Joan of Arc — Heroic Women (part i)
by John Lord, LL.D.
PERHAPS the best known and most popular of
heroines is Joan of Arc, called the Maid of Or-
leans. Certainly she is one of the most interesting
characters in the history of France during the Middle
Ages; hence I select her to illustrate heroic women.
There are not many such who are known to fame;
though heroic qualities are not uncommon in the gentler
sex, and a certain degree of heroism enters into the
character of all those noble and strongly marked women
who have attracted attention and who have rendered
great services. It marked many of the illustrious
women of the Bible, of Grecian and Roman antiquity,
and especially those whom chivalry produced in medi-
æval Europe; and even in our modern times intrepidity
and courage have made many women famous, like
Florence Nightingale. In Jewish history we point to
Deborah, who delivered Israel from the hands of Jabin;
and to Jael, who slew Sisera, the captain of Jabin's
hosts; and to Judith, who cut off the head of Holofer-
nes. It was heroism, which is ever allied with mag-
nanimity, that prompted the daughter of Jephtha to
the most remarkable self-sacrifice recorded in history.
There was a lofty heroism in Abigail, when she pre-
vented David from shedding innocent blood. And
among the Pagan nations, who does not admire the
heroism of such women as we have already noticed?
Chivalry, too, produced illustrious heroines in every
country of Europe. We read of a Countess of March,
in the reign of Edward III., who defended Dunbar with
uncommon courage against Montague and an English
army; a Countess of Montfort shut herself up in the
fortress of Hennebon, who successfully defied the whole
power of Charles of Blois; Jane Hatchett repulsed in
person a considerable body of Burgundian troops; Al-
trude, Countess of Bertinora, advanced with an army to
the relief of Ancona; Bona Lombardi, with a body of
troops, liberated her her husband from captivity; Isabella
of Lorraine raised an army for the rescue of her hus-
band; Queen Philippa, during the absence of her
husband in Scotland, stationed herself in the Castle
of Bamborough and defied the threats of Douglas, and
afterwards headed an army against David, King of
Scotland, and took him prisoner, and shut him up in
the Tower of London.
But these illustrious women of the Middle Ages who
performed such feats of gallantry and courage belonged
to the noble class; they were identified with aristo-
cratic institutions; they lived in castles; they were the
wives and daughters of feudal princes and nobles
whose business was war, and who were rough and
turbulent warriors, and sometimes no better than rob-
bers, but who had the virtues of chivalry, which was
at its height during the wars of Edward III. And yet
neither the proud feudal nobles nor their courageous
wives and daughters took any notice of the plebeian
people, except to oppress and grind them down. No
virtues were developed by feudalism among the people
but submission, patience, and loyalty.
And thus it is extraordinary that such a person
should appear in that chivalric age as Joan of Arc, who
rose from the humblest class, who could neither read
nor write, — a peasant girl without friends or influence,
living among the Vosges mountains on the borders of
Champagne and Lorraine. She was born in 1412, in
the little obscure village of Domremy on the Meuse,
on land belonging to the French crown. She lived in
a fair and fertile valley on the line of the river, on
the other side of which were the Burgundian territo-
ries. The Lorrain of the Vosges was a mountainous
disrict covered with forests, which served for royal
hunting parties. The village of Domremy itself was
once a dependency of the abbey of St. Remy at Rheims.
This district had suffered cruelty from the wars be-
tween the Burgundians and the adherents of the Ar-
magnacs, one of the great feudal families of France
in the Middle Ages.
Joan, or Jeanne, was the third daughter of one of the
peasant laborers of Domremy. She was employed by
her mother in spinning and sewing, while her sisters
and brothers were set to watch cattle. Her mother
could teach her neither to read nor write, but early
imbued her mind with the sense of duty. Joan was
naturally devout, and faultless in her morals; simple,
natural, gentle, fond of attending the village church;
devoting herself, when not wanted at home, to nursing
the sick, — the best girl in the village; strong, healthy,
and beautiful; a spirit lowly but poetic, superstitious
but humane, and fond of romantic adventures. But
her piety was one of her most marked peculiarities, and
somehow or other she knew more than we can explain
of Scripture heroes and heroines.
