a venerable train They stand. The delegated Maid obeys
Their summons. As she came a loveliest blush
O'er her fair cheek suffus'd, such as became 290 One mindful still of maiden modesty,
Tho' of her own worth conscious. Thro' the aisle
The cold wind moaning as it pass'd along
Wav'd her dark flowing locks. Before the train
In reverend silence waiting their sage will, 295
With half averted eye she stood compos'd.
So have I seen the simple snow-drop rise
Amid the russet leaves that hide the earth
In early spring, so seen its gentle bend
Of modest loveliness amid the waste 300 Of desolation.
By the maiden's side
Proud in conviction stood the warrior Son
Of Orleans to avow his deep wounds heal'd
By power miraculous vouchsaf'd from Heaven
To her the inspir'd damsel. As he stood,305
Viewing with steady eye the magic rites
Of preparation, thus the arch Priest spake
Severe.
"Woman, if any fiend of hell
Lurk in thy bosom so to prompt the vaunt.
Of inspiration, and to mock the power 310
Of God and holy church, thus by the virtue
Of water hallow'd by the name of God
That damned spirit adjure I to depart
From his possessed prey. Detected thus
Thy impious wiles, to th' ecclesiastic arm 315
Thou must deliver'd purge in flames the crime
Atrocious."
Thus he spake, and dash'd the wave
With hand unsparing on the virgin's face:
The water shone upon her glowing cheek
Like morning dew-drops on the opening rose. 320 Indignant at th' unworthy charge the Maid
Felt her cheek flush, but soon, the transient glow
Fading, she answer'd meek.
"Most holy Sires,
Ye reverend Fathers of the Christian church
Most catholic! before your view I stand 325
A poor weak woman. Of the grace vouchsaf'd, How far unworthy conscious: yet tho' mean, Guiltless of ill, and chosen by highest heaven The minister of aid. Strange voices heard, The dark and shadowing visions of the night, 330 And that miraculous power that thro' the frame, Then gored with wounds and senseless, of Dunois, Pour'd rapid the full tide of life and health, These portents make me conscious of the God Within me—he who gifted my purg'd eye 335 To know the Monarch 'mid the menial throng, Unseen before. Thus much it boots to say. The life of simple virgin ill deserves To call your minds from studies wise and deep, Not to be fathom'd by the weaker sense 340 Of man profane." Blushing the Maiden spake. Thus then the Father: "Brethren ye have heard The woman's tale. Beseems us now to ask
Whether of holy church a duteous child Before our court appears, so not unlike 345 Heaven might vouchsafe its gracious miracle: Or silly heretic whose erring thoughts Monstrous and vain perchance might stray beyond All reason, and conceit strange dreams and signs Impossible? Say, woman, from thy youth 350 Hast thou (as rightly mother church demands) To holy Priest confess'd each secret sin, So purged by grace to him vouchsaf'd from Heaven, Of absolution? "Father," she replied, "In forest shade my infant years train'd up 355 Knew not devotion's forms. The chaunted mass, The silver altar and religious robe, The mystic wafer and the hallowed cup, Gods priest-created, are to me unknown. Beneath no high-arch'd roof I bow'd in prayer, 360 No solemn light by storied pane disguis'd, No trophied pillars, and no imag'd cross
Wak'd my young mind to artificial awe, To fear the God I only learnt to love. I saw th' eternal energy pervade 365 The boundless range of nature, with the Sun Pour life and radiance from his flamy path, And on the lowliest flowret in the field The kindly dew-drops shed. All nature's voice Proclaimed the all-good Parent; nor myself 370 Deem'd I by him neglected. This good Power My more than Father taught my youth to know, Knowing to love, and loving to adore. At earliest morn to him my grateful heart Pour'd forth th' unstudied prayer, that spake my thanks 375 For mercies oft vouchsaf'd, and humbly ask'd Protection yet to come. Each flower, that bloom'd Expanding in the new-born spring, call'd forth The soul of full devotion. Every morn My soaring spirit glorified the God 380 Of light, and every evening thank'd the Power Preserving thro' the day. For sins confest
To holy Priest and absolution given I knew them not; for ignorant of sin Why should I seek forgiveness? Of the points 385 Abstruse of nice religion, and the bounds Subtile and narrow which confine the path Of orthodox belief, my artless creed Knew nought. 'Twas Nature taught my early youth Religion—Nature bade me see the God 390 Confest in all that lives, and moves, and is."
She spake energic. The full force of truth Breath'd from her lips. Appall'd the Doctors stood In vacant wonder, listening to the sounds Unwonted; till at last a Priest replied: 395
"Woman, of holy church thou seemst to scorn Prophane the mighty power; nay more—thy lips Confess that nature taught thee thy religion. This is heretical, and thou thyself Hast proved it impious; for thou hast declared 400
Masses and absolution and the use
Of mystic wafer are to thee unknown.
