strong city carried dismay into every corner of France; and as the country was still rent by the internal discord of its nobles and princes, there was no one to withstand the progress of the victor. The kingdom was one vast arena of crime, murder, and devastation: the Duke of Orleans had been assassinated by the Duke of Burgundy, and the Duke of Burgundy in his turn fell by the treachery of the Dauphin.

This was the state of affairs when negotiations were begun with Henry, who, following up his victory, was marching upon Paris. He took the town of Pontoise, and while there entered into a treaty by which he was to marry the Princess Catherine, the daughter of the King of France; King Charles was to continue in the enjoyment of his title and dignity for life, but Henry was to be declared heir to the crown, and to be entrusted immediately with the administration of the government; and the two kingdoms were to be for ever ruled under one king, each retaining its respective laws and privileges.

The marriage of Henry to Catherine was celebrated at Troyes, and after this Henry took up his residence at Paris. On Whitsunday of the year 1421 the two kings and the two queens, all with crowns on their heads, dined together in public, Charles receiving apparent homage, but Henry ruling in reality with absolute sway.

France, however, was not yet wholly subdued, and Henry turned his attention to the completion of his conquest. Sens, Montereau, and Melun submitted to him; but his treasury being exhausted and his army diminished, it became necessary for him to return to England to obtain fresh supplies.

During his absence the Dauphin, who had been wandering about in the southern provinces, collected an army, which eventually turned the tide of victory against the English; and alarmed at the the tidings of his success, Henry hastened back to France with 28,000 men; but he had scarcely commenced operations when he was seized with a fistula, which from the unskilfulness of the physicians became mortal. He expired at Vincennes in August, 1422, in the thirty-fourth year of his age and the tenth of his reign. His remains were carried to England, and interred with much funeral pomp in Westminster Abbey, near the shrine of Edward the Confessor. Henry's ambition, notwithstanding the accession of territory which he had momentarily gained, had really weakened his country and sowed the seeds of the disorders that marked the following reign. France and England suffered alike from his love of glory and his lust of power; but these qualities were regarded as virtues in that age, and by the vulgar in most countries are so still.

HENRY VI., SURNAMED OF WINDSOR.

Henry V. left no child but a son, not yet nine months old; and on his deathbed he had expressed a wish that the Duke of Gloucester should be Regent of England, and the Duke of Bedford of France. The Parliament, however, though it had warmly supported Henry in his wars, paid no respect to his wishes. As soon as it assembled it claimed the right of regulating the regency, and appointed a permanent council of sixteen members, with the Duke of Bedford for president. Bedford was then absent in France, and the Duke of Gloucester was appointed to act for him; and though the latter at first laid claim to the regency for himself, he was ultimately obliged to be satisfied with this regulation.

The death of Henry was followed in two months by that of Charles VI. of France, whose crown he had shorn of its glories. As soon as the Dauphin, who was in Auvergne, received the news, he was conducted by the knights of his party to a little chapel, a banner was raised with the arms of France upon it, and he was saluted with the cries of "Long live the king." Such was the inauguration of Charles VII., King of France. He was then in a very reduced condition; but the death of his father increased his moral strength, and he soon proceeded to Poitiers, where he was solemnly crowned and anointed. The whole country south of the Loire acknowledged his authority; but the northern parts still obeyed the Duke of Bedford, as regent for the infant monarch Henry.

War was the natural consequence of this division of the empire, and crossing the Loire once more, Charles fixed his head quarters at Gien, a small town on the right bank of the river, while the mass of his forces, under James Stuart, Lord Darnley, and Marshal Severac, fell upon Burgundy, and laid siege to Crevant. At this time his forces were superior to those of the English; and among them were many thousand Scots, on whose determined valour he placed great reliance. They were nevertheless defeated at Crevant with great slaughter by the united armies of English and Burgundians; and the next year (1424) a still greater victory was gained over them by the Duke of Bedford at Verneuil. In both these battles many Scottish and French knights were killed, and in the latter the Duke d'Alençon and many other nobles were taken prisoners.

The affairs of Charles now appeared desperate; but at this very moment the tide of events was unexpectedly turned in his favour.

The Duke of Gloucester had lately married Jacqueline, heiress of

K

Hainault and Holland, who had already been married to the Duke of Brabant, but had been absolved from her marriage-vow by the Pope. This duke was a vassal of Burgundy; and when Gloucester laid claim to his wife's heritage, and endeavoured to obtain it by force, he came into collision with the Burgundians, who had hitherto supported the English. About the time, too, that this quarrel arose between the allies the party of the King of France was further strengthened by the accession of the Duke of Brittany.

The Duke of Bedford was now obliged to return to England to raise new forces, and France enjoyed a respite from the war for two years; but at the end of that time the regent returned, resolving to strike a blow that should crush for ever the hopes of Charles. He laid siege to Orleans, then regarded as the centre of the kingdom; but the siege proved an arduous enterprise. It was, nevertheless, on the point of being taken, when there occurred one of the most wonderful events recorded in history.

Early in the year 1429, when the affairs of Charles were at the lowest ebb, messengers came to him from the town of Fierbois to tell him that the destined deliverer of France was at hand, and only waited permission to be admitted to his presence. This deliverer was neither prince, knight, nor statesman, but a poor country girl named Joan of Arc.

