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Act IVScene II
Scene II
The Palace of Eulenberg, Residence of the Duke of Alva
Silva and Gomez (meeting)
Silva. Have you executed the duke`s commands?
Gomez. Punctually. All the day-patrols have received orders to assemble
at the appointed time, at the various points that I have indicated. Meanwhile,
they march as usual through the town to maintain order. Each is ignorant
respecting the movements of the rest, and imagines the command to have
reference to himself alone; thus in a moment the cordon can be formed, and all
the avenues to the palace occupied. Know you the reason of this command?
Silva. I am accustomed blindly to obey; and to whom can one more easily
render obedience than to the duke, since the event always proves the wisdom of
his commands?
Gomez. Well! Well! I am not surprised that you are become as reserved and
monosyllabic as the duke, since you are obliged to be always about his person;
to me, however, who am accustomed to the lighter service of Italy, it seems
strange enough. In loyalty and obedience, I am the same old soldier as ever;
but I am wont to indulge in gossip and discussion; here, you are all silent,
and seem as though you knew not how to enjoy yourselves. The duke, methinks,
is like a brazen tower without gates, the garrison of which must be furnished
with wings. Not long ago I heard him say at the table of a gay, jovial fellow
that he was like a bad spirit-shop, with a brandy sign displayed, to allure
idlers, vagabonds and thieves.
Silva. And has he not brought us hither in silence?
Gomez. Nothing can be said against that. Of a truth, we, who witnessed
the address with which he led the troops hither out of Italy, have seen
something. How he advanced warily through friends and foes; through the
French, both royalists and heretics; through the Swiss and their confederates;
maintained the strictest discipline, and accomplished with ease, and without
the slightest hindrance, a march that was esteemed so perilous! - We have seen
and learned something.
Silva. Here too! Is not everything as still and quiet as though there had
been no disturbance?
Gomez. Why, as for that, it was tolerably quiet when we arrived.
Silva. The provinces have become much more tranquil; if there is any
movement now, it is only among those who wish to escape; and to them,
methinks, the duke will speedily close every outlet.
Gomez. This service cannot fail to win for him the favour of the king.
Silva. And nothing is more expedient for us than to retain his. Should
the king come hither, the duke doubtless and all whom he recommends will not
go without their reward.
Gomez. Do you really believe then that the king will come?
Silva. So many preparations are being made, that the report appears
highly probable.
Gomez. I am not convinced, however.
Silva. Keep your thoughts to yourself then. For if it should not be the
king`s intention to come, it is at least certain that he wishes the rumour to
be believed.
Enter Ferdinand
Ferdinand. Is my father not yet abroad?
Silva. We are waiting to receive his commands.
Ferdinand. The princes will soon be here.
Gomez. Are they expected to-day?
Ferdinand. Orange and Egmont.
Gomez (aside to Silva). A light breaks in upon me.
Silva. Well, then, say nothing about it.
Enter the Duke of Alva (as he advances the rest draw back)
Alva. Gomez.
Gomez (steps forward). My lord.
Alva. You have distributed the guards and given them their instructions?
Gomez. Most accurately. The day-patrols -
Alva. Enough. Attend in the gallery. Silva will announce to you the
moment when you are to draw them together, and to occupy the avenues leading
to the palace. The rest you know.
Gomez. I do, my lord.
[Exit.
Alva. Silva.
Silva. Here my lord.
Alva. I shall require you to manifest to-day all the qualities which I
have hitherto prized in you: courage, resolve, unswerving execution.
Silva. I thank you for affording me an opportunity of showing that your
old servant is unchanged.
Alva. The moment the princes enter my cabinet, hasten to arrest Egmont`s
private secretary. You have made all needful preparations for securing the
others who are specified?
Silva. Rely upon us. Their doom, like a well-calculated eclipse, will
overtake them with terrible certainty.
Alva. Have you had them all narrowly watched?