How then could nature teach thee true religion,
Depriv'd of these? Nature can teach to sin,
But 'tis the Priest alone can teach remorse, 405 Can bid St. Peter ope the gates of Heaven,
And from the penal fires of purgatory
Absolve the soul. Could nature teach thee this?
Or tell thee that St. Peter holds the keys,
And that his successors' unbounded power 410 Extends o'er either world? Altho' thy life
Of sin were free, if of this holy truth
Ignorant, thy soul in liquid flames must rue
Transgression."
Thus he spake, the applauding look
Went round. Nor dubious to reply the Maid 415 Was silent.
"Fathers of the holy church,
If on these points abstruse a simple maid
Like me, should err, impute not you the crime
To self-will'd wisdom, vaunting its own strength Above omnipotence. 'Tis true my youth, 420 Conceal'd in forest gloom, knew not the sound Of mass high-chaunted, nor with trembling lips I touch'd the mystic wafer: yet the Bird That to the matin ray prelusive pour'd His joyous song, methought did warble forth 425 Sweeter thanksgiving to Religion's ear In his wild melody of happiness, Than ever rung along the high-arch'd roofs Of man. Yet never from the bending vine Pluck'd I its ripen'd clusters thanklessly, 430 Of that good God unmindful, who bestow'd The bloodless banquet. Ye have told me, Sires, That Nature only teaches man to sin! If it be sin to seek the wounded lamb, To bind its wounds, and bathe them with my tears, 435 This is what Nature taught! No, Reverends! no, It is not Nature that can teach to sin: Nature is all Benevolence—all Love,
All Beauty! In the greenwood's simple shade There is no vice that to the indignant cheek 440 Bids the red current rush.—No misery there— No wretched mother, that with pallid face And famine-fall'n, hangs o'er her hungry babes, With such a look, so wan, so woe-begone, As shall one day, with damning eloquence, 445 Against the mighty plead! Nature teach sin! O blasphemy against the Holy One, Who made us in the image of himself, Who made us all for Happiness and Love, Infinite happiness—infinite love, 450 Partakers of his own eternity."
Solemn and slow the reverend Priest replied, "Much, woman, do I doubt that all-wise Heaven Would thus vouchsafe its gracious miracles On one fore-doom'd to misery; for so doom'd 455 Is that deluded one, who, of the mass Unheeding, and the Church's saving power,
Deems nature sinless. Therefore, mark me well,
Brethren, I would propose this woman try
The holy ordeal. Let her, bound and stript, 460
(Lest haply in her clothes should be conceal'd
Some holy relic so profan'd) be cast
In the deep pond; there if she float, no doubt
Some fiend upholds, but if she instant sink
O'erwhelm'd, sure sign that Providence displays 465
Her free from witchcraft. This done, let her walk
Blinded and bare o'er ploughshares heated red,
And o'er these past, her naked arm plunge deep
In scalding water. If from these she pass
Unhurt, to holy father of the church 470 Most blessed Pope, we then refer the cause
For judgment: and this Chief, the Son of Orleans,
Heal'd, as he says, even at the point of death,
By her miraculous touch, shall pass with her
The sacred trial." "Grace of God! exclaim'd 475 The astonish'd Bastard; "Plunge me in the pool,
O'er red-hot ploughshares make me dance to please Your dotard fancies! Fathers of the church, Where is your gravity? what elder-like This fairer than Susannah would you eye? 480 Ye call for ordeals—and I too demand The noblest ordeal, on the English host To prove in victory the mission sent From favoring Heaven. To the Pope refer For judgment! Know ye not that France even now 485 Stands tottering on destruction!" Starting wild, With a strange look, the mission'd Maid exclaim'd, "The sword of God is here! the grave shall speak To manifest me!" Even as she spake, A pale blue flame rose from the trophied tomb 490 Besides her. A deep silence thro' the dome Dwelt awful. Sudden from that house of death The clash of arms was heard, as tho' within The shrouded warrior shook his mailed limbs.
"Hear ye," the Damsel cried; "these are the arms 495 That shall flash terror o'er the hostile host. These, in the presence of our Lord the King, And the assembled people, I shall take From this the sepulchre, where many an age Incorruptible they have lain conceal'd,500 Destin'd for me, the Delegate of Heaven.
Recovering from amaze, the Priest replied: "Thou art indeed the delegate of Heaven! What thou hast said surely thou shalt perform! We ratify thy mission. Go in peace." 505
* ↑ Line 759 Tanneguy du Chatel had saved the life of Charles when Paris was seized by the Burgundians. Lisle Adam, a man noted for ferocity even in that age, was admitted at midnight into the city with eight hundred horse. The partizans of Burgundy were under arms to assist them, and a dreadful slaughter of the Armagnacs ensued. Du Chatel, then Governor of the Bastile, being unable to restrain the tumult, ran to the Louvre, and carried away the Dauphin in his shirt, in order to secure him in his fortress. Rapin.
