Joan of Arc Part 4

Hast nought to say? art dumb?

XAINT. (_reads the letter._) I own 'tis strange.

That she should supersede thee in command Is more than I had thought.

DU N. I understand The cause too well! Charles had not dared insult me Had I been other than I am.

XAINT. Been other!

Who honour'd as thyself? Whose fame fills Europe?

DU N. I tell thee truth, and this the scourge that lashes me.

The bar of b.a.s.t.a.r.dy is on my shield; The bar of alienation, mock alliance, Pride trampling on the outraged laws of decency.

Witness me, Heaven! I would prefer to date Honest descent from humblest parentage, Than trace within these veins the highest blood Illegal mixed.

XAINT. Think on thy own brave deeds-- Deeds that----

DU N. More widely spread the guilt that shames me, Spreading the name of b.a.s.t.a.r.d through the world.

XAINT. Why, you've looked on good till 'tis become evil.

Men love distinction, or in camp or state; And he has fortune won whose kin may serve As staves to mount ambition's proudest ladder.

DU N. I have no kin. What owe I to their love That I should claim them such? The life I have?

The debt is cancelled by the shame entailed.

To me my country is both sire and mother; And I for her such gallant deeds will work, That should I ever boast the name of father, My children shall exult in their descent, And swear by France, by honour, and their sire.

XAINT. No more! She comes! Now smooth thy ruffled brow; And let thy courtesy, at least, ne'er blush For thy neglect.

DU N. I will not meet her here.

If I be mocked, 't shall be where all may see it, And learn with me to ridicule the cheat.

[_Exit._

SCENE VI.--_English Camp._

EARLS OF SUFFOLK, WARWICK, ARLINGTON, JOHN TALBOT.

SUF. Our work is near its end. Yon city's fall Completes our triumph and ensures repose.

JOHN T. Alas!

WAR. How! does this cause sorrow?

JOHN T. Yes, truly.

WAR. And why? To me the prospect is most welcome.

JOHN T. Because, upon a course of glorious years, In tented fields, you proudly may revert; But I----

SUF. Thou'rt spared from sights that might have shocked Thy wiser manhood. War is a n.o.ble game, But full of much humanity deplores.

JOHN T. But I was never born for dull, still paths; The trumpet's clang, and the loud din of battle Suit me.

ARL. Pity such taste cannot be humoured.

With scarce a raw recruit to man his ranks, The flower of French n.o.bility with us Conjoined--

JOHN T. Shame on them all! I do despise them.

SUF. Despise! thou dost forget thee.

ARL. Their shame, forsooth?

JOHN T. Are not their arms against their country turned In aid of foreign foes? Are they not traitors; Aye, traitors to the land they help to fetter?

These fields may haply drink my heart's life-blood; But as I hope for glory, ere I die, (The winding sheet I crave,) I would prefer To clasp in friendliness the hand which slew me In brave defence of its own rights and laws; Than the false caitiff's, fighting by my side, Those rights, those laws to crush beneath our feet.

WAR. Talbot an advocate for Charles!

JOHN T. Not so.

Yet there is something here that pleads for him.

His mother's hatred drives him from a throne, Whilst my fond mother's parting kiss still glows Upon my brow; and when I heard what tears He shed, when told his father was no more, I mingled mine with his; and his bereavement Making my own, I honoured him for all The grief he show'd, and felt him n.o.bler foe.

_Enter OFFICER._

OFFI. My lord, breathless I haste.

SUF. Speak on. What news?

OFFI. A champion for France is on her way.

SUF. A female too! Charles is indeed beset, To have recourse to aid like this. To arms!

We'll plant the royal standard on those walls To give her greeting.

SCENE VII.--_Chinon._

VALANCOUR. ARNAULT.

ARN. Sayst thou the siege is raised?

VAL. Orleans is free.

ARN. And she, the sainted maid, has done the deed?

VAL. Herself! the maid of Orleans henceforth named.

Oh! 'twas a n.o.ble sight to see her entrance Into the city she herself had saved.

Each distant quarter had disgorged itself Of its inhabitants. Age had forgotten All its decrepitude; sickness, its pains.

Walls, windows, streets, each edifice and pillar Seemed as a living ma.s.s; and waving hands And loud acclaims filled the astonished air.

The sun burst forth in joy. Onward she came, Our civil functionaries at her head, The wonderous sword and standard borne before her.

The princely Duke Alencon at her side, His stately countenance impressed alike With patriotic joy and martial pride.

ARN. And thou wert in the fight?