Scene I.--The Prince's Cabinet.

The Prince, seated at a desk, which is covered with papers.

PRINCE.

Complaints; nothing but complaints! Petitions; nothing but petitions! Wretched employment! And yet we are envied! To be sure, if we could relieve every one, we might indeed be envied. Emilia? (opening a petition, and looking at the signature.) An Emilia? Yes--but an Emilia Bruneschi--not Galotti. Not Emilia Galotti. What does she want, this Emilia Bruneschi? (Reads) She asks much--too much. But her name is Emilia. It is granted (signs the paper, and rings).

Enter a Servant.

PRINCE.

Are any of the Councillors in the antechamber?

SERVANT.

No, your Highness.

PRINCE.

I have begun the day too early. The morning is so beautiful, I will take a drive. The Marquis Marinelli shall accompany me. Let him be called. (Exit Servant.) I can attend to nothing more. I was so happy--delightful thought! so happy--when all at once this wretched Bruneschi must be named Emilia. Now all my peace is fled.

Re-enter the Servant, bringing a note.

SERVANT.

The Marquis has been sent for; and here is a letter from the Countess Orsina.

PRINCE.

The Countess Orsina? Put it down.

SERVANT.

Her courier waits.

PRINCE.

I will send an answer if necessary. Where is she, in town, or at her villa?

SERVANT.

She arrived in town yesterday.

PRINCE.

So much the worse--the better, I mean. There is less reason for the messenger to wait. (Exit Servant.) My dear Countess! (with sarcasm, as he takes up the letter) as good as read (throwing it down again). Well, well, I fancied I loved her--one may fancy anything. It may be that I really did love her. But--I did.

Re-enter Servant.

SERVANT.

The painter Conti requests the honour----

PRINCE.

Conti? Good! admit him. That will change the current of my thoughts (rising).

Scene II.

Conti, The Prince.

PRINCE.

Good morning, Conti. How goes it with you? How does art thrive?

CONTI.

Art is starving, Prince.

PRINCE.

That must not--shall not be, within the limits of my small dominions. But the artist must be willing to work.

CONTI.

Work! that is his happiness. But too much work may rain his claim to the title of artist.

PRINCE.

I do not mean that his works should be many, but his labour much: a little, but well done. But you do not come empty-handed, Conti?

CONTI.

I have brought the portrait which your Highness ordered; and another which you did not order; but as it is worthy of inspection----

PRINCE.

That one, is it? And yet I do not well remember----

CONTI.

The Countess Orsina.

PRINCE.

True. The commission, however, was given rather long ago.

CONTI.

Our beauties are not every day at the artist's command. In three months, the Countess could only make up her mind to sit once.

PRINCE.

Where are the pictures?

CONTI.

In the antechamber. I will fetch them (exit).

Scene III.

PRINCE.

Her portrait! Let it come; it is not herself. But perhaps I may see in the picture what I can no longer find in her person. But I have no wish to make such a discovery. The importunate painter! I almost believe that she has bribed him. But even were it so, if another picture which is pourtrayed in brighter colours and on a different canvas, could be obliterated to make room for her once more in my heart, I really think that I should be content. When I loved the Countess, I was ever gay, sprightly, and cheerful; now I am the reverse. But no, no, no; happy or unhappy, it is better as it is.

Scene IV.

The Prince, Conti, with the portraits; he places one with the face reversed against a chair, and prepares to show the other.

CONTI.

I beg your Highness will bear in mind the limits of our art; much of the highest perfection of beauty lies altogether beyond its limits. Look at it in this position.

PRINCE (after a brief inspection).

Excellent! Conti, most excellent! It does credit to your taste,--to your skill. But flattered, Conti--quite, infinitely flattered!

CONTI.

The original did not seem to be of your opinion. But, in truth, she is not more flattered than art is bound to flatter. It is the province of art to paint as plastic nature--if there is such a thing--intended her original design, without the defects which the unmanageable materials render inevitable, and free from the ravages which result from a conflict with time.

PRINCE.

The intelligent artist has therefore double merit. But the original, you say, notwithstanding all this----

CONTI.

Pardon me, Prince! The original is a person who commands my respect. I did not intend to insinuate anything to her disadvantage.

PRINCE.

As much as you please. But what said the original?

