The Sun.
London, England, 1849-10-31 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON. WEDNESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 31, 1849.

Vols

IMPORTANT LEGAL DECISION.
SERMONS NOT COPYRIGHT.
MACNAUGHTAN V. WILSON.—A. case which has cx
cited considerable interest was decided by the Sheriff
Substitute, at Paisley, on Saturday last. The cir
cumstances, out of which the case arose, are these :
The Rev, John Macnaughtan, of the Free High
Church, Paisley, lately preached a farewell sermon to
his congregation, prior to his departure for Rosemary-
street Church, Belfast. At the delivery of the
discourse, Mr. William Wilson, editor and pro-
prietor of the Renfrewshire Advertiser, attended and
took full short hand notes, with the view of publish-
ing the sermon. After Mr. 'Wilson's intention
became known to Mr. Macnaughtan, the latter
gentleman applied for an interdict to prevent the
appropriation of what the Reverend Gentleman
maintained was copyright. Mr. Wilson held that
sermons were not copyright. The interdict was,
however, granted in the interim ; the case went to trial
in the usual way, and, on Saturday last the Sheriff-
Substitute pronounced the following interlocutor :
Paisley, 27th October, 1849.—The Sheriff-Sub-
stitute, having advised the closed record, recalls the
interdict formerly granted; assoilzies the defender,
reserving as craved in the answers No. 5* of process.
Finds the pursuer liable in expenses, of which, allows
an account to be given in, and remits the same when
lodged to the Auditor of Court to tax and to report,
and decerns.
(Signed) R. ROBERTSON GLASGOW.
NoTE.—It is with some hesitation and doubt as to
his view of the law that, in the absence of any autho-
rity directly bearing on the point, the Sheriff- Sub-
stitute has pronounced this decision. The statutes
don't embrace compositions of this nature ; and it is,
therefore, necessary to consider the rights of parties
at common law. It is said by the pursuer that
a sermon ought to be protected in the same
manner as plays, which, although made public
by performance in a theatre, are still quoad
printing, and independently of statute, held to
remain the property of the author, and to be still un-
published, so that the author, or those deriving right
through him,' shall have the exclusive right of print-
ing—that in effect they remain in the position
of a manuscript not yet given to the world.
There is much plausibility in this reasoning.
But there is a difference between the two compo-
sitions, or rather in the mode of the oral publica-
tion which, in the Sheriff Substitute's opinion,
places them in a totally different position, so much so,
as to prevent the arguments applicable to the one,
having any force in regard to the other, and it is
this :—The dramatic author (or the lessee of the
theatre, who must be held to be identified wirh the
author, as respects the performance, for it is
only through the author that he is entitle d to
bring it on the stage) does not giN e his corn:
position to the public indiscrimii alely. Rr
only gives to each person who pays for that privi-
lege the right to hear it. It is a private transac-
tion with each individual who gains admission to the
theatre—a transaction for onerous causes—a sale to
the hearers. A. church, on the contrary, is open to
the public generally. The- sermon is given to the
public for universal edification—it is published to the
World, and what is so published can no longer
be considered as the private property of the pub-
lisher. This view of the case is strengthened by
inference from the late statute sth and 6th Will.
IV. cap. 65. That Act extended the privilege of
Copyright to lectures by private lecturers, but
not to those delivered in colleges, &c. Thus proving
that it was so given in the first case, on account of
the private sale by the lecturer, to each of those who
Pays for the privilege of hearing ; while, in the
latter, the lecture is given to the public, and there-
fore becomes public property. It is also of import-
ance, though not conclusive, that sermons are not
included in this statute. The Act may be
merely declaratory of the common law, in
Which case omission to extend the privelege to any
set of compositions does not infer the taking away of
common law rights ; but it certainly shows the opi-
nion of the framers of the statute that sermons were
not entitled to protection. On these grounds, the
Sheriff Substitute has formed the opinion, that the
defender is entitled to publish the sermon, and as he
offered his manuscript for revisal by the pursuer, he
has obviated any plea on the ground of injury to re-
putation by an imperfect or incorrect report.
(Initialed) R. R. G.
Agent for the Pursuer—Archibald Gardner, Esq.,
Writer, Paisley. Agent for the Defender—David
Campbell, E;q., writer, Paisley.—Glasgou. Herald.

* In No. 5 of process Mr. Wilson craves that his
claim of damages against Mr. Macnaughtan for inter-
ercnce_byf interdict be reserved.

LITLRATIJIAE.

THE .I.IAID OF ORLEANS ; a Romantic.
Chronicle. By the Author of " Whitcfriars." 3

