SCENE I
A fine spring morning on the river Meuse, between Lorraine ans Champaigne, in the year 1429 A.D., in the castle of Vaucoulers. Captain Robert de Bauricourt, a military squire, handsome and physically energetic, but with no will of his own, is disguising that defect in his usual fashion by storming terribly at his steward, a trodden worm, scanty of flesh, scanty of hair, who might be any age from 18 to 55, being the sort of man whom age cannot wither because he has never bloomed.
The two are in a sunny chamber on the first floor of the castle. At a plain strong oak table, seated in a chair to match, the captain presents his left profile. The stewarad stands facing him at the other side of the table, if so deprecatory a stance as his can be called standing. The mullioned thirteenth-century window is open behind him. Near it in the corner is a turret with a narrow arched doorway leading to a winding stair which descends to the courtyard. There is a stout fourlegged stool under the table, and a wooden chest under the window.
ROBERT
No eggs! No eggs!! Thousand thunders, man what do you mean by no eggs?
STEWARD
Sir: it is not my fault. It is the act of God.
ROBERT
Blasphemy. You tell me there are no eggs; and you blame your Maker for it.
STEWARD
Sir: what can I do? I cannot lay eggs.
ROBERT
sarcastic] Ha! You jest about it.
STEWARD
No, sir. God knows. We all have to go without eggs just as you have, sir. The hens will not lay.
ROBERT
Indeed! [Rising] Now listen to me, you.
STEWARD
[humbly] Yes, sir.
ROBERT
What am I?
STEWARD
What are you, sir?
ROBERT
[coming at him] Yes: what am I? Am I Robert, squire of Baudricourt and captain of this castle of Vaucoulers; or am I a cowboy?
STEWARD
Oh, sir, you know you are a greater man here the king himslef.
ROBERT
Precisely. And now, do you know what you are?
STEWARD
I am nobody, sir, except that I have the honor to be your steward.
ROBERT
[driving him to the wall, adjective by adjective] You have not only the honor of being my steward, but the privilege of bieng the worst, most incompetent, drivelling snivelling jibbering jabbering idiot of a steward in France. [He strides back to the table].
STEWARD
[cowering on the chest] Yes, sir: to a great man like you I must seem like that.
ROBERT
[turning] My fault, I suppose. Eh?
STEWARD
[coming to him deprecatingly] Oh, sir: you always give my most innocent words such a turn!
ROBERT
I will give your neck a turn if you dare tell me, when I ask how many eggs there are, that you cannot lay any.
STEWARD
[protesting] Oh sir, oh sir--
ROBERT
No: not oh sir, oh sir, but no sir, no sir. My three Barbary hens and the black are the best layers in Champagne. And you come and tell me that there are no eggs! Who stole them? Tell me that, before I kick you out through the castle gate for a liar and a seller of my good thieves. The milk was short yesterday, too: do not forget that.
STEWARD
[desperate] I know, sir. I know only too well. There is no milk: there are no eggs: tomorrow there will be nothing.
ROBERT
Nothing! You will steal the lot: eh?
STEWARD
No, sir: nobody will steal anything. But there is a spell on us: we are bewitched.
ROBERT
That story is not good enough for me. Robert de Baudricourt burns witches and hangs theives. Go. Bring me four dozen eggs and two gallons of milk here in this room before noon, or Heaven have mercy on your bones! I will teach you to make a fool of me. [He resumes his seat with an air of finality].
STEWARD
Sir: I tell you there are no eggs. There will be non--not if you were to kill me for it--as long as The Maid is at the door.
ROBERT
The Maid! What Maid? What are you talking about?
STEWARD
The girl from Lorraine, sir. From Domremy.
ROBERT
[rising in fearful wrath] Thirty thousand thunders! Fifty thousand devils! Do you mean to say that that girl, who had the impudence to ask to see me two days ago, and whom I told you to send back to her father with my orders that he was to give her a good hiding, is still here?
STEWARD
I have told her to go, sir. She won't.
ROBERT
I did not tell you to tell her to go: I told you to throw her out. You have fifty men-at-arms and a dozen lumps of ablebodied servants to carry out my orders. Are they afraid of her?
STEWARD
She is so positive, sir.
ROBERT
[seizing him by the scruff of his neck] Positive! Now see here. I am going to throw you downstairs.
STEWARD
No, sir. Please.
ROBERT
Well, stop me by being positive. It's quite easy: and slut of a girl can do it.
STEWARD
[hanging limp in his hands] Sir, sir: you cannot get rid of her by throwing me out. [Robert had to let him drop. He squats on his knees on the floor, comtemplating his master resignedly]. You see, sir, you are much more positive than I am. But so is she.
