Part 3
At last, on the twenty-fourth of May, 1430, with a handful of men, she was allowed to throw herself into Compiègne, which was being besieged by the Burgundians, and there after bravely fighting and rallying her men for a third attack, the English came up behind and fell upon their rear, and the fleeing men streamed into the boulevard, while last of all came the Maid, doing deeds of valour beyond the nature of woman, so it is said, and for the last time, as never again should Jeanne bear arms. Her men had fled. She was separated from her people; and surrounded, but still defiant, was seized by her cape, dragged from her horse, and borne away a prisoner, while after her followed the victors, roaring their mad joy over the capture of such a prize.
Like wildfire the awful tidings spread. The Maid of Orléans taken by the English? Jeanne a prisoner? Could such things be?
Alas, yes. The Maid who had delivered France was in the hands of the enemy, because, at the climax of her victory, when all France was in her grip, the chance had been lost by the folly of that King whom she had led to his crowning.
After six months of captivity she was sold, yes sold, for ten thousand crowns, that royal Maid--sold to John of Luxembourg, the only bidder for her noble self. Truth which is sometimes stranger than fiction, offers no parallel to this. Not a single effort was put forth by the King, or his counsellors, or by any loyal Frenchman to rescue or to ransom Jeanne. No trouble was taken to redeem the girl who, foe and friend alike agreed, had saved the day for France, and who was the greatest soldier of them all, when she was allowed to have her way.
Ten thousand crowns was the price of Jeanne's brave spirit, and her purchaser doubtless meant to hold on to her until he could make money on his prisoner, but, oh the shame, the infamy of it, Charles, the King of France,--led to his crowning day by a Maid's own hand,--offered not one sou for her ransoming!
To linger on this part of Jeanne's life is torture to others, as it was to her. In December she was carried to Rouen, the headquarters of the English army, heavily fettered; was flung into a gloomy prison, from which she attempted escape, but vainly, and finally was tried as a sorceress and a heretic, and never a sound of help or deliverance from the King or the nation.
Her trial was long, and she was exposed to every form of brutality, thinly veiled under the guise of justice. Day after day her simple heart was tortured by the questions of learned men, whose aim was to make her condemn herself, but this they could never do, for every probing resulted in the same calm statements. Finally one was sent to draw from her under the seal of the confessional, her sacred confidences, which were then rudely desecrated. She was found guilty of sacrilege, profanation, disobedience to the church, pride and idolatry, and her heavenly visions were said to be illusions of the devil. She was then tortured by a series of ignominies, insults, threats, and promises until, bewildered and half crazed by confinement, in agony of mind and body, she blindly assented to everything they asked her, was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, and forced to put on a woman's dress which she had repeatedly declared she would never do so long as she was thrown entirely in the company of men. But she was forced to obey the bidding of her persecutors, and then followed such degradation and insults as are almost beyond belief, and then, oh the shame of it, she was condemned to die by burning, on the tenth of May, 1431! Though worn with suffering and sorrow, she faced this crowning injustice with the dauntless courage which had ever been hers on the field of battle, and died with the Cross held high before her eyes and the name of Jesus on her lips.
The peasant girl of Domrémy, the warrior of Orléans, the King's saviour at Rheims, the martyr whose death left a great ineffaceable stain on the honour both of France and of England, twenty-five years later was cleared of all the charges under which she was put to death, and in our own time has been canonised by a tardy act of the church of Rome, and to-day Jeanne d'Arc, Maid of France, nay, Maid of the World stands out on the pages of history as one inspired by God, and God alone. To her remains, as Kossuth has said, "the unique distinction of having been the only person of either sex who ever held supreme command of the military forces of a nation at the age of seventeen."
VICTORIA:
A Girl Queen of England
IN the early years of the nineteenth century, frequenters of that part of London near the beautiful Kensington Palace and the still more beautiful gardens bearing its name, used to enjoy almost daily glimpses of a round-faced, red-cheeked child whose blue eyes were so bright with health and happiness that it was a pleasure to watch her.
Sometimes the little girl was seen accompanied by a party of older persons, and riding a donkey with a gay harness of blue ribbons, and it was noticeable that she always had a merry greeting for those who spoke to her in passing. At other times she would be walking, with her hand holding tight the hand of a little playmate, or on other days she was wheeled in a small carriage over the gravel walks of the shady Gardens, followed by an older girl who would sometimes stop the carriage and let a stranger kiss the blue-eyed occupant of the carriage. On pleasant days this same little girl could frequently be seen in a simple white dress and big shade hat, watering the plants in the beds of Kensington Palace, and the blue-eyed child was no other than the Princess Victoria Alexandrina, daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Kent, the child who was one day to become Queen of England.
