Œdipus (Voltaire)/Act II
ACT II.SCENE I.
JOCASTE, ÆGINA, ARASPES, CHORUS.
ARASPES.
Believe me, 'tis too true, my royal mistress,
Your dying people, with one common voice,
Accuse the hapless Philoctetes: fate
Hath sent him back to save this wretched kingdom.
JOCASTE.
What do I hear, ye powers?
ÆGINA.
'Tis wonderful.
JOCASTE.
Who? Philoctetes?
ARASPES.
Yes, it must be he:
To whom can we impute it but to him?
When last at Thebes, he seemed to meditate
A deed like this; for much he hated Laius:
From Œdipus his traitorous purpose scarce
Could he conceal; for soon unwary youth
Betrays itself: soon through the thin disguise
Of ill dissembled loyalty, we saw
The rancor of his heart. I know not what
Provoked him, but too warm and open, ever
The slave of passion, he would kindle oft
At the king's name, and often pour forth threats
Of vengeance: for some time he left the kingdom,
But fate soon brought the restless wanderer back;
And at that fatal time, which heaven distinguished
By the detested shocking parricide,
He was at Thebes: e'er since that dreadful hour,
Suspicion justly falls on Philoctetes:
But the high name which he had gained in war,
His boasted title of earth's great avenger,
And his heroic deeds, have stopped the tongue
Of clamor, and suspended yet the stroke
Of our resentment. Now the time is come
When Thebes shall think no more of vain respect;
His glory and his conquests plead no more;
The hearts of an oppressed people groan;
The gods require his blood, and must be heard.
CHORUS.
O queen! have pity on a wretched people,
Who love and honor thee, revere the gods,
And follow their example; yield up to us
Their victim, and present our vows to heaven;
For heaven will hear them, if they come from thee.
JOCASTE.
O! if my life can mitigate its wrath,
I give it freely; take the sacrifice;
Accept my blood; but O! demand no more.
Thebans, be gone.
SCENE II.
JOCASTE, ÆGINA.
ÆGINA.
How I lament thy fate!
JOCASTE.
Alas! I envy those whom death has freed
From all their cares: but what remains for me,
What pain and torment to a virtuous heart!
ÆGINA.
'Tis terrible indeed: the clamorous people,
Warmed with false zeal, will cry aloud for vengeance,
And soon demand their victim. I forbear
To accuse him; but if he at last should prove
The murderer of thy unhappy lord,
How it must shock thy soul!
JOCASTE.
Impossible!
Such guilt and baseness never dwelt in him.
O my Ægina! since our bonds of love
Were disunited, naught has pierced my heart
Like this suspicion: this alone was wanting
To make Jocaste most completely wretched:
But I'll not bear to hear him thus accused;
I loved him, and he must be innocent.
ÆGINA.
That constant love
JOCASTE.
Nay, think not that my heart
Still nourishes a guilty passion for him;
I conquered that long since; yet, dear Ægina,
Howe'er the soul may act which virtue guides,
Its secret motions, nature's children, still
Must force their way: they will not be subdued,
But in the folds and windings of the heart,
Lurk still, and rush upon us; hid in fires
We thought extinguished, from their ashes rise:
In the hard conflict, rigid virtue may
Resist the passions, but can ne'er destroy them.
ÆGINA.
How just, and yet how noble is thy grief!
Such sentiments!
JOCASTE.
Jocaste is most wretched;
Thou knowest my miseries, and thou knowest my heart,
Ægina: twice hath Hymen lit his torch
For me, and twice hath changed my slavery,
For such it was; the only man I loved,
Torn from my arms. Forgive me, ye just gods,
The sad remembrance of a conquered passion.
Ægina, thou wert witness of our loves,
Those ties, alas! dissolved as soon as made:
Then Œdipus, my sovereign, sought and gained me,
Spite of myself. I took the diadem,
Begirt with sorrows. To forget the past
Became my duty then; and I obeyed.
Thou knowest I stifled every tender thought
Of my first love, disguised an aching heart,
Drank up my tears, and even from myself
Strove to conceal my griefs.
ÆGINA.
How could you venture
The dangerous trial of a second marriage?
JOCASTE.
Alas!
ÆGINA.
Will you forgive me? shall I speak?
JOCASTE.
Thou mayest.
ÆGINA.
The king, the conqueror subdued thee:
You gave your hand as a reward to him
Who saved your country.
JOCASTE.
Gracious gods!
ÆGINA.
Was he
Happier than Laius? Was your Philoctetes
Forgotten then, or did they share your heart?
JOCASTE.
Thebes, by a cruel monster then laid waste,
Had promised its deliverer my hand;
The conqueror of the sphinx was worthy of me.
ÆGINA.
You loved him then?
JOCASTE.
