Joan of Arc and Bluebeard.
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JOAN OF ARC AND BLUEBEARD.
Г. BY R. VASHON ROGERS. WHAT a pair! How different in life, and yet how alike in their death! Companions for a time — toiling for their country side by side, each honored by the king of France, each permitted to quarter on a coat of arms the royal fleur-de-lis, — soon parted : each falling beneath the Church's ban and dying the selfsame terrible death. The maid, and the debauchee. The peasant born, the scion of the noblest stock in France; the untutored girl, the man of unusual cul ture and deep learning! Heroes both; each tried, condemned, executed by the same church for the same crime, nominally; yet the one rising Phcenix-like from her ashes, with memory adored and fame sanctified; the other ever detestable and detested. Leg ends and stories innumerable, resting like a halo of light and honor about her life and visions, the Maid of Orleans, — called by her soldiers " The Saviour of France," " Victory's Sweetheart," " The Page of Christ," " The Daughter of God," and to-day well-nigh deemed a saint. Legends and stories in numerable, resting like black and lurid clouds around his deeds and works, Gilles de Rais,— Marshal of France, the Bluebeard of fable and tradition. All know of the birthplace and lineage and early life of Joan of Arc; ignorant of books was she, but skilled in caring for the kinc and in the mysteries of the needle; strong in frame and firm in mind, yet deeply religious and submissive to the mystic voices of her heavenly visitants, St. Catherine and St. Margaret,?nd the glorious Archangel Michael. De Rais, seven years her senior, was of the noble stock of Montmorency and Craon, allied with all who were illustrious in the west of France, the head of the baronage of
Brittany. Wealthy, possessed of broad acres, early married to a great heiress. At sixteen, already a valiant knight. A man of unusual culture, with restless curiosity and search for the knowledge to be found in books, de lighting in rich bindings and illuminations, passionately fond of music and the drama, yet of a fiery nature which ran riot, he grew up devoured with the wildest ambitions, abandoned to sensual excesses of every kind and with passions unrestrained and untam able. Let us glance at the bright and pleasant pictures we possess of the low-born maid and the knightly cavalier in the times when their stars were in the ascendant. France was ly ing helpless, hopeless, well-nigh in despair, beneath the conquering hand of England; her treasury was exhausted, the soldiers unpaid and disbanded, the king, — in some strong castle far away from the enemy, spending his days in idleness and his nights in debauchery, or both in melancholy broodings over his woes and meditating the desertion of his realm. For three generations England had been making France a battle-ground; when, early in 1429, the English army besieged Orleans, intending to force the Loire and drive the unhappy Charles still further back, all seemed to promise well to the English arms, the people of Orleans had well-nigh abandoned all hope. At the end of April, however, relief came, and at the head of the succoring army rode a girl of eighteen, well proportioned, above the common height of women, with dark, expressive, melancholy eyes (which exercised an indescribable charm), a lofty forehead, small hands and feet, her voice powerful yet of great sweetness; her manner possessed dignity and grace, repelling familiarity, yet softening and subduing the