One of the legends of that age and place was that
the marshes of Lorraine were to give birth to a maid
who was to save the realm, — founded on an old pro-
phecy of Merlin. It seems that when only thirteen
years old Joan saw visions, and heard celestial voices
bidding her to be good and to trust in God; and as
virginity was considered to be a supernal virtue, she
vowed to remain a virgin, but told no one f her vow
or her visions. She seemed to have been a girl of
extraordinary good sense, which was as marked as her
religious enthusiasm.
The most remarkable thing about this young peas-
ant girl is that she claimed to have had visions and
heard voices which are difficult to be distinguished
from supernatural, — something like the dæmon of Soc-
rates. She affirmed that Saint Michael the Archangel
appeared to her in glory, also Saint Catherine and
Saint Margaret, encouraging her in virtue, and indi-
cating to her that a great mission was before her, —
that she was to deliver her king and country. Such
claims have not been treated with incredulity or con-
tempt by French historians, especially Barante and
Michelet, in view of the wonderful work she was
instrumental in accomplishing.
At this period France was afflicted with that cruel
war which had at intervals been carried on for nearly
a century between the English and French kings, and
which had arisen from the claims of Edward I. to the
throne of France. The whole country was distracted,
forlorn, and miserable; it was impoverished, overrun,
and drained of fighting men. The war had exhausted
the resources of England as well as those of France.
The population of England at the close of this long
series of wars was less than it was under Henry II.
Those wars were more disastrous to the interests of both
the rival kingdoms than even those of the Crusades, and
they were marked by great changes and great calami-
ties. The victories of Crécy, Poictiers, and Agincourt
— which shed such lustre on the English nation —
were followed by reverses, miseries, and defeats, which
more than balance the glories of Edward the Black
Prince and Henry V. Provinces were gained and lost,
yet no decisive results followed either victory or defeat.
The French kings, driven hither and thither, with a
decimated people, and with the loss of some of their
finest provinces, still retained their sovereignty.
At one time, about the year 1347, Edward III. had
seemed to have attained the supreme object of his
ambition. France lay bleeding at his feet; he had
won the greatest victory of his age; Normandy already
belonged to him, Guienne was recovered, Aquitaine
was ceded to him, Flanders was on his side, and the
possession of Brittany seemed to open his way to
Paris. But in fourteen years these conquests were
lost; the plague scourged England, and popular dis-
contents added to the perplexities of the once fortunate
monarch. Moreover, the House of Commons had come
to be a power and a check on royal ambition. The
death of the Black Prince consummated his grief and
distraction, and the heroic king gave himself up in
his old age to a disgraceful profligacy, and died in the
arms of Alice Pierce, in the year 1377.
Fifty years pass by, and Henry V. is king of England,
and renews his claim to the French throne. The battle
of Agincourt (1415) gives to Henry V. the same éclat
that the victory of Crécy had bestowed on Edward III.
Again the French realm is devastated by triumphant
Englishmen. The King of France is a captive; his
Queen is devoted to the cause of Henry, the Duke of
Burgundy is his ally, and he only needs the formal
recognition of the Estates to take possession of the
French throne. But in the year 1422, in the midst of
his successes, he died of a disease which baffled the
skill of all his physicians, leaving his kingdom to a
child only nine years old, and the prosecution of the
French war to his brother the Duke of Bedford, who
was scarcely inferior to himself in military genius.
At this time, when Charles VI. of France was in-
sane, his oldest son Louis dead, his second son
Charles declared himself King of France, as Charles
VII. But only southern France acknowledged Charles,
who at this time was a boy of fifteen years. All the
northern provinces, even Guienne and Gascony, ac-
knowledged Henry VI., the infant son of Henry V. of
England. Charles's affairs, therefore, were in a bad
way, and there was every prospect of the complete
conquest of France. Even Pair was the prey alter-
nately of the Burgundians and the Armagnacs, the last
of whom were the adherents of Charles the Dauphin,
— the legitimate heir to the throne. He held his little
court at Bourges, where he lived as gaily as he could,
sometimes in want of the necessities of life. His
troops were chiefly Gascons, Lombards, and Scotch,
who got no pay, and who lived by pillage. He wasso
hard pressed by the Duke of Bedford that he medi-
tated a retreat into Dauphiné. It would seem that he
was given to pleasures, and was unworthy of his king-
dom, which he nearly lost by negligence and folly.
