perpetuity? How was it that that child was able to do this? It was
because she had the “seeing eye,” as one of our knights had once
said. Yes, she had that great gift–almost the highest and rarest that
has been granted to man. Nothing of an extraordinary sort was still
to be done, yet the remaining work could not safely be left to the
King’s idiots; for it would require wise statesmanship and long and
patient though desultory hammering of the enemy. Now and then,
for a quarter of a century yet, there would be a little fighting to do,
and a handy man could carry that on with small disturbance to the
rest of the country; and little by little, and with progressive
certainty, the English would disappear from France.
And that happened. Under the influence of Richemont the King
became at a later time a man–a man, a king, a brave and capable
and determined soldier. Within six years after Patay he was
leading storming parties himself; fighting in fortress ditches up to
his waist in water, and climbing scaling-ladders under a furious
fire with a pluck that would have satisfied even Joan of Arc. In
time he and Richemont cleared away all the English; even from
regions where the people had been under their mastership for three
hundred years. In such regions wise and careful work was
necessary, for the English rule had been fair and kindly; and men
who have been ruled in that way are not always anxious for a
change.
Which of Joan’s five chief deeds shall we call the chiefest? It is my
thought that each in its turn was that. This is saying that, taken as a
whole, they equalized each other, and neither was then greater than
its mate.
Do you perceive? Each was a stage in an ascent. To leave out one
of them would defeat the journey; to achieve one of them at the
wrong time and in the wrong place would have the same effect.
Consider the Coronation. As a masterpiece of diplomacy, where
can you find its superior in our history? Did the King suspect its
vast importance? No. Did his ministers? No. Did the astute
Bedford, representative of the English crown? No. An advantage
of incalculable importance was here under the eyes of the King
and of Bedford; the King could get it by a bold stroke, Bedford
could get it without an effort; but, being ignorant of its value,
neither of them put forth his hand. Of all the wise people in high
office in France, only one knew the priceless worth of this
neglected prize–the untaught child of seventeen, Joan of Arc–and
she had known it from the beginning as an essential detail of her
mission.
How did she know it? It was simple: she was a peasant. That tells
the whole story. She was of the people and knew the people; those
others moved in a loftier sphere and knew nothing much about
them. We make little account of that vague, formless, inert mass,
that mighty underlying force which we call “the people”–an
epithet which carries contempt with it. It is a strange attitude; for
at bottom we know that the throne which the people support
stands, and that when that support is removed nothing in this world
can save it.
Now, then, consider this fact, and observe its importance.
Whatever the parish priest believes his flock believes; they love
him, they revere him; he is their unfailing friend, their dauntless
protector, their comforter in sorrow, their helper in their day of
need; he has their whole confidence; what he tells them to do, that
they will do, with a blind and affectionate obedience, let it cost
what it may. Add these facts thoughtfully together, and what is the
sum? This: The parish priest governs the nation. What is the King,
then, if the parish priest withdraws his support and deny his
authority? Merely a shadow and no King; let him resign.
Do you get that idea? Then let us proceed. A priest is consecrated
to his office by the awful hand of God, laid upon him by his
appointed representative on earth. That consecration is final;