It was, therefore,
not her own age alone, as affected by its immediate calamities, that
lay with such weight upon Joanna's mind, but her own age as one section
in a vast mysterious drama, unweaving through a century back, and
drawing nearer continually to some dreadful crisis. Cataracts and
rapids were heard roaring ahead; and signs were seen far back, by help
of old men's memories, which answered secretly to signs now coming
forward on the eye, even as locks answer to keys. It was not wonderful
that in such a haunted solitude, with such a haunted heart, Joanna
should see angelic visions, and hear angelic voices. These voices
whispered to her for ever the duty, self-imposed, of delivering France.
Five years she listened to these monitory voices with internal
struggles. At length she could resist no longer. Doubt gave way; and
she left her home for ever in order to present herself at the dauphin's
court. The education of this poor girl was mean according to the
present standard: was ineffably grand, according to a purer philosophic
standard: and only not good for our age because for us it would be
unattainable. She read nothing, for she could not read; but she had
heard others read parts of the Roman martyrology. She wept in sympathy
with the sad "Misereres" of the Romish Church; she rose to heaven with
the glad triumphant "Te Deums" of Rome; she drew her comfort and her
vital strength from the rites of the same Church.
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