[1] This unnamed monk of Dunfermline describes Joan as 'a maid worthy to
be remembered, who caused the recovery of the kingdom of France from the
hands of the tyrant Henry, King of England. This maid I saw and knew,
and was with her in her conquests and sieges, ever present with her in
her life and at her end.' The monk proposed to write Joan's history;
unhappily his manuscript ends in the middle of a sentence. The French
historians, as was natural, say next to nothing of their Scottish
allies. See Quicherat, _Proces_, v. 339; and _The Book of Pluscarden_,
edited by Mr. Felix Skene.
[2] M. Quicherat thinks that this is a mere fairy tale, but the author
has sometimes seen wild birds (a lark, kingfisher, robin, and finch)
come to men, who certainly had none of the charm of Joan of Arc. A
thoughtful child, sitting alone, and very still, might find birds alight
on her in a friendly way, as has happened to the author. If she fed
them, so much the better.
[3] See M. Simeon Luce, _Jeanne d'Arc in Domremy_.
[4] Here we follow Father Ayroles's correction of Quicherat's reading of
the manuscripts.
[5] The Voice and vision of St. Michael alarmed her at first. In 1425
the French had defeated the English by sea, under Mount St. Michael, the
only fortress in Normandy which never yielded to England. Consequently
St. Michael was in high esteem as the patron of France, and, of all
saints, he was most likely to be in Joan's mind. (See Simeon Luce,
_Jeanne d'Arc a Domremy_.) On the other hand, Father Ayroles correctly
argues that Joan first heard the Voices the year before the victory near
Mount St. Michael.
[6] M. Quicherat distinguishes three strange kinds of power in Joan.
These are the power of seeing at a distance, the power of learning the
secret thoughts of men, and the power of foretelling future events. Of
each class 'one example at least rests on evidence so solid, that it
cannot be rejected without rejecting the whole basis of the history.' He
merely states facts, which he makes no attempt to explain. _Apercus
Nouveaux_, p. 61.
[7] The date of this affair and that of the flight to Neufchateau are
uncertain.
[8] It occurs in the _Chronique de la Pucelle_, by Cousinot de
Montreuil, at that time the king's secretary, and elsewhere.
[9] Theod. de Leliis, _Proces_, ii. 42.
[10] _Proces_, iii. 99.
[11] This description is a few weeks later than the start from Blois.
[12] This estimate was probably incorrect; 3,500 was more like the
actual number.
[13] _Proces_, iii. 100.
[14] _Proces_, iii. pp. 5, 6, 7. They were 'near Saint Loup,' he says,
'on the _right_ bank of the Loire above Orleans.' But (p. 7) he says
that after their conversation he and Joan crossed to the right from the
left bank. At all events they were some six miles higher up the river
than Orleans.
[15] Following Pasquerel, her priest. _Proces_, iii, 109.
[16] Quicherat, _Nouveaux Apercus_, p. 76.
[17] 'Daughter of God, go on, and I will help thee.'
[18] Sir Walter Scott reckons that there were five men to each 'lance';
perhaps four men is more usually the right number.
[19] In _Proces_, iv. 414.
[20] D'Alencon, _Proces_, iii. 98.
[21] Dunois. _Proces_, iii. 14.
[22] Journal du Siege. _Proces_, iv. 195. As it stands, this authority
is thirty years later than the events.
[23] This man was Clement de Fauquemberque. When he recorded the relief
of Orleans, he drew on the margin of his paper a little fancy sketch of
Joan, with long hair, a woman's dress, a sword, and a banner with the
monogram of Jesus. This sketch still exists. (_Proces_, iv. 451.)
[24] This was not far from the present Theatre Francais. The statue of
the Maid, on horseback, is near the place where she was wounded.
[25] Paris, as the Clerk of Parliament wrote in his note-book, could
only be taken by blockade. It was a far larger city than Orleans, and we
see how long the English, in the height of courage and confidence, were
delayed by Orleans. But the Maid did not know the word 'impossible.'
Properly supported, she could probably have taken Paris by assault; at
the least she would not have left it while she lived.
[26] In 1715.
