he murdered man the lays of Christine were found by King
Henry, who was so much struck with their purity and beauty, that he
wrote to the fair authoress of her son's safety, under his protection,
and invited her to his court.

This invitation was at once a compliment and an insult, for the hand
that sent it was stained with the blood of her friend. Christine,
however, had worldly wisdom enough to send a respectful, though firm
refusal, to a crowned head, a successful soldier, and one, moreover, who
held her son in his power. Feminine tact must have guided her pen, for
Henry was not offended, and twice despatched a herald to renew the
invitation to his court. She steadily declined to leave France, but
managed the affair so admirably that she at last obtained the return of
her son from England.

Like her father, Thomas de Pisan, Christine seems to have been sought as
an ornament of their courts by several rulers. Henry Bolingbroke could
not gain her for England, and the Duke of Milan in vain urged her to
reside in that city. Seldom has a literary lady in any age received such
tempting invitations; yet Christine refused to leave France, although
her own fortunes were anything but certain. The Duke of Burgundy took
her son under his protection, and urged Christine to write the history
of her patron, Charles V. of France. This was a work grateful to her
feelings, and she had commenced the memoir when the death of the Duke
deprived her of his patronage, and threw her son again upon her care,
involving her in many anxieties. But Christine bore herself through all
her trials with firmness and prudence, and her latter days were more
tranquil. She took a deep interest in the affairs of her adopted
country, and welcomed in her writings the appearance of the Maid of
Orleans. We believe, however, that she was spared the pain of witnessing
the last act in that drama of history, where an innocent victim was
given up by French perfidy to English cruelty.

The deeds of Joan of Arc need no recital here. A daughter of France in
the nineteenth century had a soul pure enough to reflect the image of
the Maid of Orleans, and with a skilful hand she embodied the vision in
marble. The statue of Joan of Arc, modelled by the Princess Marie,
adorns--or rather sanctifies--the halls of Versailles.

Of woman's work as an artist in the early centuries we have a curious
illustration in a manuscript belonging to the Bibliotheque Royale at
Paris, whi