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Subject Area: Literature
Debate: Cato and Caesar

ACT I. - Voltaire, The Works of Voltaire, Vol. VIII The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Mérope, Olympia, The Orphan of China, Brutus) and Part II (Mahomet, Amelia, Oedipus, Mariamne, Socrates). [1901]

Edition used:

The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version. A Critique and Biography by John Morley, notes by Tobias Smollett, trans. William F. Fleming (New York: E.R. DuMont, 1901). In 21 vols. Vol. VIII The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Mérope, Olympia, The Orphan of China, Brutus) and Part II (Mahomet, Amelia, Oedipus, Mariamne, Socrates).

Part of: The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version, in 21 vols.

About Liberty Fund:

Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals.


ACT I.

SCENE I.

philoctetes, dimas.

dimas.

  • Is it my friend, my Philoctetes? Whence
  • And wherefore comest thou to distempered Thebes
  • In search of death, to brave the wrath of heaven?
  • For, know, the gods on this devoted land
  • Wreak their full vengeance: mortals dare not tread
  • The guilty soil, to death and horror long
  • Consigned, and from the living world cut off:
  • Away, begone!

philoctetes.

  • It suits a wretch like me:
  • Leave me, my friend, to my unhappy fate;
  • And only tell me, if the wrath divine
  • Hath, in its rapid progress, spared the queen.

dimas.

  • Jocaste lives; but round her throne still spreads
  • The dire contagion; every fatal moment
  • Deprives her of some faithful subject: death
  • Steals closer by degrees, and seems to threat
  • Her sacred life. But heaven, we trust, will soon
  • Withdraw its vengeful arm: such scenes of blood
  • Will sure appease its rage.

philoctetes.

  • What horrid crime
  • Could bring down so severe a punishment?

dimas.

  • Since the king’s death—

philoctetes.

  • The king! ha! Laius—

dimas.

  • Died
  • Some four years since.

philoctetes.

  • Ha! Laius dead! indeed!
  • What sweet seducing hope awakes my soul?
  • Jocaste! will the gods at length be kind?
  • May Philoctetes still be thine? But say,
  • Dimas, how fell the king?

dimas.

  • ’Tis four years since
  • For the last time towards Bœotia, led
  • By fate, you came; scarce had you bent your way
  • To Asia, e’er the unhappy Laius fell
  • By some base hand.

philoctetes.

  • Assassinated, sayest thou?

dimas.

  • This was the cause, the source of all our ills,
  • The ruin of this wretched country: shocked
  • At the sad stroke, we wept the general loss,
  • When lo! the minister of wrath divine,
  • (Fatal to innocence, and favoring long
  • Unpunished guilt) a dreadful monster came,
  • (O Philoctetes, would thou hadst been here!)
  • And ravaged all our borders, horrid form!
  • Made for destruction by avenging heaven,
  • With human voice, an eagle, woman, lion,
  • Unnatural mixture! rage with cunning joined
  • United to destroy us: naught remained
  • To save but this alone; in phrase obscure
  • The monster had proposed to affrighted Thebes
  • A strange enigma, which who could unfold
  • Should save his country; if he failed, must die.
  • Reluctant we obeyed the hard decree.
  • Instant the general voice aloud proclaimed
  • The kingdom his reward, who, by the gods
  • Inspired, should first unveil the mystery.
  • The aged and the wise, by hope misled,
  • With fruitless science braved the monster’s rage;
  • Vain knowledge all! all tried and trying fell,
  • Till Œdipus, the heir to Corinth’s throne,
  • Endowed with wisdom far above his years,
  • Fearless, and led by fortune, came, beheld,
  • Unfolded all, and took the great reward;
  • Lives still, and reigns o’er Thebes; but reigns, alas!
  • O’er dying subjects, and a desert land.
  • Vainly we hoped to see the wayward fates
  • Chained to his throne, and yielding to the hand
  • Of Œdipus, our great deliverer.
  • A little time the gods propitious smiled,
  • And blessed us with a gleam of transient peace;
  • But barrenness and famine soon destroyed
  • Our airy hopes: ills heaped on ills succeed,
  • A dreadful plague unpeoples half the realms
  • Of sickly Thebes, snatching the poor remains
  • Just escaped from famine and the grave: high heaven
  • Hath thus ordained, and such our hapless fate.
  • But say, illustrious hero, whom the gods
  • Have long approved, say, wherefore hast thou left
  • The paths of glory, and the smiles of fortune,
  • To seek the regions of affliction here?

philoctetes.