_HOW THE BASS WAS HELD FOR KING JAMES_
[Illustration: 'INSTANTLY A GUST OF WIND BLEW HER OFF THE ROCK INTO THE
SEA']
THE Bass Rock is a steep black mass of stone, standing about two miles
out to sea, off the coast of Berwickshire. The sheer cliffs, straight as
a wall, are some four hundred feet in height. At the top there is a
sloping grassy shelf, on which a few sheep are kept, but the chief
inhabitants of the rock are innumerable hosts of sea-birds. Far up the
rock, two hundred years ago, was a fortress, with twenty cannons and a
small garrison. As a boat can only touch at the little island in very
fine weather, the fortress was considered by the Government of Charles
II. an excellent prison for Covenanters. There was a house for the
governor, and a chapel where powder was kept, but where no clergyman
officiated. As the covenanting prisoners were nearly all ministers, and
a few of them prophets, it was thought, no doubt, that they could attend
to their own devotions for themselves. They passed a good deal of their
time in singing psalms. One prisoner looked into the cell of another
late at night, and saw a shining white figure with him, which was taken
for an angel by the spectator. Another prisoner, a celebrated preacher,
named Peden, once told a merry girl that a 'sudden surprising judgment
was waiting for her,' and instantly a gust of wind blew her off the rock
into the sea. The Covenanters, one of whom had shot at the Archbishop of
St. Andrews, and hit the Bishop of Orkney, were very harshly treated.
'They were obliged to drink the twopenny ale of the governor's brewing,
scarcely worth a half-penny the pint,' an inconvenience which they
probably shared with the garrison. They were sometimes actually
compelled to make their own beds, a cruel hardship, when their servants
had been dismissed, probably for plotting their escape. They had few
pleasures except writing accounts of their sufferings, and books on
religion; or studying Greek and Hebrew.
When King James II. was driven from his throne, in 1688, by the Prince
of Orange, these sufferers found release, they being on the Orange side.
But the castle of the Bass did not yield to William till 1690; it was
held for King James by Charles Maitland till his ammunition and stores
were exhausted. The Whigs, who were now in power, used the Bass for a
prison, as their enemies had done, and four Cavalier prisoners were shut
up in the cold, smoky, unwholesome jail, just as the Covenanters had
been before. These men, Middleton, Halyburton, Roy, and Dunbar, all of
them young, had been in arms for King James, and were taken when his
Majesty's forces were surprised and defeated by Livingstone at Cromdale
Haugh. Middleton was a lieutenant; his friends were junior in rank, and
were only ensigns.
These four lads did not devote their leisure to the composition of
religious treatises, nor to the learning of Latin and Greek. On the
other hand they reckoned it more worthy of their profession to turn the
Whig garrison out of the Bass, and to hold it for King James. For three
years they held it against all comers, and the Royal flag, driven out of
England and Scotland, still floated over this little rock in the North
Sea.
This is how the Four took the Bass. They observed that when coals were
landed all the garrison except three or four soldiers went down to the
rocky platform where there was a crane for raising goods. When they
went, they locked three of the four gates on the narrow rocky staircase
behind them.
On June 15, 1691, the soldiers went on this duty, leaving, to guard the
Cavaliers, La Fosse, the sergeant, Swan, the gunner, and one soldier.
These men were overpowered, or won over, by Middleton, Roy, Dunbar, and
Halyburton, who then trained a gun on the garrison below, and asked them
whether they would retire peacefully, or fight? They preferred to sail
away in the coal vessel, and very foolish they must have felt, when they
carried to the Whigs in Edinburgh the news that four men had turned them
out of an impregnable castle, and held it for King James.
Next night young Crawford of Ardmillan, with his servant and two Irish
sailors, seized a long-boat on the beach, sailed over, and joined the
brave little garrison of the Bass. Crawford had been lurking in disguise
for some time, and the two Irishmen had escaped from prison in
Edinburgh, and were not particularly well disposed to the government of
William.
When the news reached King James, in France, he sent a ship, laden with
provisions and stores of all kinds, and two boats, one of them carrying
two light guns. The Whigs established a force on the shore opposite, and
their boats cruised about to intercept supplies, but in this they
failed, the Cavaliers being too quick and artful to be caught easily.
On August 15, however, the enemy seized the large boat at night. Now
Ardmillan and Middleton were absent in search of supplies, and, being
without their leader, Roy and Dunbar thought of surrendering. But just
as they were about signing articles of surrender, Middleton returned
with a large boat and plenty of provisions, and he ran his boat under
the guns of his fort, whence he laughed at the enemies of his king.
