Joan of Arc: The Original Girlboss Who Got Fired

I am not afraid... I was born to do this.

It’s a special kind of irony that one of the most famous women in history is a teenage peasant who couldn’t write her own name. In an age when women were, at best, political pawns and, at worst, property, a young girl from the middle of nowhere decided she was on a first-name basis with God and that He had personally tasked her with kicking the English out of France. The truly absurd part? She actually did it. For a little while, anyway. Joan of Arc’s story is a masterclass in how to become a legend: have a divinely-inspired mission, rack up some improbable victories, and make sure you die a martyr before you have a chance to get old and boring.

From Obscurity to Prophecy

Born in 1412 in Domrémy, a village in northeastern France, Jeanne d'Arc was by all accounts a normal, pious country girl. But at the tender age of 13, she started hearing voices. Not the kind that tell you to burn things—at least, not yet—but the voices of saints. Specifically, Saint Michael, Saint Catherine, and Saint Margaret. They had a simple message: drive the English out of France and see the Dauphin, Charles VII, crowned king. Most teenagers with such heavenly hotlines would have been dismissed as hormonal or mad. But this was the Hundred Years' War, a seemingly endless conflict that had left France fractured and demoralized. People were desperate for a miracle, and a teenage girl with a direct line to the Almighty was as good a miracle as any.

It took some doing, but Joan eventually convinced a local commander, Robert de Baudricourt, to grant her an escort to the Dauphin's court at Chinon. She famously cut her hair and dressed in men's clothing for the journey, a practical decision that would later be used against her as evidence of heresy. It’s a classic case of no good deed going unpunished. She arrived at court and, in a scene straight out of a Hollywood script, identified the incognito Charles from a crowd of courtiers. This parlor trick, combined with her unnerving conviction, was enough to get her an audience. After an examination by a panel of theologians (who presumably found her brand of crazy to be the acceptable, God-fearing kind), Charles gave her a sword, a banner, and an army. It was a long shot, a PR stunt, but he had little to lose. The English held most of his kingdom, and his claim to the throne was shaky at best. Why not let the peasant girl have a go?

The Maid of Orléans

What happened next is the stuff of legend. In 1429, Joan, a 17-year-old with no military training, led the French army to a stunning victory at the Siege of Orléans, a battle that had been dragging on for months. She didn't so much command as inspire. She was a living, breathing symbol of devine favor, a mascot in armor. Her presence electrified the demoralized French troops. They saw her as a sign, a fulfillment of a prophecy about an armed maid who would save France. The English, on the other hand, saw a witch, a heretic, a demon in disguise. It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?

After Orléans, Joan’s career went on a hot streak. She led a series of swift victories along the Loire Valley, clearing the way for Charles to be crowned King of France in Reims Cathedral, just as her voices had predicted. This was the peak of her career, the moment her improbable mission was fulfilled. She had taken a weak-willed Dauphin and made him a king. She had turned the tide of the war. She was the hero of France. And, as is so often the case with heroes, her fall was just as swift as her rise. She had become an iconoclast, a breaker of norms, and the establishment was about to remind her who was really in charge.

The Trial and the Fire

In 1430, during a minor skirmish, Joan was captured by Burgundian soldiers, who were allied with the English. King Charles VII, the man she had put on the throne, made no attempt to ransom her. Perhaps she had become too popular, too powerful. Or perhaps he was just an ungrateful wretch. Either way, she was sold to the English, who were eager to put their pet witch on trial. The proceedings were a farce from the start, a show trial designed to discredit her and, by extension, the king she had crowned. The court was composed of pro-English clergy, led by Bishop Pierre Cauchon, a man whose name would become synonymous with ecclesiastical villainy.

They charged her with heresy, witchcraft, and, most damningly, cross-dressing. For months, she was interrogated by learned theologians who twisted her words and tried to trap her in theological knots. The trial transcripts reveal a young woman who was illiterate but remarkably intelligent, holding her own against her accusers with a mixture of simple faith and sharp wit. When asked if she was in God's grace, she famously replied: "If I am not, may God put me there; and if I am, may God so keep me." It was a brilliant answer to a question designed to be a trap. But her fate was already sealed. They were determined to find her guilty, and they did. On May 30, 1431, at the age of 19, Joan of Arc was burned at the stake in the marketplace of Rouen. To ensure no one could claim she had escaped, her ashes were gathered and thrown into the Seine. A truly grim prize for her efforts.

The Goofy Snob Verdict

Joan of Arc is a paradox. She was a peasant who led an army, a mystic who changed the course of a war, a heretic who became a saint. Her story is a testament to the power of belief, but it's also a cautionary tale about the fickleness of power. She was a useful tool for a king who needed a miracle, and just as easily discarded when she became inconvenient. The same Church that burned her as a heretic would later declare her a martyr and a saint in 1920. It took them 500 years, but they got there in the end. It’s a posthumous promotion of the highest order, a classic institutional about-face.

Today, she is a national symbol of France, a feminist icon, a figure of fascination for historians and artists. She is on rare lists of historical figures who defy easy categorization. She is a testament to the fact that sometimes, the most unlikely person can change the world. Or at least, give it a really good shove. Her life was short, brutal, and ultimately tragic, but it was also a spectacular display of what can happen when one person refuses to accept the world as it is. And for that, she earns her place among the great iconoclasts of history.