In fancying one's self a Queen-to-be, there is never any place given to the prosaic duties of ordinary life, but Princess Victoria's child-life at Kensington was a very simple one such as any little girl with a sensible mother might have had.
At eight o'clock daily the Duchess had breakfast, and the Princess had hers at the same time, at a small table near her mother, then came an hour's drive or walk, and from ten to twelve lessons with the Duchess herself, after which Victoria amused herself in the suite of rooms which extended around the two sides of the palace, where she kept most of her toys. Then after a plain dinner came lessons again until four o'clock, after which came another walk or donkey ride in the Gardens, a simple supper, a romp with her nurse, whose name being Brock, Victoria called her "dear Boppy." In fact, so secluded a life did the young Princess lead that, except for those glimpses of her in the Gardens, she was almost unknown to all but intimate family friends; and King George the Fourth, called by Victoria her "Uncle King," sometimes expressed his displeasure that the child was not allowed to be present more often at his court. But the Duchess had her own ideas about that matter, and as they were not at all flattering to the court manners and customs of the day, she wisely continued to keep her little girl out of such an atmosphere, though in fear lest the King should carry out his threat of taking the child away from her, to bring her up in gloomy Windsor Castle, unless she was allowed to go there more often,--which threat his kingly power would allow him to carry out, if he so chose. But fortunately he never did as he threatened, and Victoria remained at Kensington with her mother, where with her half-sister and brother, the Princess Féodore and Prince Charles of Leiningen, the four formed a family group so loyal and so loving that nothing ever loosened the bond between them.
Although Victoria knew herself to be a Royal Highness, she was yet ignorant that some day she would be ruler of Great Britain, and she continued to do simple things as unconsciously as other girls might with a far different future. She was very enthusiastic over anything which took her fancy, and one day at a milliner's saw a hat which was exactly what she wanted. With eager enthusiasm she waited until it was trimmed, and then exclaimed, "Oh, I will take it with me!" and was soon seen hurrying towards Kensington with the precious hat in her hand. And this was a real flesh and blood Princess, heir to the throne of England!
The monotony of life at Kensington was broken by frequent trips to various parts of England, and visits to friends and relations, but the Duchess felt her responsibility to the English people in bringing up the future Queen, so keenly that she never took the risk of a trip to the continent with Victoria, because of the long journey and the change of climate. But the Princess thoroughly enjoyed what visits she did make, and evidently was an attractive guest, even as a child, for when she and her mother visited King George, her grandmother wrote to the Duchess: "The little monkey must have pleased and amused his Majesty. She is such a pretty, clever child!"
At another time when visiting at Wentworth House, Yorkshire, Victoria amused herself by running around the big garden with its tangle of shrubberies. One wet morning when the ground was very slippery, she ventured to run down a treacherous bit of ground from the terrace, and the gardener, who did not know who she was then, called out, "Be careful, Miss, it's slape!" a Yorkshire word for slippery. But the Princess had no intention of being stopped, so she merely turned her head as she ran, and asked, "What's slape?" As she spoke, her feet flew from under her and she came down with a thud. The gardener as he helped her to her feet said, "_That's slape_, Miss!"
At another time she rebelled against the hours of practise insisted on by her music teacher, who stood her ground firmly, saying that there was no royal road to art, that only by conscientious and continued practise could she become a musician, whereupon with a gleam of mischief in her blue eyes, Victoria jumped up, closed the piano, locked it, put the key in her pocket and remarked to the surprised teacher, "Now you see there _is_ a royal way of becoming mistress of the piano!" This incident shows that she was by no means the young prig painted by so many historians, but a girl full of fire and spirit, merry, unaffected and with a keen delight in all sorts of girlish amusements and pranks.
At that time the education of young ladies was more superficial than that of poorer girls, but the future Queen was given a solid foundation of the heavier branches of learning, such as Latin, which she hated, history, law, politics and the British Constitution, and, too, she had many lighter studies, modern languages, painting and music, becoming a charming singer under the famous teacher-master, Lablache. She also danced well, rode well and excelled at archery. One day when she had been reading about Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi and how she proudly presented her sons to the much-bejewelled Roman matron, saying, "These are my jewels," the quick-witted Princess added, "She should have said, 'My Cornelians!'"
As a young girl Victoria was very pretty, then she went through a period of homeliness, at which time a children's ball was given at Windsor Castle by King George in honour of a little visitor, Donna Maria II da Gloria, the child-Queen of Portugal, who was extremely pretty and very handsomely dressed, with a ribbon and glittering Order over her shoulder, making little Victoria, in her simple dress and with her less brilliant appearance, look quite plain and unattractive--and not only was Donna Maria seated at the King's right hand, but he seemed greatly amused by her conversation. Then the dancing began, and Donna Maria did not show up so finely, for she was an awkward dancer and fell, hurting herself so severely that she refused to dance again, and left the ballroom, while Victoria, who was as light as thistle-down on her feet, is said to have remarked gaily as she danced on: "Well, if I'm not so handsome and grand and smartly dressed as that Maria, I'm less awkward. I was able to keep my head and not lose my feet!"