The Duke of Bedford, in order to drive Charles
out of the central provinces, resolved to take Orleans,
which was the key to the south, — a city on the north
bank of the Loire, strongly fortified and well provi-
sioned. This was in 1428. The probabilities were
that this city would fall, for it was already besieged,
and was beginning to suffer famine.
In this critical period for France, Joan of Arc ap-
peared on the stage, being a girl of sixteen (some
say eighteen) years of age. Although Joan, as we
have said, was uneducated, she yet clearly compre-
hended the critical condition of her country, and with
the same confidence that David had in himself and in
his God when he armed himself with a sling and a few
pebbles to confront the fully-armed giant of the Philis-
tines, inspired by her heavenly visions she resolved to
deliver France. She knew nothing of war; she had
not been accustomed to equestrian exercises, like a
woman of chivalry; she had no friends; she had never
seen great people; she was poor and unimportant. To
the eye of worldly wisdom here resolution was perfectly
absurd.
It was with the greatest difficulty that Joan finally
obtained an interview with Boudricourt, the governor
of Vaucouleurs; and he laughed at her, and bade her
uncle take her home and chastise her for her presump-
tion. She returned to her humble home, but with
resolution unabated. The voices encouraged her, and
the common people believed in her. Again, in the red
coarse dress of a peasant girl, she sought the governor,
claiming that God had sent her. There was something
so strange, so persistent, so honest about her that he
reported her case to the King. Meanwhile, the Duke
of Lorraine heard of her, and sent her a safe-conduct,
and the people of Vaucouleurs came forward and
helped her. They gave her a horse and the dress of
a soldier; and the governor, yielding to her urgency,
furnished her with a sword and a letter to the King.
She left without seeing her parents, — which was one
of the subsequent charges against her, — and prose-
cuted her journey amid great perils and fatigues, trav-
elling by night with her four armed attendants.
After twelve days Joan reached Chinon, where the
King was tarrying. But here new difficulties arose:
she could not get an interview with the King; it was
opposed by his most influential ministers and courtiers.
"Why waste precious time," said they, "when Orleans
is in the utmost peril, to give attention to a mad
peasant-girl, who, if not mad, must be possessed with
a devil: a sorceress to be avoided; what can she do
for France?" The Archbishop of Rheims, the prime-
minister of Charles, especially was against her. The
learned doctors of the schools derided her claims.
It would seem that her greatest enemies were in
the high places of authority. "Not many wise, not
many mighty are called." The deliverers of nations
in great exigencies rarely have the favor of the great.
But the women of the court spoke warmly in Joan's
favor, for her conduct was modest and irreproachable;
and after two days she was admitted to the royal
castle, the Count of Vendôme leading her to the royal
presence. Charles stood among a crowd of nobles, all
richly dressed; but in her visions this pure enthusiast
had seen more glories than an earthly court, and she
was undismayed. To the King she repeated the words
which had thus far acted like a charm: "I am Joan
the Maid, sent by God to save France;" and she de-
manded troops. But the King was cautious; he sent
two monks to her native village to inquire all about
her, while nobles and ecclesiastics cross-questioned
her. She was, however, treated courteously, and given
in charge to the King's lieutenant, whose wife was
a woman of virtue and piety. Many distinguished
people visited her in the castle to which she was
assigned, on whom she made a good impression by
her modesty, good sense, and sublime enthusiasm. It
was long debated in the royal council whether she
should be received or rejected; but as affairs were in
an exceedingly critical condition, and Orleans was on
the point of surrender, it was concluded to listen to
her voice.
