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Act IScene II
Scene II
Palace of the Regent
Margaret of Parma (in a hunting dress). Courtiers, Pages, Servants
Regent. Put off the hunt, I shall not ride to-day. Bid Machiavel attend
me. [Exeunt all but the Regent.
The thought of these terrible events leaves me no repose! Nothing can
amuse, nothing divert my mind. These images, these cares are always before me.
The king will now say that these are the natural fruits of my kindness, of my
clemency; yet my conscience assures me that I have adopted the wisest, the
most prudent course. Ought I sooner to have kindled, and spread abroad these
flames with the breath of wrath? My hope was to keep them in, to let them
smoulder in their own ashes. Yes, my inward conviction, and my knowledge of
the circumstances, justify my conduct in my own eyes; but in what light will
it appear to my brother! For, can it be denied that the insolence of these
foreign teachers waxes daily more audacious? They have desecrated our
sanctuaries, unsettled the dull minds of the people, and conjured up amongst
them a spirit of delusion. Impure spirits have mingled among the insurgents,
horrible deeds have been perpetrated, which to think of makes one shudder, and
of these a circumstantial account must be transmitted instantly to court.
Prompt and minute must be my communication, lest rumour outrun my messenger,
and the king suspect that some particulars have been purposely withheld. I can
see no means, severe or mild, by which to stem the evil. Oh, what are we great
ones on the waves of humanity? We think to control them, and are ourselves
driven to and fro, hither and thither.
Enter Machiavel
Regent. Are the despatches to the king prepared?
Machiavel. In an hour they will be ready for your signature.
Regent. Have you made the report sufficiently circumstantial?
Machiavel. Full and circumstantial, as the king loves to have it. I
relate how the rage of the iconoclasts first broke out at St. Omer. How a
furious multitude, with staves, hatchets, hammers, ladders, and cords,
accompanied by a few armed men, first assailed the chapels, churches, and
convents, drove out the worshippers, forced the barred gates, threw everything
into confusion, tore down the altars, destroyed the statues of the saints,
defaced the pictures, and dashed to atoms, and trampled under foot, whatever
came in their way that was consecrated and holy. How the crowd increased as it
advanced, and how the inhabitants of Ypres opened their gates at its approach.
How, with incredible rapidity, they demolished the cathedral, and burned the
library of the bishop. How a vast multitude, possessed by the like frenzy,
dispersed themselves through Menin, Comines, Verviers, Lille, nowhere
encountered opposition; and how, through almost the whole of Flanders, in a
single moment, the monstrous conspiracy declared itself, and was accomplished.
Regent. Alas! Your recital rends my heart anew; and the fear that the
evil will wax greater and greater, adds to my grief. Tell me your thoughts,
Machiavel!
Machiavel. Pardon me, your Highness, my thoughts will appear to you but
as idle fancies; and though you always seem well satisfied with my services,
you have seldom felt inclined to follow my advice. How often have you said in
jest: "You see too far, Machiavel! You should be an historian; he who acts,
must provide for the exigence of the hour." And yet have I not predicted this
terrible history? Have I not foreseen it all?
Regent. I too foresee many things, without being able to avert them.
Machiavel. In one word, then: - you will not be able to suppress the new
faith. Let it be recognized, separate its votaries from the true believers,
give them churches of their own, include them within the pale of social order,
subject them to the restraints of law, - do this, and you will at once
tranquillize the insurgents. All other measures will prove abortive, and you
will depopulate the country.
Regent. Have you forgotten with what aversion the mere suggestion of
toleration was rejected by my brother? Know you not, how in every letter he
urgently recommends to me the maintenance of the true faith? That he will not
hear of tranquillity and order being restored at the expense of religion? Even
in the provinces, does he not maintain spies, unknown to us, in order to
ascertain who inclines to the new doctrines? Has he not, to our astonishment,
named to us this or that individual residing in our very neighbourhood, who,
without its being known, was obnoxious to the charge of heresy? Does he not
enjoin harshness and severity? and am I to be lenient? Am I to recommend for
his adoption measures of indulgence and toleration? Should I not thus lose all
credit with him, and at once forfeit his confidence?
Machiavel. I know it. The king commands and puts you in full possession
of his intentions. You are to restore tranquillity and peace by measures which
cannot fail still more to embitter men`s minds, and which must inevitably
kindle the flames of war from one extremity of the country to the other.
