CHARLES (steps back with awe).
Who art thou, mighty one? Whence comest thou?

   [All express their astonishment.

JOHANNA.
To God thou offeredst this second prayer:
That if it were his will and high decree
To take away the sceptre from thy race,
And from thee to withdraw whate'er thy sires,
The monarchs of this kingdom, once possessed,
He in his mercy would preserve to thee
Three priceless treasures--a contented heart,
Thy friend's affection, and thine Agnes' love.

   [The KING conceals his face: the spectators
   express their astonishment. After a pause.

Thy third petition shall I name to thee?

CHARLES.
Enough; I credit thee! This doth surpass
Mere human knowledge: thou art sent by God!

ARCHBISHOP.
Who art thou, wonderful and holy maid?
What favored region bore thee? What blest pair,
Beloved of Heaven, may claim thee as their child?

JOHANNA.
Most reverend father, I am named Johanna,
I am a shepherd's lowly daughter, born
In Dom Remi, a village of my king.
Included in the diocese of Toul,
And from a child I kept my father's sheep.
And much and frequently I heard them tell
Of the strange islanders, who o'er the sea
Had come to make us slaves, and on us force
A foreign lord, who loveth not the people;
How the great city, Paris, they had seized,
And had usurped dominion o'er the realm.
Then earnestly God's Mother I implored
To save us from the shame of foreign chains,
And to preserve to us our lawful king.
Not distant from my native village stands
An ancient image of the Virgin blest,
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.

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 save 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,
As to offend your worthy friend and ally?
What could you do without his powerful arm?
'Twas he who placed your monarch on the throne,
He holds him there, and he can hurl him thence;
His army strengthens you--still more his name.
Were England all her citizens to pour
Upon our coasts, she never o'er this realm
Would gain dominion did she stand alone;
No! France can only be subdued by France!

TALBOT.
A faithful friend we honor as we ought;
Discretion warns us to beware the false.

BURGUNDY.
The liar's brazen front beseemeth him
Who would absolve himself from gratitude.

ISABEL.
How, noble duke? Could you so far renounce
Your princely honor, and your sense of shame,
As clasp the hand of him who slew your sire?
Are you so mad to entertain the thought
Of cordial reconcilement with the Dauphin,
Whom you yourself have hurled to ruin's brink?
His overthrow you have well nigh achieved,
And madly now would you renounce your work?
Here stand your allies. Your salvation lies
In an indissoluble bond with England?

BURGUNDY.
Far is my thought from treaty with the Dauphin;
But the contempt and insolent demeanor
Of haughty England I will not endure.

ISABEL.
Come, noble duke? Excuse a hasty word.
Heavy the grief which bows the general down,
And well you know misfortune makes unjust.
Come! come! embrace; let me this fatal breach
Repair at once, ere it becomes eternal.

TALBOT.
What think you, Burgundy? A noble heart,
By reason vanquished, doth confess its fault.
A wise and prudent word the queen hath spoken;
Come, let my hand with friendly pressure heal
The wound inflicted by my angry tongue.

BURGUNDY.
Discreet the counsel offered by the queen!
My just wrath yieldeth to necessity.

ISABEL.
'Tis well! Now, with a brotherly embrace
Confirm and seal the new-established bond;
And may the winds disperse what hath been spoken.

   [BURGUNDY and TALBOT embrace.

LIONEL (contemplating the group aside).
Hail to an union by the furies planned!

ISABEL.
Fate hath proved adverse, we have lost a battle,
But do not, therefore, let your courage sink.
The Dauphin, in despair of heavenly aid,
Doth make alliance with the powers of hell;
Vainly his soul he forfeits to the devil,
For hell itself cannot deliver him.
A conquering maiden leads the hostile force;
Yours, I myself will lead; to you I'll stand
In place of maiden or of prophetess.

LIONEL.
Madame, return to Paris! We desire
To war with trusty weapons, not with women.

TALBOT.
GO! go! Since your arrival in the camp,
Fortune hath fled our banners, and our course
Hath still been retrograde. Depart at once!

BURGUNDY.
Your presence here doth scandalize the host.

ISABEL (looks from one to the other with astonishment).
This, Burgundy, from you? Do you take part
Against me with these thankless English lords?

BURGUNDY.
Go! go! The thought of combating for you
Unnerves the courage of the bravest men.

ISABEL.
I scarce among you have established peace,
And you already form a league against me!

TALBOT.
Go, in God's name. When you have left the camp
No devil will again appal our troops.

ISABEL.
Say, am I not your true confederate?
Are we not banded in a common cause?

TALBOT.
Thank God! your cause of quarrel is not ours.
We combat in an honorable strife.