It must be borne in mind that the age was exceed-
ingly superstitious, and the statesmen of the distracted
and apparently ruined country probably decided to
make use of this girl, not from any cordial belief in
her mission, but from her influence on the people.
She might stimulate them to renewed efforts. She
was an obscure and ignorant peasant-girl, it was true,
but God might have chosen her as an instrument.
In this way very humble people, with very great claims,
have often got the ear and the approval of the wise
and powerful, as instruments of Almighty Providence.
When Moody and Sankey first preached in London, it
was the Lord Chancellor and Lord Chief-Justice —
who happened to be religious men — that, amid the
cynicism of ordinary men of rank, gave them the most
encouragement, and frequently attended their meetings.
And the voices which inspired the Maid of Orleans
herself, — what were these? Who can tell? Who
can explain such mysteries? I would not assert, nor
would I deny, that they were the voices of inspiration.
What is inspiration? It has often been communicated
to men. Who can deny that the dæmon of Socrates
was something more than a fancied voice? When did
supernatural voices first begin to utter the power of God?
when will the voices of inspiration cease to be heard
on earth? In view of the fact that she did accomplish
her mission, the voices which inspired the illiterate
peasant to deliver France are not to be derided. Who
can sit in judgement on the ways in which Providence
is seen to act? May He not choose such instruments
as He pleases? Are not all His ways mysterious,
never to be explained by the reason of man? Did not
the occasion seem to warrant something extraordinary?
Here was a great country apparently on the verge of
ruin. To the eye of reason and experience it seemed
that France was to be henceforth ruled, as a subjugated
country, by a foreign power. Royal armies had failed
to deliver her. Loyalty had failed to arouse the peo-
ple. Feudal envies and enmities had converted vassals
into foes. The Duke of Burgundy, the most powerful
vassal in France, was in arms against his liege lord.
The whole land was rent with divisions and trea-
sons. And the legitimate king, who ought to have
been a power, was himself feeble, frivolous, and pleasure-
seeking amid all his perils. He could not save the
country. Who could save it? There were no great
generals. Universal despair hung over the land. The
people were depressed. Military resources were
insufficient. If France was to be preserved as an in-
dependent and powerful monarchy, something extraor-
dinary must happen to save it. The hope in feudal
armies had fled. In fact, only God could rescue the
country in such perils and under such forlorn circum-
stances.
Joan of Arc believed in God, — that He could do
what He pleased, that He was a power to be suppli-
cated; and she prayed to Him to save France, since
princes could not save the land, divided by their
rivalries and jealousies and ambitions. And the con-
viction, after much prayer and fasting, was impressed
upon her mind — no matter how, but it was impressed
upon her — that God had chosen her as His instrument,
that it was her mission to raise the siege of Orleans,
and cause the young Dauphin to be crowned king at
Rheims. This conviction gave her courage and faith
and intrepidity. How could she, unacquainted with
wars and sieges, show the necessary military skill and
genius? She did not pretend to it. She claimed no
other wisdom than that which was communicated to
her by celestial voices. If she could direct a military
movement in opposition to leaders of experience, it was
only because this movement was what was indicated
by an archangel. And so decided and imperative was
she, that royal orders were given to obey her. One
thing was probable, whether a supernatural wisdom
and power were given her or not, — she yet might
animate the courage of others, she might stimulate
them to heroic action, and revive their hopes; for if
God was with them, who could be against them?
What she had to do was simply this, — to persuade
princes and nobles that the Lord would deliver the
nation. Let the conviction be planted in the minds of
a religious people that God is with them, and in some
way will come to their aid if they themselves will put
forth their own energies, and they will be almost sure
to rally. And here was an inspired woman, as they
supposed, ready to lead them on to victory, not by
her military skill, but by indicating to them the way
as an interpreter of the Divine will. This was not
more extraordinary than the repeated deliverances of
the Hebrew nation under religious leaders.
