Joan of Arc: A Play in Five Acts

In Short

This five-act play dramatizes the rise and tragic execution of Joan of Arc, framed through her interaction with a mercurial French court and her own internal struggle between duty and human longing. Published in 1840, it stands as a testament to the Victorian fascination with Joan as a figure of purity and tragic grace. By weaving a fictionalized romance into the historical record, it elevates her military success into a moral crusade, focusing heavily on the emotional isolation she endures while navigating the pride and jealousy of those she serves.

The Story

The play begins in a rural French court where Charles, a prince hesitant to claim his throne, is goaded by his retinue into granting an audience to a "maid from Domremie." Joan arrives, not as a warrior, but as a servant of Heaven, claiming she is divinely tasked to lift the siege of Orléans and see Charles crowned at Rheims. Though the court is skeptical, her unwavering certainty and her discovery of a legendary sword hidden in a church compel them to believe her mission is authentic.

As Joan takes the field, she encounters the formidable Count Du Nois, a man haunted by the "bar of bastardy" and his own pride. Initially viewing her presence as a personal insult, Du Nois is eventually captivated by her selfless dedication to France. Their relationship forms the emotional core of the play, characterized by a profound, unspoken bond that transcends the battlefield. While Joan remains focused on her spiritual mandate, her companions—including the ambitious and conniving Richemont—begin to view her success with growing resentment.

Following the victory at Orléans and the coronation of Charles at Rheims, the narrative shifts toward tragedy. Joan, feeling her divine mission is fulfilled, wishes to return to her quiet life, but she is ensnared by the political machinations of the English and the betrayal of her own countrymen. Richemont, driven by spite and wounded vanity, conspires to ensure her downfall. He recognizes that Joan’s influence at court threatens his standing, and he maneuvers to have her captured and abandoned.

The final acts move into the gloom of the prison at Rouen. The English regent, Bedford, motivated by a rigid sense of honor and the need to rectify the shame of his soldiers’ defeats, refuses to release her. He uses the threat of execution to pressure Joan into a false confession, specifically targeting her identity as a warrior. Despite the efforts of the compassionate Countess and the desperate intervention of Du Nois, the political tide is irreversible. Joan is sentenced to death as a heretic. The play concludes with her execution, witnessed by a devastated Du Nois, who finds himself transformed from a hardened soldier into a man broken by the loss of the only person who truly understood his devotion to France.

How It Unfolds

The calling of the maid Joan presents herself to the cynical Prince Charles, silencing his court's mockery with her unshakeable belief in her divine purpose. She confirms her authority by locating a legendary, long-lost sword, leaving the skeptical nobles no choice but to follow her.

The rising tide of victory Joan transforms the morale of the French army, leading them to decisive victories against the English at Orléans and beyond. During these campaigns, she earns the reluctant respect of the proud Count Du Nois, who begins to see her as a mirror of his own dedication.

The coronation and the turn The climax occurs at the cathedral in Rheims, where Charles is crowned, and Joan realizes her earthly mission is effectively concluded. However, her success breeds a toxic envy among the courtly elite, who cannot forgive her for overshadowing their own contributions to the war.

The trap of politics Richemont and other political rivals orchestrate Joan’s abandonment, isolating her from the king’s protection during a critical battle. She is captured by English forces, who are eager to erase the "insult" of a woman’s leadership by branding her a heretic.

The final sacrifice In a cold prison cell, Joan faces her accusers, ultimately choosing death over the betrayal of her spirit. The play ends with the report of her execution, leaving the surviving French leaders to grapple with the bitter cost of their political gains.

The People

Joan is the play’s moral anchor, a figure of "simple grandeur" who balances humility with absolute, terrifying conviction. Her primary struggle is the burden of a mission that demands her total self-abnegation; she remains a stranger to the courtly world she saves.

Charles is the personification of royal vacillation. Initially a prince "playing the part of king," he relies entirely on Joan’s strength, yet his eventual ascent to the throne leads him to prioritize his own political security over the life of his savior.

Du Nois serves as the tragic foil. A man defined by the "bar of bastardy" on his shield, he initially resents Joan’s intrusion into his military domain, but he is gradually redeemed by his love for her. His evolution from a scornful warrior to a mourning advocate marks the play's deepest shift in tone.

Richemont acts as the antagonist of the court. His motivation is a "cold, selfish, marble-hearted vanity." He views Joan not as a savior, but as a direct challenge to his prestige, and his capacity for destruction is driven by the fear that he will be eclipsed by a peasant girl.

In Its Own Voice

Describing the source of her inspiration during the initial meeting with the skeptical Prince Charles, Joan emphasizes that her strength is not her own:

"I seek the royal ear: this is my prince! And thus with veneration deep--I stand the delegate of heav'n, and thus declare my mission."

Reflecting on the nature of her own fame and the envy it stirs within the hearts of the noblemen, the Count Du Nois observes the transformation of his own resentment:

"I do despise the doll, where nought of soul is ever seen to light the faultless eye; but there is a magic in the full sweet tones of her impressive voice, which heard but once, dwells long upon the ear."

What It's Really About

The central argument of the work is that true merit is a dangerous commodity in a world governed by vanity and political pragmatism. The play questions whether a person of pure intent can ever survive the machinery of statecraft. By contrasting Joan’s "simple grandeur" with the "sluggish" and "slothful" behavior of the court, the narrative suggests that those who perform the most necessary work are often the most easily discarded once their utility has passed. It is a meditation on the fragility of grace and the inevitable corruption that occurs when the "instrument" of a cause is confused with the "Giver" of the victory.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the historical dramas of the nineteenth century will appreciate the rhythmic, elevated language and the earnest, romantic tone of this work. It feels like a stage-bound echo of a more chivalric age, filled with dramatic speeches, moonlight conspiracies, and a stark, black-and-white morality that characterizes Victorian theater.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for its specific conventions. The dialogue is highly formalized and occasionally prone to long, flowery monologues that prioritize emotional expression over realism. The gender dynamics reflect the era’s attitudes, placing Joan in a position of "frail, weak womanhood" even as she leads armies, which may feel jarring to contemporary sensibilities. Furthermore, the plot relies heavily on coincidences and the sudden, dramatic shifts in fortune common to five-act plays of the period.

Despite these formal constraints, the play remains a moving portrait of isolation. What stays with you is not necessarily the historical accuracy of the military campaigns, but the quiet, persistent image of a character who knows her fate is sealed yet remains faithful to her convictions. If you have an interest in how history is recast to serve the ideals of later generations—specifically the Victorian ideal of the saintly martyr—this work offers a window into that creative process.