'I he history of Juan of Arc is one of those strange
and startling truths for which fiction can present no
parallel—a hi,tory more marvellous than the brain of
novelist ever devised—a picture more soul subduing
than the pen of poet ever depicted. Few names illustri-
ous in the annals of their day have been cherished
with such universal remembrance as that of the mar-
vellous Maid of Orleans. Not only in her own
country, but here, in England, among classes little
acquainted, perhap, with the kings and heroes of
French history, the memory of the village girl of Dorn-
remy, of her who perished in flames on the market
place of Rouen, still survives, and still will survive—
" Theme to all song, and marvel to all y outh,
Belove-d as Fsble, yet bvl,evc-d as Truth."
The story of Joan is possessed of a peculiar and irre-
si,tible fascination—glittering with an imperishable
glory, and bedewed with the tears of successive gene-
rations—it reveals human nature at once in its dark-
e4 end its divinest aspects. Where can we find
patriotism and heroism to surpass, or even to equal
that of the enthusiast peasant-maiden ? And where
can we find cowardice, ingratitude, or unmanliness
to approach in infamy to that of the sovereign whose
brows Joan had crowned with the royal dia-
dem, and the people whose lives and liberties
she had preserved from foreign domination, who
one and all tamely suffered their deliverer to perish
by an agonising and ignominious death ? Not one
French hand was raised for her who lived and died
for France ! And where, again, can we find the
record of a baser and more unmanly act than that
un English cruelty and injustice which condemned
to the death of witchcraft a prisoner of war!—an
enemy whose greatest crime was victory—a woman
whose only fault was that her presence shamed
Frenchmen into patriotism, and Englishmen into
flight. Yet gloriously has the maiden been avenged
by the justice of posterity. The memory of their
ancestors' iniquity is more bitter to the descendants
of Joan's murderers than her victories were to her
baffled foes. Who would not give up all the glory of
Agincourt to efface from the page of history the
flames of Rouen ? When we call to mind the many
elements of interest contained in the narrative of the
Maid of Orleans, it is no matter of surprise that
such a theme should find favour with the poet and
the romancist. The exploits of the famous Pucelle
are recorded in the first part of " King Henry VI. ;"
one of Schiller's most beautiful tragedies celebrates
the " Jungfrau von Orleans ;" Southey has com-
memorated "Joan of Arc." David Hume charac-
terises her achievements as "one of the most singular
revolutions that is to be met witb in history."
Those achievements form the theme of a new romance
from the pen of the author of " Whitefriars," who
has now, at last, produced a work equalling in interest
and excellence that popular favourite. It, indeed,
could hardly be otherwise when the subject of the
narrative is taken into consideration. Very different
is the heroine of this " romantic chronicle" from the
passionate and unmaidenly Hueline of Troyes, whose
tenderness threw a charm over the early pages of
" Owen Tudor," and whose disgraceful career
destroyed the whole attraction of that work. Very
different, again, is Joan of Arc from the Lucretia of
" Cxsar Borgia." And not only is the heroine of
this work greatly superior to the former heroines of
this author, but the subject of her history is altogether
full of especial interest. " Whitehall" chronicled
the downtal of the English Charles 1., and " White-
frials" was a chapter in the history of his restored
successor; the " Maid of Orleans" also relates to the
fortunes of a restored King Charles—a monarch in
some respects resembling his pleasure-loving English
namesake—but the faults and follies of the royal
lover of Agnes Sorel occupy only a subordinate part
in this work dedicated to the memory of the
glorious peasant-maiden. The pen of this writer
is, in many respects, well qualified for the
high task he has undertaken. His style is at once
animated and. almost passionate, and yet clear and
simple, and unmarred by the slightest symptoms of
affectation. The attention of the reader is carried
along by this narrative of Joan of Arc as irresistibly
as were the armed hosts who followed her to victory.
What we like best in this work is the portraiture of
its heroine. The Maid of Orleans is here the heroic
msid that we love to believe her. In " King Henry
V 1.," while full justice is awarded to her prowess in
arms, the holiness and purity of her character are
rendered dubitable by the fact of fiends being
represented as actually appearing to her, and also by
her most unmaidenly endeavours to save her life.
Schiller, on the other hand, while he has to a beauti-
ful excess vindicated the virtue of the conscientious
virgin, has been forgetful of that patriotism which
shone so conspicuously in the pure•minded French
girl. Schiller's Joan loves an Englishman, and in
self-inflicted expiation of the sin of even a thought of
love, surrenders herself to destruction, refusing to
declare het self innocent of the crimes imputed to her
charge. 'The Maid of Orleans, as represented by
the author of " 11'hitefriars," is not a more
glorious creation than the Joan of Schil-
ler (which were indeed impossible) ; but,
without losing one of the heroic characteristics with
which romance loves to invest her, she is here de-
picted in a more natural guise. We can readily be-
lieve that such was the maiden who in that hour of
defeat and despair, when France lay prostrate at the
toot of England, wept for her King's disgrace and
her country's sorrows, and while her cheek burned
with indignation and her heart glowed with enthu-
siasm, believed herself inspired by Heaven to emanci-
pate her country. The secret of Joan's success was
faith. She believed in herself, and therefore her
comrades believed in her, and therefore her foes too
believed in her,—
" The coward heart that calculates disaster
Will never dare adeentur''s stormy sea."

