The Book of Curiosities

by John Platts

Upon being asked, whether she would submit to the church the truth of her pretended visions, revelations, and intercourse with departed saints? she replied, that she would submit them to God, the fountain of truth: and when she was charged with being a heretic, and denying the authority of the church, she appealed to the pope; but her appeal was rejected. When she was asked, why she put her trust in her standard, which had been consecrated by magical incantations? she answered, that she put her trust in the Supreme Being alone, whose image was impressed upon it. When it was demanded, why she carried in her hand that standard at the unction and coronation of Charles at Rheims? she replied, that the person who had shared the danger was entitled to share the glory. When she was accused of going to war, she scrupled not to declare, that her sole purpose was to defeat the English, and to expel them the kingdom. In the issue, however, she was condemned for all the crimes of which she had been accused, aggravated by heresy; her revelations were declared to be inventions of the devil to delude the people; and she was sentenced to be delivered over to the secular arm. At length her resolution failed her; and through dread of the punishment to which she was sentenced, she declared that she was willing to recant; and, accordingly, she acknowledged the illusion of those revelations which the church had rejected; and she promised never more to maintain them. Upon this, her sentence was mitigated; and she was condemned to perpetual imprisonment, and to be fed during life on bread and water. But with this vengeance her enemies were not satisfied. In order to justify the severest measures against her, they insidiously placed in her apartment a suit of men’s apparel; upon the sight of this garb, in which she had acquired so much renown, and assumed, as she once believed, by the appointment of heaven, her former ideas and passions revived, and she ventured in her solitude to put on the forbidden dress. In this apparel she was detected; it was regarded as a relapse into heresy; her recantation became void; her partial pardon was revoked; and she was to be burned in the market-place of Rouen. In June, 1431, this barbarous sentence, much more ignominious to those who inflicted it than to her who was the object of it, was executed.

“This admirable heroine, to whom the more generous superstition of the ancients would have erected altars, was, on pretence of heresy and magic, delivered over alive to the flames, and expiated, by that dreadful punishment, the signal services which she had rendered to her prince and to her native country.” She met her fate with resolution, and the English themselves beheld the scene with tears. The king made no effort for avenging her cause; he merely procured a revision of the process, and a restoration of her memory ten years afterwards by the pope, in an act which styled her a “Martyr to her religion, her country, and her king.” Her countrymen, more prompt in the tribute of their respect, propagated many tales relating to her execution; and some of them would not even allow her to be dead, but professed to expect her speedy return to conduct them again to victory.

Of the character and conduct of this singular heroine, the most probable opinion is, that of her being an honest and deluded enthusiast, of whose fancies and passions the principal persons in the interest of Charles availed themselves for deluding and rousing into exertion the passions of the people, at a crisis of peculiar importance; in which the maid of Orleans was instrumental in giving a decisive turn to the contest between the French and English. The exploits of Joan of Arc have been celebrated both in prose and verse. Of the latter, the serious poem of Chapelain has been much less successful than the burlesque and licentious one of Voltaire; but the injury done by it to her memory has been in some degree repaired in England, by Southey’s sublime and spirited poem of “Joan of Arc,” which exhibits her in the brightest colours of virtue and heroism.

Pope Joan.—Among the numerous individuals who have figured on the great theatre of public life, few characters have ever been more distinguished than this celebrated lady, who, by a singular compound of dexterity, secrecy, and address, contrived to reach the pontificate. Many doubts have, indeed, been entertained of the authenticity of the tale; but it is well known, that prior to the Reformation it was sanctioned by universal belief.

It is said, that about the middle of the ninth century, a woman named Joan, born at Mentz, and who had received an excellent education, conceiving a violent passion for a young monk named Fulda, resolved to desert her family and friends, to assume the male habit, and gain admittance into the monastery. The plan succeeded; and having long indulged in their amours undisturbed and unsuspected, they eloped together, and travelled into most of the countries of Europe, availing themselves of every opportunity for increasing their knowledge, by engaging the assistance of the best masters in the different cities through which they passed. On the death of her lover, Joan repaired to Rome, still in the dress of a man; where her address and engaging manners raising her into notice, she commenced the duties of professor, and persons of the highest rank and most considerable talents enlisted in the number of her disciples. At length, on the death of pope Leo X. in 855, she was unanimously elected his successor to the pontifical throne. So prudently did she conduct herself, and with so much ability did she perform the duties of her station, that the people had reason to congratulate themselves on their choice. At length she confided her secret to a domestic whom she took to her bed, the consequence of which was her pregnancy, and she was taken in labour at one of the most solemn processions, delivered of a child in the street, and died on the spot. It is likewise said, that to perpetuate the memory of such an extraordinary adventure, a statue was erected on the place where it happened; that in abhorrence of the crime, the pope and clergy, in their subsequent annual processions from the Vatican to the Lateran, have turned off from that street; and that, to prevent a similar imposition, a custom was introduced of examining each pope previously to his consecration, in order to ascertain his sex. Such are the particulars of a story that seems not to have been called in question till the time of Luther, but which the best informed historians usually abandon as fictitious. “Till the Reformation, (says Gibbon,) the tale was repeated and believed without offence, and Joan’s female statue long occupied her place among the popes in the cathedral of Sienna. She has been annihilated by two learned Protestants, Blondel and Bayle, but their brethren were scandalized by this equitable and generous criticism. Spanheim and L’Enfant attempted to save this poor engine of controversy; and even Mosheim condescends to cherish some doubt and suspicion.”

History of the memorable Sir Richard Whittington, three times Lord Mayor of London; in the years 1397, 1406. 1419.—

The obscurity of the origin of this remarkable character, has given occasion to many fabulous accounts, but our readers may rely upon the following being the result of careful research, from the best authorities. Whittington came to London, from Shropshire, about the year 1368, in the reign of king Edward III. and in his way he chiefly lived upon the charity of well-disposed persons. On his arrival in town, he made an application to the prior of the hospital of St. John’s, Clerkenwell, where he was kindly relieved; and being handy and willing, was soon put into an inferior post in the house. How long he remained here, is, I believe, no where mentioned; but to the piety of this charitable foundation he was certainly indebted for his first support in London. His next reception was in the family of Mr. Fitzwarren, a rich merchant, whose house was in the Minories, near the Tower. Here he undoubtedly acted as under scullion, for his keep only.

In this situation he met with many crosses and difficulties; for the servants made sport of him; and particularly the ill-natured cook, who was of a morose temper, used him very ill, and not unfrequently, with a sturdy arm, laid the ladle across his shoulders: so that, to keep in the family, he had many a sore bout to put up with; but his patience carried it off, and at last he became accustomed to her choleric disposition.

This was not the only misfortune he laboured under; for lying in a place for a long time unfrequented, such abundance of rats and mice had bred there, that they were almost ready at times to dispute the possession of the place with him, and full as troublesome by night as the cook was by day, so that he knew not what to think of his condition, or how to mend it. After many disquieting thoughts, he at last comforted himself with the hopes that the cook might soon marry, or die, or quit her service; and as for the rats and mice, a cat would be an effectual remedy against them.

Soon after, a merchant came to dinner, and it raining exceedingly, he staid all night; whose shoes Whittington having cleaned, and presented at his chamber door, he gave him a penny. This stock he improved, for going along the street of an errand, he saw a woman with a cat under her arm, and desired to know the price of it: the woman praised it for a good mouser, and told him, sixpence; but he declaring that a penny was all his stock, she let him have it.