The signal deliverance of the French at that gloomy
period from the hands of the English, by Joan of Arc,
was a religious movement. The Maid is to be viewed
as a religious phenomenon; she rested her whole power
and mission on the supposition that she was inspired
to point out the way of deliverance. She claimed
nothing for herself, was utterly without vanity, ambi-
tion, or pride, and had no worldly ends to gain. Her
character was without flaw. She was as near per-
fection as any mortal ever was: religious, fervent, un-
selfish, gentle, modest, chaste, patriotic, bent on one
thing only, — to be of service to her country, with-
out reward; and to be of service only by way of en-
couragement, and pointing out what seemed to her to
be the direction of God.
So Joan fearlessly stood before kings and nobles and
generals, yet in the modest gentleness of conscious
virtue, to direct them what to do, as a sort of mes-
senger of Heaven. What was rank or learning to her?
If she was sent by a voice that spoke to her soul, and
that voice was from God, what was human greatness to
her? It paled before the greatness which commis-
sioned her. In the discharge of her mission all men
were alike in her eyes; the distinctions of rank faded
away in the mighty issues which she wished to bring
about, even the rescue of France from foreign enemies,
and which she fully believed she could effect with
God's aid, and in the way that He should indicate.
Whether the ruling powers fully believed in her or
not, they at last complied with her wishes and prayers,
though not until she had been subjected to many in-
sults from learned priests and powerful nobles, whom
she finally won by her modest and wise replies. Said
one of them mockingly: "If it be God's will that the
English shall quit France, there is no need for men-at-
arms." To whom she replied: "The men-at-arms must
fight, and God shall give them victory." She saw no
other deliverance than through fighting, and fighting
bravely and heroically, as the means of success. She
was commissioned, she said, to stimulate the men to
fight, — not to pray, but to fight. She promised no res-
cue by supernatural means, but only through natural
forces. France was not to despond, but to take courage,
and fight. There was no imposture about her, only
zeal and good sense, to impress upon the country the
necessity of bravery and renewed exertions.
The Maid set out for the deliverance of the besieged
city in a man's attire, deeming it more modest under
her circumstances, and exposing her to fewer annoy-
ances. She was arrayed in a suit of beautiful armor,
with a banner after her own device, — white, embroi-
dered with lilies, and a sword which had been long
buried behind the altar of a church. Under her in-
spiring influence an army of six thousand men was
soon collected, commanded by the ablest and most
faithful generals who remained to the King, and ac-
companied by the Archbishop of Rheims, who, though
he had no great faith in her claims, yet saw in
her a fitting instrument to arouse the people from
despair. Before setting out from Blois she dictated a
letter to the English captains before the besieged city,
which to them must have seemed arrogant, insulting,
and absurd, in which she commanded them in God's
name to return to their own country, assuring them
that they fought not merely against the French, but
against Him, and hence would be defeated.
The French captains had orders to obey their youth-
ful leader, but not seeing the wisdom of her direc-
tions to march to Orleans on the north side of the
Loire, they preferred to keep the river between them
and the forts of the English. Not daring to disobey
her, they misled her as to the position of Orleans, and
advanced by the south bank, which proved a mistake,
and called forth her indignation, since she did not pro-
fess to be governed by military rules, but by divine
direction. The city had been defended by a series of
forts and other fortifications of great strength, all of
which had fallen into the hands of the besiegers; only
the walls of the city remained. Joan succeeded in
effecting an entrance for herself on a white charger
through one of the gates, and the people thronged to
meet her as an angel of deliverance, with the wildest
demonstrations of joy. Her first act was to repair to
the cathedral and offer up thanks to God; her next
was to summon the enemy to retire. In the course
of a few days the French troops entered the city with
supplies. They then issued from the gates to retake the
fortifications, which were well defended, cheered and
encouraged by the heroic Maid, who stimulated them
to daring deeds. The French were successful in their
first assault, which seemed a miracle to the English
yeomen, who now felt that they were attacked by un-
seen forces. Then other forts were assailed with equal
success, Joan seeming like an inspired heroine, with
her eyes flashing, and her charmed standard waving on
to victory. The feats of valor which the French per-
formed were almost incredible. Joan herself did not
fight, but stimulated the heroism of her troops. The
captains led the assault; the Maid directed their move-
ments. After most of the forts were retaken, the
troops wished for rest. Joan knew no rest, nor fear, nor
sense of danger. She would hear of no cessation from
bloody strife until all the fortifications were regained.