Silva. All. Egmont especially. He is the only one whose demeanour, since
your arrival, remains unchanged. The live-long day he is now on one horse
and now on another; he invites guests as usual, is merry and entertaining at
table, plays at dice, shoots, and at night steals to his mistress. The others,
on the contrary, have made a manifest pause in their mode of life; they remain
at home, and, from the outward aspect of their houses, you would imagine that
there was a sick man within.
Alva. To work then, ere they recover in spite of us.
Silva. I shall bring them without fail. In obedience to your commands we
load them with officious honours; they are alarmed; cautiously, yet anxiously,
they tender us their thanks, feel that flight would be the most prudent
course, yet none venture to adopt it; they hesitate, are unable to work
together, while the bond which unites them prevents their acting boldly as
individuals. They are anxious to withdraw themselves from suspicion, and thus
only render themselves more obnoxious to it. I already contemplate with joy
the successful realization of your scheme.
Alva. I rejoice only over what is accomplished, and not lightly over
that; for there ever remains ground for serious and anxious thought. Fortune
is capricious; the common, the worthless, she oft-times ennobles, while she
dishonours with a contemptible issue the most maturely considered schemes.
Await the arrival of the princes, then order Gomez to occupy the streets, and
hasten yourself to arrest Egmont`s secretary, and the others who are
specified. This done, return, and announce to my son that he may bring me the
tidings in the council.
Silva. I trust this evening I shall dare to appear in your presence.
(Alva approaches his son who has hitherto been standing in the gallery.) I
dare not whisper it even to myself; but my mind misgives me. The event will, I
fear, be different from what he anticipates. I see before me spirits, who,
still and thoughtful, weigh in ebon scales the doom of princes and of many
thousands. Slowly the beam moves up and down; deeply the judges appear to
ponder; at length one scale sinks, the other rises, breathed on by the caprice
of destiny, and all is decided.
[Exit.
Alva (advancing with his son). How did you find the town?
Ferdinand. All is again quiet. I rode as for pastime, from street to
street. Your well-distributed patrols hold Fear so tightly yoked, that she
does not venture even to whisper. The town resembles a plain when the
lightning`s glare announces the impending storm: no bird, no beast is to be
seen, that is not stealing to a place of shelter.
Alva. Has nothing further occurred?
Ferdinand. Egmont, with a few companions, rode into the marketplace; we
exchanged greetings; he was mounted on an unbroken charger, which excited my
admiration. "Let us hasten to break in our steeds," he exclaimed; "we shall
need them ere long!" He said that he should see me again to-day; he is
coming here, at your desire, to deliberate with you.
Alva. He will see you again.
Ferdinand. Among all the knights whom I know here, he pleases me the
best. I think we shall be friends.
Alva. You are always rash and inconsiderate. I recognize in you the
levity of your mother, which threw her unconditionally into my arms.
Appearances have already allured you precipitately into many dangerous
connections.
Ferdinand. You will find me ever submissive.
Alva. I pardon this inconsiderate kindness, this heedless gaiety, in
consideration of your youthful blood. Only forget not on what mission I am
sent, and what part in it I would assign to you.
Ferdinand. Admonish me, and spare me not, when you deem it needful.
Alva (after a pause). My son!
Ferdinand. My father!
Alva. The princes will be here anon; Orange and Egmont. It is not
mistrust that has withheld me till now from disclosing to you what is about to
take place. They will not depart hence.
Ferdinand. What do you purpose?
Alva. It has been resolved to arrest them. - You are astonished! Learn
what you have to do; the reasons you shall know when all is accomplished. Time
fails now to unfold them. With you alone I wish to deliberate on the
weightiest, the most secret matters; a powerful bond holds us linked together;
you are dear and precious to me; on you I would bestow everything. Not the
habit of obedience alone would I impress upon you; I desire also to implant
within your mind the power to realize, to command, to execute; to you I would
bequeath a vast inheritance, to the king a most useful servant; I would endow
you with the noblest of my possessions, that you may not be ashamed to appear
among your brethren.
Ferdinand. How deeply am I indebted to you for this love, which you
manifest for me alone, while a whole kingdom trembles before you!
