IF FEMALE HEROISM. JANE DE MONTFORT. into which the captivity of her lord had thrown her, and eagerly undertook the task of supplying to the troops the general they had lost. Bearing her babe in her arms, she presented herself before the assembled inhabitants of Rennes, and in an address, the terms of which history has but scantily left, permitting us to judge of it only by the electric effect it produced, she set forth the claims of the illustrious child, whose father at that moment might have ceased to breathe, and enlisted the hearts of her hearers in the struggle to support his pretensions. With the arguments natural to such a position, with appeals which, in that chivalric age, it would have been worse than dishonor to hear unmoved, F it be true that great events call forth correspondent abilities, it is no less a reality, that to certain characters decided adversity presents the congenial, in fact the vital atmosphere, denied by ordinary circumstances. Opposition is like a magnet to human nature-it attracts all the iron and force of our will; but it is only in occasional instances that a temperament is encountered which prefers the storms of fate to a serene sky, and can behold one hope after another shattered and abandoned, yet rise superior to the wreck, resolutely looking onward, to plot and scheme again. Jane of Flanders (to quote the words-Jane mingled crafty insinuations respectof Froissart) possessed "the courage of a man, and the heart of a lion." One of the most beautiful women of her time, the indomitable energy and courage of her physical endowment were second only to the rare qualifications of her mind. A skillful diplomatist, no covert policy could take her by surprise; eloquent, the inherent womanly gift of enthusiasm added additional weight to her words,-results of solid and discriminating thought. "She was above her sex," says Père Morice, (a Benedictine monk and celebrated Breton chronicler,)" and yielded to no one in courage or military virtues: no adversity could crush her." Comparatively unknown previously, but scanty information subsists respecting Jane's life up to the time of her husband's (the Count de Montfort's) imprisonment and threatened execution. This prince, who had, upon the demise of John, Duke of Bretagne, taken possession of the duchy, by prompt and skillful strategy, fell into the hands of his opponent, Charles de Blois, through treachery. He was conducted a prisoner to Paris, and shut up in the tower of the Louvre. Thus incarcerated, no obstacle remained to the claims of his rival, who had engaged the sympathies of Philip, King of France, while those of Edward of England had been given, on terms of mutual accommodation, to the Count de Montfort. But at the moment when all was given up for lost, to the surprise of her own party and the consternation of the adverse one, the countess, recently become a mother, roused herself from the grief VOL. VI.-20 ing the freedom of Brittany, which she represented as likely to be sacrificed by the rival claimant, if successful, to his protector the King of France. From fortress to fortress did this heroic woman journey,-encouraging the wavering,concerting with the powerful, arranging and scheming for all, and everywhere with the same success. Finally, having spared no exertion to put her adherents in fair order of defense, she shut herself within the town of Hennebon, and awaited the approach of the hostile troops. Edward the Third of England had at this time more than one daughter, and although the young heir of Bretagne was their junior, proposals to betroth him to one of them were, in pursuance of the usage of the times, made by the countess, and well received at the English court. The condition upon which this alliance was sought and accepted, was immediate aid on King Edward's part in the civil war now agitating the entire province of Bretagne. One of the De Clissons arrived in England upon this errand, and a large number of soldiers, including several thousand skillful bowmen, embarked as soon as practicable upon their errand of assistance to the Breton heroine. Meantime, Charles De Blois arrived with an immense train of adherents at the town of Rennes, to which he laid siege, and in a short time the countess had the mortification of hearing that it had surrendered to its vigorous assailants. Scarcely had these tidings reached her, when they were followed up by the rapid advance of the French army, and Jane found herself speedily blockaded within the walls of her fortress, before which the enemy quietly encamped, evidently bent upon remaining there till herself and her infant boy should fall into their hands. This result, however, formed no portion of her prospects. So well organized were her plans, so well disciplined her soldiers, that no advantage, however small, could be gained from without. Riding up and down the streets, the female general, clothed in complete armor, urged bravery and constancy upon her hearers, incited all who could hold a sword to the combat, and summoned even those who could take no martial part, women and children, to the fray, employing them in hurling stones and missiles upon the besiegers. It would be difficult to overrate the effect which this dauntless and personal alacrity produced. "Few men sat a horse better than this princess; in combat she handled the sword with as much address and effect as the most vigorous warriors." Nature, which had endowed her with an elegant form and beautiful features, spoke all the louder in her cause, when it was seen she knew how to forego the privileges and adventitious pleas of her sex, to share the hardships of the meanest trooper, while she assumed the entire responsibility of the camp. Frequent sallies, headed by herself