O God! the lightning could not have struck nearer without destroying me entirely. Wondrous gods! The flash returns! The vapour passes off, and I was only stunned. My whole misery then was seeing how miserable I might have become--how miserable my father through me!--Now I may appear again before you, my father! But still with eyes cast down; though shame alone will cast them down, and not the burning consciousness of having drawn you down with me to destruction. Now I need fear nothing from you but a smiling reprimand; no silent grief; no curses stifled by the stronger power of paternal love----
But--yes, by Heavens! I am too indulgent towards myself. May I forgive myself all the errors which Providence seems to pardon me? Shall I not judge myself more severely than Providence and my father judge me? All too indulgent judges! All other sad results of my imprisonment the gods could annihilate; one only they could not--the disgrace! It is true they could wipe out that fleeting shame, which falls from the lips of the vulgar crowd: but not the true and lasting disgrace, which the inner judge, my impartial self, pronounces over me!
And how easily I delude myself! Does my father then lose nothing through me?
The weight which the capture of Polytimet must throw into the scale if I were not a prisoner--is that nothing? Only through me does it become nothing! Fortune would have declared for him for whom it should declare;--the right of my father would triumph, if Polytimet was prisoner and not Philotas and Polytimet!
And now--but what was that which I thought just now? Nay, which a god thought within me--I must follow it up! Let me chain thee, fleeting thought! Now I have it again! How it spreads, farther and farther; and now it beams throughout my soul!
What did the king say? Why did he wish that I myself should send a trustworthy messenger to my father? In order that my father should not suspect--yes, thus ran his own words--that I had already died, perchance, from my wounds. He thinks, then, that the affair would take a different aspect, if I had died already from my wound. Would it do so? A thousand thanks for this intelligence. A thousand thanks! Of course it is so. For my father would then have a prince as his prisoner, for whom he could make any claim; and the king, his enemy, would have the body of a captured prince, for which he could demand nothing; which he must have buried or burned, if it should not become an object of disgust to him.
Good! I see that! Consequently, if I, I the wretched prisoner, will still turn the victory into my father's hands--on what does it depend? on death? On nothing more? O truly--the man is mightier than he thinks, the man who knows how to die!
But I? I, the germ, the bud of a man, do I know how to die? Not the man, the grown man alone, knows how to die; the youth also, the boy also; or he knows nothing at all. He who has lived ten years has had ten years time to learn to die; and what one does not learn in ten years, one neither learns in twenty, in thirty, nor in more. All that which I might have been, I must show by what I already am. And what could I, what would I be? A hero! Who is a hero? O my excellent, my absent father, be now wholly present in my soul! Have you not taught me that a hero is a man who knows higher goods than life? A man who has devoted his life to the welfare of the state; himself, the single one, to the welfare of the many? A hero is a man--a man? Then not a youth, my father? Curious question! It is good that my father did not hear it. He would have to think that I should be pleased, if he answered "No" to it. How old must the pine-tree be which has to serve as a mast? How old?--It must be tall enough, and must be strong enough.
Each thing, said the sage who taught me, is perfect if it can fulfil its end. I can fulfil my end, I can die for the welfare of the state; I am therefore perfect, I am a man. A man! although but a few days ago I was still a boy.
What fire rages in my veins? What inspiration falls on me? The breast becomes too narrow for the heart! Patience, my heart! Soon will I give thee space! Soon will I release thee from thy monotonous and tedious task! Soon shalt thou rest, and rest for long! Who comes? It is Parmenio! Quick! I must decide! What must I say to him? What message must I send my father through him?--Right! that I must say, that message I must send.
Parmenio. Philotas.
Approach, Parmenio! Well? Why so shy--so full of shame? Of whom are you ashamed? Of yourself or of me?
Of both of us, prince!
Speak always as you think! Truly, Parmenio, neither of us can be good for much, since we are here. Have you already heard my story?
Alas!
And when you heard it?
I pitied you, I admired you, I cursed you; I do not know myself what I did.
Yes, yes! But now that you have also learned, as I suppose, that the misfortune is not so great since Polytimet immediately afterwards was----
Yes, now; now I could almost laugh! I find that Fate often stretches its arm to terrible length to deal a trifling blow. One might think it wished to crush us, and it has after all done nothing but killed a fly upon our forehead.
To the point. I am to send you to my father with the king's herald.
Good! Your imprisonment will then plead for mine. Without the good news which I shall bring him from you, and which is well worth a friendly look, I should have had to promise myself rather a frosty one from him.
No, honest Parmenio; in earnest now! My father knows that the enemy carried you from the battle-field bleeding and half dead. Let him boast who will. He whom approaching death has already disarmed is easily taken captive. How many wounds have you now, old warrior?
