The Maid of Orleans (play) Read online

  'Midst crashing thunder, to break forth in flames.

  [JOHANNA listens with close attention, and places

  the helmet on her head.

  THIBAUT.

  But where were then our heroes? Where the swords

  Of Saintrailles, and La Hire, and brave Dunois,

  Of France the bulwark, that the haughty foe

  With such impetuous force thus onward rushed?

  Where is the king? Can he supinely see

  His kingdom's peril and his cities' fall?

  BERTRAND.

  The king at Chinon holds his court; he lacks

  Soldiers to keep the field. Of what avail

  The leader's courage, and the hero's arm,

  When pallid fear doth paralyze the host?

  A sudden panic, as if sent from God,

  Unnerves the courage of the bravest men.

  In vain the summons of the king resounds

  As when the howling of the wolf is heard,

  The sheep in terror gather side by side,

  So Frenchmen, careless of their ancient fame,

  Seek only now the shelter of the towns.

  One knight alone, I have been told, has brought

  A feeble company, and joins the king

  With sixteen banners.

  JOHANNA (quickly).

  What's the hero's name?

  BERTRAND.

  'Tis Baudricour. But much I fear the knight

  Will not be able to elude the foe,

  Who track him closely with too numerous hosts.

  JOHANNA.

  Where halts the knight? Pray tell me, if you know.

  BERTRAND.

  About a one day's march from Vaucouleurs.

  THIBAUT (to JOHANNA).

  Why, what is that to thee? Thou dost inquire

  Concerning matters which become thee not.

  BERTRAND.

  The foe being now so strong, and from the king

  No safety to be hoped, at Vaucouleurs

  They have with unanimity resolved

  To yield them to the Duke of Burgundy.

  Thus we avoid the foreign yoke, and still

  Continue by our ancient royal line;

  Ay, to the ancient crown we may fall back

  Should France and Burgundy be reconciled.

  JOHANNA (as if inspired).

  Speak not of treaty! Speak not of surrender!

  The savior comes, he arms him for the fight.

  The fortunes of the foe before the walls

  Of Orleans shall be wrecked! His hour is come,

  He now is ready for the reaper's hand,

  And with her sickle will the maid appear,

  And mow to earth the harvest of his pride.

  She from the heavens will tear his glory down,

  Which he had hung aloft among the stars;

  Despair not! Fly not! for ere yonder corn

  Assumes its golden hue, or ere the moon

  Displays her perfect orb, no English horse

  Shall drink the rolling waters of the Loire.

  BERTRAND.

  Alas! no miracle will happen now!

  JOHANNA.

  Yes, there shall yet be one-a snow-white dove

  Shall fly, and with the eagle's boldness, tear

  The birds of prey which rend her fatherland.

  She shall o'erthrow this haughty Burgundy,

  Betrayer of the kingdom; Talbot, too,

  The hundred-handed, heaven-defying scourge;

  This Salisbury, who violates our fanes,

  And all these island robbers shall she drive

  Before her like a flock of timid lambs.

  The Lord will be with her, the God of battle;

  A weak and trembling creature he will choose,

  And through a tender maid proclaim his power,

  For he is the Almighty!

  THIBAULT.

  What strange power

  Hath seized the maiden?

  RAIMOND.

  Doubtless 'tis the helmet

  Which doth inspire her with such martial thoughts.

  Look at your daughter. Mark her flashing eye,

  Her glowing cheek, which kindles as with fire.

  JOHANNA.

  This realm shall fall! This ancient land of fame,

  The fairest that, in his majestic course,

  The eternal sun surveys-this paradise,

  Which, as the apple of his eye, God loves-

  Endure the fetters of a foreign yoke?

  Here were the heathen scattered, and the cross

  And holy image first were planted here;

  Here rest St. Louis' ashes, and from hence

  The troops went forth who set Jerusalem free.

  BERTRAND (in astonishment).

  Hark how she speaks! Why, whence can she obtain

  This glorious revelation? Father Arc!

  A wondrous daughter God hath given you!

  JOHANNA.

  We shall no longer serve a native prince!

  The king, who never dies, shall pass away-

  The guardian of the sacred plough, who fills

  The earth with plenty, who protects our herds,

  Who frees the bondmen from captivity,

  Who gathers all his cities round his throne-

  Who aids the helpless, and appals the base,

  Who envies no one, for he reigns supreme;

  Who is a mortal, yet an angel too,

  Dispensing mercy on the hostile earth.

  For the king's throne, which glitters o'er with gold,

  Affords a shelter for the destitute;

  Power and compassion meet together there,

  The guilty tremble, but the just draw near,

  And with the guardian lion fearless sport!