Alva. Now hear what is to be done. As soon as the princes have entered,
every avenue to the palace will be guarded. This duty is confided to Gomez.
Silva will hasten to arrest Egmont`s secretary, together with those whom we
hold most in suspicion. You, meanwhile, will take the command of the guards
stationed at the gates and in the courts. Before all, take care to occupy the
adjoining apartment with the trustiest soldiers. Wait in the gallery till
Silva returns, then bring me any unimportant paper, as a signal that his
commission is executed. Remain in the ante-chamber till Orange retires,
follow him; I will detain Egmont here as though I had some further
communication to make to him. At the end of the gallery demand Orange`s sword,
summon the guards, secure promptly the most dangerous man; I meanwhile will
seize Egmont here.
Ferdinand. I obey, my father - for the first time with a heavy and an
anxious heart.
Alva. I pardon you; this is the first great day of your life.
Enter Silva
Silva. A courier from Antwerp. Here is Orange`s letter. He does not come.
Alva. Says the messenger so?
Silva. No, my own heart tells me.
Alva. In thee speaks my evil genius. (After reading the letter, he makes
a sign to the two, and they retire to the gallery. Alva remains alone in front
of the stage.) He comes not! Till the last moment he delays declaring himself.
He ventures not to come! So then, the cautious man, contrary to all
expectations, is for once cautious enough to lay aside his wonted caution. The
hour moves on! Let the finger travel but a short space over the dial, and a
great work is done or lost - irrevocably lost; for the opportunity can never
be retrieved, nor can our intention remain concealed. Long had I maturely
weighed everything, foreseen even this contingency, and firmly resolved in my
own mind what, in that case, was to be done; and now, when I am called upon to
act, I can with difficulty guard my mind from being again distracted by
conflicting doubts. Is it expedient to seize the others if he escape me? Shall
I delay, and suffer Egmont to elude my grasp, together with his friends, and
so many others who now, and perhaps for to-day only, are in my hands? How!
Does destiny control even thee - the uncontrollable? How long matured! How
well prepared! How great, how admirable the plan! How nearly had hope attained
the goal! And now, at the decisive moment, thou art placed between two evils;
as in a lottery, thou dost grasp in the dark future; what thou hast drawn
remains still unrolled, to thee unknown whether it is a prize or a blank! (He
becomes attentive, like one who hears a noise, and steps to the window.) `Tis
he! Egmont! Did thy steed bear thee hither so lightly, and started not at the
scent of blood, at the spirit with the naked sword who received thee at the
gate? Dismount! Lo, now thou hast one foot in the grave! And now both! Ay,
caress him, and for the last time stroke his neck for the gallant service he
has rendered thee. And for me no choice is left. The delusion, in which Egmont
ventures here to-day, cannot a second time deliver him into my hands! Hark!
(Ferdinand and Silva enter hastily.) Obey my orders! I swerve not from my
purpose. I shall detain Egmont here as best I may, till you bring me tidings
form Silva. Then remain at hand. Thee, too, fate has robbed of the proud
honour of arresting with thine own hand the king`s greatest enemy. (To Silva.)
Be prompt! (To Ferdinand.) Advance to meet him.
(Alva remains some moments alone, pacing the chamber in silence.)
Enter Egmont
Egmont. I come to learn the king`s commands; to hear what service he
demands from our loyalty, which remains eternally devoted to him.
Alva. He desires, before all, to hear your counsel.
Egmont. Upon what subject? Does Orange come also? I thought to find him
here.
Alva. I regret that he fails us at this important crisis. The king
desires your counsel, your opinion as to the best means of tranquillizing
these states. He trusts indeed that you will zealously co-operate with him
in quelling these disturbances, and in securing to these provinces the benefit
of complete and permanent order.
Egmont. You, my lord, should know better than I, that tranquillity is
already sufficiently restored, and was still more so, till the appearance of
fresh troops again agitated the public mind, and filled it anew with anxiety
and alarm.
Alva. You seem to intimate that it would have been more advisable if the
king had not placed me in a position to interrogate you.
