The opportunity to attempt the execution of the commands imposed by her voices was long in coming; she had become a subject of common talk in her village; everywhere she met discouraging incredulity, if not ridicule. It was not that there was lack of belief in marvels, for the land was filled with stories of portents and wonders in which the people did not hesitate to believe. There was the holy peasant whom the great captain, Xaintrailles, brought before the court to display upon his hands and feet the very marks of the cross, the stigmata, and who was said to sweat blood upon the day of the Passion. There was Catherine de la Rochelle, who saw visions of angels and who proclaimed herself commissioned to discover treasures for the dauphin. In these and the like the people of Domremy may have believed; but not in their own little peasant girl; for had they not known her when she was but like the rest, a simple shepherdess?
In one member of her family Jeanne found faith, and to him she turned for help. This was her uncle, whose wife she was sent to nurse and whose spark of faith she kindled during this stay till, what with her urging and that of his wife, the good man' went to Vaucouleurs and carried Jeanne's message to Baudricourt. Is it any wonder that the seigneur smiled derisively at this foolish peasant who came to him with a message from a girl declaring that he must give her soldiers to accomplish that which the best captains of France could not accomplish? He was not unduly harsh, merely contemptuous in his rebuff: "Whip the girl well, and send her home to her father." There are so many with "missions" in this world, missions that are but vain imaginings, profiting naught; the more experience one has had in the world the more one learns to distrust these missions; and beyond a doubt the chastisement suggested by the Sire de Baudricourt would, in nine cases out of ten, have ended the mission and cured the hysterical enthusiast.
We say nine cases out of ten, or ninety-nine out of a hundred, or any further multiples you please, with careless assurance that there is no tenth case, and that fate will not take our wager and prove us fools, no matter what the odds we offer. But there is that tenth case, and the world is caught, the wise world, as here in the case of the peasant lass of Lorraine, at whom all in Domremy smiled indulgently, whom all in France were soon to worship.
It was the month of February, 1429, when the eyes of all France were fixed upon one city, Orléans. To the shattered French party it was the last hope of their dauphin; to the English it was the barrier which shut them off from the south of France. Since October the siege had been in progress, and England had given the command of her besieging forces to the best captains, while Dunois held out for France and for his half-brother, that Charles d'Orléans who had been a prisoner in England ever since Agincourt. But neither the skill of Dunois nor the gay courage of the citizens could cope with famine; it looked as if Orléans must fall, and all France mourned in advance the fate of the gallant city. Charles, the dauphin, wept at Chinon, and was without hope or counsel. In the heart of the daughter of Domremy one fervent prayer replaced all others: that Orléans might be saved! Her voices grew more and more importunate, crying to her ceaselessly that it was for her to save Orléans. With this more definite and immediate aim in mind she found courage to make another appeal to Baudricourt. She persuaded her uncle to accompany her, and the two trudged on foot to Vaucouleurs, where Jeanne was lodged with a wheelwright, her mother's cousin.
Impatient at the persistence of this mad girl, Baudricourt nevertheless consented to see her, probably thinking that he would thus more easily rid himself of her. In her simple peasant's dress of red cloth the young mystic stood before him. She was not tall, but was well proportioned and sturdy; in her features there was nothing remarkable, merely a regularity that failed of absolute beauty by being commonplace; still, it was a comely face, and even the sceptic Baudricourt could not fail to note the honesty and gentleness of the expression, or the deep and dreamy eyes, the sole feature that revealed some gleams of the great spirit within. Without hesitation or embarrassment and yet without effrontery she answered his questions, and uttered her message to the dauphin: "My lord, I come to you in the name of God, bidding you enjoin the dauphin to hold firm and to set no day of battle with the enemy at this time, for God will send him aid about Mid-Lent. The kingdom is not his alone, but God's. Nevertheless, the Lord meaneth that he shall be King, despite his enemies; and it is I who shall lead him to be crowned at Rheims."
Baudricourt could not surrender at once to the faint belief aroused in him by Jeanne's earnestness, but the faint belief was already there, and he dismissed her kindly to reflect upon what she had said. The curé of the parish was called into consultation, and the knight and the priest agreed that it was quite possible that Satan might have a hand in all this, and the two visited Jeanne, the priest exorcising the evil spirit, whereat Jeanne did not fly away or disappear with a flash and a bad smell of powder and brimstone. Her simple piety satisfied and touched the priest.
Meanwhile, rumors of her wonderful visions and of her sanctity began to be current among the people and to find credence. Had it not been prophesied by the mighty Merlin that France should be lost through a wicked woman and saved by a pure virgin? Who could the wicked woman be other than Isabeau de Bavière, who had sold France and disinherited and denied her own son? And here was Jeanne, a pure child, come to redeem France. It was criminal in Baudricourt to doubt, to reject the assistance thus sent by God himself. Crowds of people, gentles and mere laborers, visited Jeanne, and all were sure of one thing at least, that she was a good girl, while many went away firm believers in her mission. A gentleman, Jean de Metz, thinking to jest with her, said: "Well, sweetheart, then we must all turn English, since the King will be driven out of France." But there was no thought of jest in her, as she complained of Baudricourt's refusal to send her to the dauphin: "And yet they must get me to the Dauphin before Mid-Lent, were I to wear out my legs to the knees walking there. For no one in this world, kings, nor dukes, nor daughter of the king of Scotland, can win back the kingdom of France; and there is for him no other help save in me, albeit I should far rather stay beside my poor mother and spin.... For this is not my work, fighting battles; but I needs must go to do that which is commanded, for my Lord so wills it."
Baudricourt hesitated to assume the responsibility of any action in the matter. He took Jeanne to see the old Duke de Lorraine, his feudal superior. Duke Charles, at that time under the domination of a mistress, Alison du May, of great wit and beauty, was ill, and thought the miraculous maiden of Domremy might restore him to health and the arms of Alison. Jeanne, very wisely and frankly, told him to put away his paramour and take back his wife and lead a decent life. She was no worker of vulgar miracles to profit a worn-out old roué.
Coming back to Vaucouleurs, she found the authorities more ready to give her a hearing, for the situation in Orléans had become desperate, and the gallant citizens, who had entered into the siege with as much eagerness as if it had been but play, found enthusiasm very exhausting and food supplies very scant. Jeanne had predicted the date and the disastrous result of the battle of Rouvray, "the battle of the Herrings" (February 12, 1429), and the people of Vaucouleurs believed in her. Grudgingly and half-heartedly, the Sire de Baudricourt was compelled to yield to her request and to despatch her to the dauphin. Some citizens of the town subscribed a sum to equip her with horse and armor, and the Sire de Baudricourt himself gave her a sword. For the long journey through a rough country the poor girl, with no woman companion, could not retain her simple gown, but must be dressed as a man-at-arms. On the very eve of her departure, she was subjected to another severe trial to her feelings: her parents, hearing of her determination, sent to implore, to command, her not to go; and Jeanne, unable to write, had to dictate a letter asking their forgiveness for her disobedience.
Her little troop, consisting of two gentlemen and a few men of their following, had to traverse part of the country where the Burgundian interest was strong, for the dauphin was then holding his court at Chinon, near Tours. And the dangers of the road infested by hostile troops were not the only dangers, for among her own companions there were many misgivings: they knew not whether to reverence her as a saint or to destroy her as a witch. The latter course, indeed, they were very near pursuing; but the innocence and the harmless, hopeful, confident demeanor of the girl moved their hearts to pity.