History would be a very different record if more
human hearts possessed the faith of Joan. "We
make our fortunes, and we call them fate," truly
said the writer of the wondrous history
of Alroy, and such (speaking humanly
and only with reference to second causes) is the lesson
which all past experience teaches us. Had Juan hesi-
tated, another Agincourt might have sealed the desti-
nies of France, but she fearlessly believed and acted,
and even her blood, even her extorted recantation at
the last, could not extinguish the light of patriotism
she had kindled. Joan perished at Rouen, but the
English were expelled from France. Faith, patriotism,
purity, and enthusiasm are the predominant charac-
teristics of Joan, as described in the chronicle now
before us. But, in our opinion very unnecessarily, in
order to give a probable reason fur her declara-
tion that she was inspired by the direct commands of
Heaven, the writer of this narrative represents the
Maid of Orleans as occasionally the victim of a pious
delusion. This supposition is very skilfully explained,
but it derogates somewhat from the interest and
excellence of the work. No cunning contrivances
could have effected such a transformation in
an ordinary maiden as to convert her from
a village-girl into a martial conqueror, it was the
high enthusiasm of Joan which effected the pro•
digy, and what can it signify how that enthu-
siasm was excited or stimulated ? In 'furnish-
ing a common-place solution to a moral pheno-
menon, the author has signalised his ingenuity,
but discredited his appreciation of the beauty
and sublimity inseparably attached to the mys-
terious. Nevertheless, this narrative, with all its
blemishes, is full of interest and attraction. We
must confess that, remembering the voluptuous
scenes and characters with which the author of
" Whitefriars " too often defaces his otherwise ad-
mirable compositions, we at firat trembled for the
character of the immaculate Maid of Orleans.
Her purity comes forth untarnished ; still there are as
usual a few pages, but in this instance fewer than
usual, which betray the tendency we have
mentioned. The scene between Melusine and
the Bishop of Beauvais, in the very first vo-
lume, well-nigh destroyed our growing interest
in the work. But these blemishes are so few,
and are so utterly effaced by the glorious purity
of the portraiture of Joan, that we merely mention
them in order to congr'atulate the writer on his im-
proved taste, and to recommend him to yet further
care for the future. One who can worthily depict
the beauty and excellence of virtue has no need to
have recourse to the meretricious attractions of the
feuillelonist, who like a bad painter endeavours to
disguise his faulty drawing by a coarse mass of gor-
geous colouring. The writer of the "Maid of Or-
leans" is a better artist ; he can both design character
with a nice precision and fill it out with a delicate
exactitude, witness for example the heroine of this
his last production. The "romantic chronicle" will
give pleasure to many readers, :a pleasure not the less
sweet because mingled with sadne,s. Many tears
will be shed over the closing pages of Joan's history,
while her marvellous and rapid career of triumph, as
narrated in these eloquent and vigorous descriptions,
will be found far more interesting and enthralling
than any purely fictitious narrative. Around the
glorious heroine are grouped various dissimilar cha-
racters—the gallant and chivalrous Dunois, the im-
petuous La Hire, the crafty La Trimouille, the sa-
pient Jaques Cceur, the patriotic Archbishop of
Rheims, the every-way execrable Bishop of Beauvais,
the licentious Duke d'Alei.con, the disaffected Duke
of Burgundy, the desponding Dauphin and ungrate-
ful King—Charles the Victorious, the gentle Queen of
France, the iniquitous Isabelle de Baviere, the high-
spirited Agnes Sorel, the melancholy lady of La
Trimouille ( Ilueline, the heroine of " Owen
Tudor"), while, on the other hand, the English
Court and camp presents a gorgeous array
of noble knights and gallant warriors—among others
the Duke hf Bedford, the noble-hearted Talbot, and
Sir John Fastolfe, whose terrified flight from Pataye,
and his continual alarm when in presence of " the
Witch of Orleans," are ingeniously accounted for.
The disgraceful expulsion of Fastolfe from the ranks

of knighthood and the dignity of the Garter, forms the
subject of a most painfully interesting chapter. The
following extracts will in,sorne degree indicate the in-
tereqing character and eloquent style of the " Maid
of Orleans." Joan's entrance into beleaguered Orleans
(preparatory to raising the siege), and her first mar-
tial exploit is thus described :
" Truly did Napoleon declare—in spite of all his own
mathematical genius—that mankind are governed by the
imagination. This singular entry of the Maid into the
city whence she was to derive her glorious cognomen, at
the same instant confirmed the English in their panic
terror of a witch, and the French in their belief that a
saint, commissioned by God, had arrived to their deli-
verance. From this hour it seemed as if the English
and French had changed characters, fortune, and po-
sition.

" It was time that some assistance, divine or human,
should enter Orleans. The womanly, though warlike,
heart of Jeanne d'Arc bled in her bosom, and her eyes
filled continually with pitying tears, as she gazed on the
haggard faces and wasted forms of the majority of that
ropulati,ti which rushed to welcome her with raving
transports of joy and gratitude. Had she descended
visibly from the skies, armed with lightning in their be-
half, she could not have been received with more rev&
retina and hopeful trust. The people knelt before her as
she approached, kissed her robes and harness, lifted up
their infants for her to bless; men, women, and children,
alike sobbing and heaping blessings on her head. She
repulsed these acts of adoration with gentle but grave
reproof, and herself not ceasing to flow with tears, ex-
horted the hearers to courage and calmness. • Even
thus pale and glassy-eyed I saw ye in my dreams!' she
exclaimed. But, oye men of Oilcans, at least! not
weeping, not weeping!—Ye made your enemies weep for
ye tears of blood, when yet ye hoped little; and now,
when I am come among ye, when redemption is cer-
tain—' But her own voice failed, too, in the reproach.

" The captains of the French army, meanwhile, de-
bated among themselves, what was proper to be done,
not thinking it necessary to consult a country girl, how-
ever much inspired, on their military arrangements. It
was determined, that the Bastard of Orleans should de-
part on the following day to meet the army from Blois,
and lead it safely into the city. The other commanders
were to stay in Orleans, and restrain the rash daring of
the people and of their new leader until his return.
" This determination was communicated to Jeanne
d'Arc, but not another which the gallant La Hire and
Poton de Saintrailles resolved upon. It was usual to
celebrate the arrival of any personage of extraordinary
rank in a besieged city by some sally or onslaught that
marked the increase of good cheer within; and these
two famous partizans agreed to treat the English, in the
bastille of St. Laurent, to a skirmish, in honour of the
arrival of the Maid. At the same time it would serve
to cover the departure of Dunois, But dreading her
impetuous temper and sudden influence over the populace
they promised not to reveal their purpose to Jeanne
until it should be accomplished.

" Jeanne was unwearied with her day of fatigue and
emotion, or at least, when speaking on this subject, she
seemed so. But her hostess judiciously thought other-
wise, and retired early, leaving her to repose, with her
daughter for a companion in her couch. It was the
maiden's custom always where it was possible, to sleep
with one of her own sex, and where it was not, to spend
the night in her warlike harness. Jeanne's attendants
were, however, completely exhausted, and especially the
uld Knight who guarded her, and whose office it was to
put on her armour.
" The Chevalier d'Olun was accordingly still plunged
in deep sleep, on his couch in the ante-chamber to that
occupied by Jeanne d'Arc, when shortly after daybreak
he was awakened by her voice. What are those
shouts?' he heard her exclaim. To arms! rescue! It
is Fastoife ! Give me mine armour!'

