uman passion, she sighs to re-enter into the common
rank of mortals, and laments the dreadful honour that has been imposed
upon her. Yet this latter sentiment, so natural and so affecting, could
not be separated from the previous fable. In this lies the difference
between the poetry of a rude and a cultivated age. In the first, the
supernatural is for itself sought for and admired; in the second, it is
admitted for the sake of the singular opportunities it affords for the
display of natural and powerful emotions.

There is another point in the tragedy of _The Maid of Orleans_, on which
we feel no hesitation whatever in expressing a decisive opinion--
namely, the violent departure from history in the catastrophe. But in
order to make our remarks on this and some other points intelligible, we
must enter a little further into the plot of the drama. Our detail shall
be as brief as possible.[1]

[1] In the few extracts we shall have occasion to make, we would have
willingly had recourse at once to an English translation, if such had
been within our reach. That not being the case, the reader must accept
our own attempts at translation.

The drama opens with a scenic prologue. The scene is the village of Dom
Remi; on the left is the Druid oak--on the right, the image of the
Virgin in a small chapel. Thibaut d'Arc enters with his three daughters,
Margaret, Louison, and Johanna, together with their three suitors,
Etienne, Claude Marie, and Raimond. Thibaut deplores the state of his
fatherland. Young Henry VI. of England has just been crowned at Paris,
and Charles, the hereditary prince, is wandering a fugitive through his
own kingdom. They themselves are in danger every day of seeing the enemy
pour down into their own quiet valleys. Nevertheless, partly from this
very cause, he determines upon giving his daughters in marriage without
further delay. He bestows Margaret upon Etienne. Then, turning to the
second daughter, Louison, and to her suitor, who, it seems, can lay
little claim to worldly possessions, he says--

"Shall I, because ye proffer me no wealth,
Sunder two hearts that seem so well attuned?
Who _has_ wealth now? Home and homestead now
Are booty for the robber and the flames:
The strong heart of a brave and constant man
Is the sole roof-tree which these stormy times
Must pass unshaken."

Hitherto father Thibaut seems an amiable personage, but he turns out to
be one of the most