Home

ACT II. - The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

Return to Title Page for The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

Also in the Library:

Subject Area: Literature

ACT II. - Voltaire, The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems). [1901]

Edition used:

From The Works of Voltaire, A Contemporary Version, (New York: E.R. DuMont, 1901), A Critique and Biography by John Morley, notes by Tobias Smollett, trans. William F. Fleming. Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

Author: Voltaire
Translator: William F. Fleming
Notes: Tobias Smollett

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.

Copyright information:

The text is in the public domain.

Fair use statement:

This material is put online to further the educational goals of Liberty Fund, Inc. Unless otherwise stated in the Copyright Information section above, this material may be used freely for educational and academic purposes. It may not be used in any way for profit.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

nerestan, chatillon.

chatillon.

Joy to our great deliverer, the brave,
The generous Nerestan, sent by heaven
To save thy fellow Christians! O come forth,
Appear amongst us, and receive the tribute
Due to thy virtues; let the happy few,
Whom thou has blest with freedom, clasp thy knees,
And kiss thy gracious hand: they crowd to see
Their benefactor, do not hide thyself
From their desiring eyes, but let us all
United—

nerestan.

O Chatillon, talk not thus
Of my deservings, I have done no more
Than was my duty; circumstanced like me,
Like me thou wouldst have acted.

chatillon.

Every Christian
Should sacrifice himself to his religion:
To leave our own, and think on other’s good,
Is our first happiness; how blest art thou,
By gracious heaven appointed to perform
This noble duty! but, for us, the sport
Of cruel fortune, slaves in Solyma,
By Osman’s father left in chains, and long
Forgotten, here for life we had remained
In sad captivity, nor e’er beheld
Our native land, had not thy generous aid
Stepped in to save us.

nerestan.

’Twas the hand of heaven;
I was but its unworthy instrument;
Its providence hath softened the fierce soul
Of youthful Osman: but a bitter draught
Is poured into my cup of joy; his mercy
Is cruel and oppressive: God, who sees
My heart, will bear me witness that I meant
To serve his cause, and act for him alone;
For heaven I had reserved a youthful beauty,
Whom fierce Nouraddin had enslaved, what time
The proud contemners of our holy faith
Surprised great Lusignan, myself long-time
A captive with her; I at length regained
Short liberty, on promise of return;
And now had fondly hoped, delusive dream!
To bring back Zaïre to that happy court
Where Louis and the virtues reign: already
The queen, propitious to my friendly zeal,
Forth from the throne stretched her protecting hand;
But now alas! the wished-for moment near
That should have freed her from captivity,
She must not go; what did I say? she will not;
Zaïre herself forsakes the Christian faith
For Osman, for the Sultan, who, it seems,
Adores her—but we’ll think no more of Zaïre,
Another cruel care demands our grief,
Another base refusal; O Chatillon,
The wretched Christian’s hope is now no more.

chatillon.

Accept my all, my liberty, my life,
If it can save them, ’tis at thy disposal.

nerestan.

Alas! old Lusignan is still a slave,
The last of his great race, a race of heroes,
Descended from the valiant Bouillon; he,
Whom fame has made immortal, still must groan
In chains, for Osman never will restore him.

chatillon.

