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Front Page arrow Titles (by Subject) arrow ACT IV. - 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).

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Subject Area: Literature
Debate: Cato and Caesar

ACT IV. - 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 IV.

SCENE I.

œdipus, jocaste.

œdipus.

  • Jocaste, ’tis in vain: say what thou wilt,
  • These terrible suspicions haunt me still;
  • The priest affrights me; I acquit him now,
  • And even, in secret, am my own accuser.
  • O! I have asked myself some dreadful questions;
  • A thousand strange events, which form my mind
  • Were long effaced, now rush in crowds upon me,
  • And harrow up my soul; the past obstructs,
  • The present but confounds me, and the future
  • Is big with horrid truths; on every side
  • Guilt waits my footsteps.

jocaste.

  • Will not virtue guard thee?
  • Art thou not sure that thou art innocent?

œdipus.

  • We’re oft more guilty than we think we are.

jocaste.

  • Disdain the madness of a talking priest,
  • Nor thus excuse him with unmanly fears.

œdipus.

  • Now in the name of the unhappy king,
  • And angry heaven, let me entreat thee, say,
  • When Laius undertook that fatal journey,
  • Did guards attend him?

jocaste.

  • I’ve already told thee,
  • One followed him alone.

œdipus.

  • And only one?

jocaste.

  • Superior even to the rank he bore.
  • He was a king, who, like thyself, disdained
  • All irksome pomp, and never would permit
  • An idle train of slaves to march before him.
  • Amidst his happy subjects fearless still,
  • And still unguarded lived in peace and safety,
  • And thought his people’s love his best defence.

œdipus.

  • Thou best of kings, sent by indulgent heaven
  • To mortals here; thou exemplary greatness!
  • Could ever Œdipus his barbarous hand
  • Lift against thee? but if thou canst, Jocaste,
  • Describe him to me.

jocaste.

  • Since thou wilt recall
  • The sad remembrance, hear what Laius was:
  • Spite of the frost which hoary age had spread
  • O’er his fair temples in declining age,
  • Which yet was vigorous, his eyes sparkled still
  • With all the fire of youth, his wrinkled forehead
  • Beneath, his silver locks attracted awe
  • And reverence from mankind: if I may dare
  • To say it, Laius much resembled thee;
  • With pleasure I behold in Œdipus
  • His virtues and his features thus united.
  • What have I said to alarm thee thus?—

œdipus.

  • I see
  • Some strange misfortune will o’ertake me soon;
  • The priest, I fear, was by the gods inspired,
  • And but too truly hath foretold my fate:
  • Could I do this, and was it possible?

jocaste.

  • Are then these holy instruments of heaven
  • Infallible? Their ministry indeed
  • Binds them to the altar, they approach the gods,
  • But they are mortals still; and thinkest thou then
  • Truth is dependent on the flight of birds?
  • Thinkest thou, expiring by the sacred knife,
  • The groaning heifer shall for them alone
  • Remove the veil of dark futurity?
  • Or the gay victims, crowned with flowery garlands,
  • Within their entrails bear the fates of men?
  • O no! to search for truth by ways like these
  • Is to usurp the rights of power supreme;
  • These priests are not what the vile rabble think them,
  • Their knowledge springs from our credulity.

œdipus.

  • Would it were so! for then I might be happy.

jocaste.

  • It is: alas! my griefs bear witness to it.
  • Once I was partial to them like thyself,
  • But undeceived at length lament my folly;
  • Heaven hath chastised me for my easy faith
  • In dark mysterious lying oracles,
  • That robbed me of my child; I hate the base
  • Deluders all; had it not been for them,
  • My son had still been living.

œdipus.

  • Ha! thy son!
  • How didst thou lose him? By what oracles
  • Did the gods speak concerning him?

jocaste.

  • I’ll tell thee
  • What from myself I would have gladly hidden.
  • But ’twas a false one; therefore be not moved.
  • Thou must have heard I had a son by Laius.
  • A mother’s fond disquietude provoked me
  • To ask his fate of the great oracle.
  • Alas! what madness ’tis to wrest from heaven
  • Those secrets which it kindly would conceal:
  • But I was a weak woman, and a mother.
  • Before the priestess’ feet I fell submissive,
  • And thus her answer was; for O, too well
  • I must remember what but to repeat
  • Now makes me tremble; but thou wilt forgive me:
  • “Thy son shall slay his father, sacrilegious,
  • Incestuous parricide.” Shall I go on?

œdipus.

  • Well, very well—

jocaste.

  • In short, it then foretold me,
  • This son, this monster should pollute my bed;
  • That I, his mother, should embrace my son,
  • Just recent from the murder of his father.
  • That thus united by these dreadful ties,
  • I should bear children to this hapless child.
  • You seem to be disordered at my story,
  • And dread perhaps to hear the sad remainder.

œdipus.