ROBERT
I am stronger than you are, you fool.
STEWARD
No, sir: it isn't that: it's your strong character, sir. She is weaker than we are: she is only a slip of a girl; but we cannot make her go.
ROBERT
You parcel of curs: you are afraid of her.
STEWARD
[rising cautiously] No, sir: we are afraid of you; but she puts courage into us. She really doesn't seem to be afraid of anything. Perhaps you could frighten her, sir,
ROBERT
[grimly] Perhaps. Where is she now?
STEWARD
Down in the courtyard, sir, talking to the soldiers as usual. She is always talking to the soldiers except when she is praying.
ROBERT
Praying! Ha! You believe she prays, you idiot. I know the sort of girl that is always talking to soldiers. She shall talk to me a bit. [He goes to the window and shouts fiercely through it] Hallo, you there!
A GIRL'S VOICE
[bright, strong and rough] Is it me, sir?
ROBERT
Yes, you.
THE VOICE
Be you captain?
ROBERT
Yes, damn your impudence, I be captain. Come up here. [To the soldiers in the yard] Shew her the way, you. And shove her along quick. [He leaves the window and returns to his place at the table, where he sits magisterially].
STEWARD
[whispering] She wants to go and be a soldier herself. She wants you to give her soldier's clothes. Armor, sir! And a sword! Actually! [He steals behind Robert].
Joan appears in the turret doorway. She is an ablebodied country girl of 17 or 18, respectably dressed in red, with an uncommon face: eyes very wide apart and bulging as they often do in very imaginative people, a long well-shaped nose with wide nostrils, a short upper lip, resolute but full-lipped mouth, and handsome fighting chin. She comes eagerly to the table, delighted at having penetrated to Baudricourt's presence at last, and full of hope as to the result. His scowl does not check or frighten her in the least. Her voice is normally a hearty coaxing voice, very confident, very appealing, very hard to resist.
JOAN
[bobbing a curtsey] Good morning, captain squire. Captain: you are to give me a horse and armor and some soldiers, and send me to the Dauphin. Those are your orders from my Lord.
ROBERT
[outraged] Orders from your lord! And who the devil may your lord be? Go back to him, and tell him that I am neither duke nor peer at his orders: I am squire of Baudricourt; and I take no orders except from the king.
JOAN
[reassuringly] Yes, squire: that is all right. My Lord is the King of Heaven.
ROBERT
Why, the girl's mad. [To the steward] Why didn't you tell me so, you blockhead?
STEWARD
Sir: do not anger her: giver her what she wants.
JOAN
[impatient, but friendly] They all say I am mad until I talk to them, squire. But you see that it is the will of God that you are to do what He has put into my mind.
ROBERT
It is the will of God that I shall send you back to your father with orders to put you under lock and key and thrash the madness out of you. What have you to say to that?
Joan
You think you will, squire; but you will find it all coming quite different. You said you would not see me; but here I am.
STEWARD
[appealing] Yes, sir. You see, sir.
ROBERT
Hold your tongue, you.
STEWARD
[abjectly] Yes, sir.
ROBERT
[to Joan, with a sour loss of confidence] So you are presuming on my seeing you, are you?
JOAN
[sweetly] Yes, squire.
ROBERT
[feeling that he has lost ground, brings down his two fists squarely on the table, and inflates his chest imposingly to cure the unwelcome and only too familiar sensation] Now listen to me. I am going to assert myself.
JOAN
[busily] Please do, squire. The horse will cost sixteen francs. It is a good deal of money; but I can save it on the armor. I can find a soldier's armor that will fit me well enough: I am very hardy; and I do not need beautiful armor made to my measure like you wear. I shall not want many soldiers: the Dauphin will give me all I need to raise the siege of Orleans.
ROBERT
[flabbergasted] To raise the siege of Orleans!
JOAN
[simply] Yes, squire: that is what God is sending me to do. Three men will be enough for you to send with me if they are good men and gentle to me.They have promised to come with me. Polly and Jack and-
ROBERT
Polly!! You impudent baggage, do you dare call squire Bertrand de Poulengey Polly to my face?
JOAN
His friends call him so, squire: I did not know he had any other name. Jack-
ROBERT
That is Monsieur John of Metz, I suppose?
JOAN
Yes, squire. Jack will comes willingly: he is a very kind gentleman, and gives me money to give to the poor. I think John Godsave will come, and Dick the Archer, and their servants John of Honecourt and Julian. There will be no trouble for you, squire: I have arranged it all: you have only to give the order.