CONTI.

"I am satisfied," said the Countess, "if I am not plainer."

PRINCE.

Not plainer! The original herself!

CONTI.

And she uttered this with an expression of which the portrait affords no trace, no idea.

PRINCE.

That is just what I meant; therein lies your infinite flattery. Oh! I know well her proud, contemptuous look, which would disfigure the face of one of the Graces. I do not deny that a handsome mouth set off with a slight curl of scorn, sometimes acquires thereby additional beauty. But, observe, it must be only slight; the look must not amount to grimace, as it does with this Countess. The eyes, too, must keep control over the disdainful charmer; eyes which the worthy Countess decidedly does not possess. You do not even give them to her in the picture.

CONTI.

Your Highness, I am perfectly amazed.

PRINCE.

And wherefore? All that could be achieved by the resources of art out of the great prominent staring Medusa eyes of the Countess, you have honourably accomplished. Honourably, I say, but less honourably would have been more honest; for tell me yourself, Conti, is the character of the individual expressed by this picture? yet it should be. You have converted pride into dignity, disdain into a smile, and the gloom of discontent into soft melancholy.

CONTI (somewhat vexed).

Ah! Prince, we painters expect that a portrait when finished will find the lover as warm as when he ordered it. We paint with eyes of love, and the eyes of love alone must judge our works.

PRINCE.

'Tis true, Conti; but why did you not bring it a month sooner? Lay it aside. What is the other?

CONTI (taking it up and holding it still reversed).

It is also a female portrait.

PRINCE.

Then I had almost rather not see it; for the ideal depicted here (pointing to his forehead), or rather here (laying his hand upon his heart), it cannot equal. I should like, Conti, to admire your art in other subjects.

CONTI.

There may be more admirable examples of art, but a more admirable subject than this cannot exist.

PRINCE.

Then I'll lay a wager, Conti, that it is the portrait of the artist's own mistress. (Conti turns the picture.) What do I see? Your work, Conti, or the work of my fancy? Emilia Galotti!

CONTI.

How, Prince! do you know this angel?

PRINCE (endeavouring to compose himself, but unable to remove his eyes from the picture).

A little; just enough to recognise her. A few weeks ago I met her with her mother at an assembly; since then I have only seen her in sacred places, where staring is unseemly. I know her father also; he is not my friend. He it was who most violently opposed my pretensions to Sabionetta. He is a veteran, proud and unpolished, but upright and brave.

CONTI.

You speak of the father, this is the daughter.

PRINCE.

By Heavens! you must have stolen the resemblance from her mirror (with his eyes still rivetted on the picture). Oh, you well know, Conti, that we praise the artist most when we forget his merits in his works.

CONTI.

Yet I am extremely dissatisfied with this portrait, and nevertheless I am satisfied with being dissatisfied with myself. Alas! that we cannot paint directly with our eyes! On the long journey from the eye through the arm to the pencil, how much is lost! But, as I have already said, though I know what is lost, and how and why it is lost, I am as proud and prouder of this loss than of what I have preserved. For by the former I perceive more than by the latter, that I am a good painter, though my hand is not always so. Or do you hold, Prince, that Raffaelle would not have been the greatest of all artists even had he unfortunately been born without hands?

PRINCE (turning his eyes a moment from the picture).

What do you say, Conti? What was your enquiry?

CONTI.

Oh, nothing--nothing; mere idle observations! Your soul, I observe, was wholly in your eyes. I like such souls and such eyes.

PRINCE (affecting coldness).

And so, Conti, you really consider Emilia Galotti amongst the first beauties of our city.

CONTI.

Amongst them? Amongst the first? The first of our city? You jest, Prince, or your eyesight must have been all this time as insensible as your hearing.

PRINCE.

Dear Conti (again fixing his eyes on the picture), how can we uninitiated trust our eyes? In fact, none but an artist can judge of beauty.

CONTI.

And must the feeling of every person wait for the decision of a painter? To a cloister with him who would learn from us what is beautiful! But this much I must own to you, as a painter, Prince. It is one of the greatest delights of my life that Emilia Galotti has sat to me. This head, this countenance, this forehead, these eyes, this nose, this mouth, this chin, this neck, this bosom, this shape, this whole form, are from the present time forward my only model of female beauty. The original picture for which she sat, is in the possession of her absent father. But this copy----

PRINCE (turning to him quickly).