I felt some tenderness
For Œdipus; but O! 'twas far from love:
'Twas not, Ægina, that tumultuous passion,
The impetuous offspring of my ravished senses,
Not the fierce flame that burned for Philoctetes;
Who, by his fatal charms, subdued my reason,
And poured love's sweetest poison o'er my heart:
Friendship sincere was all I could bestow
On Œdipus, for much I prized his virtue;
And pleased, beheld him mount the throne of Thebes
Which he had saved; but, whilst I followed him,
Even at the altar, my affrighted soul,
Wherefore I knew not, was most strangely moved,
And I retired with horror to his arms.
To this a dreadful omen did succeed:
Methought, Ægina, in the dead of night,
I saw the gulf of hell yawn wide before me;
When lo! the spirit of my murdered lord,
Bloody and pale, with threatening aspect stood,
And pointed to my son; that son, Ægina,
Which I to Laius bore, and to the gods
Offered, a cruel pious sacrifice.
They beckoned me to follow them, and seemed
To drag me with them to the horrid gloom
Of Tartarus: my troubled soul long kept
The sad idea, and must keep it ever.
Now Philoctetes doubles every woe.
ÆGINA.
I heard a noise that way, and, see he comes.
JOCASTE.
'Tis he; I tremble: but I will avoid him.
SCENE III.
JOCASTE, PHILOCTETES.
PHILOCTETES.
Do not avoid me, do not fly, Jocaste,
From Philoctetes; turn, and look upon me:
O speak to me, nor fear my jealous tears
Should interrupt the new-born happiness
Of thy late nuptials: think not that I came
To cast reproaches on thee, or with sighs
To win thy lost affection; vulgar arts,
Unworthy of us both! the heart, Jocaste,
That burned for thee, and if I may recall
Thy plighted faith, was once not hateful to thee,
Has learned, from thy example, not to feel
Weakness like that.
JOCASTE.
I must approve thy conduct,
And 'tis but fit I vindicate my own:
I loved thee, Philoctetes; but my fate
Tore me from thee, and gave me to another.
Thou knowest what woes the horrid sphinx, by heaven
Appointed to afflict us, brought on Thebes:
Too well thou knowest that Œdipus
PHILOCTETES.
Is thine;
I know it, and is worthy of the blessing:
Young as he was, his wisdom saved thy country;
His virtues, his fair deeds, and what still more
Exalted him, Jocaste's love, have ranked
Thy Œdipus among the first of men.
Wherefore did cruel fortune, still resolved
To punish Philoctetes, drive me hence,
To seek vain trophies in a distant land?
O! if the conqueror of the sphinx was doomed
To conquer thee, why was not I at Thebes?
I'd not have labored in the fruitless search
Of idle mysteries, wrapped in words of darkness;
This arm, to conquest long beneath thy smiles
Accustomed, should have drawn the vengeful sword,
And laid the howling monster at thy feet.
But O! a happier arm has wrested from me
That noblest triumph, and deserved Jocaste.
JOCASTE.
Alas? thou knowest not yet what ills await thee.
PHILOCTETES.
Thee and Alcides I have lost already:
Is there aught more to fear?
JOCASTE.
Thou dwellest at Thebes;
The detestation of avenging gods;
The baneful pestilence stalks forth amongst us;
The blood of Laius cries aloud, and heaven
Pursues us still: the murderer must bleed;
He has been sought for; some have dared to say
That he is found, and call him Philoctetes.
PHILOCTETES.
Astonishment! the base suspicion shocks
My soul, and bids my tongue be silent ever
On the opprobrious theme: accused of murder!
Murdering thy husband! thou canst never believe it.
JOCASTE.
O! never! 'twere injurious to thy honor
To combat such imposture, or refute
The vile aspersion; no, thou knowest my heart,
Thou hadst my love, and couldst not do a deed
Unworthy of it. Let them perish all,
These worthless Thebans, who deserve their fate
For thus suspecting thee: but, hence! begone!
Our vows are fruitless: heaven reserves for thee
Superior blessings. Thou wert born to serve
The gods, whose wisdom would not bury here
Virtues like thine, or suffer love to rule
A heart designed for universal sway,
And courage fit to save and bless mankind.
Ill would it suit the follower of Alcides
To lose his moments in the fond concerns,
The little cares of love. Thy hours are due
To the unhappy and the injured: they
Will all thy time and all thy virtue claim.
Already tyrants throng on every side;
Alcides dead, new monsters rise; go, thou,
And give the world another Hercules.
Œdipus comes; permit me to retire;
Not that I fear the weakness of my heart,
But as Jocaste loved thee once, and he
Is now my husband, I should blush before you.
SCENE IV.
ŒDIPUS, PHILOCTETES, ARASPES.
ŒDIPUS.
Sayst thou, Araspes, is he here, the prince,
The noble Philoctetes?
PHILOCTETES.
