PHILOTAS.
A TRAGEDY IN ONE ACT.
Philotos was written at Berlin in the year 1759. It was never
represented, and was probably not intended for the stage. It is here
translated for the first time into English.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Aridaeus, _the King_.
Strato, _a General of_ Aridaeus.
Philotas, _a prisoner_.
Parmenio, _a soldier_.
PHILOTAS.
Scene I.
_The scene is laid in a tent in the camp of_ Aridaeus.
PHILOTAS.
Am I really a prisoner? A prisoner? A worthy commencement this of my
apprenticeship in war. O ye gods! O my father! How gladly would I
persuade myself that all was but a dream! My earliest years have never
dreamt of anything but arms and camps, battles and assaults. Could not
the youth too be dreaming now of loss and defeat? Do not delude thyself
thus, Philotas!--If I did not see, did not feel the wound through which
the sword dropped from my palsied hand.--They have dressed it for me
against my will! O cruel mercy of a cunning foe! "It is not mortal,"
said the surgeon, and thought to console me. Wretch, it should be
mortal! And one wound only, only one! Did I know that I should make it
mortal by tearing it open and dressing it and tearing it open again.--I
rave, unhappy wretch. And with what a scornful face--I now recall
it--that aged warrior looked at me--who snatched me from my horse! He
called me--child! His king, too, must take me for a child, a pampered
child. To what a tent he has had me brought! Adorned and provided with
comforts of every sort! It must belong to one of his mistresses! A
disgusting place for a soldier! And instead of being guarded, I am
served. O mocking civility!
Scene II.
Strato. Philotas.
STRATO.
Prince--
PHILOTAS.
Another visitor already? Old man, I like to be alone!
STRATO.
Prince! I come by order of the king.
PHILOTAS.
I understand you! It is true, I am the king's prisoner, and it rests
with him how he will have me treated. But listen: if you are the man
whose features you bear,--if you are an old and honest warrior, have
pity on me, and beg the king to have me treated as a soldier, not as a
woman.
STRATO.
He will be with you directly; I come to announce his approach.
PHILOTAS.
The king with me? And you come to announce him? I do not wish that he
should spare me one of the humiliations to which a prisoner must
submit. Come, lead me to him! After the disgrace of having been
disarmed, nothing is disgraceful to me now.
STRATO.
Prince! Your countenance, so full of youthful graces, bespeaks a softer
heart!
PHILOTAS.
Mock not my countenance! Your visage, full of scars, is assuredly a
more handsome face.
STRATO.
By the gods! A grand answer! I must admire and love you.
PHILOTAS.
I would not object if only you had feared me first.
STRATO.
More and more heroic! We have the most terrible of enemies before us,
if there are many like Philotas amongst his youths.
PHILOTAS.
Do not flatter me! To become terrible to you, they must combine greater
deeds with my thoughts. May I know your name?
STRATO.
Strato.
PHILOTAS.
Strato? The brave Strato, who defeated my father on the Lycus?
STRATO.
Do not recall that doubtful victory! And how bloodily did your father
revenge himself in the plain of Methymna! Such a father must needs have
such a son.
PHILOTAS.
To you, the worthiest of my father's enemies, I may bewail my fate! You
only can fully understand me; you too, you too have been consumed in
your youth by the ambition of the glory--the glory of bleeding for your
native land. Would you otherwise be what you are? How have I not
begged, implored, conjured him--my father these seven days--for only
seven days has the manly toga covered me--conjured him seven times on
each of these seven days upon my knees to grant me that I should not in
vain have outgrown my childhood,--to let me go with his warriors who
had long cost me many a tear of jealousy. Yesterday I prevailed on him,
the best of fathers, for Aristodem assisted my entreaties. You know
Aristodem; he is my father's Strato.--"Give me this youth, my king, to
go with me to-morrow," spoke Aristodem, "I am going to scour the
mountains, in order to keep open the way to Caesena." "Would I could
accompany you!" sighed my father. He still lies sick from his wounds.
