the balconies hung costly stuffs of rich colors; and the waving of
handkerchiefs, seen in perspective through a long vista, was like a
snowstorm.
Joan’s name had been introduced into the prayers of the
Church–an honor theretofore restricted to royalty. But she had a
dearer honor and an honor more to be proud of, from a humbler
source: the common people had had leaden medals struck which
bore her effigy and her escutcheon, and these they wore as charms.
One saw them everywhere.
From the Archbishop’s Palace, where we halted, and where the
King and Joan were to lodge, the King sent to the Abbey Church of
St. Remi, which was over toward the gate by which we had entered
the city, for the Sainte Ampoule, or flask of holy oil. This oil was
not earthly oil; it was made in heaven; the flask also. The flask,
with the oil in it, was brought down from heaven by a dove. It was
sent down to St. Remi just as he was going to baptize King Clovis,
who had become a Christian. I know this to be true. I had known it
long before; for PЉre Fronte told me in Domremy. I cannot tell you
how strange and awful it made me feel when I saw that flask and
knew I was looking with my own eyes upon a thing which had
actually been in heave, a thing which had been seen by angels,
perhaps; and by God Himself of a certainty, for He sent it. And I
was looking upon it–I. At one time I could have touched it. But I
was afraid; for I could not know but that God had touched it. It is
most probable that He had.
From this flask Clovis had been anointed; and from it all the kings
of France had been anointed since. Yes, ever since the time of
Clovis, and that was nine hundred years. And so, as I have said,
that flask of holy oil was sent for, while we waited. A coronation
without that would not have been a coronation at all, in my belief.
Now in order to get the flask, a most ancient ceremonial had to be
gone through with; otherwise the Abb‚ of St. Remi, hereditary
guardian in perpetuity of the oil, would not deliver it. So, in
accordance with custom, the King deputed five great nobles to ride
in solemn state and richly armed and accoutered, they and their
steeds, to the Abbey Church as a guard of honor to the Archbishop
of Rheims and his canons, who were to bear the King’s demand for
the oil. When the five great lords were ready to start, they knelt in
a row and put up their mailed hands before their faces, palm joined
to palm, and swore upon their lives to conduct the sacred vessel
safely, and safely restore it again to the Church of St. Remi after
the anointing of the King. The Archbishop and his subordinates,
thus nobly escorted, took their way to St. Remi. The Archbishop
was in grand costume, with his miter on his head and his cross in
his hand. At the door of St. Remi they halted and formed, to
receive the holy vial. Soon one heard the deep tones of the organ
and of chanting men; then one saw a long file of lights
approaching through the dim church. And so came the Abbot, in
his sacerdotal panoply, bearing the vial, with his people following
after. He delivered it, with solemn ceremonies, to the Archbishop;
then the march back began, and it was most impressive; for it
moved, the whole way, between two multitudes of men and
women who lay flat upon their faces and prayed in dumb silence
and in dread while that awful thing went by that had been in
heaven.
This august company arrived at the great west door of the
cathedral; and as the Archbishop entered a noble anthem rose and
filled the vast building. The cathedral was packed with
people–people in thousands. Only a wide space down the center
had been kept free. Down this space walked the Archbishop and
his canons, and after them followed those five stately figures in