ROBERT
[contemplating her in a stupor of amazement] Well, I am damned!
JOAN
[with unruffled sweetness] No, squire: God is very merciful; and the blessed saints Catherine and Margaret, who speak to me every day [he gapes], will intercede for you. You will go to paradise; and your name will be remembered for ever as my first helper.
ROBERT
[to the steward, still much bothered, but changing his tone as he pursues a new clue] Is this true about Monsieur de Poulengey?
STEWARD
[eagerly] Yes, sir, and about Monsieur de Metz too. They both want to go with her.
ROBERT
[thoughtful] Mf! [He goes to the window, and shouts into the courtyard] Hallo! You there: send Monsieur de Poulengey to me, will you? [He turns to Joan]. Get out; and wait in the yard.
JOAN
[smiling brightly at him] Right, squire. [She goes out].
ROBERT
[to the steward] Go with her, you, you dithering imbecile. Stay within call; and keep your eye on her. I shall have her up here again.
STEWARD
Do so in God's name, sir. Think of those hens, the best layers in Champagne; and-
ROBERT
Think of my boot; and take your backside out of reach of it.
The steward retreats hastily and finds himself confronted in the doorway by Bertrand de Poulengey, a lymphatic French gentleman-at-arms, aged 36 or thereabout, employed in the department of the provast-marshal, dreamily absent-minded, seldom speaking unless spoken to, and then slow and obstinate in reply: altogether in contrast to the self-assertive, loud-mouthed, superficially energetic, fundamentally with-less Robert. The steward makes way for him, and vanishes. Poulengey salutes, and stands awaiting orders.
ROBERT
[genially] It isn't service, Polly. A friendly talk. Sit down. [He hooks the stool from under the table with his instep].
Poulengey, relaxing, comes into the room; places the stool between the table and the window; and sits down ruminatively. Robert, half sitting on the end of the table, begins the friendly talk.
ROBERT
Now listen to me, Polly. I must talk to you like a father.
Poulengey looks up at him gravely for a moment, but says nothing.
ROBERT
It's about this girl you are interested in. Now, I have seen her. I have talked to her. First, she's mad. That doesn't matter. Second, she's not a farm wench. She's a bourgeoise. That matters a good deal. I know her class exactly. Her father came here last year to represent his village in a lawsuit: he is one of their notables. A farmer. Not a gentleman farmer: he makes money by it, and lives by it. Still, not a laborer. Not a mechanic. He might have a cousin a lawyer, or in the Church. People of his sort may be of no account socially; but they can give a lot of bother to the authorities. That is to say, to me. Now no doubt to you it seems to you a very simple thing to take this girl away, humbugging her into the belief that you are taking her to the Dauphin. But if you get her into trouble, you may get me into no end of a mess, as I am her father's lord, and responsible for her protection. So friends or no friends, Polly, hands off her.
Poulengey
[with deliberate impressiveness] I should as soon think of the Blessed Virgin herself in that way, as of this girl.
ROBERT
[coming off the table] But she says you and Jack and Dick have offered to go with her. What for? You are not going to tell me that you take her crazy notion of going to the Dauphin seriously, are you?
Poulengey
[slowly] There is something about her. They are pretty foulmouthed and foulminded down there in the guardroom, some of them. But there hasn't been a word that has anything to do with her being a woman. They have stopped swearing before her. There is something. Something. It may be worth trying.
ROBERT
Oh, come, Polly! pull yourself together. Commonsense was never your strong point; but this is a little too much. [He retreats disgustedly].
Poulengey
[unmoved] What is the good of commonsense? If we had any commonsense we should join the Duke of Bugundy and the English king. They hold half the country, right down to the Loire. They have paris. They have this castle: you know very well that we had to surrender it to the Duke of Bedford, and that you are only holding it on parole. The Dauphin is the Chinon, like a rat in the corner, except that he won't fight. We don't even know that he is the Dauphin: his mother says he isn't; and she ought to know. Think of that! the queen denying the legitimacy of her own son!
ROBERT
Well, she married her daughter to the English king. Can you blame the woman?
POULENGEY
I blame nobody. But thanks to her, the Dauphin is down and out; and we may as well face it. The English will take Orleans: the Bastard will not be able to stop them.
ROBERT
He beat the English the year before last at Montargis. I was with him.
POULENGEY
No matter: his men are cowed now; and he can't work miracles. I tell you that nothing can save our side now but a miracle.
ROBERT
Miracles are all right, Polly. The only difficulty about them is that they don't happen nowadays.