  • I come to join my sorrows and my tears,
  • For know the world with me hath lost its best
  • And noblest friend: ne’er shall these eyes behold
  • The offspring of the gods, like them unconquered,
  • Earth’s best support, the guardian deity
  • Of innocence oppressed: I mourn a friend,
  • The world a father.

dimas.

  • Is Alcides dead?

philoctetes.

  • These hands performed the melancholy office,
  • Laid on his funeral pile the first of men;
  • The all-conquering arrows, those dear dreadful gifts
  • The son of Jove bequeathed me, have I brought,
  • With his cold ashes, here, where I will raise
  • A tomb and altars to my valued friend.
  • O! had he lived! had but indulgent heaven,
  • In pity to mankind, prolonged his days,
  • Far from Jocaste I had still remained;
  • And, though I might have cherished still my vain
  • And hopeless passion, had not wandered here,
  • Or left Alcides for a woman’s love.

dimas.

  • Oft have I pitied thy unhappy flame,
  • Caught in thy earliest youth, increasing still
  • And growing with thy growth: Jocaste, forced
  • By a hard father to a hateful bed,
  • Unwillingly partook the throne of Laius.
  • Alas! what tears those fatal nuptials cost,
  • What sorrows have they brought on wretched Thebes!
  • How have I oft admired thy noble soul,
  • Worthy of empire! conqueror o’er thyself:
  • There first the hero shone, repressed his passion,
  • And the first tyrant he subdued was love.

philoctetes.

  • There we must fly to conquer; I confess it:
  • Long time I strove, I felt my weakness long;
  • At length resolved to shun the fatal place,
  • I took a last farewell of my Jocaste.
  • The world then trembled at Alcides’ name,
  • And on his valor did suspend their fate;
  • I joined the god-like man, partook his toils,
  • Marched by his side, and twined his laurel wreath
  • Round my own brows: then my enlightened soul
  • Against the passions armed, and rose superior.
  • A great man’s friendship is the gift of heaven.
  • In him I read my duty and my fate;
  • I bound myself to virtue and to him:
  • My valor strengthened, and my heart improved,
  • Not hardened, I became like my Alcides.
  • What had I been without him! a king’s son,
  • A common prince, the slave of every passion,
  • Which Hercules hath taught me to subdue.

dimas.

  • Now then unmoved thou canst behold Jocaste,
  • And her new husband.

philoctetes.

  • Ha! another husband!
  • Saidst thou, another?

dimas.

  • Œdipus hath joined
  • To hers his future fate

philoctetes.

  • He is too happy;
  • But he is worthy: he who saved a kingdom
  • Alone can merit her, and heaven is just.

dimas.

  • He comes, and with him his assembled people;
  • Lo! the high-priest attends: this way they bend,
  • To deprecate the wrath of angry heaven.

philoctetes.

  • It melts my soul; I weep for their misfortunes.
  • O Hercules, from thy eternal seat
  • Look down on thy afflicted country! hear
  • Thy fellow citizens! O hear thy friend,
  • Who joins his prayers, and be their guardian god!

SCENE II.

high priest, chorus.

first person of the chorus.

  • Ye blasting powers, who waste this wretched empire,
  • And breathe contagion, death, and horrors round us,
  • O quicken your slow wrath, be kind at last,
  • And urge our lingering fate.

second person of the chorus.

  • Strike, strike, ye gods,
  • Your victims are prepared; ye mountains, fall!
  • Crush us, ye heavens! O death, deliver us,
  • And we shall thank you for the boon.

high priest.

  • No more:
  • Cease your loud plaints, the wretch’s poor resource;
  • Yield to the power supreme, who means to try
  • His people by affliction; with a word
  • He can destroy, and with a word can save:
  • He knows that death is here; the cries of Thebes
  • Have reached his throne. Behold! the king approaches,
  • And heaven by me declares its will divine;
  • The fates will soon to Œdipus unveil
  • Their mysteries all, and happier days succeed.

SCENE III.

œdipus, jocaste, high priest, ægina, dimas, araspes, chorus.

œdipus.

  • O ye, who to this hallowed temple bring
  • The mournful offering of your tears: O what,
  • What shall I say to my afflicted people?
  • Would I could turn the wrath of angry heaven
  • Against myself, and quench the deadly flame?
  • But O! in universal ills like these,
  • Kings are but men, and only can partake
  • The common danger. Say, thou minister
  • Of the just gods, say, do they still refuse
  • To hear the voice of misery; still relentless
  • Will they behold us perish, are they deaf
  • And silent still?

high priest.

  • King, people, listen all:
  • This night did I behold the flame of heaven
  • Descending on our altars; to my eyes
  • The ghastly shade of Laius then appeared,
  • Indignant frowned upon me, and thus spoke
  • In fearful accents, terrible to hear:
  • “The death of Laius is still unrevenged,
  • The murderer lives in Thebes, and doth infect
  • The wholesome air with his malignant breath;
  • He must be known, he must be punished,
  • And on his fate depends the people’s safety.”

