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 daemon 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 this illiterate peasant to deliver France are not to be derided.  Who can sit in judgment 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 people.  Feudal envies and enmities had converted vassals into foes.  The Duke of Burgundy, the most powerful vassal of France, was in arms against his liege lord.  The whole land was rent with divisions and treasons.  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 independent and powerful monarchy, something extraordinary 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 circumstances.

Joan of Arc believed in God,—­that He could do what He pleased, that He was a power to be supplicated; 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 conviction, 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.