Well, Conti--is not surely bespoke already?

CONTI.

Is for you, Prince, if it affords you any pleasure.

PRINCE.

Pleasure! (smiling.) How can I do better than make your model of female beauty my own? There, take back that other portrait, and order a frame for it.

CONTI.

Good.

PRINCE.

As rich and splendid as the carver can possibly make it. It shall be placed in the gallery. But this must remain here. A study need not be treated with so much ceremony; one does not hang it up for display. It should always be at hand. I thank you, Conti, cordially. And as I said before, the arts shall never starve in my dominions, as long as I have bread. Send to my treasurer, Conti, and let him pay your own price for both pictures; as much as you please, Conti.

CONTI.

I must begin to fear, Prince, that you mean to reward me for something else besides my art?

PRINCE.

Oh the jealousy of an artist! No, no! But remember, Conti, as much as you please. (Exit Conti.)

Scene V.

The Prince.

PRINCE.

Yes, as much as he pleases. (Turning to the picture.) Thou art mine, too cheap at any price. Oh, thou enchanting work of art! Do I then possess thee? But who shall possess thyself, thou still more beautiful masterpiece of nature? Claim what you will, honest old mother; ask what you will, morose old father. Demand any price. Yet, dear enchantress, I should be far more happy to buy thee from thyself! This eye! how full of love and modesty! This mouth! when it speaks, when it smiles! This mouth!--Some one comes.--I am still too jealous of thee. (Turning the picture to the wall.) It is Marinelli. I wish I had not sent for him! What a morning might I have had!

Scene VI.

Marinelli, The Prince.

MARINELLI.

Your Highness will pardon me; I was not prepared for so early a summons.

PRINCE.

I felt an inclination to drive out, the morning was so fine. But now it is almost over, and my inclination has subsided. (After a short pause). Any news, Marinelli?

MARINELLI.

Nothing of importance that I know. The Countess Orsina arrived in town yesterday.

PRINCE.

Yes, here lies her morning salutation (pointing to the letter), or whatever it may be. I am not inquisitive about it. Have you seen her?

MARINELLI.

Am I not unfortunately her confidant? But if ever I am so again with a lady who takes it into her head to love you desperately, Prince, may I----

PRINCE.

No rash vows, Marinelli.

MARINELLI.

Indeed, Prince! Is it possible? The Countess, then, is not so utterly mistaken.

PRINCE.

Quite mistaken, certainly. My approaching union with the Princess of Massa compels me in the first place to break off all such connections.

MARINELLI.

If that were all, the Countess would doubtless know as well how to submit to her fate, as the Prince to his.

PRINCE.

My fate is harder far than hers. My heart is sacrificed to a miserable political consideration. She has but to take back hers, and need not bestow it against her inclination.

MARINELLI.

Take it back! "Why take it back," asks the Countess, "for a wife, whom policy and not love attaches to the Prince?" With a wife of that kind the mistress may still hold her place. It is not, therefore, for a wife that she dreads being sacrificed, but----

PRINCE.

Perhaps another mistress. What then? would you make a crime of that, Marinelli?

MARINELLI.

I, Prince? Oh, confound me not with the foolish woman whose cause I advocate--from pity! For yesterday I own she greatly moved me. She wished not to mention her attachment to you, and strove to appear cold and tranquil. But in the midst of the most indifferent topics, some expression, some allusion, escaped her, which betrayed her tortured heart. With the most cheerful demeanour she said the most melancholy things, and on the other hand uttered the most laughable jests with an air of deep distress. She has taken to books for refuge, which I fear will be her ruin.

PRINCE.

Yes, for books gave the first blow to her poor understanding. And, Marinelli, you will scarcely employ for the purpose of renewing my attachment, that which was the chief cause of our separation. If love renders her foolish, she would sooner or later have become so, even without such influence. But enough of her! To something else. Is there nothing new in town?

MARINELLI.

Next to nothing; for that Count Appiani will be married to-day is little better than nothing.

PRINCE.

Count Appiani! To whom? I have not heard that he is engaged.

MARINELLI.

