# Mahomet (Voltaire)/Act I

MAHOMET.
ACT I. SCENE I.
ZOPIR, PHANOR.
ZOPIR.
To this proud hypocrite; shall I fall down
And worship, I who banished him from Mecca?
No: punish me, just heaven, as I deserve,
If e’er this hand, the friend of innocence
And freedom, stoop to cherish foul rebellion,
Or aid imposture to deceive mankind!
PHANOR.
Of Ishmael’s sacred senate, but may prove
Destructive to the cause it means to serve:
Thy ardor cannot check the rapid power
Of Mahomet, and but provokes his vengeance:
There was a time when you might safely draw
The sword of justice, to defend the rights
Of Mecca, and prevent the flames of war
From spreading o’er the land; then Mahomet
Was but a bold and factious citizen,
But now he is a conqueror, and a king;
Mecca’s impostor at Medina shines
A holy prophet; nations bend before him,
And learn to worship crimes which we abhor.
Even here, a band of wild enthusiasts, drunk
With furious zeal, support his fond delusions,
His idle tales, and fancied miracles:
These spread sedition through the gaping throng,
Invite his forces, and believe a God
Inspires and renders him invincible.
The lovers of their country think with you,
But wisest counsels are not always followed;
False zeal, and fear, and love of novelty
Alarm the crowd; already half our city
Is left unpeopled; Mecca cries aloud
To thee her father, and demands a peace.
ZOPIR.
Can you expect but slavery from a tyrant!
Go, bend your supple knees, and prostrate fall
Before the idol whose oppressive hand
Shall crush you all: for me, I hate the traitor;
This heart’s too deeply wounded to forgive:
The savage murderer robbed me of a wife
And two dear children: nor is his resentment
Less fierce than mine; I forced his camp, pursued
The coward to his tent, and slew his son:
The torch of hatred is lit up between us,
And time can never extinguish it.
PHANOR.
It never will; yet thou shouldst hide the flame,
And sacrifice thy griefs to public good: What if he lay this noble city waste,
Will that avenge thee, will that serve thy cause?
Thou hast lost all, son, brother, daughter, wife.
Mecca alone remains to give thee comfort,
Do not lose that, do not destroy thy country.
ZOPIR.
PHANOR.
ZOPIR.
PHANOR.
To brave the storm is false and fatal courage:
Kind heaven, thou seest, points out to thee the means
To soften this proud tyrant; fair Palmira,
Thy beautous captive, brought up in the camp
Of this destructive conqueror, was sent
By gracious heaven, the messenger of peace,
Thy guardian angel, to appease the wrath
Of Mahomet; already by his herald
He has demanded her.
ZOPIR.
Give up so fair a prize to this barbarian?
What! whilst the tyrant spreads destruction round him, Unpeoples kingdoms, and destroys mankind,
Shall beauty’s charms be sacrificed to bribe
A madman’s frenzy? I should envy him
That lovely fair one more than all his glory;
Not that I feel the stings of wild desire,
Or, in the evening of my days, indulge,
Old as I am, a shameless passion for her;
But, whether objects born like her to please,
Spite of ourselves, demand our tenderest pity,
Or that perhaps a childless father hopes
To find in her another daughter, why
I know not, but for that unhappy maid
Still am I anxious; be it weakness in me,
Or reason’s powerful voice, I cannot bear
To see her in the hands of Mahomet;
Would I could mould her to my wishes, form
Her willing mind, and make her hate the tyrant
As I do! She has sent to speak with me
Here in the sacred porch and lo! she comes:
On her fair cheek the blush of modesty
And candor speaks the virtues of her heart.
SCENE II.
ZOPIR, PALMIRA.
ZOPIR.
Hath made thee Zopir’s captive, but thou art not Amongst barbarians; all with me revere Palmira’s virtues, and lament her fate, Whilst youth with innocence and beauty plead Thy cause; whatever thou askest in Zopir’s power, Thou shalt not ask in vain: my life declines Towards its period, and if my last hours Can give Palmira joy, I shall esteem them The best, the happiest I have ever known.
PALMIRA.
Scarce have I felt the yoke of slavery; Your generous hand, still raised to soothe affliction, Hath wiped the tears of sorrow from my eyes, And softened all the rigor of my fate: Forgive me, if emboldened by your goodness I ask for more, and centre every hope Of future happiness on you alone; Forgive me, if to Mahomet’s request
I join Palmira’s, and implore that freedom He hath already asked: O listen to him, And let me say, that after heaven and him I am indebted most to generous Zopir.
ZOPIR.