BURGUNDY.
A father's bloody murder I avenge.
Stern filial duty consecrates my arms.

TALBOT.
Confess at once. Your conduct towards the Dauphin
Is an offence alike to God and man.

ISABEL.
Curses blast him and his posterity!
The shameless son who sins against his mother!

BURGUNDY.
Ay! to avenge a husband and a father!

ISABEL.
To judge his mother's conduct he presumed!

LIONEL.
That was, indeed, irreverent in a son!

ISABEL.
And me, forsooth, he banished from the realm.

TALBOT.
Urged to the measure by the public voice.

ISABEL.
A curse light on him if I e'er forgive him!
Rather than see him on his father's throne----

TALBOT.
His mother's honor you would sacrifice!

ISABEL.
Your feeble natures cannot comprehend
The vengeance of an outraged mother's heart.
Who pleasures me, I love; who wrongs, I hate.
If he who wrongs me chance to be my son,
All the more worthy is he of my hate.
The life I gave I will again take back
From him who doth, with ruthless violence,
The bosom rend which bore and nourished him.
Ye, who do thus make war upon the Dauphin,
What rightful cause have ye to plunder him?
What crime hath he committed against you?
What insult are you called on to avenge?
Ambition, paltry envy, goad you on;
I have a right to hate him--he's my son.

TALBOT.
He feels his mother in her dire revenge!

ISABEL.
Mean hypocrites! I hate you and despise.
Together with the world, you cheat yourselves!
With robber-hands you English seek to clutch
This realm of France, where you have no just right,
Nor equitable claim, to so much earth
As could be covered by your charger's hoof.
--This duke, too, whom the people style the Good,
Doth to a foreign lord, his country's foe,
For gold betray the birthland of his sires.
And yet is justice ever on your tongue.
--Hypocrisy I scorn. Such as I am,
So let the world behold me!

BURGUNDY.
               It is true!
Your reputation you have well maintained.

ISABEL.
I've passions and warm blood, and as a queen
Came to this realm to live, and not to seem.
Should I have lingered out a joyless life
Because the curse of adverse destiny
To a mad consort joined my blooming youth?
More than my life I prize my liberty.
And who assails me here----But why should I
Stoop to dispute with you about my rights?
Your sluggish blood flows slowly in your veins!
Strangers to pleasure, ye know only rage!
This duke, too--who, throughout his whole career,
Hath wavered to and fro, 'twixt good and ill--
Can neither love or hate with his whole heart.
--I go to Melun. Let this gentleman,
   [Pointing to LIONEL.
Who doth my fancy please, attend me there,
To cheer my solitude, and you may work
Your own good pleasure! I'll inquire no more
Concerning the Burgundians or the English.

   [She beckons to her PAGE, and is about to retire.

LIONEL.
Rely upon us, we will send to Melun
The fairest youths whom we in battle take.

              [Coming back.

ISABEL.
Skilful your arm to wield the sword of death,
The French alone can round the polished phrase.

              [She goes out.



SCENE III.

   TALBOT, BURGUNDY, LIONEL.

TALBOT.
Heavens! What a woman!

LIONEL.
             Now, brave generals,
Your counsel! Shall we prosecute our flight,
Or turn, and with a bold and sudden stroke
Wipe out the foul dishonor of to-day?

BURGUNDY.
We are too weak, our soldiers are dispersed,
The recent terror still unnerves the host.

TALBOT.
Blind terror, sudden impulse of a moment,
Alone occasioned our disastrous rout.
This phantom of the terror-stricken brain,
More closely viewed will vanish into air.
My counsel, therefore, is, at break of day,
To lead the army back, across the stream,
To meet the enemy.

BURGUNDY.
          Consider well----

LIONEL.
Your pardon! Here is nothing to consider
What we have lost we must at once retrieve,
Or look to be eternally disgraced.

TALBOT.
It is resolved. To-morrow morn we fight,
This dread-inspiring phantom to destroy,
Which thus doth blind and terrify the host
Let us in fight encounter this she-devil.
If she oppose her person to our sword,
Trust me, she never will molest us more;
If she avoid our stroke--and be assured
She will not stand the hazard of a battle--
Then is the dire enchantment at an end?

LIONEL.
So be it! And to me, my general, leave
This easy, bloodless combat, for I hope
Alive to take this ghost, and in my arms,
Before the Bastard's eyes--her paramour--
To bear her over to the English camp,
To be the sport and mockery of the host.

BURGUNDY.
Make not too sure.

TALBOT.
          If she encounter me,
I shall not give her such a soft embrace.
Come now, exhausted nature to restore
Through gentle sleep. At daybreak we set forth.

               [They go out.




SCENE IV.