O, I could cite a long list of them once. But now I have shortened it a good deal.
How so?
Ha! I do not any more count the limbs on which I am wounded; to save time and breath I count those which still are whole. Trifles after all! For what else has one bones, but that the enemy's iron should notch itself upon them?
That is bold! But now--what will you say to my father?
What I see: that you are well. For your wound, if I have heard the truth----
Is as good as none.
A sweet little keepsake. Such as an ardent maid nips in our cheek. Is it not, prince?
What do I know of that?
Well, well, time brings experience! Further I will tell your father what I believe you wish----
And what is that?
To be with him again as soon as possible. Your childlike longing, your anxious impatience----
Why not home-sickness at once! Knave! Wait and I will teach you to think differently.
By Heavens you must not! My dear youthful hero, let me tell you, you are still a child! Do not let the rough soldier so soon stifle in you the loving child! Or else one might not put the best construction on your heart; one might take your valour for inborn ferocity. I also am a father, father of an only son, who is but a little older than you, who with equal ardour--But you know him!
I know him. He promises everything that his father has accomplished.
But if I knew that the young rogue did not long for his father at every moment when service leaves him free, and did not long for him as the lamb longs for its dam, I should wish--you see--that I had not begotten him. At present he must love more than respect me. I shall soon enough have to content myself with the respect, when nature guides the stream of his affection in another channel; when he himself becomes a father. Do not grow angry, prince!
Who can grow angry with you? You are right! Tell my father everything which you think a loving son should say to him at such a time. Excuse my youthful rashness, which has almost brought him and his empire to destruction. Beg him to forgive my fault. Assure him that I shall never again remind him of it by a similar fault; that I will do everything that he too may be able to forget it. Entreat him----
Leave it to me! Such things we soldiers can say well. And better than a learned orator, for we say it more sincerely. Leave it to me! I know it all already. Farewell, prince! I hasten----
Stop!
Well? What means this serious air which you suddenly assume?
The son has done with you, but not yet the prince. The one had to feel; the other has to think! How willingly would the son be again with his father,--his beloved father--this very moment--sooner than were possible; but the prince, the prince cannot.--Listen!
The prince cannot?
And will not!
Will not?
Listen!
I am surprised!
I say, you shall listen and not be surprised. Listen!
I am surprised, because I listen. It has lightened, and I expect the thunderbolt. Speak!--But, young prince, no second rashness!
But, soldier, no subtilising! Listen! I have my reasons for wishing not to be redeemed before to-morrow. Not before to-morrow! Do you hear? Therefore tell our king that he shall not heed the haste of our enemy's herald! Tell him that a certain doubt, a certain plan compelled Philotas to this delay. Have you understood me?
No!
Not? Traitor!
Softly, prince! A parrot does not understand, but he yet recollects what one says to him. Fear not! I will repeat everything to your father that I hear from you.
Ha! I forbade you to subtilise; and that puts you out of humour. But how is it that you are so spoiled? Do all your generals inform you of their reasons?
All, prince!--Except the young ones.
Excellent! Parmenio, if I were so sensitive as you----
And yet he only to whom experience has given twofold sight can command my blind obedience.
Then I shall soon have to ask your pardon. Well, I ask your pardon, Parmenio! Do not grumble, old man! Be kind again, old father! You are indeed wiser than I am. But not the wisest only have the best ideas. Good ideas are gifts of fortune, and good fortune, as you well know, often gives to the youth rather than to the old man. For Fortune is blind. Blind, Parmenio! Stone blind to all merit. If it were not so, would you not have been a general long ago?
How you know how to flatter, prince! But in confidence, beloved prince, do you not wish to bribe me--to bribe me with flatteries?
I flatter? And bribe you? You are the man indeed whom one could bribe!
If you continue thus, I may become so. Already I no longer thoroughly trust myself.
What was it I was saying? One of those good ideas, which fortune often throws into the silliest brain, I too have seized--merely seized, not the slightest portion of it is my own. For if my reason,--my invention had some part in it, should I not wish to consult with you about it? But this I cannot do; it vanishes, if I impart it; so tender, so delicate is it, that I do not venture to clothe it in words. I conceive it only, as the philosopher has taught me to conceive God, and at the most I could only tell you what it is not. It is possible enough that it is in reality a childish thought; a thought which I consider happy, because I have not yet had a happier. But let that be; if it can do no good, it can at least do no harm. That I know for certain; it is the most harmless idea in the world; as harmless as--as a prayer! Would you cease to pray because you are not quite certain whether the prayer will be of use to you? Do not then spoil my pleasure, Parmenio, honest Parmenio! I beg you, I embrace you. If you love me but a very little--will you? Can I rely on you? Will you manage that I am not exchanged before to-morrow? Will you?