"But be it so!" and with these words he embraced me. Ah, what did his
happy son feel in that embrace! And the night which followed! I did not
close my eyes; and yet dreams of glory and victory kept me on my couch
until the second watch. Then I sprang up, threw on my new armour,
pushed the uncurled hair beneath the helmet, chose from amongst my
father's swords the one which matched my strength, mounted my horse and
had tired out one already before the silver trumpet awakened the chosen
band. They came, and I spoke with each of my companions, and many a
brave warrior there pressed me to his scarred breast. Only with my
father I did not speak; for I feared he might retract his word, if he
should see me again. Then we marched. By the side of the immortal gods
one cannot feel happier than did I by the side of Aristodem. At every
encouraging glance from him I would have attacked a host alone, and
thrown myself on the certain death of the enemy's swords. In quiet
determination I rejoiced at every hill, from which I hoped to discern
the enemy in the plain below, at every bend of the valley behind which
I flattered myself that we should come upon them. And when at last I
saw them rushing down upon us from the woody height,--showed them to my
companions with the point of my sword,--flew up the mountain towards
them, recall, O renowned warrior, the happiest of your youthful
ecstasies, you could never have been happier. But now, now behold me,
Strato; behold me ignominiously fallen from the summit of my lofty
expectations! O how I shudder to repeat this fall again in thought! I
had rushed too far in advance; I was wounded, and--imprisoned!
Poor youth, thou hadst prepared thyself only for wounds, only for
death,--and thou art made a prisoner! Thus always do the gods, in their
severity, send only unforeseen evils to stultify our self-complacency.
I weep--I must weep, although I fear to be despised for it by you. But
despise me not! You turn away?
STRATO.
I am vexed: you should not move me thus. I become a child with you.
PHILOTAS.
No; hear why I weep! It is no childish weeping which you deign to
accompany with your manly tears. What I thought my greatest happiness,
the tender love with which my father loves me, will now become my
greatest misery. I fear, I fear he loves me more than he loves his
empire! What will he not sacrifice, what will not your king exact from
him, to rescue me from prison! Through me, wretched youth, will he lose
in one day more than he has gained in three long toilsome years with
the blood of his noble warriors, with his own blood. With what face
shall I appear again before him? I, his worst enemy! And my father's
subjects--mine at some future day, if I had made myself worthy to rule
them. How will they be able to endure the ransomed prince amongst them
without contemptuous scorn. And when I die for shame, and creep
unmourned to the shades below, how gloomy and proud will pass by the
souls of those heroes who for their king had to purchase with their
lives those gains, which, as a father, he renounces for an unworthy
son! Oh, that is more than a feeling heart can endure!
STRATO.
Be comforted, dear prince! It is the fault of youth always to think
itself more happy or less than it really is. Your fate is not so cruel
yet;--the king approaches, you will hear more consolation from his
lips.
Scene III.
King Aridaeus, Philotas, Strato.
ARIDAeUS.
The wars which kings are forced to wage together are no personal
quarrels. Let me embrace you, prince! Ah what happy days your blooming
youth recalls to me! Thus bloomed your father's youth! This was his
open, speaking eye; these his earnest, honest features; this his noble
bearing! Let me embrace you again; in you I embrace your younger
father. Have you never heard from him, prince, what good friends we
were at your age? That was the blessed age, when we could still abandon
ourselves to our feelings without restraint. But soon we were both
called to the throne, and the anxious king, the jealous neighbour,
stifled, alas, the willing friend.
PHILOTAS.
Pardon me, O king, if you find me too cold in my reply to such sweet
words. My youth has been taught to think, but not to speak. What can it
now aid me, that you and my father once were friends? Were! so you say
yourself. The hatred which one grafts on an extinguished friendship
bears the most deadly fruit of all; or I still know the human heart too
little. Do not, therefore, O king, do not prolong my despair. You have
spoken as the polished statesman: speak now as the monarch, who has the
rival of his greatness completely in: his power.
