nfidence; what he tells them to do, that they will do, with a
blind and affectionate obedience, let it cost what it may. Add these
facts thoughtfully together, and what is the sum? This: The parish
priest governs the nation. What is the King, then, if the parish priest
withdraws his support and deny his authority? Merely a shadow and no
King; let him resign.

Do you get that idea? Then let us proceed. A priest is consecrated to
his office by the awful hand of God, laid upon him by his appointed
representative on earth. That consecration is final; nothing can undo
it, nothing can remove it. Neither the Pope nor any other power can
strip the priest of his office; God gave it, and it is forever sacred
and secure. The dull parish knows all this. To priest and parish,
whatsoever is anointed of God bears an office whose authority can
no longer be disputed or assailed. To the parish priest, and to his
subjects the nation, an uncrowned king is a similitude of a person who
has been named for holy orders but has not been consecrated; he has no
office, he has not been ordained, another may be appointed to his place.
In a word, an uncrowned king is a doubtful king; but if God appoint him
and His servant the Bishop anoint him, the doubt is annihilated; the
priest and the parish are his loyal subjects straightway, and while he
lives they will recognize no king but him.

To Joan of Arc, the peasant-girl, Charles VII. was no King until he was
crowned; to her he was only the Dauphin; that is to say, the heir. If I
have ever made her call him King, it was a mistake; she called him the
Dauphin, and nothing else until after the Coronation. It shows you as in
a mirror--for Joan was a mirror in which the lowly hosts of France were
clearly reflected--that to all that vast underlying force called "the
people," he was no King but only Dauphin before his crowning, and was
indisputably and irrevocably King after it.

Now you understand what a colossal move on the political chess-board the
Coronation was. Bedford realized this by and by, and tried to patch up
his mistake by crowning his King; but what good could that do? None in
the world.

Speaking of chess, Joan's great acts may be likened to that game. Each
move was made in its proper order, and it as great and effective because
it was made in its proper order and not out of it. Each, at the time
made, seemed the greatest move; but the final result made them all
recognizable as equally esse