Will? Must I not? Must I not? Listen, prince; when you shall one day be king, do not give commands. To command is an unsure means of being obeyed. If you have a heavy duty to impose on anyone, do with him as you have just now done with me; and if he then refuses his obedience--Impossible! He cannot refuse it to you. I too must know what a man can refuse.
What obedience? What has the kindness which you show me to do with obedience? Will you, my friend----
Stop! Stop! You have won me quite already. Yes! I will do everything. I will, I will tell your father, that he shall not exchange you until to-morrow. But why only to-morrow? I do not know! That I need not know. That he need not know either. Enough that I know you wish it. And I wish everything that you wish. Do you wish nothing else? Is there nothing else that I shall do? Shall I run through the fire for you? Shall I cast myself from a rock for you? Command only, my dear young friend, command! I will do everything now for you. Even say a word and I will commit a crime, an act of villainy for you! My blood, it is true, curdles; but still, prince, if you wish, I will--I will----
O my best, my fiery friend! O how shall I call you? You creator of my future fame! I swear to you by everything that is sacred to me, by my father's honour, by the fortune of his arms, by the welfare of his land--I swear to you never in my life to forget this your readiness, your zeal! Would that I also could reward it sufficiently! Hear, ye gods, my oath! And now, Parmenio, swear too! Swear to keep your promise faithfully!
I swear? I am too old for swearing.
And I too young to trust you without an oath. Swear to me! I have sworn to you by my father, swear you by your son. You love your son? You love him from your heart?
From my heart, as I love you! You wish it, and I swear. I swear to you by my only son, by my blood which flows in his veins, by the blood which I would willingly have shed for your father's sake, and which he will also willingly shed some future day for yours--by this blood I swear to you to keep my word. And if I do not keep it, may my son fall in his first battle, and never live to see the glorious days of your reign! Hear, ye gods, my oath!
Hear him not yet, ye gods! You will make fun of me, old man! To fall in the first battle--not to live to see my reign; is that a misfortune? Is it a misfortune to die early?
I do not say that. Yet only to see you on the throne, to serve you, I should like--what otherwise I should not wish at all--to become young again. Your father is good; but you will be better than he.
No praise that slights my father! Alter your oath! Come, alter it like this. If you do not keep your word, let your son become a coward, a scoundrel; in the choice between death and disgrace, let him choose the latter; let him live ninety years the laughing-stock of women, and even die unwillingly in his ninetieth year.
I shudder, but I swear. Let him do so. Hear the most terrible of oaths, ye gods!
Hear it! Well, you can go, Parmenio! We have detained each other long enough, and almost made too much ado about a trifle. For is it not a very trifle to tell my father--to persuade him not to exchange us until tomorrow? And if he should wish to know the reason--well, then invent a reason on your way!
That, too, I'll do. Yet I have never, though I am so old, devised a lie. But for your sake, prince--Leave it to me. Wickedness may still be learned even in old age. Farewell!
Embrace me! Go!
There are said to be so many rogues in the world, and yet deceiving is so hard, even when done with the best intentions. Had I not to turn and twist myself! Only see, good Parmenio, that my father does not exchange us before to-morrow, and he shall not need to exchange us at all. Now I have gained time enough! Time enough to strengthen myself in my purpose--time enough to choose the surest means. To strengthen myself in my purpose! Woe to me if I need that! Firmness of age, if thou art not mine, then obstinacy of youth, stand thou by me!
Yes, it is resolved! It is firmly resolved! I feel that I grow calm--I am calm! Thou who standest there, Philotas (surveying himself)--Ha! It must be a glorious, a grand sight; a youth stretched on the ground, the sword in his breast! The sword? Gods! O unhappy wretch that I am. And now only do I become aware of it! I have no sword; I have not anything! It became the booty of the warrior who made me prisoner. Perhaps he would have left it me, but the hilt was of gold. Accursed gold! art thou then always the ruin of virtue?
No sword? I no sword? Gods, merciful gods, grant me this one thing! Mighty gods, ye who have created heaven and earth, ye could not create a sword for me, if ye wished to do so? What is now my grand and glorious design? I become a bitter cause of laughter to myself.
And there the king comes back already! Stop! Suppose I played the child? This idea is promising. Yes, perhaps I may succeed.
Aridäus. Philotas.
The messengers have now gone, my prince! They have started on their swiftest horses, and your father's camp is so near at hand, that we can receive a reply in a few hours.