  • Proceed: what did you with the wretched infant.
  • Object of wrath divine?

jocaste.

  • Believed the gods;
  • Piously cruel, sacrificed my child,
  • And stifled all a mother’s tenderness:
  • In vain the clamors of parental love
  • Condemned the rigid laws of partial heaven:
  • Alas! I meant to save the tender victim
  • From his hard fate that threatened future guilt,
  • And doomed him to involuntary crimes:
  • I thought to triumph o’er the oracle,
  • And in compassion gave him up to death.
  • Cruel compassion, and destructive too!
  • Deceitful darkness of a false prediction!
  • What did I reap from my inhuman care,
  • Did it prolong my wretched husband’s life?
  • Alas! cut off in full prosperity,
  • He fell by the unknown hands of base assassins,
  • Not by his son. Thus were they both torn from me:
  • I lost my child, and could not save his father.
  • By my example taught, avoid my errors,
  • Banish these idle fears, and calm thy soul.

œdipus.

  • After the dreadful secret thou hast told me,
  • It were not fit I should conceal my own:
  • Hear then my tale; perchance when thou shalt know
  • The sad relation, which they bear each other,
  • Thou too wilt tremble: Born the natural heir
  • To Corinth’s throne, from Corinth far removed,
  • I look with horror on my native land:
  • One day—that fatal day I well remember,
  • For O! ’tis ever present to my thoughts,
  • And dreadful to my soul—my youthful hands,
  • For the first time their solemn gift prepared
  • An offering to the gods, when lo! the gates
  • Throughout the temple on a sudden stood
  • Self-opened, and the pillars streamed with blood;
  • The altars shook; a hand invisible
  • Threw back my offerings, and in thunder thus
  • A horrid voice addressed me: “Come not here,
  • Stain not the holy threshold with thy feet,
  • The gods have from the living cut thee off
  • Indignant, nor will e’er accept thy gifts;
  • Go, take thy offerings to the furies, seek
  • The serpents that stand ready to devour thee;
  • These are thy gods, begone, and worship them.”
  • While terror seized me at these dreadful words,
  • Again the voice alarmed me, and foretold
  • All those sad crimes which heaven to thee denounced
  • Against thy son; said, I should slay my father,
  • O gods! and be the husband of my mother.

jocaste.

  • Where am I? what malicious dæmon joined
  • Our hands, to make us thus supremely wretched?

œdipus.

  • Reserve thy tears for something still more dreadful;
  • Now list and tremble: fearful of myself,
  • Lest I should e’er fulfil the dire prediction,
  • Or oppose heaven, I left my native land,
  • Broke from the arms of a distracted mother,
  • Wandered from place to place, disguised my birth,
  • My family, and name, by one kind friend
  • Attended; yet, in my disastrous journey,
  • The God who guided my sad footsteps oft
  • Strengthened my arm, and crowned me with success:
  • But happier had it been for Œdipus,
  • If he had fallen with glory in the field,
  • And by his death prevented all his woes:
  • I was reserved to be a parricide:
  • The hand of heaven, so long suspended o’er me,
  • Hath from my eyes at length removed the veil
  • Of Ignorance, and now I see it all:
  • I do remember, in the fields of Phocis
  • (Nor know I how I could so long forget
  • The great event) that in a narrow way
  • I met two warriors in a splendid car:
  • The path was strait, and we disputed it:
  • An idle contest for us both; but I
  • Was young and haughty, from my earliest years
  • Bred up to pride that flowed in with my blood;
  • An unknown stranger in a foreign land,
  • I thought myself upon my father’s throne,
  • And whomso’er I chanced to meet, esteemed
  • As my own vassals, born but to obey me:
  • I rushed upon them, and with furious arm
  • Their rapid coursers stopped in full career;
  • Hurled from their chariot the intrepid pair.
  • Forward advanced in rage, and both attacked me:
  • The combat was not long, for victory soon
  • Declared for Œdipus. Immortal powers!
  • Whether from hatred or from love I know not,
  • But surely on that day ye fought for me.
  • I saw them both expiring at my feet,
  • And one of them, I do remember well,
  • Who seemed in age well-stricken, as he lay
  • Gasping on the earth, looked earnestly upon me,
  • Held out his arms, and would have spoke: I saw
  • The tears flow plenteous from his half-closed eyes:
  • Methought when I did wound him my shocked soul,
  • All conqueror as I was—you shake, Jocaste.

jocaste.

  • My lord, see Phorbas comes; this way they lead him.

œdipus.

  • ’Tis well: my doubts will then be satisfied.

SCENE II.

œdipus, jocaste, phorbas,Attendants.

œdipus.

  • Come hither, thou unfortunate old man;
  • The sight of him alarms my conscious soul;
  • Confused remembrance tortures me; I dread
  • To look on, or to question him.

phorbas.