POULENGEY
I used to think so. I am not so sure now. [Rising, and moving ruminatively towards the window] At all events this is not a time to leave any stone unturned. There is something about the girl.
ROBERT
Oh! You think the girl can worl miracles, do you?
POULENGEY
I think the girl herself is a bit of a miracle. Anyhow, she is the last card left in our hand. Better play her than throw up the game. [He wanders to the turret].
ROBERT
[wavering] You really think that?
POULENGEY
[turning] Is there anything else left fot us to think?
ROBERT
[going to him] Look here, Polly. If you were in my place would you let a girl like that do you out of sixteen francs for a horse?
POULENGEY
I will pay for the horse.
ROBERT
You will!
POULENGEY
Yes: I will back my opinion.
ROBERT
You will really gamble on a forlorn hope to the tune of sixteen francs?
POULENGEY
It is not a gamble.
ROBERT
What else is it?
POULENGEY
It is a certainty. Her words and her ardent faith in God have put fire in me.
ROBERT
Whew! You are as mad as she is.
POULENGEY
[obstinately] We want a few mad people now. See where the sane ones have landed us!
ROBERT
[his irresoluteness now openly swamping his affected decisiveness] I shall feel like a precious fool. Still, if you feel sure--?
POULENGEY
I feel sure enough to take her to Chinon--unless you stop me.
ROBERT
This is not fair. You are putting the responsibility on me.
POULENGEY
It is on you whichever way you decide.
ROBERT
Yes: that's just it. Which way am I to decide? You don't see how awkward this is for me. [Snatching at a dilatory step with an unconscious hope that Joan will make up his mind for him] Do you think I ought to have another talk to her?
POULENGEY
[rising] Yes. [He goes to the window and calls] Joan!
JOAN'S VOICE
Will he let us go, Polly?
POULENGEY
Come up. Come in. [Turning to Robert] Shall I leave you with her?
ROBERT
No: stay here; and back me up.
Poulengey sits down on the chest. Robert goes back to his magisterial chair, but remains standing to inflate himself more imposingly. Joan comes in, full of good news.
JOAN
Jack will go halves for the horse.
ROBERT
Well!! [He sits, deflated].
POULENGEY
[gravely] Sit down, Joan.
JOAN
[checked a little, and looking to Robert] May I?
ROBERT
Do what you are told.
Joan curtsies and sits down on the stool between them. Robert outfaces his perplexity with his most peremptory air.
ROBERT
What is your name?
JOAN
[chattily] They always call me Jenny in Lorraine. Here in France I am Joan. The soldiers call me The Maid.
ROBERT
What is your surname?
JOAN
Surname? What is that? My father sometimes calls himself d'Arc; but I know nothing about it. You met my father. He-
ROBERT
Yes, yes: I remember. You come from Domremy in Lorraine, I think.
JOAN
Yes; but what does it matter? we all speak French.
ROBERT
Don't ask questions: answer them. How old are you?
JOAN
Seventeen: so they tell me. It might be nineteen. I don't remember.
ROBERT
What did you mean when you said that St Catherine and St Margaret talked to you everyday?
JOAN
They do.
ROBERT
What are they like?
JOAN
[suddenly obstinate] I will tell you nothing about that: they have not given me leave.
ROBERT
But you actually see them; and they talk to you just as I am talking to you?
JOAN
No: it is quite different. I cannot tell you: you must not talk to me about my voices.
ROBERT
How do you mean? voices?
JOAN
I hear voices telling me what to do. They come from God.
ROBERT
They come from your imagination.
JOAN
Of course. That is how the messages of God come to us.
POULENGEY
Checkmate.
ROBERT
No fear! [To Joan] So God says you are to raise the siege of Orleans?
JOAN
And to crown the Dauphin in Rheims Cathedral.
ROBERT
[gasping] Crown the D--! Gosh!
JOAN
And to make the English leave France.
ROBERT
[sarcastic] Anything else?
JOAN
[charming[ Not just at present, thank you, squire.
ROBERT
I suppose you think raising a siege is as easy as chasing a cow out of a meadow. You think soldiering is anybody's job?
JOAN
I do not think it can be very difficult if God is on your side, and you are willing to put your life in His hand. But many soldiers are very simple.
ROBERT
[grimly] Simple! Did you ever see Engish soldiers fighting?
JOAN
They are only men. God made them just like us; but He gave them their own country and their own language; and it is not His will that they should come into our country and try to speak our language.