You are then very impatient, king, to embrace your son once more?
Will your father be less so to press you to his heart again? But let me enjoy your company, dearest prince! The time will speed more quickly in it, and perhaps in other respects it may also have good results, if we become more intimately acquainted with each other. Often already have loving children been the mediators of their angry fathers. Follow me therefore to my tent, where the greatest of my generals await you! They burn with the desire to see you, and offer you their admiration.
Men must not admire a child, king! Leave me here, therefore, I pray! Shame and vexation would make me play a very foolish part. And as to your conversation with me, I do not see at all what good could come of it. I know nothing else, but that you and my father are involved in war; and the right--the right, I think, is on my father's side. This I believe, king! and will believe, even though you could prove the reverse indisputably. I am a son and a soldier, and have no other opinion than that of my father and my general.
Prince! it shows a great intelligence thus to deny one's intelligence. Yet I am sorry that I shall not ever be able to justify myself before you. Accursed war!
Yes, truly, an accursed war! And woe to him who caused it.
Prince! prince! remember that it was your father who first drew the sword. I do not wish to join in your curses. He was rash, he was too suspicious.
Well, my father drew the first sword. But does the conflagration only take its rise when the bright flame already breaks through the roof? Where is the patient, quiet creature, devoid of all feeling, which cannot be embittered through incessant irritations? Consider--for you compel me to speak of things of which I have no right to speak--consider what a proud and scornful answer you sent him when he--but you shall not compel me; I will not speak of it! Our guilt and our innocence are liable to endless misinterpretations, endless excuses. Only to the undeceived eye of the gods do we appear as we are; they alone can judge us. But the gods, you know it, king, speak their verdict through the sword of the bravest. Let us therefore wait to hear their bloody sentence. Why shall we turn in cowardice from this highest of judgments to a lower? Are our arms already so weary that the pliant tongue must take their place?
I hear with astonishment----
Ah! a woman, too, may be listened to with astonishment.
With astonishment, prince, and not without grief. Fate has destined you for the throne! To you it will confide the welfare of a mighty and noble nation; to you! What dreadful future reveals itself to me! You will overwhelm your people with laurels,--and with misery. You will count more victories than happy subjects. Well for me, that my days will not reach into yours! But woe to my son, to my honest son! You will scarcely allow him to lay aside his armour----
Comfort the father, O king! I shall allow your son far more!--far more!
Far more? Explain yourself.
Have I spoken a riddle? O do not ask, king, that a youth, such as I am, shall always speak with caution and design. I only wished to say the fruit is often very different from what the blossom promises. An effeminate prince, history has taught me, has often proved a warlike king. Could not the reverse occur with me? Or perhaps the meaning of what I said was that I had still a long and dangerous way to the throne. Who knows if the gods will allow me to accomplish it? And do not let me accomplish it, father of gods and men, if in the future thou seest in me a waster of the most precious gift which thou hast entrusted to me,--the blood of my subjects!
Yes, prince; what is a king, if he be not a father? What is a hero void of human love? Now I recognise this also in you, and am your friend again! But come, come; we must not remain alone here! We are too serious for one another. Follow me!
Pardon, king----
Do not refuse!
Thus, as I am, shall I show myself to many eyes?
Why not?
I cannot, king, I cannot!
And the reason?
O, the reason! It would make you laugh.
So much the better,--let me hear it! I am a human being, and like to laugh and cry.
Well, laugh then! See, king, I have no sword, and should not like to appear amongst soldiers without this mark of the soldier.
My laughing turns to joy! I have thought of that beforehand, and your wish will be gratified at once. Strato has the order to get your sword again for you.
Let us then await him here!
And then you will accompany me?
Then I will follow you immediately.
As we willed it! There he comes! Well, Strato!
Strato(with a sword in his hand),Aridäus, Philotas.
King! I came to the soldier who had taken the prince and demanded the prince's sword from him in your name. But hear how nobly the soldier refused! "The king," he said, "must not take the sword from me! It is a good sword, and I shall use it in his service. I must also keep a remembrance of this deed. By the gods, it was none of my least! The prince is a young demon. But perhaps you wish only the precious hilt!" And on this, before I could prevent it, his strong hand had broken off the hilt, and throwing it contemptuously before my feet--"There it is," he continued, "what care I for your gold?"
O Strato, make good for me what this man has done!
I have done so. And here is one of your swords!
Give it me! Will you accept it, prince, instead of yours?
Let me see! Ha! (aside.) Be thanked, ye gods! (eyeing it long and earnestly). A sword!
Have I not chosen well, prince?
What do you find in it so worthy of your deep attention?