* ↑ Line 765 Richemont caused De Giac to be strangled in his bed, and thrown into the Loire, to punish the negligence that had occasioned him to be defeated by an inferior force at Avranches. The Constable had laid siege to St. James de Beuvron, a place strongly garrisoned by the English. He had been promised a convoy of money, which De Giac, who had the management of the treasury, purposely detained to mortify the constable. Richemont openly accused the treasurer, and revenged himself thus violently. After this, he boldly declared that he would serve in the same manner any person whatsoever that should endeavour to engross the King's favor. The Camus of Beaulieu accepted De Giac's place, and was by the constable's means assassinated in the King's presence.
* ↑ Line 774 "The Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy had agreed to bury all past quarrels in oblivion, and to enter into strict amity: they swore before the altar the sincerity of their friendship; the priest administered the sacrament to both of them; they gave to each other every pledge which could be deemed sacred among men. But all this solemn preparation was only a cover for the basest treachery, which was deliberately premeditated by the Duke of Burgundy. He procured his rival to be assassinated in the streets of Paris: he endeavoured for some time to conceal the part which he took in the crime, but being detested, he embraced a resolution still more criminal and more dangerous to society, by openly avowing and justifying it. The Parliament itself of Paris, the tribunal of justice, heard the harangues of the Duke's advocate, in defence of assassination, which he termed tyrannicide; and that assembly, partly influenced by faction, partly overawed by power, pronounced no sentence of condemnation against this detestable doctrine."———" This murder and still more the open avowal of the deed, and defence of the doctrine, tended to dissolve all bands of civil society, and even men of honour, who detested the example, might deem it just, on a favourable opportunity, to retaliate upon the author. Burgundy had entered into a secret treaty with the Dauphin, and the two Princes agreed to an interview, in order to concert the means of rendering effectual their common attack on the English; but how both or either of them could with safety venture upon this conference, it seemed somewhat difficult to contrive. The Duke, therefore, who neither dared to give, nor could pretend to expect any trust, agreed to all the contrivances for mutual security which were proposed by the Ministers of the Dauphin. The two Princes came to Monteseau; the Duke lodged in the castle, the Dauphin in the town, which was divided from the castle by the river. Yonne; the bridge between them was chosen for the place of interview; two high rails were drawn across the bridge; the gates on each side were guarded, one by the officers of the Dauphin, the other by those of the Duke. The Princes were to enter into the intermediate space by the opposite gates, accompanied each by ten persons, and with all these marks of diffidence, to conciliate their mutual friendship. But it appeared that no precautions are sufficient where laws have no place, and where all principles of honour are utterly abandoned. Tanneguy du Chatel, and others or the Dauphin's retainers, had been zealous partizans of the late Duke of Orleans, and they determined to seize the opportunity of revenging on the assassin the murder of that Prince. They no sooner entered the rails, than they drew their swords, and attacked the Duke of Burgundy. His friends were astonished, and thought not of making any defence; and all of them either shared his fate, or were taken prisoners by the retinue of the Dauphin. Hume.
* ↑ Line 791 A dreadful slaughter of the Armagnacs had taken place when Lisle Adam entered Paris at midnight, May 18, 1418. This however, was only a prelude to a much greater commotion in the same city some days after. Upon news of what had passed, the exiles being returned to Paris from all quarters, the massacre was renewed June the 12th. The constable Armagnac was taken out of prison, murdered, and shamefully dragged through the streets. The Chancellor, several Bishops, and other persons, to the number of two thousand, underwent the same barbarous treatment. Women and children died smothered in dungeons. Many of the Nobles were forced to leap from high towers upon the points of spears. The massacre being ended, the Queen and the Duke of Burgundy entered Paris in triumph. Mezeray.—Rapin.
* ↑ Line 114 Charles, in despair of collecting an army which should dare to approach the enemy's entrenchments, not only gave the city of Orleans for lost, but began to entertain a very dismal prospect with regard to the general state of his affairs. He saw that the country in which he had hitherto, with great difficulty, subsisted, would be laid entirely open to the invasion of a powerful and victorious enemy, and he already entertained thoughts of retiring with the remains of his forces into Languedoc and Dauphiny, and defending himself as long as possible in those remote provinces. But it was fortunate for this good Prince, that as he lay under the dominion of the fair, the women whom he consulted had the spirit. to support his sinking resolution in this desperate extremity. Mary of Anjou, his Queen, a Princess of great merit and prudence, vehemently opposed this measure, which she foresaw would discourage all his partizans, and serve as a general signal for deserting a Prince who seemed himself to despair of success: his mistress too, the fair Agnes Sorel, who lived in entire amity with the Queen, seconded all her remonstrances. Hume.