   JOHANNA with her banner, in a helmet and breastplate,
   otherwise attired as a woman. DUNOIS, LA HIRE, knights
   and soldiers appear above upon the rocky path, pass
   silently over, and appear immediately after on the scene.

JOHANNA (to the knights who surround her while the
     procession continues above).
The wall is scaled and we are in the camp!
Now fling aside the mantle of still night,
Which hitherto hath veiled your silent march,
And your dread presence to the foe proclaim.
By your loud battle-cry--God and the maiden!

ALL (exclaim aloud, amidst the loud clang of arms).
God and the maiden!
              [Drums and trumpets.

SENTINELS (behind the scene).
The foe! The foe! The foe!

JOHANNA.
Ho! torches here. Hurl fire into the tents!
Let the devouring flames augment the horror,
While threatening death doth compass them around!

   [Soldiers hasten on, she is about to follow.

DUNOIS (holding her back).
Thy part thou hast accomplished now, Johanna!
Into the camp thou hast conducted us,
The foe thou hast delivered in our hands,
Now from the rush of war remain apart!
The bloody consummation leave to us.

LA HIRE.
Point out the path of conquest to the host;
Before us, in pure hand, the banner bear.
But wield the fatal weapon not thyself;
Tempt not the treacherous god of battle, for
He rageth blindly, and he spareth not.

JOHANNA.
Who dares impede my progress? Who presume
The spirit to control which guideth me?
Still must the arrow wing its destined flight!
Where danger is, there must Johanna be;
Nor now, nor here, am I foredoomed to fall;
Our monarch's royal brow I first must see
Invested with the round of sovereignty.
No hostile power can rob me of my life,
Till I've accomplished the commands of God.

              [She goes out.

LA HIRE.
Come, let us follow after her, Dunois,
And let our valiant bosoms be her shield!

                [Exit.



SCENE V.

   ENGLISH SOLDIERS hurry over the stage.
   Afterwards TALBOT.

1 SOLDIER.
The maiden in the camp!

2 SOLDIER.
             Impossible!
It cannot be! How came she in the camp?

3 SOLDIER.
Why, through the air! The devil aided her!

4 AND 5 SOLDIERS.
Fly! fly! We are dead men!

TALBOT (enters).
They heed me not! They stay not at my call!
The sacred bands of discipline are loosed!
As hell had poured her damned legions forth,
A wild, distracting impulse whirls along,
In one mad throng, the cowardly and brave.
I cannot rally e'en the smallest troop
To form a bulwark gainst the hostile flood,
Whose raging billows press into our camp!
Do I alone retain my sober senses,
While all around in wild delirium rave?
To fly before these weak, degenerate Frenchmen
Whom we in twenty battles have overthrown?
Who is she then--the irresistible--
The dread-inspiring goddess, who doth turn
At once the tide of battle, and transform
The lions bold a herd of timid deer?
A juggling minx, who plays the well-learned part
Of heroine, thus to appal the brave?
A woman snatch from me all martial fame?

SOLDIER (rushing in).
The maiden comes! Fly, general, fly! fly!

TALBOT (strikes him down).
Fly thou, thyself, to hell! This sword shall pierce
Who talks to me of fear, or coward flight!

              [He goes out.



SCENE VI.

   The prospect opens. The English camp is seen in flames.
   Drums, flight, and pursuit. After a while MONTGOMERY enters.

MONTGOMERY (alone).
Where shall I flee? Foes all around and death! Lo! here
The furious general, who with threatening sword, prevents
Escape, and drives us back into the jaws of death.
The dreadful maiden there--the terrible--who like
Devouring flame, destruction spreads; while all around
Appears no bush wherein to hide--no sheltering cave!
Oh, would that o'er the sea I never had come here!
Me miserable--empty dreams deluded me--
Cheap glory to achieve on Gallia's martial fields.
And I am guided by malignant destiny
Into this murderous flight. Oh, were I far, far hence.
Still in my peaceful home, on Severn's flowery banks,
Where in my father's house, in sorrow and in tears,
I left my mother and my fair young bride.

   [JOHANNA appears in the distance.

Wo's me! What do I see! The dreadful form appears!
Arrayed in lurid light, she from the raging fire
Issues, as from the jaws of hell, a midnight ghost.
Where shall I go? where flee? Already from afar
She seizes on me with her eye of fire, and flings
Her fatal and unerring coil, whose magic folds
With ever-tightening pressure, bind my feet and make
Escape impossible! Howe'er my heart rebels,
I am compelled to follow with my gaze that form
Of dread!

   [JOHANNA advances towards him some steps;
   and again remains standing.

      She comes! I will not passively await
Her furious onset! Imploringly I'll clasp
Her knees! I'll sue to her for life. She is a woman.
I may perchance to pity move her by my tears!

