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Act VScene I
Scene I
A Street. Twilight
Clara, Brackenburg, Burghers
Brackenburg. Dearest, for Heaven`s sake, what wouldst thou do?
Clara. Come with me, Brackenburg! Thou canst not know the people, we are
certain to rescue him; for what can equal their love for him? Each feels, I
could swear it, the burning desire to deliver him, to avert danger from a life
so precious, and to restore freedom to the most free. Come! A voice only is
wanting to call them together. In their souls the memory is still fresh of all
they owe him, and well they know that his mighty arm alone shields them from
destruction. For his sake, for their own sake, they must peril everything. And
what do we peril? At most, our lives, which if he perish, are not worth
preserving.
Brackenburg. Unhappy girl! Thou seest not the power that holds us
fettered as with bands of iron.
Clara. To me it does not appear invincible. Let us not lose time in idle
words. Here comes some of our old, honest, valiant burghers! Hark ye, friends!
Neighbours! Hark! - Say, how fares it with Egmont?
Carpenter. What does the girl want? Tell her to hold her peace.
Clara. Step nearer, that we may speak low, till we are united and more
strong. Not a moment is to be lost! Audacious tyranny, that dared to fetter
him, already lifts the dagger against his life. Oh, my friends! With the
advancing twilight my anxiety grows more intense. I dread this night. Come!
Let us disperse; let us hasten from quarter to quarter, and call out the
burghers. Let every one grasp his ancient weapons. In the market-place we
meet again, and every one will be carried onward by our gathering stream. The
enemy will see themselves surrounded, overwhelmed, and be compelled to yield.
How can a handful of slaves resist us? And he will return among us, he will
see himself rescued, and can for once thank us, us, who are already so deeply
in his debt. He will behold, perchance, ay doubtless, he will again behold the
morn`s red dawn in the free heavens.
Carpenter. What ails thee, maiden?
Clara. Can ye misunderstand me? I speak of the Count! I speak of Egmont.
Jetter. Speak not the name! `tis deadly.
Clara. Not speak his name? How? Not Egmont`s name? Is it not on every
tongue? Where stands it not inscribed? Often have I read it emblazoned with
all its letters among these stars. Not utter it? What mean ye? Friends! good,
kind neighbours, ye are dreaming; collect yourselves. Gaze not upon me with
those fixed and anxious looks! Cast not such timid glances on every side! I
but give utterance to the wish of all. Is not my voice the voice of your own
hearts? Who, in this fearful night, ere he seeks his restless couch, but on
bended knee will, in earnest prayer, seek to wrest his life as a cherished
boon from heaven? Ask each other! Let each ask his own heart! And who but
exclaims with me, - "Egmont`s liberty, or death!"
Jetter. God help us! This is a sad business.
Clara. Stay! Stay! Shrink not away at the sound of his name, to meet whom
ye were wont to press forward so joyously! - When rumour announced his
approach, when the cry arose, "Egmont comes! He comes from Ghent!" - then
happy indeed were those citizens who dwelt in the streets through which he was
to pass. And when the neighing of his steed was heard, did not every one throw
aside his work, while a ray of hope and joy, like a sunbeam from his
countenance, stole over the toil-worn faces that peered from every window?
Then, as ye stood in the doorways, ye would lift up your children in your
arms, and pointing to him, exclaim: "See, that is Egmont, he who towers above
the rest! `Tis from him that ye must look for better times than those your
poor fathers have known." Let not your children inquire at some future day,
"Where is he? Where are the better times ye promised us?" - Thus we waste the
time in idle words! do nothing, - betray him.
Soest. Shame on thee, Brackenburg! Let her not run on thus! Prevent the
mischief!
Brackenburg. Dear Clara! Let us go! What will your mother say?
Perchance -
Clara. Thinkest thou I am a child, or frantic? What avails perchance? -
With no vain hope canst thou hide from me this dreadful certainty ... Ye shall
hear me and ye will: for I see it, ye are overwhelmed, ye cannot hearken to
the voice of your own hearts. Through the present peril cast but one glance
into the past, - the recent past. Send your thoughts forward into the future.
Could ye live, would ye live, were he to perish? With him expires the last
breath of freedom. What was he not to you? For whose sake did he expose
himself to the direst perils? His blood flowed, his wounds were healed for you
alone. The mighty spirit, that upheld you all, a dungeon now confines, while
the horrors of secret murder are hovering around. Perhaps he thinks of you -
perhaps he hopes in you, - he who has been accustomed only to grant favours to
others and to fulfil their prayers.
Carpenter. Come, gossip.
Clara. I have neither the arms, nor the vigour of a man; but I have that
which ye all lack - courage and contempt of danger. O that my breath could
kindle your souls! That, pressing you to this bosom, I could arouse and
animate you! Come! I will march in your mids! - As a waving banner, though
weaponless, leads on a gallant army of warriors, so shall my spirit hover,
like a flame, over your ranks, while love and courage shall unite the
dispersed and wavering multitude into a terrible host.
Jetter. Take her away; I pity her, poor thing!
[Exeunt Burghers.
Brackenburg. Clara! Seest thou not where we are?
Clara. Where? Under the dome of heaven, which has so often seemed to arch
itself more gloriously as the noble Egmont passed beneath it. From these
windows I have seen them look forth, four or five heads one above the other;
at these doors the cowards have stood, bowing and scraping, if he but chanced
to look down upon them! Oh, how dear they were to me, when they honoured him.
Had he been a tyrant they might have turned with indifference from his fall!
But they loved him! O ye hands, so prompt to wave caps in his honour, can ye
not grasp a sword? Brackenburg, and we? - do we chide them? These arms that
have so often embraced him, what do they for him now? Stratagem has
accomplished so much in the world. Thou knowest the ancient castle, every
passage, every secret way. - Nothing is impossible, - suggest some plan -
Brackenburg. That we might go home!
Clara. Well.
Brackenburg. There at the corner I see Alva`s guard; let the voice of
reason penetrate to thy heart! Dost thou deem me a coward? Dost thou doubt
that for thy sake I would peril my life? Here we are both mad, I as well as
thou. Dost thou not perceive that thy scheme is impracticable? Oh, be calm!
Thou art beside thyself.
Clara. Beside myself! Horrible. You, Brackenburg, are beside yourself.
When you hailed the hero with loud acclaim, called him your friend, your hope,
your refuge, shouted vivats as he passed; - then I stood in my corner, half
opened the window, concealed myself while I listened, and my heart beat higher
than yours who greeted him so loudly. Now it again beats higher! In the hour
of peril you conceal yourselves, deny him, and feel not, that if he perish,
you are lost.
Brackenburg. Come home.
Clara. Home?
Brackenburg. Recollect thyself! Look around thee! These are the streets
in which thou wert wont to appear only on the Sabbath-day, when thou didst
walk modestly to church; where, over-decorous perhaps, thou wert displeased
if I but joined thee with a kindly greeting. And now thou dost stand, speak,
and act before the eyes of the whole world. Recollect thyself, love! How can
this avail us?
Clara. Home! Yes, I remember. Come, Brackenburg, let us go home! Knowest
thou where my home lies?
[Exeunt.
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