Yes; 'tis he;
Led by blind fortune to this hapless clime,
Where angry heaven hath made me suffer wrongs
I am not used to bear. I know the crimes
Laid to my charge; but think not that I mean
To justify myself: too well I know thee
To think that Œdipus would ever stoop
To such low mean suspicions: no! thy fame
Is mixed with mine; in the same steps of honor
We trod together. Theseus, Hercules,
And Philoctetes, pointed out to thee
The paths of glory; do not then disgrace
Their names, and taint thy own, by calumny,
But keep their bright examples still before thee.
ŒDIPUS.
All that I wish is but to save my country,
And if I can be useful to mankind,
This is the ambition I would satisfy,
And this the lesson which those heroes taught,
Whom thou hast followed, and whom I admire.
I meant not to accuse thee: had I chose
The people's victim, it had been myself.
I think it but the duty of a king
To perish for his country: 'tis an honor
Too great for common men. Then had I saved
Once more my Thebans, yielded up my life,
And sheltered thine: but 'twas not in my power.
The blood of guilt must flow, thou standest accused.
Defend thyself: if thou art innocent,
None shall rejoice so much as Œdipus;
Nor as a criminal shall then receive thee,
But as my noble friend, as Philoctetes.
PHILOCTETES.
I thought myself, indeed, above suspicion:
From many a base assassin has this arm,
While Jove's dread thunder slept, relieved mankind.
Whom we chastise, we seldom imitate.
ŒDIPUS.
I do not think thou wouldst disgrace thy name,
And thy fair martial deeds, by such a crime.
If Laius fell by thee, he fell with honor,
I doubt it not, for I must do thee justice.
PHILOCTETES.
If I had slain him, I had only gained
One added triumph. Kings, indeed, are gods
To their own subjects, but to Hercules,
Or me, they were no more than common men.
I have avenged the wrongs of mighty princes;
And, therefore, little, thou mayest think, should fear
To attack the bravest.
ŒDIPUS.
Heroes, like thyself,
Are equal even to kings, I know they are:
But still remember, prince, whoe'er slew Laius,
His head must answer for the woes of Thebes;
And thou
PHILOCTETES.
I slew him not; let that suffice.
If I had done the deed, I would have owned,
Nay boasted of it. Hear me, Œdipus,
Though vulgar souls, by vulgar methods, deign
To vindicate their injured honor; kings
And heroes, when they speak, expect, no doubt,
To be believed: perhaps thou dost suspect
I murdered Laius. It becomes not thee,
Of all men, to accuse me: to thy hand
Devolved his sceptre and his queen. Who reaped
The fruits of Laius's death, but Œdipus?
Who took the spoils? Who filled his throne? Not I.
That object never tempted Philoctetes:
Alcides never would accept a crown:
We knew no master, and desired no subjects:
I have made kings, but never wished to be one.
But 'tis beneath me to refute the falsehood,
For innocence is lessened by defence.
ŒDIPUS.
Thy pride offends me, whilst thy virtue charms.
If thou art guiltless, thou hast naught to fear
From justice and the laws; thy innocence
Will shine with double splendor: dwell with us,
And wait the event.
PHILOCTETES.
My honor is concerned,
And therefore I shall stay; nor hence depart
Till I have ample vengeance for the wrongs
Thy base suspicions cast on Philoctetes.
SCENE V.
ŒDIPUS, ARASPES.
ŒDIPUS.
Araspes, I can never think him guilty:
A heart like his, intrepid, brave, and fearless,
Could never stoop to mean disguise; nor thoughts
So noble e'er inspire the timid breast
Of falsehood: no! such baseness is far from him:
I even blushed to accuse him, and condemned
My own injustice: hard and cruel fate
Of royalty! alas! kings cannot read
The hearts of men, and oft on innocence,
Spite of ourselves unjust, inflict the pains
Due to the guilty. How this Phorbas lingers!
In him alone are all my hopes: the gods
Refuse to hear or answer to our vows;
Their silence shows how much they are offended.
ARASPES.
Rely then on thyself: the gods, whose aid
This priest hath promised, do not always dwell
Within their temples; tripods, caves, and cells,
The brazen mouths that pour forth oracles,
Which men had framed, by men may be inspired;
We must not rest our faith on priests alone;
Even in the sanctuary traitors oft
May lurk unseen, exert their pious arts
To enslave mankind, and bid the destinies
Speak or be silent just as they command them.
Search then, and find the truth, examine all;
Phorbas, and Philoctetes, and Jocaste.
Trust to yourself; let our own eyes determine;
Be they our tripods, oracles, and gods.
ŒDIPUS.
Within the temple, thinkest thou, perfidy
Like this can dwell: but if just heaven at last
Should fix our fate, and Œdipus be called
To execute its will, he will receive
The precious trust, the safety of his country,
Nor act unworthy of it. To the gods
Once more I go, and with incessant prayer
Will try to soothe their anger: thou, meantime,
If thou wouldst wish to serve me, hasten onward
The lingering Phorbas; in our hapless state,
I must enquire the truth of gods and men.
The End of the Second Act.