   [While he is on the point of approaching her she draws near.



SCENE VII.

   JOHANNA, MONTGOMERY.

JOHANNA.
Prepare to die! A British mother bore thee!

MONTGOMERY (falls at her feet).
Fall back, terrific one! Forbear to strike
An unprotected foe! My sword and shield
I've flung aside, and supplicating fall
Defenceless at thy feet. A ransom take!
Extinguish not the precious light of life!
With fair possessions crowned, my father dwells
In Wales' fair land, where among verdant meads
The winding Severn rolls his silver tide,
And fifty villages confess his sway.
With heavy gold he will redeem his son,
When he shall hear I'm in the camp of France.

JHANNA.
Deluded mortal! to destruction doomed!
Thou'rt fallen in the maiden's hand, from which
Redemption or deliverance there is none.
Had adverse fortune given thee a prey
To the fierce tiger or the crocodile--
Hadst robbed the lion mother of her brood--
Compassion thou might'st hope to find and pity;
But to encounter me is certain death.
For my dread compact with the spirit realm--
The stern inviolable--bindeth me,
To slay each living thing whom battle's God,
Full charged with doom, delivers to my sword.

MONTGOMERY.
Thy speech is fearful, but thy look is mild;
Not dreadful art thou to contemplate near;
My heart is drawn towards thy lovely form.
Oh! by the mildness of thy gentle sex,
Attend my prayer. Compassionate my youth.

JOHANNA.
Name me not woman! Speak not of my sex!
Like to the bodiless spirits, who know naught
Of earth's humanities, I own no sex;
Beneath this vest of steel there beats no heart.

MONTGOMERY.
Oh! by love's sacred, all-pervading power,
To whom all hearts yield homage, I conjure thee.
At home I left behind a gentle bride,
Beauteous as thou, and rich in blooming grace:
Weeping she waiteth her betrothed's return.
Oh! if thyself dost ever hope to love,
If in thy love thou hopest to be happy,
Then ruthless sever not two gentle hearts,
Together linked in love's most holy bond!

JOHANNA.
Thou dost appeal to earthly, unknown gods,
To whom I yield no homage. Of love's bond,
By which thou dost conjure me, I know naught
Nor ever will I know his empty service.
Defend thy life, for death doth summon thee.

MONTGOMERY.
Take pity on my sorrowing parents, whom
I left at home. Doubtless thou, too, hast left
Parents, who feel disquietude for thee.

JOHANNA.
Unhappy man! thou dost remember me
How many mothers of this land your arms
Have rendered childless and disconsolate;
How many gentle children fatherless;
How many fair young brides dejected widows!
Let England's mothers now be taught despair,
And learn to weep the bitter tear oft shed
By the bereaved and sorrowing wives of France.

MONTGOMERY.
'Tis hard in foreign lands to die unwept.

JOHANNA.
Who called you over to this foreign land,
To waste the blooming culture of our fields,
To chase the peasant from his household hearth,
And in our cities' peaceful sanctuary
To hurl the direful thunderbolt of war?
In the delusion of your hearts ye thought
To plunge in servitude the freeborn French,
And to attach their fair and goodly realm,
Like a small boat, to your proud English bark!
Ye fools! The royal arms of France are hung
Fast by the throne of God; and ye as soon
From the bright wain of heaven might snatch a star
As rend a single village from this realm,
Which shall remain inviolate forever!
The day of vengeance is at length arrived;
Not living shall ye measure back the sea,
The sacred sea--the boundary set by God
Betwixt our hostile nations--and the which
Ye ventured impiously to overpass.

MONTGOMERY (lets go her hands).
Oh, I must die! I feel the grasp of death!

JOHANNA.
Die, friend! Why tremble at the approach of death?
Of mortals the irrevocable doom?
Look upon me! I'm born a shepherd maid;
This hand, accustomed to the peaceful crook,
Is all unused to wield the sword of death.
Yet, snatched away from childhood's peaceful haunts,
From the fond love of father and of sisters,
Urged by no idle dream of earthly glory,
But heaven-appointed to achieve your ruin,
Like a destroying angel I must roam,
Spreading dire havoc around me, and at length
Myself must fall a sacrifice to death!
Never again shall I behold my home!
Still, many of your people I must slay,
Still, many widows make, but I at length
Myself shall perish, and fulfil my doom.
Now thine fulfil. Arise! resume thy sword,
And let us fight for the sweet prize of life.

MONTGOMERY (stands up).
Now, if thou art a mortal like myself,
Can weapons wound thee, it may be assigned
To this good arm to end my country's woe,
Thee sending, sorceress, to the depths of hell.
In God's most gracious hands I leave my fate.
Accursed one! to thine assistance call
The fiends of hell! Now combat for thy life!