Dunbar, however, who was on shore engaged in the business of the
surrender, was held as a prisoner. The Whigs were not much nearer taking
the Bass. On September 3 they sent a sergeant and a drummer to offer a
free pardon to the Cavaliers. They were allowed to land on the rock, but
Middleton merely laughed at the promise of a free pardon, and he kept
the sergeant and drummer, whom he afterwards released. A Danish ship,
sailing between the Bass and shore, had a gun fired across her bows, and
was made prize of; they took out everything that they needed, and then
let her go.
The Cavaliers lived a gay life: they had sheep on the Bass, plenty of
water, meat, biscuits, beer and wine. Cruising in their boats they
captured several ships, supplied themselves with what they wanted, and
held the ships themselves to ransom. When food ran short they made raids
on the shore, lifted cattle, and, generally, made war support war.
The government of the Prince of Orange was driven beyond its patience,
and vowed that the Bass should be taken, if it cost all the revenue of
the country. But Middleton had plenty of powder, he had carefully
collected more than five hundred balls fired at his fort by the English,
and he calmly awaited the arrival of hostile men-of-war. The 'Sheerness'
(Captain Roope) and the 'London Merchant' (Captain Orton) were sent with
orders to bombard the Bass and destroy the fort. After two days of heavy
firing, these vessels had lost a number of men, their rigging was cut to
pieces, and the ships were so damaged that they were glad to slink off
to harbour.
A close watch was now set, the 'Lion' (Captain Burd), a dogger of six
guns, and a long-boat cruised constantly in the neighbourhood. Captain
Burd is described as 'a facetious and intelligent man,' and a brave
officer, but his intelligence and courage were no match for Middleton.
In August 1693 a French frigate of twelve guns sailed under the Bass and
landed supplies. But the Cavaliers were so few that they had to borrow
ten French sailors to help in the landing of the provisions. At this
moment the 'Lion' bore down on the French vessel, which was obliged to
cut her cables to avoid being run down. The garrison of the Bass was
thus left with ten more mouths to feed, and with only the small supplies
that had been landed. They were soon reduced to two ounces of raw rusk
dough for each man, every day. Halyburton was caught and condemned to be
hanged, and a Mr. Trotter, who had helped the Cavaliers, was actually
hanged on shore, within sight of the Bass. Middleton fired a shot and
scattered the crowd, but that did not save poor Trotter.
[Illustration: The Bass attacked by the frigates]
Middleton had now only a few pounds of meal left. He therefore sent in a
flag of truce, and announced that he would surrender, but upon his own
terms. Very good terms they were. Envoys were dispatched by the Whigs:
Middleton gave them an excellent luncheon out of provisions kept for the
purpose, and choice French wines. He had also set coats and caps on the
muzzles of guns, above, on the rocks, so that the Whig envoys believed
he had plenty of men, and no scarcity of provisions. Their lordships
returned, and told the Privy Council that the Bass was in every respect
well provisioned and well manned. Middleton's terms were, therefore,
gladly accepted.
He got a full pardon for every one then in the garrison, and for every
one who had ever been in it (including Halyburton, now under sentence,
of death), 'and none hereafter shall call them to account.' They were to
depart with all the honours of war, with swords and baggage, in their
own boat. They were to be at liberty to come or go, whenever they
pleased, till May 15, 1694; and a ship, properly supplied, was to be
ready to carry them to France, if they preferred to join Dundee's
gallant officers in the French service. Finally, _all their expenses
were to be paid_! The 'aliment' formerly granted to them, and unpaid
when they seized the Bass, was to be handed over to them. On these terms
Middleton took leave of the fortress which he could not have held for a
week longer. There have been greater deeds of arms, but there never was
one so boyish, so gallant, and so gay.
_THE CROWNING OF INES DE CASTRO_
ABOUT the year 1340, when Edward III. was King of England, a young
Spanish lady set out from Castile on the long journey to the Court of
Portugal. She was the only daughter of John Manuel, Duke of Villena, a
very rich and powerful noble, much dreaded by the King of Castile for
his boldness and restlessness. Not many years before he had suddenly
left his post as Warden of the French Marches, to fight against the
Moors in the province of Murcia, and though the King was very angry at
his conduct, he did not dare to punish him, for fear that in some way he
himself would suffer. Villena's daughter Constance had passed much of
her time at the Castilian Court, where she lived in the state that was
expected of a great lady of those days, but when the treaty was made
which decided that she was to marry Dom Pedro, Crown Prince of Portugal,
her household was increased, and special attendants appointed to do
honour to her rank.