STRATO.
O king, do not let him be tormented longer by the uncertainty of his
fate!
PHILOTAS.
I thank you, Strato! Yes, let me hear at once, I beg you, how
despicable you will render an unfortunate son in his father's eyes.
With what disgraceful peace, with how many lands shall he redeem him?
How small and contemptible shall he become, in order to regain his
child? O my father!
ARIDAeUS.
This early, manly language too, prince, was your father's! I like to
hear you speak thus. And would that my son, no less worthy of me, spoke
thus before your father now.
PHILOTAS.
What mean you by that?
ARIDAeUS.
The gods--I am convinced of it--watch over our virtue, as they watch
over our lives. To preserve both as long as possible is their secret
and eternal work. Where is the mortal who knows how wicked he is at
heart,--how viciously he would act, if they allowed free scope to each
treacherous inducement to disgrace himself by little deeds! Yes,
prince! Perhaps I might be he, whom you think me; perhaps I might not
have sufficient nobleness of thought to use with modesty the strange
fortune of war, which delivered you into my hands; perhaps I might have
tried through you to exact that for which I would no longer venture to
contend by arms; perhaps--but fear nothing; a higher power has
forestalled this. Perhaps. I cannot let your father redeem his son more
dearly than by--mine.
PHILOTAS.
I am astounded! You give me to understand that----
ARIDAeUS.
That my son is your father's prisoner, as you are mine.
PHILOTAS.
Your son my father's prisoner? Your Polytimet? Since when? How? Where?
ARIDAeUS.
Fate willed it thus! From equal scales it took equal weights at the
same time, and the scales are balanced still.
STRATO.
You wish to know more details. Polytimet led the very squadron, towards
which you rushed too rashly; and when your soldiers saw that you were
lost, rage and despair gave them superhuman strength. They broke
through the lines and all assailed the one in whom they saw the
compensation for their loss. The end you know! Now accept a word of
advice from an old soldier: The assault is not a race; not he who
first, but he who most surely meets the enemy, approaches victory. Note
this, too ardent prince! otherwise the future hero may be stifled in
his earliest bud.
ARIDAeUS.
Strato, you vex the prince with your warning, though it be friendly.
How gloomily he stands there!
PHILOTAS.
Not so. But do not mind me. In deep adoration of Providence--
ARIDAeUS.
The best adoration, prince, is grateful joy! Cheer up! We fathers will
not long withhold our sons from one another. My herald is now ready; he
shall go and hasten the exchange. But you know that joyful tidings,
heard from the enemy alone, have the appearance of snares. They might
suspect that you, perchance, had died from your wound. It will be
necessary, therefore, for you to send a trustworthy messenger to your
father with the herald. Come with me! Choose among the prisoners one
whom you hold worthy of your confidence.
PHILOTAS.
You wish, then, that I shall detest myself a hundredfold? In each of
the prisoners I shall behold myself! Spare me this embarrassment!
ARIDAeUS.
But----
PHILOTAS.
Parmenio must be among the prisoners. Send him to me! I will despatch
him.
ARIDAeUS.
Well, be it so! Come, Strato! Prince, we shall see each other soon
again!
Scene IV.
PHILOTAS.
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.
Scene V.
Parmenio. Philotas.
PHILOTAS.
Approach, Parmenio! Well? Why so shy--so full of shame? Of whom are you
ashamed? Of yourself or of me?
PARMENIO.
Of both of us, prince!
PHILOTAS.
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?
PARMENIO.
Alas!
PHILOTAS.
And when you heard it?
PARMENIO.
I pitied you, I admired you, I cursed you; I do not know myself what I
did.
PHILOTAS.
