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.
BURGUNDY.
And who is conscious of such heavy guilt,
That of our favor he must needs despair?
JOHANNA.
May he approach? Oh, tell me that he may;
Complete thy merit. Void the reconcilement
That frees not the whole heart. A drop of hate
Remaining in the cup of joy converts
The blessed draught to poison. Let there be
No deed so stained with blood that Burgundy
Cannot forgive it on this day of joy.
BURGUNDY.
Ha! now I understand!
JOHANNA.
And thou'lt forgive?
Thou wilt indeed forgive? Come in, Duchatel!
[She opens the door and leads in DUCHATEL,
who remains standing at a distance.
The duke is reconciled to all his foes,
And he is so to thee.
[DUCHATEL approaches a few steps nearer,
and tries to read the countenance of the DUKE.
BURGUNDY.
What makest thou
Of me, Johanna? Know'st thou what thou askest?
JOHANNA.
A gracious sovereign throws his portals wide,
Admitting every guest, excluding none;
As freely as the firmament the world,
So mercy must encircle friend and foe.
Impartially the sun pours forth his beams
Through all the regions of infinity;
The heaven's reviving dew falls everywhere,
And brings refreshment to each thirsty plant;
Whate'er is good, and cometh from on high,
Is universal, and without reserve;
But in the heart's recesses darkness dwells!
BURGUNDY.
Oh, she can mould me to her wish; my heart
Is in her forming hand like melted wax.
—Duchatel, I forgive thee—come, embrace me!
Shade of my sire! oh, not with wrathful eye
Behold me clasp the hand that shed thy blood.
Ye death-gods, reckon not to my account,
That my dread oath of vengeance I abjure.
With you, in yon drear realm of endless night,
There beats no human heart, and all remains
Eternal, steadfast, and immovable.
Here in the light of day 'tis otherwise.
Man, living, feeling man, is aye the sport
Of the o'ermastering present.
CHARLES (to JOHANNA).
Lofty maid!
What owe I not to thee! How truly now
Hast thou fulfilled thy word,—how rapidly
Reversed my destiny! Thou hast appeased
My friends, and in the dust o'erwhelmed my foes;
From foreign yoke redeemed my cities. Thou
Hast all achieved. Speak, how can I reward thee?
JOHANNA.
Sire, in prosperity be still humane,
As in misfortune thou hast ever been;
And on the height of greatness ne'er forget
The value of a friend in times of need;
Thou hast approved it in adversity.
Refuse not to the lowest of thy people
The claims of justice and humanity,
For thy deliverer from the fold was called.
Beneath thy royal sceptre thou shalt gather
The realm entire of France. Thou shalt become
The root and ancestor of mighty kings;
Succeeding monarchs, in their regal state,
Shall those outshine, who filled the throne before.
Thy stock, in majesty shall bloom so long
As it stands rooted in the people's love.
Pride only can achieve its overthrow,
And from the lowly station, whence to-day
God summoned thy deliverer, ruin dire
Obscurely threats thy crime-polluted sons!
BURGUNDY.
Exalted maid! Possessed with sacred fire!
If thou canst look into the gulf of time,
Speak also of my race! Shall coming years
With ampler honors crown my princely line!
JOHANNA.
High as the throne, thou, Burgundy, hast built
Thy seat of power, and thy aspiring heart
Would raise still higher, even to the clouds,
The lofty edifice. But from on high
A hand omnipotent shall check its rise.
Fear thou not hence the downfall of thy house!
Its glory in a maiden shall survive;
Upon her breast shall sceptre-bearing kings,
The people's shepherds, bloom. Their ample sway
Shall o'er two realms extend, they shall ordain
Laws to control the known world, and the new,
Which God still veils behind the pathless waves.
CHARLES.
Oh, if the Spirit doth reveal it, speak;
Shall this alliance which we now renew
In distant ages still unite our sons?
JOHANNA (after a pause).
Sovereigns and kings! disunion shun with dread!
Wake not contention from the murky cave
Where he doth lie asleep, for once aroused
He cannot soon be quelled? He doth beget
An iron brood, a ruthless progeny;
Wildly the sweeping conflagration spreads.
—Be satisfied! Seek not to question further
In the glad present let your hearts rejoice,
The future let me shroud!
SOREL.
Exalted maid!
Thou canst explore my heart, thou readest there
If after worldly greatness it aspires,
To me to give a joyous oracle.
JOHANNA.
Of empires only I discern the doom;
In thine own bosom lies thy destiny!
DUNOIS.
What, holy maid, will be thy destiny?
Doubtless, for thee, who art beloved of heaven,
The fairest earthly happiness shall bloom,
For thou art pure and holy.
JOHANNA.
Happiness
Abideth yonder, with our God, in heaven.
CHARLES.
Thy fortune be henceforth thy monarch's care!
For I will glorify thy name in France,
And the remotest age shall call thee blest.
Thus I fulfil my word.
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