Egmont. Pardon me! It is not for me to determine whether the king acted
advisedly in sending the army hither, whether the might of his royal presence
alone would not have operated more powerfully. The army is here, the king is
not. But we should be most ungrateful were we to forget what we owe to the
Regent. Let it be acknowledged! By her prudence and valour, by her judicious
use of authority and force, of persuasion and finesse, she pacified the
insurgents, and, to the astonishment of the world, succeeded, in the course of
a few months, in bringing a rebellious people back to their duty.
Alva. I deny it not. The insurrection is quelled; and the people appear
to be already forced back within the bounds of obedience. But does it not
depend upon their caprice alone to overstep these bounds? Who shall prevent
them from again breaking loose? Where is the power capable of restraining
them? Who will be answerable to us for their future loyalty and submission?
Their own good-will is the sole pledge we have.
Egmont. And is not the good-will of a people the surest, the noblest
pledge? By heaven! when can a monarch hold himself more secure, ay, both
against foreign and domestic foes, than when all can stand for one, and one
for all?
Alva. You would not have us believe, however, that such is the case here
at present?
Egmont. Let the king proclaim a general pardon; he will thus tranquillize
the public mind; and it will be seen how speedily loyalty and affection will
return, when confidence is restored.
Alva. How! And suffer those who have insulted the majesty of the king,
who have violated the sanctuaries of our religion, to go abroad unchallenged!
living witnesses that enormous crimes may be perpetrated with impunity!
Egmont. And ought not a crime of frenzy, of intoxication, to be excused,
rather than horribly chastised? Especially when there is the sure hope, nay,
more, where there is positive certainty that the evil will never again recur?
Would not sovereigns thus be more secure? Are not those monarchs most extolled
by the world and by posterity, who can pardon, pity, despise an offense
against their dignity? Are they not on that account likened to God himself,
who is far too exalted to be assailed by every idle blasphemy?
Alva. And therefore, should the king contend for the honour of God and of
religion, we for the authority of the king. What the supreme power disdains to
avert, it is our duty to avenge. Were I to counsel, no guilty person should
live to rejoice in his impunity.
Egmont. Think you that you will be able to reach them all? Do we not
daily hear that fear is driving them to and fro, and forcing them out of the
land? The more wealthy will escape to other countries with their property,
their children, and their friends; while the poor will carry their industrious
hands to our neighbours.
Alva. They will, if they cannot be prevented. It is on this account that
the king desires counsel and aid from every prince, zealous cooperation from
every stadtholder; not merely a description of the present posture of affairs,
or conjectures as to what might take place were events suffered to hold on
their course without interruption. To contemplate a mighty evil, to flatter
oneself with hope, to trust to time, to strike a blow, like the clown in a
play, so as to make a noise and appear to do something, when in fact one would
fain do nothing; is not such conduct calculated to awaken a suspicion that
those who act thus contemplate with satisfaction a rebellion, which they would
not indeed excite, but which they are by no means unwilling to encourage?
Egmont (about to break forth, restrains himself, and after a brief pause,
speaks with composure). Not every design is obvious, and many a man`s design
is misconstrued. It is widely rumoured, however, that the object which the
king has in view is not so much to govern the provinces according to uniform
and clearly defined laws, to maintain the majesty of religion, and to give his
people universal peace, as unconditionally to subjugate them, to rob them of
their ancient rights, to appropriate their possessions, to curtail the fair
privileges of the nobles, for whose sake alone they are ready to serve him
with life and limb. Religion, it is said, is merely a splendid device, behind
which every dangerous design may be contrived with the greater ease; the
prostrate crowds adore the sacred symbols pictured there while behind lurks
the fowler ready to ensnare them.
Alva. This must I hear from you?
Egmont. I speak not my own sentiments! I but repeat what is loudly
rumoured, and uttered now here and now there by great and by humble, by wise
men and fools. The Netherlanders fear a double yoke, and who will be surety to
them for their liberty?