That thou shouldst wish and beg to be the slave Of Mahomet, to hear the clash of arms, With him to live in deserts, and in caves, And wander o’er his ever shifting country?
PALMIRA.
There is our home, and there our native country: He formed my soul; to Mahomet I owe The kind instruction of my earlier years; Taught by the happy partners of his bed, Who still adoring and adored by him Send up their prayers to heaven for his dear safety, I lived in peace and joy! for ne’er did woe Pollute that seat of bliss till the sad hour Of my misfortune, when wide-wasting war Rushed in upon us and enslaved Palmira: Pity, my lord, a heart oppressed with grief, That sighs for objects far, far distant from her.
ZOPIR.
The tyrant’s hand, and hope to share his throne.
PALMIRA.
Looks up to Mahomet with holy fear As to a god; but never did this heart E’er cherish the vain hope that he would deign
To wed Palmira: No: such splendor ill Would suit my humble state.
ZOPIR.
He was not born, I trust, to be thy husband, No, nor thy master; much I err, or thou Springest from a race designed by heaven to check This haughty Arab, and give laws to him Who thus assumes the majesty of kings.
PALMIRA.
Of birth or fortune; from our infant years Without or parents, friends, or country, doomed To slavery; here resigned to our hard fate, Strangers to all but to that God we serve, We live content in humble poverty.
ZOPIR.
Without a father, and without a home? I am a childless, poor, forlorn, old man; You might have been the comfort of my age: To form a plan of future happiness For you, had softened my own wretchedness, And made me some amends for all my wrongs: But you abhor my country and my law.
PALMIRA.
Can I be thine? I pity thy misfortunes, And bless thee for thy goodness to Palmira; But Mahomet has been a father to me.
ZOPIR.
PALMIRA.
The great ambassador of heaven, sent down To interpret its high will?
ZOPIR.
How blind ye are, to follow this proud madman, This happy robber, whom my justice spared, And raise him from the scaffold to a throne!
PALMIRA.
Though I am bound by honor and the ties Of gratitude to love thee for thy bounties, This blasphemy against my kind protector Cancels the bond, and fills my soul with horror. O superstition, how thy savage power Deprives at once the best and tenderest hearts Of their humanity!
ZOPIR.
Spite of myself, I feel for thy misfortunes, Pity thy weakness, and lament thy fate.
PALMIRA.
ZOPIR.
To him who has deceived thy easy heart, To a base tyrant; No: thou art a treasure Too precious to be parted with, and makest This hypocrite but more detested.
SCENE III.
ZOPIR, PALMIRA, PHANOR.
ZOPIR.
What wouldst thou?
PHANOR.
To Moad’s fertile plain, the valiant Omar Is just arrived.
ZOPIR.
The fierce, vindictive Omar, his new convert, Who had so long opposed him, and still fought For us!
PHANOR.
Already he hath offered terms of peace; Our chiefs have parleyed with him, he demands An hostage, and I hear they’ve granted him The noble Seid.
PALMIRA.
PHANOR.
ZOPIR.
There’s no retreating now, he must be heard; Palmira, you may leave us.—O ye gods Of my forefathers, you who have protected
The sons of Ishmael these three thousand years, And thou, O Sun, with all those sacred lights That glitter round us, witness to my truth, Aid and support me in the glorious conflict With proud iniquity!
SCENE IV.
ZOPIR, OMAR, PHANOR, Attendants.
ZOPIR.
Omar returns, after a three years’ absence, To visit that loved country which his hand So long defended, and his honest heart Has now betrayed: deserter of our gods, Deserter of our laws, how darest thou thus Approach these sacred walls to persecute And to oppress; a public robber’s slave; What is thy errand? wherefore comest thou hither?
OMAR.
In pity to thy age, thy well-known valor, And past misfortunes, offers thee his hand: Omar is come to bring thee terms of peace.
ZOPIR.
Who should have sued for pardon? gracious gods! Will ye permit him to usurp your power, And suffer Mahomet to rule mankind? Dost thou not blush, vile minion as thou art, To serve a traitor? hast thou not beheld him Friendless and poor, an humble citizen,
And ranking with the meanest of the throng? How little then in fortune or in fame!
OMAR.
To judge of merit, whilst in fortune’s scale Ye weigh the worth of men: proud, empty being, Dost thou not know that the poor worm which crawls Low on the earth, and the imperial eagle That soars to heaven, in the all-seeing eye Of their eternal Maker are the same, And shrink to nothing? men are equal all; From virtue only true distinction springs, And not from birth: there are exalted spirits Who claim respect and honor from themselves And not their ancestors: these, these, my lord, Are heaven’s peculiar care, and such is he Whom I obey, and who alone deserves To be a master; all mankind like me Shall one day fall before the conqueror’s feet, And future ages follow my example.
