The city of Orleans, held by the dauphin’s adherents, was besieged.  It was the key to the situation.  Its fall meant the fall of the kingdom, the conquest of France.  When this happened, that infant at the Louvre would really be the wearer of the crown.  So hopeless was the situation that the spiritless Charles was only in doubt whether to take refuge in Scotland or in Spain.

But although towns and cities had deserted him, the heart of the people had not.  Patriotism, dead everywhere else, still lived in the heart of that forgotten multitude lying silent and humble under the feet of its masters.  The monarchy had been their friend, their only friend.  The Church had deserted them, and joined their enemies the nobles.  But to the people, the name King expressed gratitude and hope; and they loved it.

If a great spreading tree full of verdure had arisen in a day out of the barren breast of Mother Earth, it would scarcely have been a greater miracle that what really happened when a child of the soil, a girl, rising triumphant over the disabilities of age, sex, birth, and condition, saved France from destruction.  Summoned by celestial voices, by angels whom she not only heard but saw, Joan of Arc started upon her mission of rescue for France!

When this daughter of the people, this peasant from Domremy, was admitted to the presence of the dauphin, it is said that in amusement and in order to test the reality of her mission, Charles exchanged dress with one of his courtiers.  But the maid going straight to him, said:  “Gentle dauphin, I come to restore to you the crown of France.  Orleans shall be saved by me.  And you, by the help of God and my Lady St. Catharine, shall be crowned at Rheims.”

On the 29th of April the maid did enter the fainting city.  And she did lead the dauphin to Rheims for his coronation.  And then, kneeling at his feet, asked the “Gentle King” to let her go back to her sheep at Domremy.  “For,” she said, “they love me more than these thousands of people I have seen.”

Unhappily, she did not return to her sheep, but remained among those wolves, and was captured and a prisoner of the English.

What should they do with this strange being, claiming supernatural powers?  The Regent Duke of Bedford denounced her as a rebel against the infant king; and the Bishop of Beauvais as a blasphemer and child of the devil.  Nothing could be clearer than her guilt upon both of these charges!  And on the 13th of May, 1431, this mysteriously inspired child was burnt by a slow fire in the market-place of Rouen.  And the “Gentle King,” where was he while this was happening?

It must ever remain a mystery that a peasant girl, a child in years and in experience, should have believed herself called to such a mission; that conferring only with her heavenly guides, or “voices,” she should have sought the king, inspired him with faith in her, and in himself and his cause, reanimated the courage of the army, and led it herself to victory absolute and complete; and then, have compelled the half-reluctant, half-doubting Charles to go with her to Rheims, there to be anointed and consecrated; this simple child in that day bestowing upon him a kingdom, and upon France a king!