The Maid of Orleans (play) Read online

  To which the pious pilgrims oft repaired;

  Hard by a holy oak, of blessed power,

  Standeth, far-famed through wonders manifold.

  Beneath the oak's broad shade I loved to sit

  Tending my flock-my heart still drew me there.

  And if by chance among the desert hills

  A lambkin strayed, 'twas shown me in a dream,

  When in the shadow of this oak I slept.

  And once, when through the night beneath this tree

  In pious adoration I had sat,

  Resisting sleep, the Holy One appeared,

  Bearing a sword and banner, otherwise

  Clad like a shepherdess, and thus she spake:

  "'Tis I; arise, Johanna! leave thy flock,

  The Lord appoints thee to another task!

  Receive this banner! Gird thee with this sword!

  Therewith exterminate my people's foes;

  Conduct to Rheims thy royal master's son,

  And crown him with the kingly diadem!"

  And I made answer: "How may I presume

  To undertake such deeds, a tender maid,

  Unpractised in the dreadful art of war!"

  And she replied: "A maiden pure and chaste

  Achieves whate'er on earth is glorious

  If she to earthly love ne'er yields her heart.

  Look upon me! a virgin, like thyself;

  I to the Christ, the Lord divine, gave birth,

  And am myself divine!" Mine eyelids then

  She touched, and when I upward turned my amaze,

  Heaven's wide expanse was filled with angel-boys,

  Who bore white lilies in their hands, while tones

  Of sweetest music floated through the air.

  And thus on three successive nights appeared

  The Holy One, and cried,-"Arise, Johanna!

  The Lord appoints thee to another task!"

  And when the third night she revealed herself,

  Wrathful she seemed, and chiding spake these words:

  "Obedience, woman's duty here on earth;

  Severe endurance is her heavy doom;

  She must be purified through discipline;

  Who serveth here, is glorified above!"

  While thus she spake, she let her shepherd garb

  Fail from her, and as Queen of Heaven stood forth

  Enshrined in radiant light, while golden clouds

  Upbore her slowly to the realms of bliss.

  [All are moved; AGNES SOREL weeping, hides her face

  on the bosom of the KING.

  ARCHBISHOP (after a long pause).

  Before divine credentials such as these

  Each doubt of earthly prudence must subside,

  Her deeds attest the truth of what she speaks,

  For God alone such wonders can achieve.

  DUNOIS.

  I credit not her wonders, but her eyes

  Which beam with innocence and purity.

  CHARLES.

  Am I, a sinner, worthy of such favor?

  Infallible, All-searching eye, thou seest

  Mine inmost heart, my deep humility!

  JOHANNA.

  Humility shines brightly in the skies;

  Thou art abased, hence God exalteth thee.

  CHARLES.

  Shall I indeed withstand mine enemies?

  JOHANNA.

  France I will lay submissive at thy feet!

  CHARLES.

  And Orleans, say'st thou, will not be surrendered?

  JOHANNA.

  The Loire shall sooner roll its waters back.

  CHARLES.

  Shall I in triumph enter into Rheims?

  JOHANNA.

  I through ten thousand foes will lead you there.

  [The knights make a noise with their lances and shields,

  and evince signs of courage.

  DUNOIS.

  Appoint the maiden to command the host!

  We follow blindly whereso'er she leads!

  The Holy One's prophetic eye shall guide,

  And this brave sword from danger shall protect her!

  LA HIRE.

  A universe in arms we will not fear,

  If she, the mighty one, precede our troops.

  The God of battle walketh by her side;

  Let her conduct us on to victory!

  [The knights clang their arms and step forward.

  CHARLES.

  Yes, holy maiden, do thou lead mine host;

  My chiefs and warriors shall submit to thee.

  This sword of matchless temper, proved in war,

  Sent back in anger by the Constable,

  Hath found a hand more worthy. Prophetess,

  Do thou receive it, and henceforward be--

  JOHANNA.

  No, noble Dauphin! conquest to my liege

  Is not accorded through this instrument

  Of earthly might. I know another sword

  Wherewith I am to conquer, which to thee,

  I, as the Spirit taught, will indicate;

  Let it be hither brought.

  CHARLES.

  Name it, Johanna.

  JOHANNA.

  Send to the ancient town of Fierbois;

  There in Saint Catherine's churchyard is a vault

  Where lie in heaps the spoils of bygone war.

  Among them is the sword which I must use.

  It by three golden lilies may be known,

  Upon the blade impressed. Let it be brought

  For thou, my liege, shalt conquer through this sword.