in person, were made; every one followed, where such a captain led the way, and were rewarded with invariable success. On one occasion, having observed that the assailants, entirely occupied elsewhere, had forgotten to guard a distant post, she hurried forth, accompanied by only two hundred horsemen, threw them into disorder, and, after doing great damage to their ranks, set fire to their tents, powder, and baggage. In the enthusiasm of the sortie, she had, however, forgotten that she might be unable to return in safety; a considerable force now lay between her little band and the gates of the town; the inhabitants saw her position with unspeakable dread: but a few moments sufficed to arrange her plans; she gave the word for her men to disband, and to make the best of their way to Brest. Here she met them at an appointed rendezvous, bringing with her a collected force of five hundred more cavalry soldiers, and, returning at sunrise on the sixth day toward Hennebon, broke through the enemy's ranks, and accom plished her reunion with her disheartened friends (who had mourned her for lost) unhurt, and in great triumph. She was received with every token of rejoicing; trumpets pealed, and acclamations rent the air, disturbing the troops without, who hastily armed themselves, while those inside the town mounted the walls to defend it. The contest lasted until past noon : vast numbers of the besiegers were killed, and their leader at length decided upon retiring to invest the castle of Auray, leaving Sir Hervé de Léon to annoy and vex the garrison, for which purpose he sent twelve large machines to cast stones, by which to destroy the castle. Contrary winds unfortunately detained the English reinforcements, and, after some time, fears were entertained that the besieged town would be forced to surrender. The countess harbored an enemy in the person of the Bishop of Léon, who now threw off the mask, and opposed his arguments to hers with the lords, her adherents. Little argument was necessary at this protracted period of fatigue and suspense, to over-persuade these nobles. Allured by the promise of personal safety, which the bishop was empowered to concede from the leader of the French force, his nephew, and possessing, after all, but a secondary interest in the question, the sad moment had arrived when the countess must behold her whole intentions abandoned, and perhaps be dragged to a prison with the child for whom she was so heroically struggling. The French troops were actually marching to take possession, when the countess, whose eyes had been riveted upon the sea, and who had with despairing energy proclaimed the change of the wind to a quarter favorable to her hopes, rushed from the turret where she had taken her position, with the joyful exclamation,— "I see the succor! I see the English vessels! No capitulation!" Joyously the incarcerated and worn towns-people ran to the ramparts-the good tidings were confirmed-glory again shone upon the invigorated gaze of the lately complaining garrison. The English forces, headed by Sir Walter Manny, entered the town, and were enthusiastically received by the lady and her soldiers, the treacherous bishop having taken himself off. But a large machine arrived shortly afterward, the result of the information of the ecclesiastic, which, we read, never ceased, night nor day, from casting stones into the city; and this was, perhaps, a more alarming neighbor than even his lordship himself. Some months after this, and when a truce had been concluded until the following summer, the Countess de Montfort, accompanied by her son, paid a visit to the English court, where she desired to present him to his future father-in-law, and hoped to arrange some plan for the delivery of her husband from captivity. Not long, however, did she absent herself from the scene of action. Obtaining further assistance from King Edward, she embarked on her return homeward. On the seas an encounter took place with some hostile ships, which was only put a stop to by a storm separating the two fleets the countess chose to take her usual conspicuous part in the action, and with "a trusty sharp sword in her hand" combated bravely. Vannes was the first town taken by the friends of the imprisoned duke, and here his intrepid wife entered with great rejoicings; it was, however, shortly after recovered, and the Lord Robert d'Artois, who had been sent to command the English, having been badly wounded, was conveyed home. Enraged at the death of this valiant soldier, which occurred almost immediately upon his arrival in England, King Edward determined to go in person to the assistance of his fair ally. But his presence was productive of no actually favorable results, and his enterprise concluded by a somewhat compromising treaty. Certain epochs are productive of particular virtues, and it is more frequent to witness a constellation of rare merit than a solitary star. The Countess de Montfort's example raised, or at least immediately preceded two similar characters the wife of Charles de Blois, who, almost under the same circumstances, and with equal valor, as well as success, took her husband's place later in the war, and the English Queen Philippa. During this absence the Queen of England, mounted upon her white charger, formed a brilliant and spirited picture of womanly energy. We can scarcely imagine, during the tedious interval of suspense and anxiety, the sufferings of the unfortunate De Montfort, immured in a hopeless captivity, and possibly in perfect ignorance of the struggles and exploits of his heroic wife. Her active prowess afforded her something like distraction to the grief of separation from her husband; but the poor prisoner in the Louvre could but brood painfully