What manner of man was the uncrowned King of France, whom Saint Joan, with her two traveling companions, and their servants, accompanied also by the King's messenger, journeyed one hundred and fifty leagues to see and counsel? History, on that point, is divided. One account describes him as generous and kind, gentle and handsome, well-spoken and full of pity for the poor.
His physical advantages, according to this chronicler, won him the favor of the people. He was fond of games, luxurious in his habits and devoted to Saint Michael, Saint Joan's own Archangel. Another narrator gives an entirely different picture, calling him "ugly, with gray, wandering eyes, nose thick and bulbous, knock-kneed and awkward." His portraits belie this unflattering description. However, it is not likely that if it were true, the painters who had the honor of portraying the features of the royal personage would have made the portrait very lifelike. His traducers represent him as without ambition, hiding from his subjects in holes and corners, the tool of his ministers and the slave of his favorites. A life sacrificed in his behalf was a life thrown away. Both his friends and foes unite, however, in saying that he was indolent, and his conduct, subsequent to meeting with Saint Joan of Arc, shows him to have been deficient in those qualities most to be admired in a king - bravery and loyalty to his friends. But Saint Joan, blindly following the direction of the heavenly messengers, in whom she implicitly believed, paused not to weigh his defects or his virtues; to her he was the descendant of Saint Louis, of the holy blood of France, God's chosen representative of justice, honor, and loyalty.
And to outward view, what manner of maid was she who sallied forth from Vaucouleurs upon her great adventure? Many statues have been made and many pictures painted of her, but none that seem to have been inspired by one who had seen her in life. Not all of these are beautiful, they differ greatly, according to the ideals of the artist who endeavored to reproduce her features in canvas or in marble. From all of them combined one might, with the eye of fancy, reproduce a composite picture in which the predominant traits would be innocence, dignity, sweetness, and an entire unconsciousness of self.
It has been said by most of Saint Joan's contemporaries - and we like to imagine that she was beautiful - that God, having chosen her for His messenger and fashioned her soul so divinely, would also have endowed the shell of her divine spirit with beauty of form, and softness of color, with grace, slenderness, and a sweet dignity pervading all her looks and words.
Says one who describes her: "Joan was beautiful in face and figure, with steady gray eyes, bright and smiling." Her hair, they tell us, was black and wavy. We can fancy the light breeze lifting it about her forehead as she sat under the old oak, or wandered in the garden of the deserted castle; we can see it just reaching her fine, straight shoulders, floating in the wind as she skimmed the surface of the greensward in the victorious races, or hastened, on flying feet, to rescue from the brambles one of her beloved lambs; or imagine it falling - a dusky veil over her clear, unlined forehead and soft, smooth, olive cheeks - as she knelt, face buried in her hands, before Our Lady's altar in the little village church.
One of her own countrymen, Bastien Lepage, dissatisfied with the various and altogether dissimilar pictures of her, felt that he could paint a true portrait of the Maid of Arc. He has made her a homely figure, a peasant, clumsy but pleasing, a daughter of toil. But the mouth is firm and sweet, and the eyes are wonderful. She seems to be listening to the Voices that were constantly advising and beseeching her - looking not upon the outer world, but inwardly praying, reflecting, drinking in the visions which were her familiar companions, but which none but herself were permitted to see. This picture hangs in the Metropolitan Museum in New York, and those who are privileged to see it there, though they may wish that Saint Joan had been made more beautiful in face and form, cannot but admit that it portrays, beyond all doubt, the exquisite purity of a soul untouched by sin.
Gifted with perfect health, Saint Joan's presence diffused vitality wherever she went. Her manners were those of a lady rather than a peasant, though as the latter she was possessed of the sturdy independence and self-respect characteristic, to this day, of her race. No doubt from her familiar and gracious Saint Margaret and Saint Catherine she imbibed something of the spiritual poise and heavenly gentleness she always referred to in describing them.
So it was that with head erect, shoulders thrown back, gray eyes gazing earnestly into the distance, raven hair now close-cropped under a tight black cap, and strong, if unaccustomed, hands firmly clasping the reins of her horse Saint Joan went on her way through the night, arriving early next morning at the town of Saint Urbain. And then on to Fierbois, where there was a famous shrine of Saint Catherine which Saint Joan visited with great devotion. Thence to Chinon, where the King was lodged.
After breakfasting at the inn, with her usual determination and fearless spirit she repaired at once to the Castle. Baudricourt had written a letter to the King in her behalf, but evidently it had not yet arrived, for there was some difficulty in admitting her.
Finally, after these preliminary objections had been overcome, she was told that the King had consented to see her, and again mounting her horse Saint Joan proceeded toward the Castle. A story is related of this advance which, if true, would seem to be the first manifestation of the gift of prophecy which, as subsequent events have proven, she undoubtedly had received from God.
Passing her on horseback, a man swore at and insulted her, using foul language. Saint Joan looked at him calmly as she answered, "In God's name do you swear, and you so near death?" With these words she pursued her way; an hour later the man fell into the water and was drowned.
- taken from A Child's Life of Saint Joan of Arc, by Mary Ellen Mannix