But only part of the mission of this heroic woman was fulfilled.  She had delivered Orleans and saved the southern provinces.  She had now the more difficult work to perform of crowning the King in the consecrated 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.  Although priests, nobles, and scholars had praised the courage and intrepidity of Joan, and exhorted the nation to trust her, since God seemed to help her, yet to capture a series of fortified cities which were in possession 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 unselfishness.

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 a people.  Nor could a saint have done her work.  Bernard could kindle a crusade by his eloquence, 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 deified 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 deification and worship of the Virgin Mary—­so hearty and poetical in the Middle Ages—­may have indirectly aided the mission of the Maid of Orleans.  The common people saw one of their own order arise and do marvellous things, bringing kings and nobles to her cause.  How could she thus triumph over all the inequalities of feudalism unless divinely commissioned?  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 unbounded enthusiasm was excited among the people.  They were ready to do her bidding,