   [He seizes his sword and shield, and rushes upon her;
   martial music is heard in the distance. After a short
   conflict MONTGOMERY falls.



SCENE VIII.

JOHANNA (alone).
To death thy foot did bear thee--fare thee well!

   [She steps away from him and remains absorbed in thought.

Virgin, thou workest mightily in me!
My feeble arm thou dost endue with strength,
And steep'st my woman's heart in cruelty.
In pity melts the soul and the hand trembles,
As it did violate some sacred fane,
To mar the goodly person of the foe.
Once I did shudder at the polished sheath,
But when 'tis needed, I'm possessed with strength,
And as it were itself a thing of life,
The fatal weapon, in my trembling grasp,
Self-swayed, inflicteth the unerring stroke.



SCENE IX.

   A KNIGHT with closed visor, JOHANNA.

KNIGHT.
Accursed one! thy hour of death has come!
Long have I sought thee on the battle-field,
Fatal delusion! get thee back to hell,
Whence thou didst issue forth.

JOHANNA.
                Say, who art thou,
Whom his bad genius sendeth in my way?
Princely thy port, no Briton dost thou seem,
For the Burgundian colors stripe thy shield,
Before the which my sword inclines its point.

KNIGHT.
Vile castaway! Thou all unworthy art
To fall beneath a prince's noble hand.
The hangman's axe should thy accursed head
Cleave from thy trunk, unfit for such vile use
The royal Duke of Burgundy's brave sword.

JOHANNA.
Art thou indeed that noble duke himself?

KNIGHT (raises his visor).
I'm he, vile creature, tremble and despair!
The arts of hell shall not protect thee more.
Thou hast till now weak dastards overcome;
Now thou dost meet a man.



SCENE X.

   DUNOIS and LA HIRE. The same.

DUNOIS.
             Hold, Burgundy!
Turn! combat now with men, and not with maids.

LA HIRE.
We will defend the holy prophetess;
First must thy weapon penetrate this breast.

BURGUNDY.
I fear not this seducing Circe; no,
Nor you, whom she hath changed so shamefully!
Oh, blush, Dunois! and do thou blush, La Hire
To stoop thy valor to these hellish arts--
To be shield-bearer to a sorceress!
Come one--come all! He only who despairs
Of heaven's protection seeks the aid of hell.

   [They prepare for combat, JOHANNA steps between.

JOHANNA.
Forbear!

BURGUNDY.
     Dost tremble for thy lover? Thus
Before thine eyes he shall----

   [He makes a thrust at DUNOIS.

JOHANNA.
               Dunois, forbear!
Part them, La Hire! no blood of France must flow:
Not hostile weapons must this strife decide,
Above the stars 'tis otherwise decreed.
Fall back! I say. Attend and venerate
The Spirit which hath seized, which speaks through me!

DUNOIS.
Why, maiden, now hold back my upraised arm?
Why check the just decision of the sword?
My weapon pants to deal the fatal blow
Which shall avenge and heal the woes of France.

   [She places herself in the midst and separates the parties.

JOHANNA.
Fall back, Dunois! Stand where thou art, La Hire!
Somewhat I have to say to Burgundy.

   [When all is quiet.

What wouldst thou, Burgundy? Who is the foe
Whom eagerly thy murderous glances seek?
This prince is, like thyself, a son of France,--
This hero is thy countryman, thy friend;
I am a daughter of thy fatherland.
We all, whom thou art eager to destroy,
Are of thy friends;--our longing arms prepare
To clasp, our bending knees to honor thee.
Our sword 'gainst thee is pointless, and that face
E'en in a hostile helm is dear to us,
For there we trace the features of our king.

BURGUNDY.
What, syren! wilt thou with seducing words
Allure thy victim? Cunning sorceress,
Me thou deludest not. Mine ears are closed
Against thy treacherous words; and vainly dart
Thy fiery glances 'gainst this mail of proof.
To arms, Dunois!
With weapons let us fight, and not with words.

DUNOIS.
First words, then weapons, Burgundy! Do words
With dread inspire thee? 'Tis a coward's fear,
And the betrayer of an evil cause.

JOHANNA.
'Tis not imperious necessity
Which throws us at thy feet! We do not come
As suppliants before thee. Look around!
The English tents are level with the ground,
And all the field is covered with your slain.
Hark! the war-trumpets of the French resound;
God hath decided--ours the victory!
Our new-culled laurel garland with our friend
We fain would share. Come, noble fugitive!
Oh, come where justice and where victory dwell!
Even I, the messenger of heaven, extend
A sister's hand to thee. I fain would save
And draw thee over to our righteous cause!
Heaven hath declared for France! Angelic powers,
Unseen by thee, do battle for our king;
With lilies are the holy ones adorned,
Pure as this radiant banner is our cause;
Its blessed symbol is the queen of heaven.