The affair has been kept a profound secret. And indeed, there was not much to create a sensation. You will smile, Prince; but it ever happens so with sentimental youths! Love always plays the worst of tricks. A girl without fortune or rank has managed to catch him in her snares, without any trouble, but with a little display of virtue, sensibility, wit, and so forth.

PRINCE.

The man who can wholly resign himself to the impressions which innocence and beauty make upon him is, in my opinion, rather to be envied than derided. And what is the name of the happy fair one? For though I well know, Marinelli, that you and Appiani dislike each other, he is nevertheless a very worthy young man, a handsome man, a rich man, and an honourable man. I should like to be able to attach him to myself.

MARINELLI.

If it be not too late; for, as far as I can learn, it is not his intention to seek his fortune at court. He will retire with his spouse to his native valleys of Piedmont, and indulge himself in hunting chamois or training marmots upon the Alps. What can he do better? Here his prospects are blighted by the connection he has formed. The first circles are closed against him.

PRINCE.

The first circles! What are they worth, mere resorts of ceremony, restraint, ennui, and poverty? But how call you the fair being who is the cause of all these wondrous sacrifices?

MARINELLI.

A certain--Emilia Galotti?

PRINCE.

What! Marinelli! a certain----

MARINELLI.

Emilia Calotti.

PRINCE.

Emilia Galotti? Never!----

MARINELLI.

Assuredly, your Highness.

PRINCE.

But no, I say. It is not, and it cannot be! You mistake the name. The family of Galotti is numerous. It may be a Galotti, but not Emilia Galotti!

MARINELLI.

Emilia--Emilia Galotti.

PRINCE.

There must be another who bears the same names. You said, however, a certain Emilia Galotti,--a certain one. Of the real Emilia, none but a fool could so speak.

MARINELLI.

Your Highness is excited. Do you know this Emilia?

PRINCE.

It is my place to question, not yours, Marinelli. Is she the daughter of Colonel Galotti, who resides at Sabionetta?

MARINELLI.

The same.

PRINCE.

Who lives here in Guastalla with her mother.

MARINELLI.

The same.

PRINCE.

Near the church of All-Saints.

MARINELLI.

The same.

PRINCE.

In a word (turning hastily to the portrait, and giving it to Marinelli)--there! is it this Emilia Galotti? Pronounce again those damning words, "the same," and plunge a dagger in my heart.

MARINELLI.

The same.

PRINCE.

Traitor! This? this Emilia Galotti--will to-day be----

MARINELLI.

The Countess Appiani. (The Prince seizes the portrait from the hands of Marinelli, and flings it aside.)--The marriage will be celebrated privately at her father's villa, in Sabionetta. About noon the mother and daughter, the Count, and perhaps a few friends, will leave town together.

PRINCE (throwing himself in a state of desperation into a chair).

Then I am lost, and care no more for life.

MARINELLI.

What thus affects your Highness?

PRINCE (starting towards him again).

Traitor! what affects me thus? Yes, in truth, I love her! I adore her! You may, perhaps, know it, may even long have known it; all of you who desire that I should wear for ever the ignominious fetters of the proud Orsina. That you, Marinelli, who have so often assured me of your sincere friendship--but a Prince has no friend, can have no friend--that you should act so treacherously, so deceitfully, as to conceal till this moment the peril which threatened my love.--Oh, if ever I forgive you this, let no sin of mine be pardoned!

MARINELLI.

I could scarcely find words, Prince, to express my astonishment--even if you gave me the opportunity. You love Emilia Galotti? Hear, then, my oath in reply to yours. If I have ever known or suspected this attachment in the slightest degree, may the angels and saints abandon me! I repeat the same imprecation for Orsina. Her suspicions were directed to a wholly different quarter.

PRINCE.

Pardon me, then, Marinelli (throwing himself into his arms), and pity me.

MARINELLI.

Well, yes, Prince. There see the consequence of your reserve. "A prince has no friends." And why? Because he will have none. To-day you honour us with your confidence, entrust to us your most secret wishes, open your whole soul to us--and to-morrow we are as perfect strangers to you, as if you had never exchanged a word with us.

PRINCE.

Alas, Marinelli, how could I entrust a secret to you which I would scarcely confess to myself?

MARINELLI.

And, which you have, therefore, of course, not confessed to the author of your uneasiness?