  The stranger king, who cometh from afar,

  Whose fathers' sacred ashes do not lie

  Interred among us; can he love our land?

  Who was not young among our youth, whose heart

  Respondeth not to our familiar words,

  Can he be as a father to our sons?

  THIBAUT.

  God save the king and France! We're peaceful folk,

  Who neither wield the sword, nor rein the steed.

  -Let us await the king whom victory crowns;

  The fate of battle is the voice of God.

  He is our lord who crowns himself at Rheims,

  And on his head receives the holy oil.

  -Come, now to work! come! and let every one

  Think only of the duty of the hour!

  Let the earth's great ones for the earth contend,

  Untroubled we may view the desolation,

  For steadfast stand the acres which we till.

  The flames consume our villages, our corn

  Is trampled 'neath the tread of warlike steeds;

  With the new spring new harvests reappear,

  And our light huts are quickly reared again!

  [They all retire except the maiden.

  SCENE IV.

  JOHANNA (alone).

  Farewell ye mountains, ye beloved glades,

  Ye lone and peaceful valleys, fare ye well!

  Through you Johanna never more may stray!

  For, ay, Johanna bids you now farewell.

  Ye meads which I have watered, and ye trees

  Which I have planted, still in beauty bloom!

  Farewell ye grottos, and ye crystal springs!

  Sweet echo, vocal spirit of the vale.

  Who sang'st responsive to my simple strain,

  Johanna goes, and ne'er returns again.

  Ye scenes where all my tranquil joys

  I knew, Forever now I leave you far behind!

  Poor foldless lambs, no shepherd now have you!

  O'er the wide heath stray henceforth unconfined!

  For I to danger's field, of crimson hue,

  Am summoned hence another flock to find.

  Such is to me the spirit's high b
ehest;

  No earthly, vain ambition fires my breast.

  For who in glory did on Horeb's height

  Descend to Moses in the bush of flame,

  And bade him go and stand in Pharaoh's sight-

  Who once to Israel's pious shepherd came,

  And sent him forth, his champion in the fight,-

  Who aye hath loved the lowly shepherd train,-

  He, from these leafy boughs, thus spake to me,

  "Go forth! Thou shalt on earth my witness be.

  "Thou in rude armor must thy limbs invest,

  A plate of steel upon thy bosom wear;

  Vain earthly love may never stir thy breast,

  Nor passion's sinful glow be kindled there.

  Ne'er with the bride-wreath shall thy locks be dressed,

  Nor on thy bosom bloom an infant fair;

  But war's triumphant glory shall be thine;

  Thy martial fame all women's shall outshine.

  "For when in fight the stoutest hearts despair,

  When direful ruin threatens France, forlorn,

  Then thou aloft my oriflamme shalt bear,

  And swiftly as the reaper mows the corn,

  Thou shalt lay low the haughty conqueror;

  His fortune's wheel thou rapidly shalt turn,

  To Gaul's heroic sons deliverance bring,

  Relieve beleaguered Rheims, and crown thy king!"

  The heavenly spirit promised me a sign;

  He sends the helmet, it hath come from him.

  Its iron filleth me with strength divine,

  I feel the courage of the cherubim;

  As with the rushing of a mighty wind

  It drives me forth to join the battles din;

  The clanging trumpets sound, the chargers rear,

  And the loud war-cry thunders in mine ear.

  [She goes out.

  ACT I.

  SCENE I.

  The royal residence at Chinon.

  DUNOIS and DUCHATEL.

  DUNOIS.

  No longer I'll endure it. I renounce

  This recreant monarch who forsakes himself.

  My valiant heart doth bleed, and I could rain

  Hot tear-drops from mine eyes, that robber-swords

  Partition thus the royal realm of France;

  That cities, ancient as the monarchy,

  Deliver to the foe the rusty keys,

  While here in idle and inglorious ease

  We lose the precious season of redemption.

  Tidings of Orleans' peril reach mine ear,

  Hither I sped from distant Normandy,

  Thinking, arrayed in panoply of war,

  To find the monarch with his marshalled hosts;

  And find him-here! begirt with troubadours,

  And juggling knaves, engaged in solving riddles,

  And planning festivals in Sorel's honor,

  As brooded o'er the land profoundest peace!

  The Constable hath gone; he will not brook

  Longer the spectacle of shame. I, too,

  Depart, and leave him to his evil fate.

  DUCHATEL.

  Here comes the king.

  SCENE II.

  KING CHARLES. The same.

  CHARLES.

  The Constable hath sent us back his sword

  And doth renounce our service. Now, by heaven!

  He thus hath rid us of a churlish man,

  Who insolently sought to lord it o'er us.

  DUNOIS.

