Œdipus (Voltaire)/Act IV
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 himfare 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.