Now among the ladies chosen to form part of Constance's court, was a
distant cousin of her own, the beautiful and charming Ines de Castro.
Like Henry II. at the sight of Fair Rosamond, the young Dom Pedro, who
was not more than twenty years of age, fell passionately in love with
her. He did all in his power to hide his feelings from his bride, the
Infanta Constance, but did not succeed, and in a few years she died, it
was said of grief at her husband's coldness, after giving birth to the
Infant, Dom Fernando (1345). After her death, Dom Pedro's father King
Alfonso was anxious that he should marry again, but he refused all the
brides proposed for him, and people whispered among themselves that he
was already secretly wedded to Ines de Castro. Time went on, and they
had four children, but Ines preferred to live quietly in a convent in
the country, and never took her place as Dom Pedro's wife. Still,
however secluded she might be, large numbers of her fellow Castilians,
weary of the yoke of their own King, Pedro the Cruel, flocked into
Portugal, and looked to her for protection, which Dom Pedro for her sake
always gave them, and chief among these foreign favourites were Ines'
two brothers, Fernando and Alvaro Perez de Castro. This state of things
was very bitter to the old Portuguese courtiers, who complained to the
King that in future the country would only be governed by Spaniards.
These rumours grew so loud that in time they even reached the ears of
the Queen, and she, with the Archbishop of Braga, gave Dom Pedro solemn
warning that some plot was assuredly forming which would end in his
ruin. But Dom Pedro, naturally fearless, had faith in his father's
goodwill towards him, and looked on these kindly warnings as mere empty
threats, so proceeded gaily on his path. Thus in silence was prepared
the bloody deed.
When the courtiers thought all was ready they went in a deputation to
Alfonso IV., and pointed out what might be expected in the future if
Ines de Castro was allowed to remain the fountainhead for honours and
employments to all her countrymen who were attracted to Portugal by the
hopes of better pay. They enlarged on the fact that the national laws
and customs would be changed, and Portugal become a mere province of
Spain; worse than all, that the life of the Infant Dom Fernando was
endangered, as upon the death of the King, the Castros would naturally
desire to secure the succession to the children of Ines. If Ines were
only out of the way, Dom Pedro would forget her, and consent to make a
suitable marriage. So things went on, working together for the end of
Ines.
At last the King set forth, surrounded by many of his great nobles and
high officials, for Coimbra, a small town in which was situated the
Convent of Santa Clara, where Ines de Castro quietly dwelt, with her
three surviving children. On seeing the sudden arrival of Alfonso with
this great company of armed knights, the soul of Ines shrank with a
horrible fear. She could not fly, as every avenue was closed, and Dom
Pedro was away on the chase, as the nobles very well knew. Pale as an
image of death, Ines clasped her children in her arms, and flung herself
at the feet of the King. 'My lord,' she cried, 'have I given you cause
to wish my death? Your son is the Prince; I can refuse him nothing. Have
pity on me, wife as I am. Kill me not without reason. And if you have no
compassion left for me, find a place in your heart for your
grandchildren, who are of your own blood.'
The innocence and beauty of the unfortunate woman, who indeed had harmed
no one, moved the King, and he withdrew to think better what should be
done. But the envy and hatred of the courtiers would not suffer Ines to
triumph, and again they brought forward their evil counsels.
[Illustration: Ines pleads for her life]
'Do what you will,' at length said the King. And they did it.
A nameless pain filled the soul of Dom Pedro when on his return he
stood before the bloody corpse of Ines, whom he had loved so well. But
soon another feeling took possession of him, which shut out everything
else--the desire to revenge himself on her murderers. Hastily calling
together the brothers of Ines and some followers who were attached to
his person, he took counsel with them, and then collecting all the
men-at-arms within his reach, he fell upon the neighbouring provinces
and executed a fearful vengeance, both with fire and sword, upon the
innocent inhabitants. How long this rage for devastation might have
lasted cannot be told, but Dom Pedro was at length brought to a better
mind by Goncalo Pereira, Archbishop of Braga, who, by the help of the
Queen, succeeded in establishing peace between father and son.