Then all thy goodness, all thy cares are vain:
What soldier, who e’er held his honor dear,
Would wish for freedom whilst his chief remains
In slavery! Thou, Nerestan, couldst not know
The gallant Lusignan as I have known him,
For thou wert born, so gracious heaven ordained,
Long after those sad times of woe and slaughter,
When I beheld our city fall a prey
To these barbarians: O if thou hadst seen
The temple sacked, the holy tomb profaned,
Fathers, and children, husbands, daughters, wives,
In flames expiring at the altar’s feet;
Our good old sovereign, bent beneath the weight
Of years, and murdered o’er his bleeding sons!
Then Lusignan, the last of his high race,
Revived our drooping courage; terrible
He stood, amidst the carnage of the field,
His right hand grasped a falchion wet with blood,
And with the left he pointed to the cross;
Then cried aloud, “Now countrymen be faithful.”
The power divine, that favored us this day,
Protected him in that tremendous hour
Beneath its friendly wing, and smoothed his path
To safety and repose: Cæsarea then
Received our poor remains, where Lusignan
Was by the general voice proclaimed our king:
O my Nerestan, the Almighty power,
To humble haughty man, withholds from him
Fair virtue’s prize till life’s short race is run;
We fought long-time for heaven, but fought in vain;
The sacred city, smoking in its ruins,
Still lay, when by a treacherous Greek betrayed
In our asylum, we beheld the flame
That raged in hapless Sion reach to us,
And over Cæsarea’s walls with fury spread;
There, bound in ignominious chains, I saw
Great Lusignan, superior to misfortune,
And only weeping for his country’s fate;
E’er since that fatal hour the good old man,
The Christians’ father (he deserves that name)
In a dark dungeon lies, by all neglected,
By all forgotten: such is the hard fate
For us he suffers, and whilst he is wretched
Tell me, Nerestan, how can we be happy?

nerestan.

Unless we were barbarians: O I loathe
The destiny that keeps us from each other;
Thou hast recalled the times and sorrows past;
I shudder at the sad remembrance of them:
Cæsarea buried in her smoking ruins,
Thy prison, and great Lusignan in bondage,
Were the first objects that my eyes beheld;
I know thy woes, with them my life began;
Midst shrieking infants, ravished from the breasts
Of trembling mothers, was Nerestan borne
To this seraglio, with my fellow-captive,
The lovely Zaïre, who, forgive my sighs,
For this barbarian now hath left her God.

chatillon.

It is the glory of these Mussulmans
Thus to seduce the minds of captive Christians;
Blest be the hand of heaven that saved thy youth
From their delusions; but, my lord, this Zaïre,
Though she renounced the Christian faith, may serve
The Christian cause; her interest with the Sultan,
Who loves her, may be useful; by what arm
God sends us help, it matters not; for justice
With wisdom oft conspires to draw advantage
Alike from our misfortunes, and our crimes:
The beauteous Zaïre’s influence may subdue
The stubborn heart of Osman, and persuade him
To give us back a hero whom himself
Must needs admire, and whom he cannot fear.

nerestan.

But thinkest thou Lusignan would condescend
To take his liberty on terms like these?
Or if he would, how can I get from Zaïre
A moment’s audience? Osman will not grant it:
Will this seraglio’s gates, for ever barred,
Open to me? nay, grant I gain admission,
What can I hope from an apostate woman?
Nerestan’s presence would reproach her falsehood,
And she must read her shame upon my brow:
’Tis most ungrateful to the generous mind
To sue for aid of those whom we despise:
If they refuse, it sorely hurts our pride;
And if they grant, we blush to accept it of them.

chatillon.

Yet think on Lusignan, and strive to serve him.

nerestan.

I must: but how to get at this false woman—
We’re interrupted; ha! who comes? ’tis Zaïre.

SCENE II.

zaïre, chatillon, nerestan.

zaÏre.

[To Nerestan.
Be not alarmed; by Osman’s leave I come
To thank the brave Nerestan; do not look
So sternly on me, nor with bitter words
Reproach my weakness; I have wished, yet feared,
To meet thee; why I know not, but my heart
Still flutters at thy presence; from our birth
We have been subject to one common fate;
One prison held us in our infant years;
Together have we felt the galling yoke
Of slavery, still by tender friendship made
Lighter to both: at length thy kinder fate
Led thee to France, and I was left to mourn
Thy absence; whether it arose from pity,
From nobleness of soul, or partial fondness,
I know now, but thy generous ardor fought
And gained a ransom for the hapless Zaïre;
But heaven hath counteracted thy kind purpose,
And I am doomed for ever to remain
In Solyma: long time a slave unknown,
And undistinguished, Zaïre lived, till Osman
Look’d down upon me; but tho’ fortune smiles
Propitious now, and offers all her charms
Of pomp and grandeur, yet I cannot leave
Without regret my fellow-captive: oft
Shall I reflect on thee, and on thy goodness,
And cherish the remembrance of thy virtues:
Like thee, I will endeavor to relieve
The wretched, ever will protect the Christians,
And be a mother to them; for thy sake
They will be always dear to Zaïre.

nerestan.

