The Maid of Orleans by Friedrich Schiller (ereader that reads to you TXT) 📖
- Author: Friedrich Schiller
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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
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