over his present position, and anticipate the worst event. His release had been the first condition stipulated for by the King of England at the time of truce, but the French monarch chose to violate the terms, and keep him a close prisoner. To the great joy of the countess, and totally without any expectation of such happiness, De Montfort contrived and executed his escape. Disguised as a peddler, he eluded the vigilance of his enemies, and made the best of his way to the English court. Here, receiving fresh offers of cordiality from King Edward, he tarried only long enough to muster a small force, and hastened to recross the sea, and join the woman who had proved so admirable a mate for his high and noble spirit. But what must have been the agony which this devoted wife endured, after the first raptures of receiving back the object of her constant and unwearied efforts to success! Captivity and grief had done their work :the fine lineaments of the count were irrevocably tarnished by disease—the tenderness of Jane, formerly omnipotent, failed to bring a smile to his wan lip, or a flash to his heavy and languid eye,—the sword had rusted out—and 'the days of "le bon Jehan," as his faithful people delighted to term him, were numbered. A few months he lingered—they passed—and the Countess de Montfort stood a widow upon the soil for the possession of which she had so long warred. If we may judge of her feelings at that sad moment of her loss, it must have appeared a poor and valueless conquest; yet motive for action still remained in the young son of this spirited' pair. Jane de Montfort's was not a temperament to resign itself to supine and heedless grief. The castle of Tickhill, in Yorkshire, received the bereaved mother and her child, and here she continued to scheme and plot, varying her residence by visits to the English court, and to the shores of France, as seemed most advisable for the interest of the young heir of Bretagne. The Princess Mary of England, betrothed to this prince, was the companion of his childish years, and it is possible that warmer feelings than were usual, in state marriages of the period, grew up between them. The countess (or the Duchess de Bretagne, as she was styled in England) had therefore more than common satisfaction in seeing her son united to his long-affianced bride at Woodstock; but not long were the brilliant auguries and actual happiness of this marriage suffered to engage the widow's jaded spirit. In the bright summer-time, when everything was preparing for the majority of the young duke in the following year, (which was to herald his departure with his duchess for Brittany, to take possession of his long-contested domain,) Mary of England was seized with a disorder which sapped the springs of life, and consigned her, within a few weeks, to an early grave. Little further remains to be told of the subject of our memoir. The Countess de Montfort's checkered and turbulent career had nothing in store to force her into that prominent position that she had occupied in her earlier days. It is probable that, having once held so distinguished a rôle in the long contest between France and England, she continued until her death to take interest, if not an actual share, in the agitating events of the period; but she retired to the Château of Lucinio, near Vannes, where the remainder of her life was spent in comparative quiet. Her son inherited her brave and dauntless spirit, and, as John the " Valiant," is familiar to every reader. He was twice married after the unhappy termination of his first nuptials, and left a numerous progeny to dispute the heritage of their forefathers, and share that fated imprisonment and struggle apparently inseparable from scions of the royal line of Bretagne. THE THE FRIENDSHIP OF DAVID AND JONATHAN. HE beautiful history of Jonathan and David has been an oft-told tale, and yet, if closely studied, there may be found delicate workings and bright gleams of excellence shining through the narrative, not always observed. At the first meeting of these two young men, their positions were widely different. Jonathan was the son of a king; David, the keeper of his father's sheep. We can have no hesitation in affirming that Jonathan was a pious prince, and he must have been struck by the simplicity as well as the strength of David's faith and devotion when he saw him approach the giant with no other weapon than the missive of a rustic. DAVID AND JONATHAN. stowing upon David the most pleasing | way; and so far it would be well, if such gifts, such as bespoke the intimate regard of a brother. "And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was upon him, and gave it to David, and his garments even to his sword, and his bow, and his girdle." Now it is frequently the case that two people begin a friendship in the same manner as this, but do we often find that such disinterested faithfulness as Jonathan's lasts to the end? The sudden emotions which might fill the heart, and call forth deep affection from any person toward a certain object of attraction, would naturally produce the desire of pleasing and benefitting that object in every possible a fresh spring of delight eventually subsided into a settled attachment of a more sober kind. But suppose a man, unconsciously winning the regard of another, be pursued by personal attentions, and loaded with unsought favors, then, after a while, (the fever of feeling having passed away, and the charm of novelty fled,) find himself slighted, and exposed to the coolness of his once warm friend-what can he think? Why, only, that the voluntary advance of such a one sprung from mere selfish caprice, and that his profession of friendship must be regarded rather as an insult than a kindness. |