  A man is precious in such perilous times;

  I would not deal thus lightly with his loss.

  CHARLES.

  Thou speakest thus from love of opposition;

  While he was here thou never wert his friend.

  DUNOIS.

  He was a tiresome, proud, vexatious fool,

  Who never could resolve. For once, however,

  He hath resolved. Betimes he goeth hence,

  Where honor can no longer be achieved.

  CHARLES.

  Thou'rt in a pleasant humor; undisturbed

  I'll leave thee to enjoy it. Hark, Duchatel!

  Ambassadors are here from old King Rene,

  Of tuneful songs the master, far renowned.

  Let them as honored guests be entertained,

  And unto each present a chain of gold.

  [To the Bastard.

  Why smilest thou, Dunois?

  DUNOIS.

  That from thy mouth

  Thou shakest golden chains.

  DUCHATEL.

  Alas! my king!

  No gold existeth in thy treasury.

  CHARLES.

  Then gold must be procured. It must not be

  That bards unhonored from our court depart.

  'Tis they who make our barren sceptre bloom,

  'Tis they who wreath around our fruitless crown

  Life's joyous branch of never-fading green.

  Reigning, they justly rank themselves as kings,

  Of gentle wishes they erect their throne,

  Their harmless realm existeth not in space;

  Hence should the bard accompany the king,

  Life's higher sphere the heritage of both!

  DUCHATEL.

  My royal liege! I sought to spare thine ear

  So long as aid and counsel could be found;

  Now dire necessity doth loose my tongue.

  Naught hast thou now in presents to bestow,

  Thou hast not wherewithal to live to-morrow!

  The spring-tide of thy fortune is run out,

  And lowest ebb is in thy treasury!

  The soldiers, disappointed of their pay,

  With sullen murmurs, threaten to retire.

  My counsel faileth, not with royal splendor

  But meagerly, to furnish out thy household.

  CHARLES.

  My royal customs pledge, and borrow gold

  From the Lombardians.

  DUCHATEL.

  Sire, thy revenues,

  Thy royal customs are for three years pledged.

  DUNOIS.

  And pledge meanwhile and kingdom both are lost.

  CHARLES.

  Still many rich and beauteous lands are ours.

  DUNOIS.

  So long as God and Talbot's sword permit!

  When Orleans falleth into English hands

  Then with King Rene thou may'st tend thy sheep!

  CHARLES.

  Still at this king thou lov'st to point thy jest;

  Yet 'tis this lackland monarch who to-day

  Hath with a princely crown invested me.

  DUNOIS.

  Not, in the name of heaven, with that of Naples,

  Which is for sale, I hear, since he kept sheep.

  CHARLES.

  It is a sportive festival, a jest,

  Wherein he giveth to his fancy play,

  To found a world all innocent and pure

  In this barbaric, rude reality.

  Yet noble-ay, right royal is his aim!

  He will again restore the golden age,

  When gentle manners reigned, when faithful love

  The heroic hearts of valiant knights inspired,

  And noble women, whose accomplished taste

  Diffuseth grace around, in judgment sat.

  The old man dwelleth in those bygone times,

  And in our workday world would realize

  The dreams of ancient bards, who picture life

  'Mid bowers celestial, throned on golden clouds.

  He hath established hence a court of love

  Where valiant knights may dwell, and homage yield

  To noble women, who are there enthroned,

  And where pure love and true may find a home.

  Me he hath chosen as the prince of love.

  DUNOIS.

  I am not such a base, degenerate churl

  As love's dominion rudely to assail.

  I am her son, from her derive my name,

  And
in her kingdom lies my heritage.

  The Prince of Orleans was my sire, and while

  No woman's heart was proof against his love,

  No hostile fortress could withstand his shock!

  Wilt thou, indeed, with honor name thyself

  The prince of love-be bravest of the brave!

  As I have read in those old chronicles,

  Love aye went coupled with heroic deeds,

  And valiant heroes, not inglorious shepherds,

  So legends tell us, graced King Arthur's board.

  The man whose valor is not beauty's shield

  Is all unworthy of her golden prize.

  Here the arena! combat for the crown,

  Thy royal heritage! With knightly sword

  Thy lady's honor and thy realm defend-

  And hast thou with hot valor snatched the crown

  From streams of hostile blood,-then is the time,

  And it would well become thee as a prince,

  Love's myrtle chaplet round thy brows to wreathe.

  CHARLES (to a PAGE, who enters).

  What is the matter?

  PAGE.

  Senators from Orleans

  Entreat an audience, sire.

  CHARLES.

  Conduct them hither!

  [PAGE retires.

  Doubtless they succor need; what can I do,

  Myself all-succorless!

  SCENE III.