You
Protect the Christian! you who have forsaken them?
You, who have trampled on the sacred ashes
Of Lusignan’s great ancestors!

zaÏre.

O no:
I hold their virtues in most dear remembrance,
And come even now to give you back your joy,
Your hope, the last and greatest of their race:
Your Lusignan is free, and comes to meet you.

chatillon.

And shall we see once more our honored father,
Our best support?

nerestan.

And shall we owe to Zaïre
A life so precious?

zaÏre.

When I asked the favor
I did not hope it, but the generous sultan,
Beyond my wish, consented, and they soon
Will bring him here.

nerestan.

How my heart beats, Chatillon!

zaÏre.

I weep his fate, Nerestan, for, like him,
I too have languished in captivity;
Woes which ourselves have felt we always pity.

nerestan.

Good heaven, what virtue in an infidel!

SCENE III.

zaïre, lusignan, chatillon, nerestan,Several Christian Slaves.

lusignan.

Who calls me from the dark abode of death?
Am I with Christians? O support me, guide
My trembling footsteps; I am weak with age
And with misfortunes: am I free indeed?

zaÏre.

You are, my lord.

chatillon.

You live to make us happy,
Us wretched Christians.

lusignan.

Sure I know that voice:
Can it be you, Chatillon? do I see
My friend, my fellow martyr to the faith
Of our forefathers? where am I? O aid
My feeble sight!

chatillon.

This is the palace, sir,
Built by your royal ancestors, but now
The seat of fierce Nouraddin’s son.

zaÏre.

Great Osman,
Its noble master, is a friend to virtue:
This generous youth,
[Pointing to Nerestan.
To thee unknown, from France
Is late arrived, and kindly brings with him
The ransom of ten Christian slaves; the sultan,
Resolved in honor’s path to tread with him,
To crown their wishes, has delivered thee.

lusignan.

The sons of France are in their nature noble,
Beneficent, and brave; I know them well,
And have experienced their humanity.
[Turning to Nerestan.
Hast thou then passed the ocean to relieve
These wretched captives’ woes, and set us free?
Say, generous stranger, whom am I to thank
For this unequalled goodness?

nerestan.

I am called
Nerestan; almost from my birth a slave
In Solyma; I left in earliest years
The Turkish empire, and with Louis learned
The rugged talk of war; beneath his banner
Long time I fought; to him I owe my rank
And fortune, to the first of monarchs, famed
Alike for valor and for holy zeal
To heaven and its true faith: I followed him
To Charent’s banks, where the fierce English, long
Unconquered, bent beneath the Gallic power.
Haste then, and show the venerable marks
Of thy hard slavery to the best of kings;
He will reward thee; Paris will revere
A martyr to the cross, and Louis’ court,
The asylum of oppressed royalty,
With open arms receive an injured sovereign.

lusignan.

I knew the court of France in all its glory;
When Philip conquered at Bouvines, I fought
With Montmorency, Melum, and d’Estaing,
With valiant Nesle, and the renowned Coucy,
But never shall behold it more; alas!
Thou seest I am descending to the grave,
To seek the King of Kings, and ask of him
The due reward of all my sufferings past.
Whilst I have life, yet hear me, thou kind witness
Of my last moments, good Chatillon, thou
Nerestan, too, and this fair mourner here,
Who honors with her tears the wretched fate
Of dying Lusignan: O pity me,
Pity the most unhappy father sure
That ever groaned beneath the wrath of heaven!
Time has no power o’er miseries like mine:
Still I lament a daughter, and three sons,
Torn from me in their infancy: Chatillon,
Thou must remember it.

chatillon.