Alva. Liberty! A fair word when rightly understood. What liberty would
they have? What is the freedom of the most free? To do right! And in that the
monarch will not hinder them. No! No! They imagine themselves enslaved, when
they have not the power to injure themselves and others. Would it not be
better to abdicate at once, rather than rule such a people? When the country
is threatened by foreign invaders, the burghers, occupied only with their
immediate interests, bestow no thought upon the advancing foe, and when the
king requires their aid, they quarrel among themselves, and thus, as it were,
conspire with the enemy. Far better is it to circumscribe their power, to
control and guide them for their good, as children are controlled and guided.
Trust me, a people grows neither old nor wise, a people remains always in its
infancy.
Egmont. How rarely does a king attain wisdom! And is it not fit that the
many should confide their interests to the many rather than to the one? And
not even to the one, but to the few servants of the one, men who have grown
old under the eyes of their master. To grow wise, it seems, is the exclusive
privilege of these favoured individuals.
Alva. Perhaps for the very reason that they are not left to themselves.
Egmont. And therefore they would fain leave no one else to his own
guidance. Let them do what they like, however; I have replied to your
questions, and I repeat, the measures you propose will never succeed! They
cannot succeed! I know my countrymen. They are men worthy to tread God`s
earth; each complete in himself, a little king, steadfast, active, capable,
loyal, attached to ancient customs. It may be difficult to win their
confidence, but it is easy to retain it. Firm and unbending! They may be
crushed, but not subdued.
Alva (who during this speech has looked round several times). Would you
venture to repeat what you have uttered, in the king`s presence?
Egmont. It were the worse, if in his presence I were restrained by fear!
The better for him and for his people, if he inspired me with confidence, if
he encouraged me to give yet freer utterance to my thoughts.
Alva. What is profitable, I can listen to as well as he.
Egmont. I would say to him - `Tis easy for the shepherd to drive before
him a flock of sheep; the ox draws the plough without opposition; but if you
would ride the noble steed, you must study his thought, you must require
nothing unreasonable, nor unreasonably, from him. The burgher desires to
retain his ancient constitution; to be governed by his own countrymen; and
why? Because he knows in that case how he shall be ruled, because he can rely
upon their disinterestedness, upon their sympathy with his fate.
Alva. And ought not the Regent to be empowered to alter these ancient
usages? Should not this constitute his fairest privilege? What is permanent in
this world? And shall the constitution of a state alone remain unchanged? Must
not every relation alter in the course of time, and on that very account, an
ancient constitution become the source of a thousand evils, because not
adapted to the present condition of the people? These ancient rights afford,
doubtless, convenient loopholes, through which the crafty and the powerful may
creep, and wherein they may lie concealed, to the injury of the people and of
the entire community; and it is on this account, I fear, that they are held in
such high esteem.
Egmont. And these arbitrary changes, these unlimited encroachments of the
supreme power, are they not indications that one will permit himself to do
what is forbidden to thousands? The monarch would alone be free, that he may
have it in his power to gratify his every wish, to realize his every thought.
And though we should confide in him as a good and virtuous sovereign, will he
be answerable to us for his successor? That none who come after him shall rule
without consideration, without forbearance! And who would deliver us from
absolute caprice, should he send hither his servants, his minions, who,
without knowledge of the country and its requirements, should govern according
to their own good pleasure, meet with no opposition, and know themselves
exempt from all responsibility?
Alva (who has meanwhile again looked round). There is nothing more
natural than that a king should choose to retain the power in his own hands,
and that he should select as the instruments of his authority, those who best
understand him, who desire to understand him, and who will unconditionally
execute his will.
Egmont. And just as natural is it, that the burgher should prefer being
governed by one born and reared in the same land, whose notions of right and
wrong are in harmony with his own, and whom he can regard as his brother.
Alva. And yet the noble, methinks, has shared rather unequally with these
brethren of his.
Egmont. That took place centuries ago, and is now submitted to without
envy. But should new men, whose presence is not needed in the country, be
sent, to enrich themselves a second time, at the cost of the nation; should
the people see themselves exposed to their bold, unscrupulous rapacity, it
would excite a ferment that would not soon be quelled.