With each year Victoria grew more attractive looking, and one night she stood before her glass scanning herself critically, while her eyes shone and her heart beat fast with excitement, for she was going to her first Drawing-room, and was thrilled at the idea.
Having arrived at Windsor Castle with her mother and a number of ladies and gentlemen in State carriages, escorted by a party of Life Guards, Victoria stood at the left of her aunt, the queen, in a maze of delight, watching the gay Court pageant, quite unconscious that she herself was a centre of attraction, with her fair skin, her big blue eyes, and her air of healthy, happy girlhood. Her dress was of simple white tulle, but there was no more conspicuous figure in all that royal assemblage, than the young Princess.
Like King George, when William IV succeeded to the throne, he was jealous of any honours paid to the young Princess or her mother, and even objected to their little journeys, calling them, with a sneer, "Royal Progresses," and forbade the salutes given to the vessel which carried them back and forth from the Isle of Wight, to which petty jealousies the Duchess paid no heed, but continued to bring up her daughter as she thought fit; persevering in the "Progresses" which so annoyed the King, and all of his objections failed to make the Princess less than an object of intense interest and devotion to those people who would one day be her subjects.
Although she was still unconscious of the part she was to play in the history of the nation, the day was coming when she could no longer be kept ignorant of it. A bill was before Parliament called the Regency Bill, which named the Duchess of Kent as regent if the King should die before Victoria came of age, and she heard much conversation about the bill. The Duchess felt that the time had now come to tell her of the position which was to be hers in the future of England, and finally after a long talk with Baroness Lehzen, Victoria's old governess, the way of telling her was decided upon.
On the following day, when the Princess was busily reading a book of history, the Baroness slipped a genealogical table on the page which Victoria was reading. She glanced at the slip of paper with an exclamation of surprise, then read it carefully and looking up, said with a startled expression, "Why, I never saw that before!"
"It was not thought necessary that you should," replied the governess, and then there was a long silence. Then, after examining the paper again, the Princess glanced up and said with quaint solemnity, "I see I am nearer the throne than I supposed," adding, "Now many a child would boast, not knowing the difficulty. There is much splendour, but there is also much responsibility." Then placing her little hand in that of the Baroness, she said:
"_Oh, I will be good!_ I understand now why you urged me so much to learn even Latin. You told me it was the foundation of English grammar, and all the elegant expressions, and I learned it as you wished it, but I understand all better now."
Then pressing the Baroness's hand again and looking solemnly into her eyes, she repeated, "I will be good!" and the Baroness felt a moisture rise in her eyes at the thought of what life might bring to challenge that vow.
The Princess was grave for a time after that day, then she grew accustomed to the new thought of her coming queendom, and was once more her gay, happy self, and there were three functions soon afterwards at which she appeared in all the joy of conscious power and happy girlhood.
On her thirteenth birthday the King and Queen gave a great ball in her honour, when she out-danced all the other girls, not because of her superior rank, but because of her grace and charm of manner. After the ball came a drawing-room when again the Princess had a glorious time, and another glimpse of her is at the Ascot races, when an American poet was thrilled to see her, with the Queen, leaning over the railing of the King's stand, both listening to a ballad-singer with as keen interest as though they had been simple country folk instead of royalty, and he remarked that the Princess was far better looking than most of her photographs pictured her.
Nearer and nearer to the throne came the young girl, and yet even when she was nearly seventeen she was still in the habit of living as quietly as she had in childhood, and it is told how at a formal reception given in her honour, followed by a dinner and a grand ball which she opened with Lord Exeter, after that first dance she left the ballroom to retire, as the Duchess thought she had had quite enough excitement for one day. That statement will seem incredible to a girl of to-day, but it is an historical fact.
On the twenty-fourth of May, 1837, Princess Victoria came of age according to the laws of England, and the joyous events of the day began very early in the morning, for when dawn was just breaking in the east, she was roused by the sound of music under her window. Jumping up, now quite awake, she peered through the blinds and saw a band playing merrily, and realised why they were there. Rushing into her mother's room she shook her out of a sound sleep, and pulled her into her room, where together they sat behind the closed blinds and applauded the serenaders. It did not take Victoria long to dress that morning. She was full of excitement, for by breakfast time messages of congratulations and presents had begun to pour in, and with shining eyes she exclaimed, "To think of all England celebrating a holiday just for me!" when she heard that Parliament was not in session, nor boys in school, all in her honour. And at night there was a great illumination of the city and a grand State Ball at the Palace of St. James--quite enough tribute to turn the head of any girl of eighteen,--but Victoria, even then in the midst of her enjoyment, seemed to feel the responsibility more than the flattery, and that night gave an appealing look of shy objection when on entering the ballroom she was obliged by court etiquette to enter before her mother, thus emphasising for the first time her superior rank.