I do, my lord,
And shudder at it now.

lusignan.

A prisoner with me,
Cæsarea then in flames, thou sawest my wife
And two of my dear sons expire.

chatillon.

I did;
Loaded with chains I could not help them.

lusignan.

O
I was a father, and yet could not die:
O ye loved infants, from your heavenly mansion
Look down propitious on my other children,
If yet they live, O succor and protect them!
To this seraglio, even where now we stand,
That daughter and that son whom I lament
Were by the hands of vile barbarians borne,
And here condemned to bear the shameful yoke
Of slavery.

chatillon.

’Tis too true; your daughter then
Was in her cradle; in these arms I held her,
And scarce had time to sprinkle o’er her face
The holy water, and pronounce her Christian,
E’er the rude hands of bloody Saracens
Rushed in, and tore her from me: thy last son,
Scarce four years old, just capable of feeling
His early sorrows, to Jerusalem
Was carried with his sister.

nerestan.

How my heart
Beats at the mournful tale! about that age
I was a prisoner in Cæsarea; thence,
Covered with blood, and bound in chains, I followed
A crowd of Christian slaves.

lusignan.

Didst thou; O heaven!
And wert thou brought up here in this seraglio?
[Looking earnestly at them.
Alas! perhaps you might have known my children,
Your age the same; perhaps these eyes—O madam,
What foreign ornament is that? how long
May you have worn it?

zaÏre.

Ever since my birth:
Why sigh you, sir?

lusignan.

Permit my trembling hands—

zaÏre.

Whence is this strange emotion? O my lord,
What look you so intently on?

lusignan.

O heaven!
O Providence! O eyes, do not deceive
My fearful hope—’tis she—it was a present
To my dear wife; my children always wore it
Upon their birthday: O I faint, I die
With rapture.

zaÏre.

Ha! what do I hear? my soul
Is lost in doubt; O say, my lord—

lusignan.

Great God,
Who seest my tears, forsake me not; O thou
Who on this cross didst perish, and for us
Didst rise again, this is thy work, O haste,
Complete it, gracious heaven!
[Turning to Zaire.
And hast thou kept it
Indeed so long? and were you prisoners both,
Both in Cæsarea seized, and brought together?

zaÏre.

We were, my lord.

nerestan.

Can it be so?

lusignan.

Their speech,
Their features, all confirm it; every look
Brings their dear mother to my eyes: O heaven,
Restore my feeble senses thus o’erpowered
With joy! O madam, O Nerestan, help,
Chatillon, to support me! O Nerestan,
If yet I ought to call thee by that name,
Once thou wert wounded, by a desperate hand;
I saw the villain strike thee; hast thou not
The scar upon thy breast?

nerestan.

I have, my lord.

lusignan.

Just God! blessed moment!

nerestan.

[Kneeling.
O my lord! O Zaïre!

lusignan.

Come near, my children.

nerestan.

Am I then your son?

zaÏre.

My lord!

lusignan.

O blessed discovery! happy hour!
My son! my daughter! O embrace your father!

chatillon.

Trust me, Chatillon’s heart rejoices with you.

lusignan.

I know not how to force me from your arms,
My dearest children! do I then behold
Once more my wretched family? my son,
Thou art the worthy heir of Lusignan:
But say, my daughter, O dispel the doubts
That rise to check my happiness! O God,
That guidest our fortunes, thou who hast restored
My daughter, have I found a Christian? Zaïre,
Alas! thou weepest, and thy dejected eyes
Are turned aside from me: unhappy woman!
I understand thee but too well: O heaven,
O guilt! guilt!

zaÏre.

Yes: I’ll not deceive my father:
Brought up in Osman’s court, and to his laws
Obedient; punish sir, your wretched daughter;
I own I was a Mussulman.

lusignan.