ROBERT
Who has been putting such nonsense into your head? Don't you know that soldiers are subject to their feudal lord, and that is nothing to them or to you whether he is the duke of Burgundy or the king of England or the king of France? What has their language to do with it?
JOAN
I do not understand that a bit. We are all sunject to the King of Heaven; and He gave us our countries and our languages, and meant us to keep to them. If it were not so it would be murder to kill an Englishman in battle; and you, squire, would be in great danger of hell fire. You must not think about your duty to your feudal lord, but about your duty to God.
POULENGEY
It's no use, Robert: she can choke you like that every time.
ROBERT
Can she, by Saint Dennis! We shall see. [To Joan] We are not talking about God: we are talking about practical affairs. I ask you again, girl, have you ever seen English soldiers fighting? Have you ever seen them plundering, burning, turning the countryside into a desert? Have you heard no tales of their Black Prince who was blacker than the devil himself, or of the English king's father?
JOAN
You must not be afraid, Robert-
ROBERT
Damn you, I am not afraid. And who gave you leave to call me Robert?
JOAN
You were called so in church in the name of our Lord. All the other names are your father's or your brother's or anybody's.
ROBERT
Tcha!
JOAN
Listen to me, squire. At Domremy we had to fly to the next village to escape from the English soldiers. Three of them were left behind, wounded. I came to know these three poor goddams quite well. They had not half my strength.
ROBERT
Do you know why they are called goddams?
JOAN
No. Everyone calls them goddams.
ROBERT
It is because they are always calling on their God to condemn their souls to perdition. That is what goddam means in their language. How do you like it?
JOAN
God will be merciful to them; and they will act like His good children when they go back to the country He made for them, and made them for. I have heard the tales of the Black Prince. The moment he touched the soil of our country the devil entered into him and made him a black fiend. But at home, in the place made for him by God, he was good. It is always so. If I went into England against the will of God to conquer England, and tried to live there and speak its language, the devil would enter into me; and when I was old I should shudder to remember the wickedness I did.
ROBERT
Perhaps. But the more devil you were the better you might fight. That is why the goddams will take Orleans. And you cannot stop them, nor ten thousand like you.
JOAN
One thousand like me can stop them. Ten like me can stop them with God on our side. [She rises impetuously, and goes at him, unable to sit quiet any longer]. You do not understand, squire. Our soldiers are always beaten because they are fighting only to save their skins; and the shortest way to save your skin is to run away. Our knights are thinking only of the money they will make in ransoms: it is not kill or be killed with them, but pay or be paid. But I will teach them all to fight that the will of God may be done in France; and then they will drive the poor goddams before them like sheep. You and Polly will live to see the day when there will not be an English soldier on the soil of France; and there will be but on king there: not the feudal English king, but God's French one.
ROBERT
[to Poulengey] This may be all rot, Polly; but the troops might swallow it, though nothing that we can say seems able to put any fight into them. Even the Dauphin might swallow it. And if she can put fight into him, she can put it into anybody.
POULENGEY
I can see no harm in trying. Can you? And there is something about the girl-
ROBERT
[turning to Joan] Now listen you to me; and [desperately] don't cut it before I have time to think.
JOAN
[plumping down on the stool again, like an obedient schoolgirl] Yes, squire.
ROBERT
Your orders are, that you are to go to Chinon under the escort of this gentleman and three of his friends.
JOAN
[radiant, clasping her hands] Oh, squire! Your head is all circled with light, like a saint's.
POULENGEY
How is she to get into the royal presence?
ROBERT
[who has looked up for his halo rather apprehensively] I don't know: how did she get into my presence? If the Dauphin can keep her out he is a better man than I take him for. [Rising] I will send her to Chinon; and she can say I sent her. Then what come what may: I can do no more.
JOAN
And the dress? I may have a soldier's dress, maynt I, squire?
ROBERT
Have what you please, I wash my hands of it.
JOAN
[wildly excited by her success] Come, Polly. [She dashes out].
ROBERT
[shaking Poulengey's hand] Goodbye, old man, I am taking a big chance. Few other men would have done it. But as you say, there is something about her.
POULENGEY
Yes: there is something about her. Goodbye. [He goes out].
Robert, still very doubtful whether he has not been made a fool of by a crazy female, and a social inferior to boot, scratches his head and slowly comes back from the door. The steward runs in with a basket.
STEWARD
Sir, sir--
ROBERT
What now?
STEWARD
The hens are laying like mad, sir. Five dozen eggs!
ROBERT
[stiffens convulsively; crosses himself; and forms with his pale lips the words] Christ in heaven! [Aloud but breathless] She did come from God.