Yes, yes! But now that you have also learned, as I suppose, that the
misfortune is not so great since Polytimet immediately afterwards
was----
PARMENIO.
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.
PHILOTAS.
To the point. I am to send you to my father with the king's herald.
PARMENIO.
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.
PHILOTAS.
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?
PARMENIO.
O, I could cite a long list of them once. But now I have shortened it a
good deal.
PHILOTAS.
How so?
PARMENIO.
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?
PHILOTAS.
That is bold! But now--what will you say to my father?
PARMENIO.
What I see: that you are well. For your wound, if I have heard the
truth----
PHILOTAS.
Is as good as none.
PARMENIO.
A sweet little keepsake. Such as an ardent maid nips in our cheek. Is
it not, prince?
PHILOTAS.
What do I know of that?
PARMENIO.
Well, well, time brings experience! Further I will tell your father
what I believe you wish----
PHILOTAS.
And what is that?
PARMENIO.
To be with him again as soon as possible. Your childlike longing, your
anxious impatience----
PHILOTAS.
Why not home-sickness at once! Knave! Wait and I will teach you to
think differently.
PARMENIO.
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!
PHILOTAS.
I know him. He promises everything that his father has accomplished.
PARMENIO.
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!
PHILOTAS.
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----
PARMENIO.
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----
PHILOTAS.
Stop!
PARMENIO.
Well? What means this serious air which you suddenly assume?
PHILOTAS.
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!
PARMENIO.
The prince cannot?
PHILOTAS.
And will not!
PARMENIO.
Will not?
PHILOTAS.
Listen!
PARMENIO.
I am surprised!
PHILOTAS.
I say, you shall listen and not be surprised. Listen!
PARMENIO.
I am surprised, because I listen. It has lightened, and I expect the
thunderbolt. Speak!--But, young prince, no second rashness!
PHILOTAS.
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?
PARMENIO.
No!
PHILOTAS.
Not? Traitor!
PARMENIO.
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.
PHILOTAS.
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?
PARMENIO.
All, prince!--Except the young ones.
PHILOTAS.
Excellent! Parmenio, if I were so sensitive as you----
PARMENIO.
And yet he only to whom experience has given twofold sight can command
my blind obedience.
PHILOTAS.
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?
PARMENIO.
How you know how to flatter, prince! But in confidence, beloved prince,
do you not wish to bribe me--to bribe me with flatteries?
PHILOTAS.
I flatter? And bribe you? You are the man indeed whom one could bribe!
PARMENIO.
If you continue thus, I may become so. Already I no longer thoroughly
trust myself.
PHILOTAS.
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?
PARMENIO.
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.
PHILOTAS.
What obedience? What has the kindness which you show me to do with
obedience? Will you, my friend----
PARMENIO.
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----
PHILOTAS.
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!
PARMENIO.
I swear? I am too old for swearing.
PHILOTAS.
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?
PARMENIO.
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!
PHILOTAS.
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?
PARMENIO.
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.
PHILOTAS.
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.
PARMENIO.
I shudder, but I swear. Let him do so. Hear the most terrible of oaths,
ye gods!
PHILOTAS.
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!
PARMENIO.
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!
PHILOTAS.
Embrace me! Go!
Scene VI.
PHILOTAS.
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.
Scene VII.
Aridaeus. Philotas.
ARIDAeUS.
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.
PHILOTAS.
You are then very impatient, king, to embrace your son once more?
ARIDAeUS.
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.
PHILOTAS.
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.
ARIDAeUS.
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!
PHILOTAS.
Yes, truly, an accursed war! And woe to him who caused it.
ARIDAeUS.
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.
PHILOTAS.
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?
ARIDAeUS.
I hear with astonishment----
PHILOTAS.
Ah! a woman, too, may be listened to with astonishment.
ARIDAeUS.
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----
PHILOTAS.
Comfort the father, O king! I shall allow your son far more!--far more!
ARIDAeUS.