The wrath
Of heaven pursues me still; and but for thee,
My son, that word had ended my sad being:
For thee, O God! and in thy glorious cause,
These threescore years old Lusignan hath fought,
But fought in vain; hath seen thy temple fall,
Thy goodness spurned, thy sacred rites profaned:
For twenty summers in a dungeon hid,
With tears have I implored thee to protect
My children; thou hast given them to my wishes,
And in my daughter now I find thy foe:
I am myself, alas! the fatal cause
Of thy lost faith; had I not been a slave—
But, O my daughter! thou dear lovely object
Of all my cares, O think on the pure blood
Within thy veins, the blood of twenty kings,
All Christians like myself, the blood of heroes,
Defenders of the faith, the blood of martyrs:
Thou art a stranger to thy mother’s fate;
Thou dost not know, that in the very moment
That gave thee birth, I saw her massacred
By those barbarians, whose detested faith
Thou hast embraced: thy brothers, the dear martyrs,
Stretch forth their hands from heaven, and wish to embrace
A sister; O remember them! that God
Whom thou betrayest, for us, and for mankind,
Even in this place expired; where I so oft
Have fought for him, where now his blood by me
Calls loudly on thee: see you temple, see
These walls; behold the sacred mountain, where
Thy Saviour bled; the tomb whence he arose
Victorious; in each path where’er thou treadest
Shalt thou behold the footsteps of thy God:
Wilt thou renounce thy honor and thy father?
Wilt thou renounce thy maker? O my Zaïre,
Thou weepest; the blood forsakes thy cheek; I see
Thy heart is softened to repentance: truth,
Sent by indulgent heaven, already beams
On thy enlightened soul; again I find
My daughter; from the hands of infidels
To save her thus in happiness and glory.

nerestan.

Do I indeed once more behold a sister?
And is her soul—

zaÏre.

Dear author of my life,
My father, speak; what must I do?

lusignan.

Remove
At once my shame and sorrow with a word,
And say thou art—a Christian.

zaÏre.

Then, my lord,
I am a Christian.

lusignan.

’Tis enough, O God!
Thou hearest, receive, and ratify her vow!

SCENE IV.

zaïre, lusignan, chatillon, nerestan, orasmin.

orasmin.

Madam, the sultan wills me to inform you,
You must this moment leave the place, and quit
These Christian slaves: you, Frenchmen, follow me.

chatillon.

What dreadful stroke is this?

lusignan.

Our courage, friends,
Must now support us.

zaÏre.

O my lord!

lusignan.

O thou,
Whom now I dare not name, remember me,
And swear that thou wilt keep the fatal secret.

zaÏre.

I swear.

lusignan.

Farewell! the rest be left to heaven.

End of the Second Act.

Home

The Forum

Econlib

The Library

Other Sites

The Library

Return to Title Page for The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

Search this Title:

Also in the Library:

ACT II. - Voltaire, The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems). [1901]

Edition used:

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

About Liberty Fund:

Copyright information:

Fair use statement:

ACT II.

SCENE I.

chatillon.

nerestan.

chatillon.

nerestan.

chatillon.

nerestan.

chatillon.

nerestan.

chatillon.

nerestan.

chatillon.

nerestan.

SCENE II.

zaÏre.

nerestan.

zaÏre.

chatillon.

nerestan.

zaÏre.

nerestan.

zaÏre.

nerestan.

SCENE III.

lusignan.

zaÏre.

chatillon.

lusignan.

chatillon.

zaÏre.

lusignan.

nerestan.

lusignan.

chatillon.

lusignan.

chatillon.

lusignan.

chatillon.

nerestan.

lusignan.

zaÏre.

lusignan.

zaÏre.

lusignan.

zaÏre.

lusignan.

zaÏre.

nerestan.

lusignan.

nerestan.

lusignan.

nerestan.

lusignan.

nerestan.

zaÏre.

lusignan.

chatillon.

lusignan.

zaÏre.

lusignan.

nerestan.

zaÏre.