" The old knight indeed heard a distant uproar and
outcries, which his experience interpreted into those of
conflict; but before he could equip to appear before his
charge, she was nearly clothed in her arms, with the
affrighted but active aid of the treasurer's daughter.
The words of strife became now joined with others for
aid, and yells of terror and flight. Never before had
the young championess heard the direful noise of
human battle and agony; but she paused not even to
attend to the knight's entreaty that she would remain
until he could learn the cause of the disturbance.
• The blood of France is being shed ! Those cries
were taught by French mothers! My horse!—where
is my horse ?'
" She rushed down the stairs of the treasurer's
house, regardless of the weight of her armour, which at
other times, galled limbs unaccustomed to confinement
and heavy garniture. Her quick and intelligent page,
Louis de Culant, had already saddled her steed, but
with boyish presumption rode it to the door. ' Ha,
traitor page!' she exclaimed, rending him from the
saddle, ' Art thou too of the conspiracy? Who bade
thee hide the truth from me? My standard!—bring me
my standard!'
" She had left it in the sleeping-chamber above; but
almost as rapidly as she could vault up and seat herself
in her saddle, Louis do Culant handed out the standard
by its long lance from the window. The effect of
those fiercely sparkling eyes and lighted countenance
was not such as encouraged delays. Snatching it from
the page's grasp, and setting spurs to her horse,
Jeanne galloped up the street at such furious speed
that the sparks flew from its hoofs as from a black-
smith's anvil.

" It was afterwards quoted as a miracle, we know not
wherefore, unless trom the vulgar love of exaggeration,
that Jeanne took the nearest way to the scene of con-
flict. It is true that the streets were perplexed and
winding, and never before traversed by her. But the
uproar increased so fearfully with every move of her ad-
vance, that it was in no degree wonderful she made
direct to the scene of action. This was the Porte
Replan."

-. . .
" All the new French confidence could not sustain the
troops of La Hire and Poton against the repeated
shocks of Talbot. In vain also did the townspeople en-
deavour with shouts, and the discharge of a few ill-
directed cannons, to arrest the pursuit that followed. So
rapid and energetic was it that the probability was, very
few would return to the city with tidings, when Jeanne
rushed from the Porte Regnart, followed by an incredible
multitude of the armed populace of Orleans.
"In galloping towards the Porte Regnart she en-
countered some soldiery hurrying along with the shat-
tered body of a young knight. It was the first time she
had seen human blood shed—the human form so hide-

ously marred—and she checked her horse with sudden
horror, as if some monstrous snake had risen on her
path. Her black hair deepened in hue with the glossy
damp that burst upon it, while with white and quivering
lips she exclaimed, Is it French blood'? Are these
mangled limbs French? Oh, blood of France, well
shalt thou be avenged!' And her mood changing into
one of wrathful indignation, and rending her sword from
the scabbard, she continued, Ho, there, all men to

arms! Vengeance for the blood of France!'

" The noise of the skirmish and the alarum-bell of a
neighbouring church had already attracted a great num-
ber of the citizens and populace to the Porte Regnart.
But they were without leaders, and appalled with the
flight and discomfiture of the chivalry outside the walls.
The instant, however, it was known that the martial

prophetess was approaching the field—when she was seen
rushing past with the speed of a thunderbolt, and her
sword flashing over her head like the lightning that ac-
companies it—an embodiment as it were of the tempest
—one universal cry of Vengeance!' echoed hers, one
universal rush of onset followed in her wake. And
thus she came from the Porte Regnart, meeting the
yelling fugitives of La Hire, and full in sight of them
and their pursuers. The immediate effect produced
might well indeed be ascribed to magic. The pursuers
halted with a dead shock, many being unhorsed by the
violent reversion of their own speed; lances dropped
from nerveless hands: the mighty Talbot himself paused
in amazement!

" The fugitives meanwhile whirled their steeds round.
La Hire and Poton, who were galloping breathlessly
with the rest, turned at equal speed to meet their adver-
saries. A knight of St. John of Jerusalem, who fought
on the French side, lay on the ground between the two
parties, unhorsed y the lance of Talbot; and an English
squire was busied, according to the warlike custom in
those days, in unlacing the knight's helmet to complete
his master's work, by striking off his head. But the
squire himself suddenly rolled to earth beneath the
tramp of Jeanne d'Arc's steed, and the knight started
upon his feet in all his weight of arms! This seemingly
supernatural event completed the consternation of the
English soldiers. Talbot was left completely alone, ley
a broad space, on the field, and his troops retreated in
huddling masses to the fortifications of St. Laurent.
Nothing was left to Talbot himself but to retire, or re•
main to be surrounded by his enemies; and with a shout
of frantic rage, and setting his lance as if he meant to run
amuck among his own fear-struck host, he set his horse
to its speed, and entered the bastille of St. Lauren with
thel ast of his late valiant sortie.