Alva. You utter words to which I ought not to listen; - I, too, am a
foreigner.
Egmont. That they are spoken in your presence is a sufficient proof that
they have no reference to you.
Alva. Be that as it may, I would rather not hear them from you. The king
sent me here in the hope that I should obtain the support of the nobles. The
king wills, and will have his will obeyed. After profound deliberation, the
king at length discerns what course will best promote the welfare of the
people; matters cannot be permitted to go on as heretofore; it is the king`s
intention to limit their power for their own good; if necessary, to force upon
them their salvation: to sacrifice the more dangerous burghers in order that
the rest may find repose, and enjoy in peace the blessing of a wise
government. This is his resolve; this I am commissioned to announce to the
nobles; and in his name I require from them advice, not as to the course to be
pursued - on that he is resolved - but as to the best means of carrying his
purpose into effect.
Egmont. Your words, alas, justify the fears of the people, the universal
fear! The king has then resolved as no sovereign ought to resolve. In order to
govern his subjects more easily, he would crush, subvert, nay, ruthlessly
destroy, their strength, their spirit, and their self-respect! He would
violate the inmost core of their individuality, doubtless with the view of
promoting their happiness. He would annihilate them, that they may assume a
new, a different form. Oh! if his purpose be good, he is fatally misguided! It
is not the king whom we resist; - we but place ourselves in the way of the
monarch, who, unhappily, is about to take the first rash step in a wrong
direction.
Alva. Such being your sentiments, it were a vain attempt for us to
endeavour to agree. You must indeed think poorly of the king and contemptibly
of his counsellors, if you imagine that everything has not already been
thought of and maturely weighed. I have no commission a second time to balance
conflicting arguments. From the people I demand submission; - and from you,
their leaders and princes, I demand counsel and support, as pledges of this
unconditional duty.
Egmont. Demand our heads, and your object is attained; to a noble soul it
must be indifferent whether he stoop his neck to such a yoke, or lay it upon
the block. I have spoken much to little purpose. I have agitated the air, but
accomplished nothing.
Enter Ferdinand
Ferdinand. Pardon my intrusion. Here is a letter, the bearer of which
urgently demands an answer.
Alva. Allow me to peruse its contents.
(Steps aside.)
Ferdinand (to Egmont). `Tis a noble steed that your people have brought,
to carry you away.
Egmont. I have seen worse. I have had him some time; I think of parting
with him. If he pleases you we shall probably soon agree as to the price.
Ferdinand. We will think about it.
(Alva motions to his son, who retires to the back-ground.)
Egmont. Farewell! Allow me to retire; for, by heaven, I know not what
more I can say.
Alva. Fortunately for you, chance prevents you from making a fuller
disclosure of your sentiments. You incautiously lay bare the recesses of your
heart, and your own lips furnish evidence against you, more fatal than could
be produced by your bitterest adversary.
Egmont. This reproach disturbs me not. I know my own heart; I know with
what honest zeal I am devoted to the king; I know that my allegiance is more
true than that of many who, in his service, seek only to serve themselves. I
regret that our discussion should terminate so unsatisfactorily, and trust
that in spite of our opposing views, the service of the king, our master, and
the welfare of our country, may speedily unite us; another conference, the
presence of the princes who to-day are absent, may, perchance, in a more
propitious moment, accomplish what at present appears impossible. In this hope
I take my leave.
Alva (who at the same time makes a sign to Ferdinand). Hold, Egmont! -
Your sword! - (The centre door opens and discloses the gallery, which is
occupied with guards, who remain motionless.)
Egmont (after a pause of astonishment). This was the intention? For this
thou hast summoned me? (Grasping his sword as if to defend himself.) Am I then
weaponless?
Alva. The king commands. Thou art my prisoner. (At the same time guards
enter from both sides.)
Egmont (after a pause). The king? - Orange! Orange! (after a pause,
resigning his sword). Take it! In has been employed far oftener in defending
the cause of my king than in protecting this breast.
(He retires by the centre door, followed by the guard and Alva`s son.
Alva remains standing while the curtain falls.)
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