Not long after this, one night through the vast audience rooms of gloomy Windsor Castle went the solemn word, "The King is dead!" and in the same breath, even the most loyal ministers of Church and State, who had known only too well the weaknesses of the sovereign who would reign no more, whispered softly, "Long live the Queen!"
Then there was a flurry of preparation. The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Lord Chamberlain made ready to leave the place of mourning as fast as horses could carry them.
Arriving at Kensington Palace in the early dawn, they found the palace inmates sleeping quietly. It took an endless time, so it seemed, to arouse even the porter at the gate, but at last he appeared, rubbing sleepy eyes and grumbling at having been disturbed. At the entrance to the court-yard came another delay, but finally they were admitted to the Palace, were shown to a room, and waited until their patience was exhausted, and they rang a bell so insistently that finally another drowsy servant answered. They then requested that the Princess Victoria should be roused at once and told that they desired an immediate audience on most important business. The sleepy servant disappeared and still there were more delays, more waiting. Then the Princess' special maid appeared, saying with irritating calm that her royal mistress was in such a sweet sleep that she could not venture to disturb her. The Archbishop's command was not one to be set aside, "We are come on business of State TO THE QUEEN," he said, "Even her sleep must give way." To the QUEEN! Ah, then it had come! With flying feet the maid rushed into the room where the Princess had gone to sleep so peacefully a few hours since, and roused her with the cry, "They have come to make you Queen. Oh, be quick!"
Half asleep--entirely dazed for the moment, then clear-eyed, Victoria sprang up, with only one thought, "I must not delay them any longer," and rushed into the presence of the waiting dignitaries with only a bed-gown thrown over her night-dress, her feet in slippers and her long brown hair flying over her shoulders!
As in a dream she heard the words, "Your Majesty," and received the first kiss of homage on her trembling hand, then with sweet pleading grace she spoke her first words as Queen of England, looking into the kind eyes of the Archbishop, "I beg your Grace to pray for me," she said, with utter simplicity and sincere desire, and raising his hand in benediction, the Archbishop's voice asked a blessing on the fair young sovereign of so great a land.
The hours following that first knowledge of her new dignity were overwhelmingly full of strange experiences for Victoria, but among them all she found time to go to her desk and write a letter to Queen Adelaide, expressing sympathy for her in her sorrow, and begging her to remain as long as she felt inclined at Windsor. Giving the letter to her mother, the Duchess noted that the name on it was to "Her Majesty, the Queen." With a smile she said, "My dear, you forget who is the Queen of England now. The King's widow is only Queen Dowager."
To which Victoria replied quickly, "I know that, but _I_ will not be the first person to remind her of it!"
How many girls would have been as thoughtful as that, I wonder?
In a few hours she was obliged to meet many high officials, and even had to read her first speech from a throne which was hastily erected for the occasion. Then while the great bell of St. Paul's was tolling for the dead King, the young monarch, dressed very simply in mourning, which brought out in bold relief her clear fresh complexion, took an oath "for the security of the Church of Scotland," and received the oath of allegiance first from her royal uncles, the Dukes of Cumberland and Sussex, whom she kissed as affectionately and impulsively as if she were still the little Princess. Following them came a great number of notable men to kneel before her and kiss her hand, among them the Duke of Wellington and the Premier, Lord Melbourne. To each she showed the same degree of winning courtesy, and only for a brief moment seemed disconcerted by the new and dazzling ceremony in her honour as Queen of the realm.
Evidently since the day when she had first learned that she was some day to be a Queen, she had been studying how to proceed when the momentous hour should come, for now she thought to do all those things which would have scarcely been expected of an older and experienced statesman. She even sent for Lord Albemarle, it is said, and after reminding him that according to law and precedent she must be proclaimed the next morning from a certain window of St. James Palace, asked him to provide a fitting conveyance and escort for her. Then, bowing graciously to right and left, including all the Princes, Archbishops and Cabinet Ministers present, in her gracious salutation, she left the room alone, as she had entered it.
What sort of a night's rest the young Queen had that night can well be imagined. Surely her maiden dreams must have been disturbed by many thoughts which forced her to put aside those personal fancies which yesterday she had been justified in harbouring!