" ' Oh, by the tree of God, Jeanne, thou art a better

brother-in-arms than any that never wore a jupoe!'
exclaimed La Hire. Ido believe in thee—thou art ,
both Oliver and Roland!'"
Her spirited conduct on the battle-field is thus again
set forth in another place :
" And what. I pray thee, is the Constable?' said De
Richemont, in an offended and haughty tone. ' I
claim the ordonnance of this battle by right of my staff
of officer and neither man nor woman shall rend it
from me!'
Order the battle who will, I will win it, and now is
the moment!' said Jeanne, with a glittering look of in-
spiration; and pushing on her charger, she rode to the
front of the line of battle so as to be distinctly seen by
all the masses of the army. Then unsheathing her
sword and raising its polished blade to the extent of
her arm over her head until it glared in the sun like
a sharp flame, she pronounced a very brief but inspiring
harangue ' Soldier-el.—Frenchmen!' she exclaimed,
behold this sun! Ere it sets, we shall redeem France.
Charge with me, and this field is ours! God who made
life, made death too; therefore fear it not, for He is
with ye, and those who perish are only those He has
summoned to eternal life! Remember your King, your
wives, your children, yourselves, and Orleans, and charge
with me and clear the field!'
" A terrific shout of joy responded, and the instant
the maid's standard began to advance, the whole host
poured impetuously after it; leaders and soldiers were
alike seized with frantic enthusiasm, and Talbot him-
self was amazed at the fury of the attack which assailed
his front."
Contrasted with this, let us observe Joan listening
to the soul-subduing music of the minstreless :
" But the girl of Domremy did not require so much
to delight her; she who had shaped the harmonies of a
celestial choir out of the remote murmurs of the winds
amidst a forest, or the casual chauut of a wandering
friar. Nevertheless there was that n themustc, trained
and inspired by her who bad been H9eline de Troye,
which went by 59019 deep sympathy into the inmost

heart of Jeanne d'A rc. A core of sadness was in all its
brightest and haughtiest strains, or was communicated
by the sense that received it; for at times the grandeur
and gloom of her destiny atnev.d and affrighted even the
heroic doomA one herself.
" Music, of whatever quality, furnishes the vague and
multiplying food of thought, in whose rich banquets the
imagination loves to level. It seems as if it were the
forgotten language of that blessed birthplace, for ever
lost and for ever regretted by mankind, whose meaning
finer spirits retrieve in snatches. Or does its dreamy
eloquence revive the associations of the pig, even the
sweetest, as the past ever presents itself to the fugitive
slider on time, who feels the transitoriness of existence
by its passage—with sadness? A deeper sadness, when
a nobler nature feels how wasted are its high thoughts
and energies in a vain struggle with the phantom un-
reality of
The Maid is represented in this work as entertain-
ing for the King, " a love—pure, sublime, impas-
sioned as light," for a time unconsciously even to
herself. Her feelings under this influence are thus
most beautifully alluded to :
" Melancholy and musing became the dominant
moods of that once cloudless and glory-bathing spirit.
Her reveries were no longer the magnificent dreams of
an inspired though silent poesy. The fiend of passion
had entered the Eden of her imagination, and the subtle
fn bisperings of the tempter—the glide of his beautiful ser-
pent gleam among the gorgeous flowers of love and fame—
morn d all the perfume and sweetness of that visionary
world. Every hour of the approach to Rheims seemed
to add a new violence and whirl to the tempest in her
heart, and there was such a mingling of joy and despair
in the gaze she fixed on the first rise of its towers on the
plain, that none could tell whether she beheld in it au
ark of redemption, or a rock of ruin."
A few detached passages will dobut very inadequate
justice to the heart-touching description of the terrible
execution scene, still those few passages will serve to
evidence the power and pathos with which this history
of the Maid of Orleans is beautifully suffused :
" Her appearance as she emerged from the gates of
this dark pile—according to the testimony of bye-
standers—was so weeping, woe .begone, and barba-
rously maltreated, that her enemies, who were ready to
greet her with insulting shouts of triumph—the popu-
lace, who intended to overwhelm her with scorn and
contumely—all were silent ! Still the last mighty moral
pang was given to the breaking heart of the deliverer of
France when she perceived how many of the people of
Rouen had brought kindled torches to add to her funeral
pyre.

" According to custom, Jeanne d'Arc was led up the
scaffolding that she might be solemnly relinquished by
her judges to her doom. But the most determined and
exasperated of them all shrunk back appalled from the
supernatural sorrow and reproach in her looks. It was
the living hell of many to remember that glance of
mute appeal to an hour of their own existences, when
it arose before them like a summons to judgment.
But the Maid of Orleans strove, and with success,
to gain her composure when she beheld the immense
mass of the people all gazing fixedly on her alone. It
dimly occurred to her, that her demeanour in this dread
hour must stamp her either a martyr or a ceiminal.
Her dress was put on in a disordered manner, and with
a natural modesty she drew the cloak around her, bent
thrice to the multitude, while thrice a solemn and du..
bious murmur arose, and then she complied with the
imperious gesture of Cauchon, by vaulting on a high
three-legged f
p
i u onh
t stoole k
hac
o tie
preparedirc for her, as and deftly
as
Here she sate exposed to the universal gaze of tire
people, and a confused mutter of commentary arose all
around, far and near. She folded her arms on her
breast, and gazed over the multitude, and then turned
her eyes upward with a bewildered glare to the sky—
with what thoughts, with what anguish, who but He
that gives to the soul of genius its illimitable powers of
joy and suffering can tell ? But she became, to all ap-
pearance, calm, and listened with an expression of pro-
found and melancholy resignation to the exhortation
which was again delivered against her by a preacher
chosen for the purpose.
"‘ Ye have condemned me to earthly flames, and
yourselves to everlasting ones, said Jeanne, in a low
dizzy tone, ' but I have done that I had to do on earth,
and am ripe for death. I would not have given such a
doom to the vilest thing that lives ! Often when the
camp-fires blazed, and I was wearied, I have risen from
my couch to drive the bats from the flames—it is so
painful a death ! But ye, God forgive ye, England
herself will hate your memories for this deed, and for
France—oh, France V—and her voice became suffocated
with the indignant grief, that swelled in her great heart.

"' But—but, canst thou forgive me, Jeanne, for yield-
ing thee that wart my prisoner, to this fiendish doom
which I fear thou dost not merit as I once thought, so
Christianly speaking I' sobbed Wulfatan
" Yea, good soldier ! I should have believed better
in thine honest face I I forgive thee, but with this con-
dition,' said Jeanne, and a mournful hope shed a last
irradiation over her face ; swear to me that thou wilt
take a handful of my ashes to Charles of France I tell
him thou earnest with the safeguard of my dying
prayer, and he will reward the good deed, and it will
remind him—no matter ! wilt thou do it ?' _ .