œdipus.

  • Justly ye suffer, Thebans, for this crime;
  • Laius was once your loved and honored king,
  • And your neglect hath from his manes drawn
  • This vengeance on you. Such is oft the fate
  • Of the best sovereigns; whilst they live, respect
  • Waits on their laws, their justice is admired,
  • And they like gods are served, like gods adored;
  • But after death they sink into oblivion.
  • No longer then your flattering incense burns:
  • The servile mind of wretched man still bends
  • To interest; and when virtue is departed,
  • ’Tis soon forgotten: therefore doth the blood
  • Of murdered Laius now cry out against you,
  • And sues for vengeance to offended heaven.
  • To sprinkle on his tomb the murderer’s blood
  • Will better far than slaughtered hecatombs
  • Appease his spirit: be it all our care
  • To seek the guilty wretch. Can none remember
  • Aught touching this sad deed? Amidst your signs
  • And wonders, could no footsteps e’er be traced
  • Of this unpunished crime? They always told me
  • It was a Theban, who against his prince
  • Uplifted his rebellious hand. For me [To Jocaste.
  • Who from thy hands received the crown, two years
  • After the death of Laius did I mount
  • The throne of Thebes, and never since that hour
  • Would I recall the subject of thy tears,
  • But in respectful silence waited still;
  • Still have thy dangers busied all my soul,
  • Nor left me time to think on aught but thee.

jocaste.

  • When fate, which had reserved me for thy arms,
  • Deprived me of my late unhappy lord,
  • Who, journeying o’er his kingdom’s frontiers, fell
  • By base assassins, Phorbas then alone
  • Attended him, his loved and valued friend;
  • To whom the king, relying on his wisdom,
  • Entrusted half his power: he brought to Thebes
  • The mangled corpse: himself half dead with wounds,
  • And bathed in blood, fell at Jocaste’s feet;
  • “Villains unknown,” he cried, “have slain the king;
  • These eyes beheld it: I was dying too,
  • But heaven hath restored me to prolong
  • A wretched life.” He said no more. My soul
  • Distracted saw the melancholy truth
  • Was still concealed; and therefore heaven perhaps
  • Concealed the murderer too; perhaps accomplished
  • Its own eternal will, and made us guilty,
  • That it might punish. Soon the sphinx appeared,
  • And laid our country waste: then hapless Thebes,
  • Attentive to her safety, could not think
  • On Laius’ fate, whilst trembling for her own.

œdipus.

  • Where is that faithful Phorbas? lives he still?

jocaste.

  • Alas! his zeal and service ill repaid,
  • Too powerful to be loved, the jealous state
  • His secret foe, nobles and people joined
  • To punish him for past felicity.
  • The multitude accused him, even demanded
  • Of me his death: sore pressed on every side,
  • I knew not how to pardon or condemn,
  • But to a neighboring castle I conveyed him,
  • And hid the guiltless victim from their rage.
  • There four long winters hath the poor old man,
  • To future favorites a sad example,
  • Without a murmur or complaint remained,
  • And hopes from innocence alone release.

œdipus.

  • It is enough, Jocaste. Fly, begone,
  • [To his servants.
  • Open the prison, bring him hither straight,
  • We will examine him before you all;
  • Laius and Thebes shall be avenged together:
  • Yes, we will hear and judge, will sound the depth
  • Of this strange mystery. Ye gods of Thebes,
  • Who hear our prayers, and know the murderer, now
  • Reveal, and punish; and thou, Sun, withhold
  • From his dark eyes thy blessed light! proscribed,
  • Abandoned, let him wander o’er the earth
  • A wretched miscreant, by his sons abhorred,
  • And to his mother horrible! deprived
  • Of burial, let his body be the prey
  • Of hungry vultures!

high priest.

  • In these execrations
  • We all unite.

œdipus.

  • Gods! let the guilty suffer,
  • And they alone! or if the high decrees
  • Of your eternal justice leave to me
  • His punishment, at least indulgent grant,
  • Where you command, the power to obey;
  • If you pursue the guilty, O complete
  • The glorious work, and make the victim known!
  • [To the people.
  • Return, my people, to the temple; there
  • Once more entreat the gods: perhaps your prayers
  • May from their heavenly mansions draw them down
  • To dwell among us: if they loved the king,
  • They will avenge his death, and kind to him
  • Who errs unknowing, will direct this arm
  • For justice raised, and teach me where to strike.

The End of the First Act.