BURGUNDY.
Falsehood's fallacious words are full of guile,
But hers are pure and simple as a child's.
If evil spirits borrow this disguise,
They copy innocence triumphantly.
I'll hear no more. To arms, Dunois! to arms!
Mine ear, I feel, is weaker than mine arm.

JOHANNA.
You call me an enchantress, and accuse
Of hellish arts. Is it the work of hell
To heal dissension and to foster peace?
Comes holy concord from the depths below?
Say, what is holy, innocent, and good,
If not to combat for our fatherland?
Since when hath nature been so self-opposed
That heaven forsakes the just and righteous cause,
While hell protects it? If my words are true,
Whence could I draw them but from heaven above?
Who ever sought me in my shepherd-walks,
To teach the humble maid affairs of state?
I ne'er have stood with princes, to these lips
Unknown the arts of eloquence. Yet now,
When I have need of it to touch thy heart,
Insight and varied knowledge I possess;
The fate of empires and the doom of kings
Lie clearly spread before my childish mind,
And words of thunder issue from my mouth.

BURGUNDY (greatly moved, looks at her with emotion and astonishment).
How is it with me? Doth some heavenly power
Thus strangely stir my spirit's inmost depths?
This pure, this gentle creature cannot lie!
No, if enchantment blinds me, 'tis from heaven.
My spirit tells me she is sent from God.

JOHANNA.
Oh, he is moved! I have not prayed in vain,
Wrath's thunder-cloud dissolves in gentle tears,
And leaves his brow, while mercy's golden beams
Break from his eyes and gently promise peace.
Away with arms, now clasp him to your hearts,
He weeps--he's conquered, he is ours once more!

   [Her sword and banner fall; she hastens to him with
   outstretched arms, and embraces him in great agitation.
   LA HIRE and DUNOIS throw down their swords, and hasten
   also to embrace him.




ACT III.

   Residence of the KING at Chalons on the Marne.



SCENE I.

   DUNOIS, LA HIRE.

DUNOIS.
We have been true heart-friends, brothers in arms,
Still have we battled in a common cause,
And held together amid toil and death.
Let not the love of woman rend the bond
Which hath resisted every stroke of fate.

LA HIRE.
Hear me, my prince!

DUNOIS.
           You love the wondrous maid,
And well I know the purpose of your heart.
You think without delay to seek the king,
And to entreat him to bestow on you
Her hand in marriage. Of your bravery
The well-earned guerdon he cannot refuse
But know,--ere I behold her in the arms
Of any other----

LA HIRE.
        Listen to me, prince!

DUNOIS.
'Tis not the fleeting passion of the eye
Attracts me to her. My unconquered sense
Had set at naught the fiery shafts of love
Till I beheld this wondrous maiden, sent
By a divine appointment to become
The savior of this kingdom, and my wife;
And on the instant in my heart I vowed
A sacred oath, to bear her home, my bride.
For she alone who is endowed with strength
Can be the strong man's friend. This glowing heart
Longs to repose upon a kindred breast,
Which can sustain and comprehend its strength.

LA HIRE.
How dare I venture, prince, my poor deserts
To measure with your name's heroic fame!
When Count Dunois appeareth in the lists,
Each humbler suitor must forsake the field;
Still it doth ill become a shepherd maid
To stand as consort by your princely side.
The royal current in your veins would scorn
To mix with blood of baser quality.

DUNOIS.
She, like myself, is holy Nature's child,
A child divine--hence we by birth are equal.
She bring dishonor on a prince's hand,
Who is the holy angel's bride, whose head
Is by a heavenly glory circled round,
Whose radiance far outshineth earthly crowns,
Who seeth lying far beneath her feet
All that is greatest, highest of this earth!
For thrones on thrones, ascending to the stars,
Would fail to reach the height where she abides
In angel majesty!

LA HIRE.
Our monarch must decide.

DUNOIS.
             Not so! she must
Decide! Free hath she made this realm of France,
And she herself must freely give her heart.

LA HIRE.
Here comes the king!



SCENE II.

   CHARLES, AGNES, SOREL, DUCHATEL, and CHATILLON.
   The same.

CHARLES (to CHATILLON).
He comes! My title he will recognize,
And do me homage as his sovereign liege?

CHATILLON.
Here, in his royal town of Chalons, sire,
The duke, my master, will fall down before thee.
He did command me, as my lord and king,
To give thee greeting. He'll be here anon.

