t during the unusual and inclement winter. Here, stricken by a
mysterious sickness, by some thought to be typhoid fever, by others
attributed to poison administered at the instigation of Louis, she
died in February 1450, in her manor of Mesnil, near the Abbey of
Jumieges. The king was with her to the end, and could only be induced
to withdraw when her lifeless form sank back in his arms. So died this
wonderful and fascinating woman who had lived and laboured for her
country through perhaps the most critical period of its history.

[42] Lavisse, _Hist. de France_, vol. iv. part 2, p. 229, footnote.

It is impossible to entirely ignore what has been written to Agnes's
personal discredit, though much of it may well be looked upon as
exaggeration, and open to suspicion. That the king was not her only
lover may be true, but in the absence of satisfactory documentary
evidence of this, perhaps the various intrigues attributed to her may,
for the most part at least, be regarded as the creations of scandal.
Still, bearing in mind the condition of France at the time of her
accession to power, the extent of the influence she admittedly
exercised in the councils of the king, and the great change which came
over the royal fortunes and the fortunes of the country during the
years of her ascendancy, it is scarcely possible to refuse to her some
right to share in the recognition so lavishly bestowed upon the other
great woman of that time--Joan of Arc. The one may be said to have
been the complement of the other. Both were necessary to the needs of
the day, and the glory of successful accomplishment should be shared
between them.

A NOTE ON MEDIAEVAL GARDENS

MEDIAEVAL GARDENS[43]

[43] The quotations from the _Roman de la Rose_ are taken
from Mr. F. S. Ellis's translation, published by Messrs. J.
M. Dent & Co. in the "Temple Classics."

No one can study French mediaeval lore, or Gothic cathedral, or Book of
Hours, without realising how great a love of Nature prevailed in the
late Middle Ages. The poems tell of spring, "the season of delight,"
of gardens which suffice "for loss of Paradise," and of birds "with
soft melodious chant." In the dim stillness of the cathedral, Nature
is expressed in infinite variety. Foliage grows in the hollows of the
mouldings, and sometimes, as at Chartres, even the shafts, as they
tower into the gloom, end in half-opened leaves, suggestive of spring,
of hope, and of a