At the assault on the last fort she herself was wound-
ed; but she was insensible to pain as she was to
fear. As soon as her wound was dressed she hurried
to the ramparts, and encouraged the troops, who were
disposed to retire. By evening the last fort or bastile
was taken, and the English retired, baffled and full
of vengeance. The city was delivered. The siege
was raised. Not an Englishman survived south of
the Loire.
But only part of the mission of this heroic woman
was fulfilled. She delivered Orleans and saved
the southern provinces. She had now the more diffi-
cult work to perform of crowning the King in the con-
secrated city, which was in the hands of the enemy,
as well as the whole country between Orleans and
Rheims. This task seemed to the King and his court
to be absolutely impossible. So was the raising of the
siege of Orleans, according to all rules of war. Al-
though priests, nobles, and scholars had praised the
courage and intrepidity of Joan, and exhorted the na-
tion to trust her, since God seemed to help her, yet to
capture a series of fortified cities which were in pos-
session of superior forces seemed an absurdity. Only
the common people had full faith in her, for as she
was supposed to be specially aided by God, nothing
seemed to them an impossibility. They looked upon
her as raised up to do most wonderful things, — as one
directly inspired. This faith in a girl of eighteen would
not have been possible but for her exalted character.
Amid the most searching cross-examinations from the
learned, she commanded respect by the wisdom of her
replies. Every inquiry had been made as to her rural
life and character, and nothing could be said against
her, but much in her favor; especially her absorbing
piety, gentleness, deeds of benevolence, and utter un-
selfishness.
There was, therefore, a great admiration and respect
for this girl, leading to the kindest and most honorable
treatment of her from both prelates and nobles. But
it was not a chivalric admiration; she did not belong
to a noble family, nor did she defend an institution.
She was regarded as a second Deborah, commissioned
to deliver people. Nor could a saint have done her
work. Bernard could kindle a crusade by his elo-
quence, but he could not have delivered Orleans; it
required some one who could excite idolatrous homage.
Only a woman, in that age, was likely to be revered
by the people, — some immaculate virgin. Our remote
German ancestors had in their native forests a peculiar
reverence for woman. The priestesses of Germanic
forests had often incited to battle. Their warnings or
encouragements were regarded as voices from Heaven.
Perhaps the adoration and worship of the Virgin Mary
— so hearty and poetical in the Middle Ages — may
have indirectly aided the mission of the Maid of Or-
leans. The common people saw one of their own order
arise and do marvellous things, bringing kings and no-
bles to her cause. How could she thus triumph over
all the inequalities of feudalism unless divinely com-
missioned? How could she work what seemed to be
almost miracles if she had not a supernatural power to
assist her? Like the regina angelorum, she was virgo
castissima. And if she was unlike common mortals,
perhaps an inspired woman, what she promised would
be fulfilled. In consequence of such a feeling an un-
bounded enthusiasm was exciting among the people.
They were ready to do her bidding, whether reasonable
or unreasonable to them, for there was a sacred mys-
tery about her, — a reverence that extorted obedience.
Worldly-wise statesmen and prelates had not this
unbounded admiration, although they doubtless re-
garded her as a moral phenomenon which they could
not understand. Her advice seemed to set aside all
human prudence. Nothing seemed more rash or un-
reasonable than to undertake the conquest of so many
fortified cities with such feeble means. It was one thing
to animate starving troops to a desperate effort for their
deliverance; it was another to assault fortified cities
held by the powerful forces which had nearly com-
pleted the conquest of France.
from Beacon Lights of History, by John Lord, LL. D.,
Volume IV, Part I: Great Women, pp. 69 - 89
Copyright 1883, 1885, 1888, by John Lord.
Copyright 1921, By Wm. H. Wise & Co., New York
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