PRINCE.

To her!--All my endeavours have been fruitless to speak with her a second time.

MARINELLI.

And the first time----

PRINCE.

I spoke to her;--Oh, my brain is turned, and must I continue this conversation longer? You behold me at the mercy of the waves, and why inquire how all this has happened? Save me if you can, and then question me.

MARINELLI.

Save you! Is there much to save? What your Highness has not confessed to Emilia Galotti, you will confess to the Countess Appiani. Goods which cannot be obtained in their primitive perfection, must be bought at second hand, and are often, on that account, bought at a cheaper rate.

PRINCE.

Be serious, Marinelli, or----

MARINELLI.

To be sure, such articles are generally so much the worse----

PRINCE.

For shame, Marinelli.

MARINELLI.

And the Count intends to leave this country too. Well, we must devise some scheme----

PRINCE.

And what scheme? My best and dearest Marinelli, contrive something for me. What would you do, were you in my situation?

MARINELLI.

Above all things, I should regard a trifle as a trifle--and say to myself that I would not be what I am for nothing--your Highness!

PRINCE.

Delude me not with a power of which I can, on this occasion, make no use. To-day, said you?--This very day?

MARINELLI.

To-day it is to take place;--but it is only things which have taken place that cannot be recalled. (After a short pause.) Prince, will you let me act as I please? Will you approve all I do?

PRINCE.

Anything, Marinelli, which can avert this blow.

MARINELLI.

Then let us lose no time. You must not remain in town, but go to your palace at Dosalo. The road to Sabionetta passes it. Should I not succeed in removing the Count, I think--yes, yes, he will be caught in that snare without doubt. You wish to send an ambassador to Massa respecting your marriage. Let the Count be ambassador, and order him to depart this very day.

PRINCE.

Excellent!--Bring him to my palace.--Haste, haste!--I will leave town instantly. (Exit Marinelli.)

Scene VII.

PRINCE.

Instantly, instantly. Where is it? (Turns to the portrait) On the ground! That was too bad. (Takes it up) But look! And yet I will look at thee no more now. Why should I plunge the arrow deeper into the wound? (Lays it on the table). I have suffered and sighed long enough--longer than I ought, but done nothing, and my listless inactivity had nearly ruined all.--And may not all yet be lost? May not Marinelli fail? Why should I rely on him alone?--It occurs to me that at this hour (looks at his watch) at this very hour, the pious girl daily attends mass at the church of the Dominicans. How, if I attempted to address her there? But to-day--the day of her marriage--her heart will be occupied with other things than mass. Yet, who knows?--'tis but a step--(rings, and whilst he hastily arranges the papers on the table)--

Enter Servant.

My carriage!--Have none of the council arrived?

SERVANT.

Camillo Rota waits without.

PRINCE.

Admit him. (Exit Servant). But he must not attempt to detain me long. Not now--another time, I will attend to his scrupulous investigations----There was a petition of one Emilia Bruneschi--here it is--but, good Bruneschi, if your intercessor----

Scene VIII.

Enter Camillo Rota.

Come, Rota, come. There lie the papers which I have opened this morning--not very consoling--you will see what is to be done. Take them with you.

CAMILLO.

I will attend to them.

PRINCE.

Here is a petition from one Emilia Galot--I mean Bruneschi. I have already signed my consent to it--but yet the request is no trifle. You may defer the execution of it--or not--as you please.

CAMILLO.

Not as I please, your Highness.

PRINCE.

What more is there--anything to sign?

CAMILLO.

Sentence of death for your Highness's signature.

PRINCE.

With all my heart!--Where is it? Quick!

CAMILLO (starts and gazes at the Prince).

I said a death--warrant.

PRINCE.

I understood you plain enough. It might have been done by this. I am in haste.

CAMILLO (looking at his papers).

I really believe I have not brought it. I beg your Highness's forgiveness. It can be deferred till to-morrow.

PRINCE.

Be it so. Just collect these papers together. I must away. The rest to-morrow, Rota.

CAMILLO (shaking his head, as he collects the papers).

"With all my heart!"--A death-warrant, with all my heart! I would not have let him sign at such a moment, had the criminal murdered my own son.--"With all my heart!" "With all my heart"--The cruel words pierce my very soul. (Exit.)