Ten Girls from History

by Kate Dickinson Sweetser

Quickly the courtier answered, "You mistake, my child. I am not the King. There he is," pointing to the throne.

There was a stir and murmur in the crowd, but the Maid did not rise. She simply looked into his face again, saying:

"No, gracious liege, you are he, and no other," adding with a simple earnestness, "I am Jeanne, the Maid, sent to you from God to give succour to the kingdom, and to you. The King of Heaven sends you word by me that you shall be anointed and crowned in the town of Rheims, and you shall be lieutenant of the King of Heaven, who is the King of France."

Charles the Dauphin, who in the disguise of a courtier, had attempted to outwit the peasant girl by placing another on his throne, stood dumb with wonder at this revelation of her clear vision, and with a touch of awe, he raised her, and drew her away from the crowd that he might confer with her alone, while all tendency to jest at the expense of the Maid and her mission died away, and the crowd were silent with wonder at the bearing of this peasant girl who said she had come to save France.

No one ever knew what passed between Jeanne and the Dauphin during that interview, but it is said that he demanded a further proof of her inspired mission, and in reply she told him the substance of a prayer he had offered one morning—a prayer known to God alone—and so impressed by this proof of a more than mortal vision was he, that he at once led her again down the long audience hall, through the lines of torch bearers and courtiers, then bending low, kissed her hand, and with gracious words sent her away under a strong escort of his own guard of honour, having given his promise to further the cause to which Jeanne had dedicated her life. And just here let us glance for a moment at the character of Charles the Dauphin, for whom the girl of Domrémy was sacrificing so much.

At best he was the poor imitation of a King. Being the son of a mad father and a weak mother he inherited such tendencies as made him utterly unfit to cope with the perils of the time, or to give to the Maid who had come to his relief such assistance as he should have given.

"Never did a King lose his kingdom so gaily," said one of his soldiers, and although he was momentarily roused by the Maid's noble courage and purpose, yet he still found it far easier to loiter through days of ease in his château, than with prompt resolution to turn to the task in hand.

Had Charles the Dauphin been the man that Jeanne d'Arc would have had him be, the history of the Maid of France would have been a different one. But even his thrill at being aided to claim his throne, was not strong enough to fire him with the proper spirit, and he continued to waste long days in idle ease, while Jeanne was fretting her heart out waiting for him to decide to let her start to raise the siege of Orléans. But delay she must, and she whiled away the tedious days by practising with crossbow and sword in the meadows near Chinon, and although she refused to wear a woman's dress until she had accomplished her mission, yet she was both graceful and beautiful in her knight's costume, which she now wore in place of the simple page's suit in which she had ridden to Chinon, and many admiring eyes watched her as she rode up and down in the green meadows, alert and graceful in every movement. And although he was wasting precious moments in deciding whether to allow her to raise the siege of Orléans or not, the Dauphin spoke often and intimately with her, as with a friend to whom he was deeply attached, and Jeanne was treated with all possible deference both by those of high and low degree. The young Duc d'Alençon, a noble and loyal courtier, was so deeply won by her sweetness and charm that his wife invited her to spend a few days at their home, the Abbey of St. Florent les-Saumur, while waiting for the decision of the Dauphin. That little visit was a bright spot in the long dark story of the Maid's fulfilment of her mission, for there, with those whose every word and act spoke of kindred ideals and lofty aims, the Maid unbent to the level of care-free normal girlhood, and ever after that there was a close comradeship between the Duc and Jeanne.

At last the Dauphin came to a decision. To Poitiers, Jeanne must go, and there be examined by the French Parliament, and by the most learned men in the kingdom, to prove that she was capable of achieving that which she wished to attempt. When Jeanne heard this she cried out impatiently, "To Poitiers? In God's name I know I shall have my hands full, but the saints will aid me. Let us be off!" which showed that the Maid, for all her saintliness had also a very normal human degree of impatience to do as she had planned, and who can blame her?

To Poitiers she went, and there as everywhere the people loved her for her goodness, her enthusiasm for the rescue of France, and for her unassuming piety. For long weary weeks, she was cross-examined by the cleverest men who could be found for the task, but ever her keen wit was able to bring her safely through the quagmires and pitfalls they laid for her to fall into; then at last it was announced that "in consideration of the great necessity and peril of Orléans, the King would make use of her help, and she should go in honourable fashion to the aid of Orléans."