Part 1 (1/2)
Ten Girls from History.
by Kate d.i.c.kinson Sweetser.
PREFACE
As in the Ten Boys from History, so in this companion volume, the plan has been to call attention to the lives of girls who achieved some noteworthy success during youth, and in whose character courage was the dominant trait.
Many authorities have been consulted in the re-telling of these stories, and in their presentation more attention has been paid to accuracy of historic fact than to the weaving of interesting romances, in the hope that this volume may be used as an introduction to the more detailed historical doc.u.ments from which its sketches are taken.
K. D. S.
TEN GIRLS FROM HISTORY
JEANNE D'ARC:
The Maid of France
THE peaceful little French village of Domremy lies in the valley of the river Meuse, at the south of the duchy of Bar, and there five hundred years ago was born the wonderful ”Maid of France,” as she was called; she who at an age when other girls were entirely occupied with simple diversions or matters of household importance was dreaming great dreams, planning that vast military campaign which was to enroll her among the idols of the French nation as well as among heroes of history.
On the parish register of an old chapel in the village of her birth can still be seen the record of the baptism of Jeanette or Jeanne d'Arc, on the sixth of January, 1412, and although her father, Jacques d'Arc, was a man of considerable wealth and importance in the small community of Domremy, yet even so neither he nor any of the nine G.o.d-parents of the child--a number befitting her father's social position--could forecast that the child, then being christened, was so to serve her country, her king, and her G.o.d, that through her heroic deeds alone the name of Jacques d'Arc and of little Domremy were to attain a world-wide fame.
At the time of Jeanne's birth the Hundred Years' War between England and France was nearing its end. Victorious England was in possession of practically all of France north of the river Loire, while France, defeated and broken in spirit, had completely lost confidence in her own power of conquest and Charles, the Dauphin, rightful heir to the throne of France, had been obliged to flee for his life to the provinces south of the Loire. This was the result of opposition to his claim on the part of his mother, Isabeau, who had always hated the Dauphin, and who, in her Treaty of Troyes, set aside her son's rights to the throne, and married his sister Catherine to the King of England, thus securing to their children that succession to the throne which was the lawful right of the Dauphin.
France was indeed in the throes of a great crisis, and every remote duchy or tiny village heard rumours of the vast struggle going on in their well loved land, but still the party who were loyal to the Dauphin looked confidently for the day when he should be crowned at Rheims, where French kings for a thousand years had taken oath, although still the opposing party was growing in power and possessions.
Quiet little Domremy lying folded in the embrace of its peaceful valley was thrilled by the tales of chance pilgrims pa.s.sing through the village, who, stopping for a drink of water or a bite of food, would recount to eager listeners the current saying that, ”France, lost by a woman,--and that woman, Isabeau, mother of the Dauphin,--should be saved by a maid who would come with arms and armour from an ancient wood.”
Now, towering high above little Domremy stretches a great forest called the Ancient Wood, and to the village folk there was in all France no other Ancient Wood than this, and so when they heard the travellers'
tales they whispered to one another in hushed voices and with awe-stricken faces that the Wonderful Maid of Prophecy was to come from their own midst, but who was she, where was she, and to whom would she reveal herself?
Many of these queries came to the ears of children busy near their elders, while they spun and talked, and as Jeanne d'Arc, now grown into a bright intelligent young girl, listened to the prophecy and the questions, all else became of no importance except the plight of France and the restoring of the Dauphin to his rightful inheritance. But to her elders or companions she gave no evidence of this absorption, seeming entirely occupied with her out of door tasks such as tending her father's sheep, helping to harvest grain, or to plough the fields, or at other times with her mother indoors, weaving and spinning,--for there was plenty of work in both house and field to keep all the children busy.
In leisure hours Jeanne played and danced and sang as merrily as the other children, who gathered often around the big oak tree in the Ancient Wood, called the ”Fairies' Tree,” which was the subject of many a song and legend. But although she was as merry and light-hearted as her other friends, yet she was more truly pious, for she loved to go to ma.s.s and to hear the church bells echo through the quiet valley, and often when her comrades were frolicking around the ”Fairies' Tree” she would steal off to place an offering on the altar of Our Lady of Domremy. And too, her piety took a practical form as well, and when in later years every act of hers was treasured up and repeated, those who had known her in her early girlhood had many tales to tell of her sweet help in times of sickness. It is said she was so gentle that birds ate from her hand, and so brave that not the smallest animal was lost when she guarded the flock.
”Her mother taught her all her store of learning; the Creed and Ave and Pater Noster, spinning and sewing and household craft, while wood and meadow, forest flowers and rushes by the river, bells summoning the soul to think of G.o.d and the beloved saints from their altars, all had a message for that responsive heart.”
She herself has said, ”I learned well to believe, and have been brought up well and duly to do what a good child ought to do.”
And too, her spirit responded throbbingly to the beauty and the mystery and the wonder of that life which is unseen, as well as to all tales of heroic deeds, and as she brooded on the sorrows of the Dauphin and of her beloved France, her nature became more and more quick to receive impressions which had no place in her routine of life, even though at that time with great practical bravery she was helping the villagers resist the invasions of bands of marauders. Then came a day when her life was for ever set apart from her companions. With them she had been running races in the meadow on this side of the Ancient Wood.
Fleet-footed and victorious, she flung herself down to rest a moment when a boy's voice whispered in her ear, ”Go home. Your mother wants you.”
True to her habit of obedience, Jeanne rose at once, and leaving the merry company walked back through the valley to her home. But it was no command from her mother which had come to her, and no boy's voice that had spoken. In these simple words she tells the story: She says, ”I was thirteen at that time. It was mid-day in the Summer, when I heard the Voice first. It was a Voice from G.o.d for my help and guidance and that first time I heard it I was much afraid. I heard it to the right toward the Church. It seemed to come from lips I should reverence.”
Then with solemn awe she told of the great Vision which suddenly shone before her while an unearthly light flamed all around her, and in its dazzling radiance she saw St. Michael, Captain of the Hosts of Heaven and many lesser angels. So overwhelming was the Vision and the radiance, that she stood transfixed, lifting adoring eyes. Having been taught that the true office of St. Michael was to bring holy counsel and revelations to men, she listened submissively to his words. She was to be good and obedient, to go often to Church, and to be guided in all her future acts by the advice of St. Margaret and St. Catherine who had been chosen to be her counsellors. Then before the Vision faded, came a message so tremendous in its command, of such vast responsibility that it is small wonder if the little peasant maid lifted imploring hands, crying out for deliverance from this duty, until at last, white and spent, she sank on her knees with clasped hands, praying that this might not come to be true--that it might not be she who had been chosen by G.o.d to go to the help of the Dauphin--to lead the armies of France to victory.
And yet even as she prayed she knew that it _was_ true,--that G.o.d had chosen her for a great work, that it was she, the peasant of Domremy, who alone could restore her country and her king to their former greatness--and that she would carry out the divine command.