ZOPIR.
In vain hath drawn the visionary portrait; Thou mayest deceive the multitude, but know, What Mecca worships Zopir can despise: Be honest then, and with the impartial eye Of reason look on Mahomet; behold him But as a mortal, and consider well By what base arts the vile impostor rose, A camel-driver, a poor abject slave, Who first deceived a fond, believing woman, And now supported by an idle dream Draws in the weak and credulous multitude:
Condemned to exile, I chastised the rebel Too lightly, and his insolence returns With double force to punish my indulgence. He fled with Fatima from cave to cave, And suffered chains, contempt and banishment; Meantime the fury which he called divine Spread like a subtle poison through the crowd; Medina was infected: Omar then, To reason’s voice attentive, would have stopped The impetuous torrent; he had courage then And virtue to attack the proud usurper, Though now he crouches to him like a slave. If thy proud master be indeed a prophet, How didst thou dare to punish him? or why, If an impostor, wilt thou dare to serve him?
OMAR.
But now, the veil of ignorance removed, I see him as he is; behold him born To change the astonished world, and rule mankind: When I beheld him rise in awful pomp, Intrepid, eloquent, by all admired, By all adored; beheld him speak and act, Punish and pardon like a god, I lent My little aid, and joined the conqueror. Altars, thou knowest, and thrones were our reward; Once I was blind, like thee, but, thanks to heaven! My eyes are opened now; would, Zopir, thine Were open, too! let me entreat thee, change, As I have done; no longer boast thy zeal And cruel hatred, nor blaspheme our God, But fall submissive at the hero’s feet Whom thou hast injured; kiss the hand that bears The angry lightning, lest it fall upon thee.
Omar is now the second of mankind; A place of honor yet remains for thee, If prudent thou wilt yield, and own a master: What we have been thou knowest, and what we are: The multitude are ever weak and blind, Made for our use, born but to serve the great, But to admire, believe us, and obey: Reign then with us, partake the feast of grandeur, No longer deign to imitate the crowd, But henceforth make them tremble.
ZOPIR.
And Mahomet, with all thy hateful train: Thinkest thou that Mecca’s faithful chief will fall At an impostor’s feet, and crown a rebel? I am no stranger to his specious worth; His courage and his conduct have my praise; Were he but virtuous I like thee should love him; But as he is I hate the tyrant: hence, Nor talk to me of his deceitful mercy, His clemency and goodness; all his aim Is cruelty and vengeance: with this hand I slew his darling son; I banished him: My hatred is inflexible, and so Is Mahomet’s resentment: if he e’er Re-enters Mecca, he must cut his way Through Zopir’s blood, for he is deeply stained With crimes that justice never can forgive.
OMAR.
That he can pardon though thou canst not, here I offer thee the third of all our spoils Which we have taken from tributary kings; Name your conditions, and the terms of peace;
Set your own terms on fair Palmira; take Our treasures, and be happy.
ZOPIR.
Will basely sell his honor and his country, Will blast his name with infamy for wealth, The foul reward of guilt, or that Palmira Will ever own a tyrant for her master? She is too virtuous e’er to be the slave Of Mahomet, nor will I suffer her To fall a sacrifice to base impostors Who would subvert the laws, and undermine The safety and the virtue of mankind.
OMAR.
As if he were a criminal, and thou His judge; but henceforth I would have thee act A better part, and treat me as a friend, As the ambassador of Mahomet, A conqueror and a king.
ZOPIR.
Who crowned him?
OMAR.
And tremble at his power: amidst his conquests The hero offers peace; our swords are still Unsheathed, and woe to this rebellious city If she submits not: think what blood must flow, The blood of half our fellow-citizens; Consider, Zopir, Mahomet is here, And even now requests to speak with thee.
ZOPIR.
OMAR.
ZOPIR.
Were I the sole despotic ruler here He should be answered soon——by chastisement.
OMAR.
But since the senate insolently claim Divided empire with thee, to the senate Let us begone; Omar will meet thee there.
ZOPIR.
Can plead his cause: I will defend my gods, My country, and her laws; thy impious voice Shall bellow for thy vengeful deity, Thy persecuting god, and his false prophet.
[Turning to Phanor.
Who spares a villain is a villain:—come, Let us, my friend, unite to crush his pride, Subvert his wily purposes, destroy him, Or perish in the attempt: If Mecca listens To Zopir’s councils, I shall free my country From a proud tyrant’s power, and save mankind.
End of the First Act.