Oratorio “Jeanne d'Arc au bûcher”, H.99

The great French composer of Swiss descent, ARTHUR HONEGGER (1892–1955), wrote the dramatic oratorio JEANNE D’ARC AU BÛCHER (JOAN OF ARC AT THE STAKE) on a commission from the Russian actress, dancer, and patron of the arts Ida Rubinstein. She shared the French intelligentsia’s growing fascination with medieval culture in the 1930s. Several reenactments of medieval mysteries and pageants in Paris inspired her to create a mystery play about Joan of Arc, France’s 15^th ‑century national heroine. According to her divine visions, the young maiden led the French army to several key victories during the Hundred Years’ War and paved the way for the coronation of Charles VII. Captured by the Burgundians and sold to the English, she was accused of heresy and, through the political machinations of an ecclesiastical court, was condemned and burned at the stake at the age of nineteen. Twenty‑five years later, her case was retried and she was posthumously acquitted. In 1909, Pope Pius X declared her blessed, and in 1920 Pope Benedict XV canonized her, naming her one of the patron saints of France. Honegger enlisted the renowned poet and playwright Paul Claudel as librettist. Claudel approached the figure of Joan of Arc from a new angle, focusing on the moment of her death — on the triumph of the spirit breaking the bonds of the flesh, driven by the martyr’s immense love for her people. The eternal question of the value and meaning of sacrifice for one’s homeland and ideals resonated strongly in France at the time, when organizations such as the National Front and the National Music Federation emerged in opposition to the rise of fascism. With this work, Ida Rubinstein envisioned a musical‑theatrical Tetralogy of Evil, to which Darius Milhaud and Igor Stravinsky were also to contribute. The outbreak of World War II, however, prevented the project from being completed, and Jeanne d’Arc au bûcher remained its only realized part. Honegger and Claudel worked in exceptional symbiosis. Claudel wrote: Honegger’s music does not illustrate my text — it reveals it. Joan of Arc is a dramatic poem in which music and words are two flames of the same fire. The oratorio is marked by numerous innovations. Built on the principle of retrospection, it stands among the earliest examples of such dramaturgy in modern theatre. Joan, nailed to the pillory and awaiting execution, relives the events of her life as memories and visions. The traditional canons of the oratorio genre are also overturned: the music forms a unique synthesis with diverse theatrical forms — from medieval stage actions to idioms of Japanese Noh theatre, allusions to classical French theatre, and elements of contemporary total theatre. Conventional narrative recitatives are replaced by declamatory dialogues. The principal roles of Jeanne and Brother Dominique, along with several secondary characters, are entrusted to actors. Honegger composed this monumental fresco as a vivid and richly textured interplay of orchestral, choral, solo, and spoken elements. The work unfolds in a Prologue and eleven scenes that flow seamlessly between present and past, reality and imagination. Completed in 1935, it received its triumphant premiere in Basel on May 12^th 1938, conducted by Paul Sacher with the city choir and orchestra and the Basel Boys’ Choir. Ida Rubinstein performed the role of Joan of Arc. The sombre Prologue, added six years later (1944), depicts a divided France — both during the Hundred Years’ War and in 1940. Here the choir appears as a collective image of the people, and several important leitmotifs are introduced: the motif of bells and Psalm 130, De profundis clamavi (“From the depths I cry”), which later acquires essential dramaturgical significance. Scene I, “The Voices of Heaven,” is extremely brief. Joan, nailed to the pillar of shame, anxiously listens to the ominous howling of dogs — rendered through one of the earliest electronic instruments, the Ondes Martenot — and to the nightingale’s song, interwoven with her beloved childhood tune “Trimazo.” These symbolic omens become key leitmotifs, delineating the opposing spheres of evil and good. The dramatic turning point comes in Scene II, “The Book,” when Jeanne is visited by Brother Dominique, who opens and reads the Book of her life. In Scene III, “The Voices of the Earth,” the forces of evil descend upon the Maid of Orléans with their verdict: “Heretic! Witch! Enemy of God, enemy of the king! Enemy of the people!” The choral‑orchestral palette shifts abruptly into sharp dissonance. The frenzied crowd chants the accusations in Latin — the language of her judges. Scene IV, “Jeanne, Betrayed to the Beasts,” allegorically reveals the true nature of her accusers. The trial that condemned her is exposed as a grotesque farce. Claudel and Honegger transform it into a ridiculous judicial ceremony, conveyed through vivid musical parodies and stylizations. The butcher (Porcus in Latin, Cauchon in French — a pointed reference to Bishop Cauchon, who condemned Jeanne) volunteers as presiding judge; the jurors are empty‑headed sheep; the secretary is a donkey. A sharp shift of frame occurs in Scene V, “Jeanne at the Stake,” where her dialogue with Dominique resumes. This is followed by the second allegorical farce, Scene VI, “The Kings, or the Invention of a Card Game,” which reveals Jeanne’s predetermined fate behind the scenes of political bargaining. Set to the rhythm of a gavotte and in a neo‑Baroque style, the scene features the King of France (with Her Majesty Folly), the King of England (with Her Majesty Arrogance), the Duke of Burgundy (with Her Majesty Stinginess), and Death (with Her Majesty Lust). Absurdly, the true power lies not with the monarchs but with the valets — the active players in the mad game. One of them, Guillaume de Flavy (a real historical figure), “loses” Jeanne in a wager. The lyrical contrast of Scene VII, “St. Catherine and St. Margaret” brings Jeanne’s patron saints to her side. The bells of her native Domrémy ring out, and the De profundis motif returns. She recalls the heavenly command to lead Charles to his coronation. The climax unfolds in the vivid and colourful Scene VIII, “The King Goes to Reims.” The people celebrate the unification of France, allegorically personified by the Good Grain from the North and the Mother Barrel with the sweet wine of the South. Folk songs animate the festivities; the King of France is welcomed in Reims with an ancient Christmas hymn and sent off with a triumphal march — yet the solemn bells are pierced by harsh dissonances. Jiří The final three scenes (IX–XI) reveal Jeanne’s inner transformation. Disgusted by the king’s betrayal and the people’s insults, she finds strength in memories of her blissful childhood, the tender protection of St. Catherine and St. Margaret, and the miraculous revelation that led her to her sword. The music gathers all the leitmotifs of goodness and light. An especially intimate moment is the “Trimazo” scene, where Jeanne sings her favourite prayer song. Ready to become the sacrificial flame for France’s freedom, she breaks the chains of mortality in the fire of the stake, invoked by the Virgin Mary and the saints. Her faith enters the hearts of the people, and the final apotheosis resounds: “The highest manifestation of love is to sacrifice your life for your neighbour!” The first Bulgarian performance of Honegger’s Joan of Arc at the Stake took place forty‑two years ago — on May 28^th 1984 in Plovdiv — conducted by Dobrin Petkov, with soloists Bistra Manahilova, Dobrinka Yankova, Vesela Zorova, Dimitar Berov, and Evstati Dimitrov; the Plovdiv Philharmonic Orchestra; and the Children’s and Philharmonic Choir of the Plovdiv Singing Society “Angel Bukoreshtliev,” conducted by Krikor Chetinyan and Milena Nacheva. The reciters were Radosveta Vasileva (Joan of Arc), Nikola Nikolov (Brother Dominique), Stefan Popov, and Veselin Mezekliev; the director was Nikolay Lambrev. The Sofia premiere with the same cast followed on June 2^nd 1984 in Bulgaria Hall during the Sofia Music Weeks International Festival.