on performing classical work
Thursday, July 21, 2011 at 02:28PM for my second challenge in my technique class with the Negro Ensemble Company, I decided to tackle a classical piece; a monologue from Saint Joan by George Bernard Shaw. I read the monologue on its own before reading the entire play and it struck me instantly. I've always been fascinated by the story of Joan of Arc (read: since seeing its portrayal in Wishbone, of course) and the way Shaw wrote this particular monologue is breathtaking. Reading the entire play was a delight and helped put everything into greater context. Joan was quite a woman! I've been working on this monologue for a few weeks in class and it's been coming along... Suffice it to say I was dancing in my seat when our instructor said she wanted me to perform it as a part of our scene study (another class) end of term showcase! I've attached it below. Thanks, Mr. Shaw, for writing beautiful work about 15th century France that resonates with a 21st century Texas girl!
JOAN. Yes: they told me you were fools [the word gives great
offence], and that I was not to listen to your fine words nor trust
to your charity. You promised me my life; but you lied [indignant
exclamations]. You think that life is nothing but not being stone
dead. It is not the bread and water I fear: I can live on bread:
when have I asked for more? It is no hardship to drink water if
the water be clean. Bread has no sorrow for me, and water no
affliction. But to shut me from the light of the sky and the sight
of the fields and flowers; to chain my feet so that I can never
again ride with the soldiers nor climb the hills; to make me
breathe foul damp darkness, and keep from me everything that brings
me back to the love of God when your wickedness and foolishness
tempt me to hate Him: all this is worse than the furnace in the
Bible that was heated seven times. I could do without my warhorse;
I could drag about in a skirt; I could let the banners and the
trumpets and the knights and soldiers pass me and leave me behind
as they leave the other women, if only I could still hear the wind
in the trees, the larks in the sunshine, the young lambs crying
through the healthy frost, and the blessed blessed church bells
that send my angel voices floating to me on the wind. But without
these things I cannot live; and by your wanting to take them away
from me, or from any human creature, I know that your counsel is of
the devil, and that mine is of God.
Reader Comments (1)
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