Joan was a native of the village of Domremy, on the Meuse; and had been incited to her strange undertaking by a prophecy that a virgin alone could rid France of her enemies. She laid claim to a divine mission for the redemption of her country; but when Charles was first told of this mission he burst into a fit of laughter. He consented, however, to see the maiden; but the interview was delayed for three days, as neither he nor any of those around him had any faith in Joan's inspiration.

At the end of that time messages came from Orleans imploring help, or the city must be lost, and Charles then agreed to admit the visionary girl. In this interview Joan was surrounded by all the greatest leaders and warriors of France; but she was quite unabashed, though modest in her demeanour, and declared in plain terms that she had a commission from the Almighty to drive out the English and conduct Charles to Rheims, where he was to be crowned King of France. She was asked for a sign of her mission; on which she replied, "Lead me to Orleans, and I will there give you a sign; and the sign that I am to give is the raising the siege of Orleans." Bishops, doctors, and lawyers were consulted, and at length it was resolved to put entire faith in Joan's mission, and adopt her as the forlorn hope of France.

The rank and staff of a general officer was assigned to her; she

had a suit of armour made to fit her, and she was then mounted on a snow-white charger.

The effect of her appearance on the people was astonishing; numbers flocked around her standard, and then, with a body of armed men and a great convoy of provisions, she marched forward towards Orleans. Joan insisted that the French warriors should be guided entirely by the dictates of certain heavenly voices which she said she heard; but the warriors did not put such entire confidence in them. They ordered, she said, that she should march straight on from Blois, by the right bank of the river; but the chiefs knowing that the best of the English troops were posted on that side, deceived her and passed by the left bank. Joan and the miraculous part of the expedition made their way by water, flanked by an immense body of horse, that kept close to the river. The garrison of Orleans was eagerly expecting her, and as she approached they sallied out from their gates, and fell upon the besiegers with renewed vigour, shouting "The Maid! the Maid is come. Orleans was saved. Joan made her way into the town, and was received by the poor starving people as an angel from Heaven. This unexpected cause of renewed hope for the French was of course one of no little terror to the English, and many a bold heart in the camp of the besiegers quailed with unwonted fear. For two months past they had heard of nothing else but this miraculous maid; and now, in the relief of Orleans, she had, before their own eyes, given them full proof, as they thought, of her divine mission. Vainly did the leaders endeavour to convince them that the whole affair was a miserable juggle got up by their enemies, — vainly did they talk of the disgrace the Dauphin incurred by setting up a low-born woman as his champion,―Joan was still regarded as a minister of vengeance sent from Heaven.

The English leaders now changed their line of argument. Joan, they said, was not an envoy from Heaven but from Hell, sorceress, working by spell and witchcraft.

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But the effect of this was still worse; as brave men, they said, they would fight any earthly enemy, but they were unequal to a contest with the powers of darkness. Superstitious fears increased; strange sights were seen in the clouds, strange sounds heard by the sentinels at night; figures were seen on horseback galloping through the air; and the moon and the stars wandered from their accustomed courses. The Flemings, the Burgundians, and the Picards forsook their English allies; and the Maid of Orleans, as she was now called, received a large reinforcement from Blois.

Joan now proceeded to authenticate her mission. One day, as she lay sleeping on her bed, she heard "the voices" telling her to go out and fight the English; and waking, she immediately called

for her arms. She then led the sally with the utmost intrepidity, and the bastille of St. Loup was taken from the English.

Two days afterwards she fell on another formidable position called the Tournelles, where, notwithstanding their superstitious fears, the English fought bravely, and twice repulsed their numerous assailants. But in a third assault Joan, who had mounted on the wall, was struck by an arrow, and fell as if dead into the ditch. The wound was not really mortal; but the English believed it to be so, and when she again presented herself in their sight they felt assured she was more than human. A panic spread through their camp; men fancied they saw St. Michael the Archangel, the patron saint of the city of Orleans, riding on a white horse and fighting for the French.

Another assault completed the victory: the French became masters of the tottering walls of the Tournelles ; and in a council of war held in the English camp that night it was agreed that the siege should be raised.

The victory had been dearly bought, since, for every Englishman that fell, there fell at least ten Frenchmen; but Orleans was saved, and that was thought sufficient to prove Joan's mission divine.

The Earl of Suffolk threw garrisons into various castles on the Loire, and shut himself up in Jargeau, a few miles from Orleans; but in ten days her white banner was planted on the walls, and the Earl of Suffolk was her prisoner.

The French king joined the Maid of Orleans now that the tide of victory seemed running in her favour; and, on the other side, Lord Talbot drew the troops out of the castles and retreated towards Paris. At Patay, however, being reinforced by 4000 men, he resolved to halt and fight the French again; but their captains, awed by the recollection of Agincourt, Crevant, and Verneuil, were very unwilling to risk a pitched battle in open field; Joan, however, had no misgivings, and asserting that the English were delivered into their hands, urged them on, until they at length consented.

They obtained a signal victory: terror spread through the ranks of the English, and while the greater part fled, some were killed, and others, amongst whom was the brave Talbot, were taken pri

soners.

Immediately after the battle the Maid of Orleans rode up to the king and desired him to undertake the journey to Rheims. In the ordinary course of things this would have been considered impracticable, for Rheims was far off, and all the intervening cities and country still in the hands of the English; but with such a leader danger was not to be thought of, and it was resolved they should go on.