  • O queen,
  • Is this the day appointed for my death;
  • Hast thou decreed it? Never but to me
  • Wert thou unjust.

jocaste.

  • Fear not, but hear the king,
  • And answer him.

phorbas.

  • The king?

jocaste.

  • Thou standest before him.

phorbas.

  • Ye gods! is this the successor of Laius?

œdipus.

  • Waste not the time thus idly, but inform me,
  • Thou wert the only witness of his death,
  • And wounded, so ’tis said, in his defence.

phorbas.

  • He’s dead, and let his ashes rest in peace;
  • Embitter not my fate, nor thus insult
  • A faithful subject wounded by thy hand.

œdipus.

  • I wound thee? I?

phorbas.

  • Now satiate thy revenge,
  • And put an end to this unhappy life;
  • The poor remains of blood which then escaped thee
  • Now thou mayest shed; and since thou must remember
  • The fatal place where Laius—

œdipus.

  • Spare the rest:
  • It is enough: I see it now: ’twas I:
  • Ye gods! my eyes are opened.

jocaste.

  • Can it be?

œdipus.

  • And art thou he whom my unhappy rage
  • Attacked at Daulis in the narrow path?
  • O yes it is, must be so: in vain myself
  • Would I deceive, all speaks too plain against me,
  • I know thee but too well.

phorbas.

  • I saw him fall,
  • My royal master fall beneath thy hand:
  • Thou didst the crime, and I have suffered for it:
  • A prison was my fate, and thine a throne.

œdipus.

  • Away: I soon shall do thee ample justice,
  • Thee and myself; leave then to me the care
  • Of my own punishment: begone, and save me
  • At least the painful sight of innocence,
  • Which I have made unhappy.

SCENE III.

œdipus, jocaste.

œdipus.

  • O Jocaste!
  • For cruel fate forbids me ever more
  • To call thee by the tender name of wife;
  • Thou seest my crimes; no longer bound to love;
  • Strike now, and free thyself from the dread thought
  • Of being mine.

jocaste.

  • Alas!

œdipus.

  • Take, take this sword,
  • The instrument of my unhappy rage;
  • Receive, and use it for a noble purpose,
  • And plunge it in my breast.

jocaste.

  • What wouldst thou do!
  • O stop thy furious grief, be calm, and live.

œdipus.

  • Canst thou have pity on a wretch like me?
  • No, I must die.

jocaste.

  • Thou must not: hear Jocaste,
  • O hear her prayers!

œdipus.

  • I will not, must not hear thee.
  • I slew thy husband.

jocaste.

  • And thou gavest me one.

œdipus.

  • I did, but ’twas by guilt.

jocaste.

  • Involuntary.

œdipus.

  • No matter, still ’twas guilt.

jocaste.

  • O height of woe!

œdipus.

  • O fatal nuptials! once such envied bliss!

jocaste.

  • Such be it still, for still thou art my husband.

œdipus.

  • O no! I am not; this destructive hand
  • Hath broke the sacred tie, and deep involved
  • Thy kingdom in my ruin. O! avoid me,
  • Fear the vindictive God who still pursues
  • The wretched Œdipus; I fear myself,
  • My timid virtue serves but to confound me;
  • Perhaps my fate may reach even thee, Jocaste;
  • Pity thyself, pity the hapless victims
  • That perish daily for my guilt; O strike,
  • And save thy Œdipus from future crimes.

jocaste.

  • Do not accuse, do not condemn thyself;
  • Thou art unhappy, but thou art not guilty:
  • Thou didst not know whose blood thy hand had shed
  • In Daulis’ fatal conflict; when remembrance
  • Calls forth the melancholy deed, I must
  • Weep for myself, but should not punish thee.
  • Live therefore—

œdipus.

  • No; it is impossible:
  • Farewell, Jocaste! whither must I go,
  • O whither must I drag this hateful being?
  • What clime accursed, or what disastrous shore
  • Shall hide my crimes, and bury my despair?
  • Still must I wander on from clime to clime,
  • Or rise by murder to another throne?
  • Shall I to Corinth bend my way, where fate
  • Hath heavier crimes in store for Œdipus?
  • O Corinth! ne’er on thy detested borders—

SCENE IV.

œdipus, jocaste, dimas.

dimas.

  • My lord, this moment is arrived a stranger,
  • He says, from Corinth, and desires admittance.

œdipus.

  • I’ll go and meet him—fare thee well, Jocaste:
  • But stop thy tears; no more shalt thou behold
  • The wretched Œdipus; it is determined:
  • My reign is past; thou hast no husband now,
  • I am no more a sovereign, nor Jocaste’s.
  • Oppressed with ills I go, in search of climes,
  • Where far removed from thee and from my country,
  • I still may act as shall become a king,
  • Worthy of thee, and justify the tears
  • Thou sheddest for Œdipus: farewell! forever.

The End of the Fourth Act.