That it is a sword!--(recovering himself.) And a beautiful sword! I shall not lose anything by this exchange. A sword!
You tremble, prince!
With joy! It seems, however, a trifle short for me. But why short? A step nearer to the enemy replaces what is wanting in the steel. Beloved sword! What a beautiful thing is a sword,--to play with and to use! I have never played with anything else.
O the wondrous combination of child and hero!
Beloved sword! Could I but be alone with thee! But, courage!
Now gird on the sword, prince, and follow me!
Directly! Yet one must not know one's friend and one's sword only outwardly (he draws it, andStratosteps between him and the king).
I understand the steel better than the workmanship. Believe me, prince, the steel is good. The king has cleft more than one helmet with it since his youth.
I shall never grow so strong as that! But--Do not step so near, Strato!
Why not?
So! (springing back and swinging the sword through the air). It has the right swing.
Prince, spare your wounded arm! You will excite yourself!
Of what do you remind me, king? Of my misfortune--no, of my shame! I was wounded and made prisoner. Yes, but I shall never be so again! By this my sword, I shall never be so again! No, my father, no! To-day a wonder spares you the shameful ransom of your son; his death may spare it you in the future!--His certain death, when he shall see himself surrounded again! Surrounded again? Horrible! I am so! I am surrounded! What now? Companions! Friends! Brothers! Where are you? All dead? Enemies everywhere! Through here, Philotas! Ha! That is for you, rash fellow!--And that for you!--And that for you! (striking around him.)
Prince! what ails you? Calm yourself (approaches him.)
You too, Strato? You too? O, foe, be generous! Kill me! Do not make me captive! No, I do not deliver myself up! Were you all, who surround me, Stratos, yet I will defend myself against you all--against a world will I defend myself! Do your best, my foes! But you will not? You will not kill me, cruel men? You only wish to have me alive? I laugh at you! To take me prisoner alive? Me? Sooner shall this sword--this sword--shall pierce this breast--sooner--before--(he stabs himself.)
God! Strato!
King!
I wished it thus! (sinking back.)
Hold him, Strato! Help! help for the prince! Prince, what raving anguish----
Forgive me, king! I have dealt you a more deadly blow than myself! I die, and soon will peaceful lands enjoy the fruit of my death. Your son, king, is a prisoner, and the son of my father is free!
What do I hear?
Then it was your purpose, prince? But as our prisoner, you had no right over yourself!
Do not say that, Strato! Should a man be able to fetter another's liberty to die, the liberty which the gods have left in all vicissitudes of life?
O king! Terror has paralyzed him! King!
Who calls me?
King!
Be silent!
The war is over, king!
Over? You lie, Strato! The war is not over, prince! Die! yes, die! But carry with you this tormenting thought! You believed, as a true ignorant boy, that fathers were all of one and the same mould,--all of the soft, effeminate nature of your father. They are not all like him! I am not so! What do I care about my son? And do you think that he cannot die as well for his father as you did for yours? Let him die! Let his death too spare me the disgraceful ransom! Strato, I am bereft now, I poor man! You have a son;--he shall be mine. For a son one must have! Happy Strato!
Your son too lives still, king! And will live! I hear it!
Does he live still? Then I must have him back. But you--die! I will have him back, let what will come of it. And in exchange for you! Or I will have such disgrace and dishonour shown to your body--I will have it----
The dead body!--If you will revenge yourself, king, awaken it again!
Ah! What do I say?
I pity you! Farewell, Strato! There, where all virtuous friends and all brave men are members of one blessed state--in Elysium we shall meet again! We also, king, shall meet again.
And reconciled! Prince!
O then, ye gods, receive my triumphant soul; and thou, goddess of peace, thy offering!
Hear me, prince!
He dies! Am I traitor, king, if I weep over your enemy? I cannot restrain myself. A wondrous youth!
Weep over him, weep! And I too! Come! I must have my son again. But do not oppose me, if I pay too high a ransom for him! In vain have we shed our streams of blood, in vain have we conquered lands. There he departs with our booty, the greater victor!--Come! Get me my son! And when I have him, I will no more be king. Do ye believe, ye men, that one does not grow weary of it? (Exeunt.)
(Translated by B. Dillon Boylan.)
'Emilia Galotti' was commenced in 1757, when Lessing was at Leipzig, but was thrown aside for some years, until in 1767, when at Hamburg, he again took it up, intending to have it represented on the Hamburg stage. But on the failure of the theatrical enterprise with which he was connected, he once more abandoned it until 1771, when he again turned his attention to it, and completed it in February of the following year. It was immediately represented on the Brunswick stage.