Semi-weekly standard. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1853-18??, 1853-11-26
A "REMINISCENCES OF RoUEN.

on her head is a martial capSxith feathers and in
her hand shield and sword. 1t is Joan of Arc, the
shepherd maid, whose memory, for years assailed by
detraction and the prejudice Of race, now grows
brighter as time deveopes her character and her vr
tues
Seventy miles from Paris, in the city of Rouen,
that ancient capital of Normandy within whose walls
William the Conqueror played in childhood is anoth-
er memorial of the Maid of Orleans. Indeed the
whole aspect of the place. recalls the age in which
she lived. remember well how strangely the SOM
bre old city seemed to me, contrasted with the bril-
liant gaety of Paris had come fresh from the gid
dy whirl of luxurious fashion among the ROuter0Td
Italian to the sober quiet of these narrow streets
from the gided frppery of the church of the Made
lein to the solemn tranquility of the Norman Cathe.
dral and the still grander Church of St Oueni and
it if between the rising and the setting of the
sun, had breathed the atmosphere of far distant
centuries. The gray old buildings, on whose quaint
carvings, arabesques, and basreles the storms have
beaten for centuries seem to rebue with their state
ly gravity, the brcathess curiosity of the passing
traveller A winding street darkened by the pro-
jecting gables narrow Widowed houses, leads
from the principal thoroughfare to locality which
is usually first sought by the stranger 1t is where
Joan of Arc persisted The details of the scene have
given fearful interest to the spotnow consecrated to
her memory, an interest which viii live as long as
that love of noble courage which is inherent in eve
~ human heart; and the digent researches of mod
Investigators have developed many touching par
ticulars of that terrible drama.
On the 3Oth of May 1881 at o'clock in the morn
Joan OF Arc, having Deen condemned TO DC
burned to DEATH was led forth to execution. Her
crime was devotion to her country; that country
whose welfare she believed had been entrusted to
her by special revelation from Heaven, and whose
interest she loved with the enthusiasm OF her sex
and her race. For years she had been commanded
by voices calling to her from the clouds, to lead the
French army to victory. By day those voices
urged her onward; by night she saw in visions the
forms of holy saints who stroVe to rouse her shrink
ing courage and persuade her to fulfil her divine
mission. She had obeyed their summons; and, after
accomplishing her work, had fallen victim to treach-
cry and falsehood. Deserted by those for whom she
had labored she was left to the tender mcrces OF the
Holy Inqusition. Pierre Cauchon, Bishop of Beau
vais had presided at the mock trial which preceded
her condemnation. AS she was placed in the cart
which to bear her to the scatold, she perceived
her chiefpersecutor and addressed him thus: "Bish
op die through you; and for this, summon you
to answer before God!" The cap of the Inquisition
was then put upon her head, and turning to a monk
by her side, she said, "Ah! Master Pierre tonight,
by the grace of God, shall be in Paradise"
The procession left the Church of st. Ouen, and
wound through the streets to the old market
place Eight hundred lancers guarded the prisoner.
The streets thronged with people eager to look
upon the leader of armies degraded to the fate
of criminal. Some cursed her for sorceress; 9th
prayed aloud in her behalf She had partaken
of the communion, and on reaching the place OF exc
cution a sermon was preached by one of those who
had sat in judgment upon her.
A high scatfoldng of masonry, heaped with fag-
gots had been built in the centre of the open space
and it. two platforms for the bishop, the judges,
and the preacher, that they might watch the dying
moments of their victim, and catch the slightest ex-
preston of fear regret that the agony of her dying
moments might wiring from her lips. From his in
fernal throne the bishop exhorted Joan to confess
her misdeeds to the people, and to truly repent of
her many sins. She answered only by kneeing at
the foot of her funeral pile and praying God to par
don her murderers. To the bystanders she said:
" Pray for me! pardon and ask pardon of all"
She invoked the aid of the Virgin of St Michael and
St Catherine, whose voices had from her childhood
sounded in her ears, and then begged the priest to
say for her soul Her sweetness and simple
piety touched the hard hearts of those who had
labored for her execution The soldiers wept. One
of the chroniclers of the time says that the Bsh
op of BeauvaS to shed tears. If so, his hui
manty was but of short duration. He called to the
poor girl to listen to the act of condemnation and
minded her of her glievous schsm idolatry and IA
miliarity with demons.
The executioner with two men-at-arms led her up
the steps of the scafold. From its summit she could
see the dense crowd surging to and fro, eagerly
watching her every movement. No wonder that in
that dreadful moment her memory recalled the peace
full days of childhood and her wOmans heart melted
into tears.
"Ah pleure, file nfortunee!
Ia enueSSe detrF,
Daus So feur trop tot HoiSsonnee!
Adieu, beau ciel II faut MOURN!
Tu ne reverras plus ties riantes montagnes,
lie temple, lie hameau, les champs de Vancouleurs,
Eft ia chaumiere ct ties compagnes;
Eft ton pere exprant sous lie poids des douleurs"
AS she was bound to the stake, she cried: " All
Rouen Rouen, fear greatly that you will suffer from
my DEATH" \ pacard, with the words ' Hereto,
Apostate, Idolater" was placed over her head, and
the funeral pile was lighted She shrieked aloud;
but, quickly recovering her composure, begged the
monk who stood by her to go down, lest he should
share her fate As he left her, the flames had reach
ed her robe.
BY the fendish orders of the Lord Bishop of Beau
Was, the fire had been arranged to burn slowly that
her suferings might be prolonged, and some recan-
tation perhaps escape from her dying lips Stand
ing at the foot of the pile he asked the poor creature
if she abjured her deluson. Her reply must have
haunted him to his last hour on earth: Bishop
die through you'll" As the flames curled around
cracking of the fagots saying Yes the voices were
from God they have not deceived me-" Doubtless,
in that moment there came to her soul strength
which lifted it far above the reality of the suerings
that tortured her bodily frame Amidst all her ago
ny, no word of reproach hatred passed her lips
All was genteness, and peace and holy forgiveness.
She had placed in her bosom which of the
crowd had given her. and at her request the Domni-
can, who, with other alone befriended her. lifted
the parish crucifx that she might it through the
smoke that was fast enveloplng her. He heard her
voice calling upon her Saviour and again invoking
the saints whose fanced presence had sustained her
sinking spirit The lofty courage of the heart that
had beat beneath the PEASANTS gown and the glitter
ing mall did not now forsake the "pale martyr in
her robe of fire." AS earth faded from her view
there opened before her the gate of Heaven Soon
her head sank upon her breast and for the last time
she cried, Jesus, Jesus!"
As these words escaped her, English soldier
who had vowed to add faggot to the pile fell as if
dead just as he reached the scaffold When he re-
covered, he protested that he a white dove fy
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