Far more? Explain yourself.
PHILOTAS.
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!
ARIDAeUS.
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!
PHILOTAS.
Pardon, king----
ARIDAeUS.
Do not refuse!
PHILOTAS.
Thus, as I am, shall I show myself to many eyes?
ARIDAeUS.
Why not?
PHILOTAS.
I cannot, king, I cannot!
ARIDAeUS.
And the reason?
PHILOTAS.
O, the reason! It would make you laugh.
ARIDAeUS.
So much the better,--let me hear it! I am a human being, and like to
laugh and cry.
PHILOTAS.
Well, laugh then! See, king, I have no sword, and should not like to
appear amongst soldiers without this mark of the soldier.
ARIDAeUS.
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.
PHILOTAS.
Let us then await him here!
ARIDAeUS.
And then you will accompany me?
PHILOTAS.
Then I will follow you immediately.
ARIDAeUS.
As we willed it! There he comes! Well, Strato!
Scene VIII.
Strato (_with a sword in his hand_), Aridaeus, Philotas.
STRATO.
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?"
ARIDAeUS.
O Strato, make good for me what this man has done!
STRATO.
I have done so. And here is one of your swords!
ARIDAeUS.
Give it me! Will you accept it, prince, instead of yours?
PHILOTAS.
Let me see! Ha! (aside.) Be thanked, ye gods! (eyeing it long and
earnestly). A sword!
STRATO.
Have I not chosen well, prince?
ARIDAeUS.
What do you find in it so worthy of your deep attention?
PHILOTAS.
That it is a sword!--(recovering himself.) And a beautiful sword! I
shall not lose anything by this exchange. A sword!
ARIDAeUS.
You tremble, prince!
PHILOTAS.
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.
ARIDAeUS (_to_ Strato).
O the wondrous combination of child and hero!
PHILOTAS (_aside_).
Beloved sword! Could I but be alone with thee! But, courage!
ARIDAeUS.
Now gird on the sword, prince, and follow me!
PHILOTAS.
Directly! Yet one must not know one's friend and one's sword only
outwardly (he draws it, and Strato steps between him and the king).
STRATO.
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.
PHILOTAS.
I shall never grow so strong as that! But--Do not step so near, Strato!
STRATO.
Why not?
PHILOTAS.
So! (springing back and swinging the sword through the air). It has
the right swing.
ARIDAeUS.
Prince, spare your wounded arm! You will excite yourself!
PHILOTAS.
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.)
STRATO.
Prince! what ails you? Calm yourself (approaches him.)
PHILOTAS (_stepping away from 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.)
ARIDAeUS.
God! Strato!
STRATO.
King!
PHILOTAS.
I wished it thus! (sinking back.)
ARIDAeUS.
Hold him, Strato! Help! help for the prince! Prince, what raving
anguish----
PHILOTAS.
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!
ARIDAeUS.
What do I hear?
STRATO.
Then it was your purpose, prince? But as our prisoner, you had no right
over yourself!
PHILOTAS.
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?
STRATO.
O king! Terror has paralyzed him! King!
ARIDAeUS.
Who calls me?
STRATO.
King!
ARIDAeUS.
Be silent!
STRATO.
The war is over, king!
ARIDAeUS.
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!
PHILOTAS.
Your son too lives still, king! And will live! I hear it!
ARIDAeUS.
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----
PHILOTAS.
The dead body!--If you will revenge yourself, king, awaken it again!
ARIDAeUS.
Ah! What do I say?
PHILOTAS.
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.
ARIDAeUS.
And reconciled! Prince!
PHILOTAS.
O then, ye gods, receive my triumphant soul; and thou, goddess of
peace, thy offering!
ARIDAeUS.
Hear me, prince!
STRATO.
He dies! Am I traitor, king, if I weep over your enemy? I cannot
restrain myself. A wondrous youth!
ARIDAeUS.
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.)