SOREL.
He comes! Hail beauteous and auspicious day,
Which bringeth joy, and peace, and reconcilement!

CHATILLON.
The duke, attended by two hundred knights,
Will hither come; he at thy feet will kneel;
But he expecteth not that thou to him
Should yield the cordial greeting of a kinsman.

CHARLES.
I long to clasp him to my throbbing heart.

CHATILLON.
The duke entreats that at this interview,
No word be spoken of the ancient strife!

CHARLES.
In Lethe be the past forever sunk!
The smiling future now invites our gaze.

CHATILLON.
All who have combated for Burgundy
Shall be included in the amnesty.

CHARLES.
So shall my realm be doubled in extent!

CHATILLON.
Queen Isabel, if she consent thereto,
Shall also be included in the peace.

CHARLES.
She maketh war on me, not I on her.
With her alone it rests to end our quarrel.

CHATILLON.
Twelve knights shall answer for thy royal word.

CHARLES.
My word is sacred.

CHATILLON.
          The archbishop shall
Between you break the consecrated host,
As pledge and seal of cordial reconcilement.

CHARLES.
Let my eternal weal be forfeited,
If my hand's friendly grasp belie my heart.
What other surety doth the duke require?

CHATILLON (glancing at DUCHATEL).
I see one standing here, whose presence, sire,
Perchance might poison the first interview.

   [DUCHATEL retires in silence.

CHARLES.
Depart, Duchatel, and remain concealed
Until the duke can bear thee in his sight.

   [He follows him with his eye, then hastens after
   and embraces him.

True-hearted friend! Thou wouldst far more than this
Have done for my repose!
                [Exit DUCHATEL.

CHATILLON.
This instrument doth name the other points.

CHARLES (to the ARCHBISHOP).
Let it be settled. We agree to all.
We count no price too high to gain a friend.
Go now, Dunois, and with a hundred knights,
Give courteous conduct to the noble duke.
Let the troops, garlanded with verdant boughs,
Receive their comrades with a joyous welcome.
Be the whole town arrayed in festive pomp,
And let the bells with joyous peal, proclaim
That France and Burgundy are reconciled.

   [A PAGE enters. Trumpets sound.

Hark! What importeth that loud trumpet's call?

PAGE.
The Duke of Burgundy hath stayed his march.

                  [Exit.

DUNOIS.
Up! forth to meet him!

   [Exit with LA HIRE and CHATILLON.

CHARLES (to SOREL).
My Agnes! thou dost weep! Even my strength
Doth almost fail me at this interview.
How many victims have been doomed to fall
Ere we could meet in peace and reconcilement!
But every storm at length suspends its rage,
Day follows on the murkiest night; and still
When comes the hour, the latest fruits mature!

ARCHBISHOP (at the window).
The thronging crowds impede the duke's advance;
He scarce can free himself. They lift him now
From off his horse; they kiss his spurs, his mantle.

CHARLES.
They're a good people, in whom love flames forth
As suddenly as wrath. In how brief space
They do forget that 'tis this very duke
Who slew, in fight, their fathers and their sons;
The moment swallows up the whole of life!
Be tranquil, Sorel. E'en thy passionate joy
Perchance might to his conscience prove a thorn.
Nothing should either shame or grieve him here.



SCENE III.

   The DUKE OF BURGUNDY, DUNOIS, LA HIRE, CHATILLON, and two other
   knights of the DUKE'S train. The DUKE remains standing at the
   door; the KING inclines towards him; BURGUNDY immediately advances,
   and in the moment when he is about to throw himself upon his knees,
   the KING receives him in his arms.

CHARLES.
You have surprised us; it was our intent
To fetch you hither, but your steeds are fleet.

BURGUNDY.
They bore me to my duty.
   [He embraces SOREL, and kisses her brow.
             With your leave!
At Arras, niece, it is our privilege,
And no fair damsel may exemption claim.

CHARLES.
Rumor doth speak your court the seat of love,
The mart where all that's beautiful must tarry.

BURGUNDY.
We are a traffic-loving people, sire;
Whate'er of costly earth's wide realms produce,
For show and for enjoyment, is displayed
Upon our mart at Bruges; but above all
There woman's beauty is pre-eminent.

SOREL.
More precious far is woman's truth; but it
Appeareth not upon the public mart.

CHARLES.
Kinsman, 'tis rumored to your prejudice
That woman's fairest virtue you despise.

BURGUNDY.
The heresy inflicteth on itself
The heaviest penalty. 'Tis well for you,
From your own heart, my king, you learned betimes
What a wild life hath late revealed to me.

   [He perceives the ARCHBISHOP, and extends his hand.