  CHARLES.

  Perform what she commands.

  JOHANNA.

  And a white banner,

  Edged with a purple border, let me bear.

  Upon this banner let the Queen of Heaven

  Be pictured with the beauteous Jesus child

  Floating in glory o'er this earthly ball.

  For so the Holy Mother showed it me.

  CHARLES.

  So be it as thou sayest.

  JOHANNA (to the ARCHBISHOP).

  Reverend bishop;

  Lay on my head thy consecrated hands!

  Pronounce a blessing, Father, on thy child!

  [She kneels down.

  ARCHBISHOP.

  Not blessings to receive, but to dispense

  Art thou appointed. Go, with power divine!

  But we are sinners all and most unworthy.

  [She rises: a PAGE enters.

  PAGE.

  A herald from the English generals.

  JOHANNA.

  Let him appear, for he is sent by God!

  [The KING motions to the PAGE, who retires.

  SCENE XI.

  The HERALD. The same.

  CHARLES.

  Thy tidings, herald? What thy message! Speak!

  HERALD.

  Who is it, who for Charles of Valois,

  The Count of Pointhieu, in this presence speaks?

  DUNOIS.

  Unworthy herald! base, insulting knave!

  Dost thou presume the monarch of the French

  Thus in his own dominions to deny?

  Thou art protected by thine office, else--

  HERALD.

  One king alone is recognized by France,

  And he resideth in the English camp.

  CHARLES.

  Peace, peace, good cousin! Speak thy message, herald!

  HERALD.

  My noble general laments the blood

  Which hath already flowed, and still must flow.

  Hence, in the scabbard holding back the sword,

  Before by storm the town of Orleans falls,

  He offers thee an amicable treaty.

  CHARLES.

  Proceed!

  JOHANNA (stepping forward).

  Permit me, Dauphin, in thy stead,

  To parley with this herald.

  CHARLES.

  Do so, maid!

  Determine thou, for peace, or bloody war.
<
br />   JOHANNA (to the HERALD).

  Who sendeth thee? Who speaketh through thy mouth?

  HERALD.

  The Earl of Salisbury; the British chief.

  JOHANNA.

  Herald, 'tis false! The earl speaks not through thee.

  Only the living speak, the dead are silent.

  HERALD.

  The earl is well, and full of lusty strength;

  He lives to bring down ruin on your heads.

  JOHANNA.

  When thou didst quit the British army he lived.

  This morn, while gazing from Le Tournelle's tower,

  A ball from Orleans struck him to the ground.

  Smilest thou that I discern what is remote?

  Not to my words give credence; but believe

  The witness of thine eyes! his funeral train

  Thou shalt encounter as you goest hence!

  Now, herald, speak, and do thine errand here.

  HERALD.

  If what is hidden thou canst thus reveal,

  Thou knowest mine errand ere I tell it thee.

  JOHANNA.

  It boots me not to know it. But do thou

  Give ear unto my words! This message bear

  In answer to the lords who sent thee here.

  Monarch of England, and ye haughty dukes,

  Bedford and Gloucester, regents of this realm!

  To heaven's high King you are accountable

  For all the blood that hath been shed. Restore

  The keys of all the cities ta'en by force

  In opposition to God's holy law!

  The maiden cometh from the King of Heaven

  And offers you or peace or bloody war.

  Choose ye! for this I say, that you may know it:

  To you this beauteous realm is not assigned

  By Mary's son;-but God hath given it

  To Charles, my lord and Dauphin, who ere long

  Will enter Paris with a monarch's pomp,

  Attended by the great ones of his realm.

  Now, herald, go, and speedily depart,

  For ere thou canst attain the British camp

  And do thine errand, is the maiden there,

  To plant the sign of victory at Orleans.

  [She retires. In the midst of a general movement,

  the curtain falls.

  ACT II.

  Landscape, bounded by rocks.

  SCENE I.

  TALBOT and LIONEL, English generals, PHILIP, DUKE OF BURGUNDY,

  FASTOLFE, and CHATILLON, with soldiers and banners.

  TALBOT.

  Here let us make a halt beneath these rocks,

  And pitch our camp, in case our scattered troops,

  Dispersed in panic fear, again should rally.

  Choose trusty sentinels, and guard the heights!

  'Tis true the darkness shields us from pursuit,

  And sure I am, unless the foe have wings,

  We need not fear surprisal. Still 'tis well

  To practice caution, for we have to do

  With a bold foe, and have sustained defeat.

