At this time, when Charles VI. of France was insane, and 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, acknowledged 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 Paris was the prey alternately 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 necessaries of life.  His troops were chiefly Gascons, Lombards, and Scotch, who got no pay, and who lived by pillage.  He was so hard pressed by the Duke of Bedford that he meditated a retreat into Dauphine.  It would seem that he was given to pleasures, and was unworthy of his kingdom, 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 provisioned.  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 appeared on the stage, being then a girl of sixteen (some say eighteen) years of age.  Although Joan, as we have said, was uneducated, she yet clearly comprehended 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 full-armed giant of the Philistines, 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 her 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 presumption.  She returned to her humble home, but with resolutions 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 prosecuted her journey amid great perils and fatigues, travelling by night with her four armed attendants.