So a parchment deed was drawn up between the King and the Infant, in
which Dom Pedro undertook to pardon all who had been engaged in the
murder of Ines, and Alfonso promised to forgive those who had taken his
son's side, and borne arms against himself. And for his part Dom Pedro
vowed to perform the duties of a faithful vassal, and to banish from his
presence all turbulent and restless spirits. So peace was made.
Two years had hardly passed after this event before King Alfonso lay on
his death-bed in Lisbon, and then, thinking over what would happen when
he was dead, the feeling gradually came over him that in spite of Dom
Pedro's solemn oath the murderers of Ines would not be safe from his
revenge. Therefore he sent for the three knights, Diogo Lopez Pacheco,
Alvaro Goncalves, and Pedro Coelho, who had counselled him to do the
dreadful deed and had themselves struck the blow, and bade them leave
their property and all they had, and fly while there was yet time to
foreign lands for refuge. The knights saw the wisdom of the advice, and
sought shelter in Castile. Then Alfonso prepared himself to die, the
murder of Ines lying heavy on his soul in his last days (1357).
King Pedro was thirty-seven years old when he ascended the throne, and
his first care was to secure peace to his kingdom. To this end he sent
several embassies to the King of Castile, who made a compact with
Alfonso 'to be the friend of his friends, and the enemy of his enemies.'
The results of this treaty may be easily guessed at. The King of
Portugal engaged to send back to Castile all who had fled to his
dominions from the tyranny of Pedro the Cruel, the ally of the Black
Prince, and was to receive in return the murderers of Ines, two of whom
he put to a horrible death. The third, Pacheco, was more fortunate. A
beggar to whom he had been accustomed to give alms discovered his
danger, and hastened to warn the knight, who was away from the city on a
hunting expedition. By his advice Pacheco changed clothes with the
beggar, and made his way through Aragon to the borders of France, where
he took refuge with Henry of Trastamara, half-brother of the King of
Castile. Here he remained, a poor knight without friends or property,
till the year 1367, when on his death-bed the King of Portugal suddenly
remembered that when dying the other two knights had sworn that Pacheco
was guiltless of the murder of Ines, and ordered his son to recall him
from exile and to restore all his possessions. Which Dom Fernando
joyfully did.
That, however, happened several years after the time we are speaking of,
when Dom Pedro had only just ascended the throne. Having satisfied his
feelings of revenge against the murderers of Ines, a nobler desire
filled his heart. He resolved that she who had been so ill-spoken of
during her life, and had died such a shameful death, should be
acknowledged openly as his wife and queen before his Court and his
people. So he assembled all the great nobles and officers, and, laying
his hand on the sacred books, swore solemnly that seven years before he
had taken Ines de Castro to wife, and had lived with her in happiness
till her death, but that through dread of his father the marriage had
been kept secret; and he commanded the Lord High Chamberlain to prepare
a deed recording his oath. And in case there should still be some who
did not believe, three days later the Bishop of Guarda and the Keeper of
the King's Wardrobe bore witness before the great lords gathered
together in Coimbra that they themselves had been present at the secret
marriage, which had taken place at Braganza, in the royal apartments,
according to the rites of the Church.
This solemn function being over, the last act in the history of Ines was
begun. By command of the King her body was taken from the convent of
Santa Clara, where it had lain in peace for many years, and was clad in
royal garments: a crown was placed on her head and a sceptre in her
hand, and she was seated on a throne for the subjects, who during her
life had despised her, to kneel and kiss the hem of her robe. One by one
the knights and the nobles and the great officers of the Crown did
homage to the dead woman, and when all had bowed before what was left of
the beautiful Ines they placed her in a splendid coffin, which was borne
by knights over the seven leagues that lay between Coimbra and
Alcobaca, the royal burying-place of the Portuguese. In this magnificent
cloister a tomb had been prepared carved in white marble, and at the
head stood a statue of Ines in the pride of her beauty, crowned a queen.
Bishops and soldiers, nobles and peasants, lined the road to watch the
coffin pass, and thousands with lighted torches followed the dead woman
to her resting place, till the whole long road from Coimbra to Alcobaca
was lit up with brightness. So, solemnly, Ines de Castro was laid in her
grave, and the honours which had been denied her in life were heaped
around her tomb.[27]