dent on the face of the acts passed at this period. In 1429, the chancellor opens the parliament with a tremendous denunciation of heresy; and the council prepares articles against the nobles, whom he accuses of brigandage, and of surrounding themselves with armies of retainers, &c.

In order to raise the cardinal's power to the highest pitch, it required Bedford to be sunk as low in France as Gloucester was in England, that he should be reduced to summon Winchester to his aid, and that the latter, at the head of an army, should come over and crown the young Henry VI. Winchester had the army ready. Having been charged by the pope with a crusade against the Hussites of Bohemia, he had raised, under this pretext, several thousand men. The pope had assigned him, for this object, the money

arising from the sale of indulgences; the council of England gave him more money still to detain his levies in France. To the great astonishment of the crusaders they found themselves sold by the cardinal; who was paid twice over for them, paid for an army which served him to make himself king.

With this army, Winchester was to make sure of Paris, and to bring and crown young Henry there. But this coronation could only secure the cardinal's power, in proportion as he should succeed in decrying that of Charles VII., in dishonoring his victories, and ruining him in the minds of the people. Now, he had recourse, as we shall see, to one and the same means (a very efficacious means in that day) against Charles VII. in

France, and against Gloucester in England-a charge of sorcery.

It was not till the 25th of July, nine days after Charles VII. had been well and duly crowned, that the cardinal entered with his army into Paris. Bedford lost not a moment, but put himself in motion with these troops to watch Charles VII. Twice they were in presence, and some skirmishing occurred. Bedford feared for Normandy, and covered it; meanwhile, the king marched upon Paris (August).

This was contrary to the advice of the Pucelle; her voices warned her to go no further than St. Denys. The city of royal burials, like the city of coronations, was a holy city; beyond, she had a presentiment, lay a something over which she would have no power. Charles VII. must have

thought so likewise. Was there not danger in bringing this inspiration of warlike sanctity, this poesy of crusade which had so deeply moved the rural districts, face to face with this reasoning, prosaic city, with its sarcastic population, with pedants and Cabochiens?

It was an imprudent step. A city of the kind is not to be carried by a coup de main; it is only to be carried by starving it out. But this was out of the question, for the English held the Seine both above and below. They were in force; and were, besides, supported by a considerable number of citizens who had compromised themselves for them. A report, too, was spread that the Armagnacs were coming to destroy the city and raze it to the ground.

Nevertheless, the French carried one

of the outposts. The Pucelle crossed the first fosse, and even cleared the mound which separated it from the second. Arrived at the brink of the latter, she found it full of water; when, regardless of a shower of arrows poured upon her from the city walls, she called for fascines, and began sounding the depth of the water with her lance. Here she stood, almost alone, a mark to all; and, at last, an arrow pierced her thigh. Still, she strove to overcome the pain, and to remain to cheer on the troops to the assault. But loss of blood compelled her to seek the shelter of the first fosse; and it was ten or eleven o'clock at night before she could be persuaded to withdraw to the camp. She seemed to be conscious that this stern check before the