Most reverend minister of God! your blessing!
You still are to be found on duty's path,
Where those must walk who would encounter you.

ARCHBISHOP.
Now let my Master call me when he will;
My heart is full, I can with joy depart,
Since that mine eyes have seen this day!

BURGUNDY (to SOREL).
                     'Tis said
That of your precious stones you robbed yourself,
Therefrom to forge 'gainst me the tools of war!
Bear you a soul so martial? Were you then
So resolute to work my overthrow?
Well, now our strife is over; what was lost
Will in due season all be found again.
Even your jewels have returned to you.
Against me to make war they were designed;
Receive them from me as a pledge of peace.

   [He receives a casket from one of the attendants,
   and presents it to her to open. SOREL, embarrassed,
   looks at the KING.

CHARLES.
Receive this present; 'tis a twofold pledge
Of reconcilement and of fairest love.

BURGUNDY (placing a diamond rose in her hair).
Why, is it not the diadem of France?
With full as glad a spirit I would place
The golden circle on this lovely brow.

   [Taking her hand significantly.

And count on me if, at some future time
You should require a friend.

   [AGNES SOREL bursts into tears, and steps aside.
   THE KING struggles with his feelings. The bystanders
   contemplate the two princes with emotion.

BURGUNDY (after gazing round the circle, throws himself into
     the KING'S arms).
               Oh, my king!

   [At the same moment the three Burgundian knights hasten to DUNOIS,
   LA HIRE, and the ARCHBISHOP. They embrace each other. The two
   PRINCES remain for a time speechless in each other's arms.

I could renounce you! I could bear your hate!

CHARLES.
Hush! hush! No further!

BURGUNDY.
             I this English king
Could crown! Swear fealty to this foreigner!
And you, my sovereign, into ruin plunge!

CHARLES.
Forget it! Everything's forgiven now!
This single moment doth obliterate all.
'Twas a malignant star! A destiny!

BURGUNDY (grasps his hand).
Believe me, sire, I'll make amends for all.
Your bitter sorrow I will compensate;
You shall receive your kingdom back entire,
A solitary village shall not fail!

CHARLES.
We are united. Now I fear no foe.

BURGUNDY.
Trust me, it was not with a joyous spirit
That I bore arms against you. Did you know?
Oh, wherefore sent you not this messenger?

   [Pointing to SOREL.

I must have yielded to her gentle tears.
Henceforth, since breast to breast we have embraced,
No power of hell again shall sever us!
My erring course ends here. His sovereign's heart
Is the true resting-place for Burgundy.

ARCHBISHOP (steps between them).
Ye are united, princes! France doth rise
A renovated phoenix from its ashes.
The auspicious future greets us with a smile.
The country's bleeding wounds will heal again,
The villages, the desolated towns,
Rise in new splendor from their ruined heaps,
The fields array themselves in beauteous green;
But those who, victims of your quarrel, fell,
The dead, rise not again; the bitter tears,
Caused by your strife, remain forever wept!
One generation hath been doomed to woe;
On their descendants dawns a brighter day;
The gladness of the son wakes not the sire.
This the dire fruitage of your brother-strife!
Oh, princes, learn from hence to pause with dread,
Ere from its scabbard ye unsheath the sword.
The man of power lets loose the god of war,
But not, obedient, as from fields of air
Returns the falcon to the sportsman's hand,
Doth the wild deity obey the call
Of mortal voice; nor will the Saviour's hand
A second time forth issue from the clouds.

BURGUNDY.
Oh, sire! an angel walketh by your side.
Where is she? Why do I behold her not?

CHARLES.
Where is Johanna? Wherefore faileth she
To grace the festival we owe to her?

ARCHBISHOP.
She loves not, sire, the idleness of the court,
And when the heavenly mandate calls her not
Forth to the world's observance, she retires,
And doth avoid the notice of the crowd.
Doubtless, unless the welfare of the realm
Claims her regard, she communes with her God,
For still a blessing on her steps attends.



SCENE IV.

   The same.
   JOHANNA enters. She is clad in armor, and wears
   a garland in her hair.

CHARLES.
Thou comest as a priestess decked, Johanna,
To consecrate the union formed by thee!

BURGUNDY.
How dreadful was the maiden in the fight!
How lovely circled by the beams of peace!
My word, Johanna, have I now fulfilled?
Art thou contented? Have I thine applause?

JOHANNA.
The greatest favor thou hast shown thyself.
Arrayed in blessed light thou shinest now,
Who didst erewhile with bloody, ominous ray,
Hang like a moon of terror in the heavens.
   [Looking round.
Many brave knights I find assembled here,
And joy's glad radiance beams in every eye;
One mourner, one alone I have encountered;
He must conceal himself, where all rejoice.