" 6 By Heaven and• all true faith, I will, though my
reward be death and torture !' replied W ulfatan ; and
her courage seemed to revive.
" Tell him all the manner of my death ! bid him
remember the journey to Rheims; and sometimes, wh(n
the skies are beautiful and sad at eventide, let him look
upward and remember me ! ' continued the hapless
Maid of Orleans, resigning her band to the execu-
tioner's grasp. Ah, it was nct by such a one as thou
art, nor to such an elevation, was I led that day N%e
crowned Charles in Rheims !'
" A horrible contrast was thrust ly memory upon
Jeanne of the moment, when the graceful and beautiful
King had escorted her to the banquet in Rheims, even
as she proceeded toward the funeral pile, with a natural
shrinking from every movement that brought her to it.
The pity of her destiny finally overcame even herself,
and a convulsion of grief and terror nigh rove her heart
as she stumbled up the rude stairs of faggots to the
stake. Loupgarou then turned her with her heels on
the rivets of the fatal tree, and forced himself up the
stake with his knees to fasten her by a chain round the
waist.

" Running round the pile, and thrusting in his torch
at certain intervals, in about a momenta great mass of
fire was kindled. The compassionate Wulfstan, in
hopes of diverting the attention of the sufferer, continued
to hold the cross to her lips, till his own greaves be-
came hot in the flames, and he was obliged to retire. It
was then that the wretched girl, for the first time,
looked down, and perceived the rising pyramids of
flame Its first fierce lapping reached her naked feet,
and a dreadful shriek pealed to the very heavens from
her heart, and she was seen to struggle violently with
her chain and fetters. A prodigious cloud of black
smoke curled up around her instantly, but her shrieks
continued audible, mingled with frantic ejaculations.
My king, my king !—rescue, France I—Jesu, have
mercy !—Ha, Orleans, Orleans !—left I you thus to
perish? '
" Slave ! aid me to pile up the flames to her, or I
will brain thee where thou standest ! ' shouted Wulfstan
to the executioner ; and regardless of his own personal
danger, he rushed amidst the flaming faggots, stove in
the casks of tar with his mace-like fists, and heaped the
fire aloft, in the hope of more speedily accomplishing the
release of Jeanne from her agony.
" The flames ascended in a vast raging 'column, and
Jeanne re-appeared for a moment like a red-hot figure
of stone amidst them. But Wulfstan had at least the
dreadful satisfaction of knowing that she appreciated
the kindness of exertions which seemed to exhibit so
much of a contrary feeling. ' Heap on, heap on ! make
ashes of me ! and forget not !' he plainly heard her say.
" By,this time the flames had formed a furious furnace
in which it was impossible any longer to remain without
sharing the victim's fate. The progress of the horrible
work was only known for awhile by the groans and la-
mentations within the columns of black smoke which
rushed one after the other to the gloomy skies.
"But the dreadful curiosity of the multitude was des-
tined to be partly gratified and partly more vehemently
excited. A sudden gust of wind dispersed the pitchy
clouds around the sufferer in scattered, demon-like
groups, and revealed what remained of ber, all 'enve-
loped in flames. excepting her head. And none that
beheld it ever forgot the expression on the countenance I
Mortal agony in its direst excess was there, but some-
thing that triumphed over
.death and suffering, a re-
splendeet light, was on her brow and in her upward-
fixed eyes Perhaps in this moment of supreme suffer-
ing, Heaven granted to ` that pure, heroic, and most
glorious woman some beatific sign that consoled her in
perishing, and eternally baffled the ingratitude, injustice,
and cruelty of mankind I
" The cloud of darkness again enveloped her, and
Wulfstan continued to keep the flames with unremitting
zeal, crying and sobbing all the time so loudly that he
was heard over the whole square. The stake at last
caught fire, though of green wood ; it was heard hissing
and crackling within the blaze ; and finally, to the inex-
pressible joy of Wulfstan, and even of the satiated spec-
tators, it disappeared with its dark bulk from the mass
of flames. The sufferings of the Maid of Orleans were
.herefore certainly over."

DEATH or MR. THOMAS MORTON.—The medical
profession and the public generally will regret to learn
that this estimable gentleman expired suddenly at his
residence, Woburn•place, Russell-square, yesterday
morning, in the 36th year of his age. Mr. Morton was
deservedly well known to the medical profession by his
numerous and valuable contributions to the advance-
ment of science. The lamented deceased succeeded his
illustrious relative, the late Mr. Cooper, the author of
the "Surgical Dictionary," as surgeon to the Queen's
Bench Prison, and at the time of his decease held also
the appointment of assistant surgeon to the University
College Hospital. Mr. Morton was admitted a member
of the Royul College of Surgeons on the 24th of July,
1835, and so highly were this young man's professional
acquirements esteemed that he was elected by the
council an honorary fellow of the institution. Mr.
Morton leaves a widow, the only daughter of the late
Mr. Samuel Cooper, and a large body of friends to
deplore the great loss they have sustained in the death
of a rapidly rising and most amiable member of the
profession.
HUDSON'S BAY PRODECE.—The remaining arrival
for the season of furs. skins, &c., from the possessions
of the Hudson's Bay Company has taken place. The
vessel Prince Rupert has arrived in the docks from
Hudson's Bay, having on board 194 bags and 18 kegs
of tallow, 283 bales and 17 cases of skins and furs, 290
other packages of skins, furs, and isinglass, and a quan-
tity of quills, tongues, and other articles, consigned to
the Hudson's Bay Company, anti the productions of
their possessions in that northern region.

ROCK BLASTING on a GIGANTIC

SCALE.