  [FASTOLFE goes out with the soldiers.

  LIONEL.

  Defeat! My general, do not speak that word.

  It stings me to the quick to think the French

  To-day have seen the backs of Englishmen.

  Oh, Orleans! Orleans! Grave of England's glory!

  Our honor lies upon thy fatal plains

  Defeat most ignominious and burlesque!

  Who will in future years believe the tale!

  The victors of Poictiers and Agincourt,

  Cressy's bold heroes, routed by a woman?

  BURGUNDY.

  That must console us. Not by mortal power,

  But by the devil have we been o'erthrown!

  TALBOT.

  The devil of our own stupidity!

  How, Burgundy? Do princes quake and fear

  Before the phantom which appals the vulgar?

  Credulity is but a sorry cloak

  For cowardice. Your people first took flight.

  BURGUNDY.

  None stood their ground. The flight was general.

  TALBOT.

  'Tis false! Your wing fled first. You wildly broke

  Into our camp, exclaiming: "Hell is loose,

  The devil combats on the side of France!"

  And thus you brought confusion 'mong our troops.

  LIONEL.

  You can't deny it. Your wing yielded first.

  BURGUNDY.

  Because the brunt of battle there commenced.

  TALBOT.

  The maiden knew the weakness of our camp;

  She rightly judged where fear was to be found.

  BURGUNDY.

  How? Shall the blame of our disaster rest

  With Burgundy?

  LIONEL.

  By heaven! were we alone,

  We English, never had we Orleans lost!

  BURGUNDY.

  No, truly! for ye ne'er had Orleans seen!

  Who opened you a way into this realm,

  And reached you forth a kind and friendly hand

  When you descended on this hostile coast?

  Who was it crowned your Henry at Paris,

  And unto him subdued the people's hearts?

  Had this Burgundian arm not guided you

  Into this realm, by heaven you ne'er had seen

  The smoke ascending from a single hearth!

  LIONEL.

  Were conquests with big words effected, duke,

  You, doubtless, would have conquered France alone.

  BURGUNDY.

  The loss of Orleans angers you, and now

  You vent your gall on me, your friend and ally.

  What lost us Orleans but your avarice?

  The city was prepared to yield to me,

  Your envy was the sole impediment.

  TALBOT.

  We did not undertake the siege for you.

  BURGUNDY.

  How would it stand with you if I withdrew

  With all my host?

  LIONEL.

  We should not be worse off

  Than when, at Agincourt, we proved a match

  For you and all the banded power of France.

  BURGUNDY.

  Yet much you stood in need of our alliance;

  The regent purchased it at heavy cost.

  TALBOT.

  Most dearly, with the forfeit of our honor,

  At Orleans have we paid for it to-day.

  BURGUNDY.

  Urge me no further, lords. Ye may repent it!

  Did I forsake the banners of my king,

  Draw down upon my head the traitor's name,

  To be insulted thus by foreigners?

  Why am I here to combat against France?

  If I must needs endure ingratitude,

  Let it come rather from my native king!

  TALBOT.

  You're in communication with the Dauphin,

  We know it well, but we soon shall find means

  To guard ourselves 'gainst treason.

  BURGUNDY.

  Death and hell!

  Am I encountered thus? Chatillon, hark!

  Let all my troops prepare to quit the camp.

  We will retire into our own domain.

  [CHATILLON goes out.

  LIONEL.

  God speed you there! Never did Britain's fame

  More brightly shine than when she stood alone,

  Confiding solely in her own good sword.

  Let each one fight his battle for himself,

  For 'tis eternal truth that English blood

  Cannot, with honor, blend with blood of France.

  SCENE II.

  The same. QUEEN ISABEL, attended by a PAGE.

  ISABEL.

  What must I hear? This fatal strife forbear!

  What brain-bewildering planet o'er your minds

  Sheds dire perplexity? When unity

  Alone can s
ave you, will you part in hate,

  And, warring 'mong yourselves, prepare your doom?-

  I do entreat you, noble duke, recall

  Your hasty order. You, renowned Talbot,

  Seek to appease an irritated friend!

  Come, Lionel, aid me to reconcile

  These haughty spirits and establish peace.

  LIONEL.

  Not I, madame. It is all one to me.

  'Tis my belief, when things are misallied,

  The sooner they part company the better.

  ISABEL.

  How? Do the arts of hell, which on the field

  Wrought such disastrous ruin, even here

  Bewilder and befool us? Who began

  This fatal quarrel? Speak! Lord-general!

  Your own advantage did you so forget,