BURISTISLAND.—Amongti; many and varied gifts
which science has recently conferred upon mankind,
that of blasting rocks by v3ltaic agency is not among
the least. The employment of a galvanic current to
ignite the gunpowder used in the process enables
the operator to fire as many blasts as may he
desired, so as to accomplish, by their united
and simultaneous action, effects which- would be
otherwise unattainable. The spirited tacksmen of
that valuable and extensive freestone deposit in this
neighbourhood, well known as the Grange Quarry,
have for a considerable time past been employing this
potent agent in the blasting of rock, and on Saturday
week there was an exhibition of this process on what
may be fitly termed a magnificent scale. The
mass of freestone which it was intended to dis-
lodge, was one which protruded from the face
of the quarry, being a huge body of liver rock.
On the upper surface of this mass, and in a
line with the face of the quarry, from which it
was to be severed, there were six vertical perforations
about ten feet apart from each other. Each bore was
forty feet in depth, reaching to the bed on which the
block reposed, and three hundred pounds of gun-
powder were distributed amongst the six, thus giving
fifty pounds to each. The wires for conveying the
subtle agent of ignition to the explosive material
deposited in each perforation in the rocky mass
having been properly adjusted, and connected
with the galvanic machine, every thing was
ready for the experiment. The battery was
then placed in the trough containing the requisite
acidious solution, and the operator seized a cord or
lanyard, and drawing the movably, disc along the
cylindrical rod which stretched across the top of the
battery till came in contact with the fixed disc—
thus completing the galvanic circuit—the cartridge
wires were quickly and simultaneously heated, the
powder ignited, and the object was gained, the
whole operation being
movedemqiunioenktliyy, successful.butg
e n t
y There
and
was no terrific explosion,
and the enormous block
thus dislodged
quietly, forward on its bed. On examining the vast
block which had thus been riven from its place it was
found, that it had been completely separated from the
parent rock in the rear, a fissure about five inches
wide, and quite smooth on each side, reaching from
the top down to the depth of forty feet, while in
front it overshot its bed to the same extent. This Cy-
clopean mass of beautiful sandstone measured 63 feet
in length, 31 in breadth, and 40 in depth! Its cubic
contents amount to 78,120 feet, which, at 14 cubic
feet per ton, gives 5,580 tons as its weight! The
total length of wire'employed in the operation mea-
sured about 500 feet. The battery used on this
occasion was one of considerable power, the copper
and zinc plates being forty-eight in number, each
having a surface of twelve inches by eleven. It was
constructed by Mr. Kemp, of Edinburgh.—Fife
Herald.

CHOLERA AND DIARRHCEA

ENGLAND AND WALES.

The following is the Return of Deaths from Cholera and
Diarrhoea reported to the General Board of Health
October 30, 1849
SUPERINTENDING REGISTRAR'S DISTRICT.
Deaths.
Cholera. Diarrb.
0 1
3 0

Bedford and Cardington
Berwick ...
Blackburn (Darwen and Oswald-
twistle districts) ...
Bradford (East division) ...
Bridgewater ...
Charlton (Stretford) ...
Clutton (Midsummer Norton)
Dartford (Horton, Kirby, and
Eynsford) ... -
Dudley ... -
Ecclesfield (Barnsley) ...
Falmouth and Penryn ...
Gloucester (South Hamlet) ...
Great Boughton ...
Guilford (Worplesdon)
Hardingstone (Piddington)
Hitchin (Hitchin and Heaton)
Knaresborough ...
Melksham (Trowbridge) ...
Newark ••• ... • .
-
Newcastle•on-Tyne
North Witchford (Chatteria
and March) ...
Skirlaugh (Wyton)
South Shields (Westoe)
Stourbridge (Wollescote and
Lye) ...
Tiverton (Sampford Peverell)
Ty nemouth (Earsdon and North
Shields district) ...
Wangford (Bungay)
Warrington (Newton district)
Wigan ...
Windsor (Clewer)

••• ''....

••• ."..

••• .".'"

••• .....

Total ...

••• .....

• •• .....

• • • .....

••• ...

••• ....

••• .""

•••

... .--*

••• '''".

••• ..."

OPENING OF THE NEW

COAL EXCHANGE.

(Continu-cl from our Afternoon Edition of yeitarday.)
INTERIOR OF THE COAL-EXCHANGE.
The interior of the Coal-Exchange presented a
spectacle seldom or never perhaps witnessed in the
city of London. In no building in the me-
tropolis could a more imposing effect be ob-
tained by the congregation of beauty, rank, and
fashion, or one more gratifying to those
who farmed the throng, than the Coal-Exchange
honoured by the presence of royalty to day. Its
circular shape, moderate size, and spacious galleries,
running up to the very summit of the edifice—up to
the very dame—and the taste and elegance of the
interior of the edifice itself, and the full view which
may be obtained from every part of it, may be set
down as the cause of this. Indeed your Opera-house
and your ordinary theatre sink into the shade in
comparison with the perfe-ct panorama which the
wandering gaze of the spectator may feast upon. But
when the spacious floor was thronged with hundreds
of beautiful and splendidly attired city dames,
wearing handsome and chaste head-dresses (and
among whom, we may remark, the beautiful brocade
of ancient days resusciated with a splendour which
was not its wont, predominated), and each tier
thronged, though not inconveniently so, with ladies,
Common Councilmen, and well-dressed gentlemen,
the scene was perfection itself.
But as the time wore on, for long before ten o'clock
the interior of the edifice presented the scene we have
so faintly endeavoured to pourtray, the picture grew
in beauty, like a dull landscape under the cheering
influence of the sun. The Aldermen in their furred
gowns came in one by one, with their dames
and " ladies fayre," and took up their position on
the floor, which had been railed off, so as
to present a perfect amphitheatre. Then came the
City guard of honour,' composed of officers of the
City Artillery, who took up their position at the
northern door, whose martial appearance, soldier-
like attitude, and silver epaulettes, lent a.pretty colour
to the scene.

Immediately opposite the entrance, and on the
eastern side of the Exchange, were placed three
chairs, magnificently decorated and lined with crim-
son velvet, on a slightly-raised dais of crimson velvet
cloth. That to the right was surmounted by the
Prince of Wales's feathers, a magnificent plume
tru

,ly, with the motto " Ich dien" round the festoon
,hat bound them. The back ground was lined with
iuted white satin, and the whole was surmounted by
a splendid canopy of flowing curtains of crimson
velvet, over which was placed a gold crown and
cushion.
Shortly before 12 o'clock Lord Campbell, attired
in a very imposing dress of black velvet, entered the
arena, and was immediately introduced to the Lady
Mayoress (Mrs. Hill), whose imposing appearance was
the theme of much admiration. Her Ladyship wore a
dress of rich satin brocade, with light green flowers
on a white ground, a handsome white spotted ermine
mantle, and a head-dress simply composed of a tiara
of diamonds, with a necklace and stomacher of the
same superb richness.
At 12 o'clock the Duke of Wellington entered the
Exchange, and was received with much applause,
which the gallant veteran gracefully acknowledged.
His Grace wore the uniform of a Field-Marshal, and
looked in as good health as spirits.
The Noble Duke was immediately followed by the
Duke of Cambridge, who was heartily received, the
Marquis of Salisbury, the Earl of Devon, and by a
number of-the members of the corps diplomatique.
A body guard of officers of the Horse Guards here
took up their stations round the arena, each bearing
a spear, and also on the first tier, on which had been
erected a marble bust of the Queen.
In one of the compartments, on the second tier,
was stationed the band of the Horse Guards, which
during the morning enlivened the tedium consequent
upon waiting by many beautiful airs.
In the different recesses attached to each tier, in-
tended
for the exhibition of specimens of the different
kinds of coal, an excellent cold collation had been
laid for the visitors, who had strict injunctions given
to them not to eat or sup until the Prince had passed
into his shallop—a request we may, perhaps unne-
cessarily, observe that was most religiously complied
10
with.

In one of the reccsses attached to the floor,
shrouded from the public gaze by a gauze
curtain, a banquet of regal splendour had
been prepared for the royal party, and with
respect to the feast and its decorations, the following
particulars will be interesti❑g :
Of the wines we may remark that the sherry
placed on the royal table was of the same vintage and
age as was sent to Lord Nelson when on board the
Victory, a week previous to the celebrated battle of
Trafalgar. There was also some exquisite pale
sherry, forty years old.
The wine for the Prince of Wales was a peculiar
Paxarete, and is part of the wine presented to the
younger branches of the Royal Family in Spain last
month, on their visit to the vineyards of M. Domecq
to witness the process of making the wines.
The hock was from the Johannisberg vineyards,
probably the last of the class—as it has long ceased,
we were told, to be quoted amongst the wines now
obtainable from Prince Metternich's stores.
The wine-glasses, which were made for the ()cur
sion, were of the shape of the delicate blossom of the
abutolon striatum ; and the leaves and flowers en-
graved on the bowl formed a wreath round the Royal
Crown and City arms. The napkins were of exqui-
site damask, embroidered with the arms of the city
of London, and edged with costly antique point lace,
The doyleys were of royal purple velvet, with
emblematical embroidery, and trimmed with gold
lace.
The dessert plates, which were completed in an
incredibly short space of time, were painted in com-
partments with the royal crown, the Prince of Wales's
feathers, with the wordy "Ich dien," and represent•
ing fossil remains as found in coal stratum.
The whole of the service at the royal table was
of superb gold. The dessert knives were particularly
beautifful and elegant.
The bills of fare were printed on white satin, and
were of beautiful execution and design, from De la
Rue's establishment.
The whole of the gorgeous display was ar-
ranged by the Messrs. Staples, of the Albion, and re-
flected the highest credit on their taste and judgment.
The embellishments of the Coal Exchange yester-
day, on the occasion of the Prince Consort's visit to
the City, included a beautiful bust of our gracious
Queen, executed by that very eminent artist, J. E.
Jones, Esq. It was placed at the entrance to her
Majesty's room, and attracted general admiration.
It reflects the highest credit on the chaste and classic
taste and artistic ability of Mr. Jones.
At twenty minutes to 1 o'clock the trumpets of the
Heralds and the applause without announced the
arrival of the Royal pageant.
First entered the Sheriffs in their state robes, the
Aldermen who have not passed the chair, the Lord
Mayor also in his state robes, bearing the City
sword, and immediately after his Royal Highness
Prince Albert, attired as a Field• Marshal, and
leading the Prince of Wales and the Princess
Royal by either hand. The applause at this in-
teresting point echoed and re echoed through-
out the building. The Prince advanced towards the
throne, followed by the officers of State and the
members of the household, among whom we observed
the Duke of Norfolk, Lord Lyttelton, Lord John
Russell, Sir George Grey, the Marquis of Breadal-
bane, Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence, Lord Paget, the
Marquis of Anglesey, Lord Marcus Hill, Earl of
Fortescue, the First Lord of the Admilalty, Admiral
Dundas, Mr. Parker, Mr. Hawes, &c. (all in official
costume).
The Prince of \Tales was attired in a blue sailor's
jacket and a white waistcoat and trousers, with a
turned-over collar. The young Prince looked extremely
well, and as much like a juvenile sailor as the most
fastidious admiral in the fleet could wish.
The Princess Royal wore a black velvet visite, a
light striped green silk dress, and a light pink satin
bonnet.

As soon as the company had taken their places, the
Lord Mayor, who wore a splendid dress and a magni-
ficent robe of crimson velvet, advanced with the Re-
corder towards Prince Albert, who stood in front of
the throne, having one of the Royal children
.on each