Consider well what you are doing. The principal merchants are infected -
nobles, citizens, soldiers. What avails persisting in our opinion, when
everything is changing around us? Oh, that some good genius would suggest to
Philip that it better becomes a monarch to govern burghers of two different
creeds, than to excite them to mutual destruction.
Regent. Never let me hear such words again. Full well I know that the
policy of statesmen rarely maintains truth and fidelity; that it excludes from
the heart candour, charity, toleration. In secular affairs, this is, alas!
only too true; but shall we trifle with God as we do with each other? Shall we
be indifferent to our established faith, for the sake of which so many have
sacrificed their lives? Shall we abandon it to these far-fetched, uncertain,
and sel-contradicting heresies?
Machiavel. Think not the worse of me for what I have uttered.
Regent. I know you and your fidelity. I know too that a man may be both
honest and sagacious, and yet miss the best and nearest way to the salvation
of his soul. There are others, Machiavel, men whom I esteem, yet whom I needs
must blame.
Machiavel. To whom do you refer?
Regent. I must confess that Egmont caused me to-day deep and heart -
felt annoyance.
Machiavel. How so?
Regent. By his accustomed demeanour, his usual indifference and levity. I
received the fatal tidings as I was leaving church, attended by him and
several others. I did not restrain my anguish, I broke forth into
lamentations, loud and deep, and turning to him, exclaimed, "See what is going
on in your province! Do you suffer it, Count, you, in whom the king confided
so implicitly?"
Machiavel. And what was his reply?
Regent. As if it were a mere trifle, an affair of no moment, he answered:
"Were the Netherlanders but satisfied as to their constitution! The rest would
soon follow."
Machiavel. There was, perhaps, more truth than discretion or piety in his
words. How can we hope to acquire and to maintain the confidence of the
Netherlander, when he sees that we are more interested in appropriating his
possessions, than in promoting his welfare, temporal or spiritual? Does the
number of souls saved by the new bishops exceed that of the fat benefices they
have swallowed? And are they not for the most part foreigners? As yet, the
office of stadtholder has been held by Netherlanders; but do not the Spaniards
betray their great and irresistible desire to posses themselves of these
places? Will not people prefer being governed by their own countrymen, and
according to their ancient customs, rather than by foreigners, who, from their
first entrance into the land, endeavour to enrich themselves at the general
expense, who measure everything by a foreign standard, and who exercise their
authority without cordiality or sympathy?
Regent. You take part with our opponents?
Machiavel. Assuredly not in my heart. Would that with my understanding I
could be wholly on our side!
Regent. If such your disposition, it were better I should resign the
regency to them; for both Egmont and Orange entertained great hopes of
occupying this position. Then they were adversaries, now they are leagued
against me, and have become friends - inseparable friends.
Machiavel. A dangerous pair.
Regent. To speak candidly, I fear Orange. - I fear for Egmont. - Orange
meditates some dangerous scheme, his thoughts are far-reaching, he is
reserved, appears to accede to everything, never contradicts, and while
maintaining the show of reverence, with clear foresight accomplishes his own
designs.
Machiavel. Egmont, on the contrary, advances with a bold step, as if the
world were all his own.
Regent. He bears his head as proudly as if the hand of majesty were not
suspended over him.
Machiavel. The eyes of all the people are fixed upon him, and he is the
idol of their hearts.
Regent. He has never assumed the least disguise, and carries himself as
if no one had a right to call him to account. He still bears the name of
Egmont. Count Egmont is the title by which he loves to hear himself addressed,
as though he would fain be reminded that his ancestors were masters of
Guelderland. Why does he not assume his proper title, - Prince of Gaure? What
object has he in view? Would he again revive extinguished claims?
Machiavel. I hold him for a faithful servant of the king.
Regent. Were he so inclined, what important service could he not render
to the government? Whereas, now, without benefiting himself, he has caused us
unspeakable vexation. His banquets and entertainment have done more to unite
the nobles and to knit them together than the most dangerous secret
associations. With his toasts, his guests have drunk in a permanent
intoxication, a giddy frenzy, that never subsides. How often have his
facetious jests stirred up the minds of the populace? and what an excitement
was produced among the mob by the new liveries, and the extravagant devices of
his followers!
Machiavel. I am convinced he had no design.
Regent. Be that as it may, it is bad enough. As I said before, he injures
us without benefiting himself. He treats as a jest matters of serious import;
and, not to appear negligent and remiss, we are forced to treat seriously what
he intended as a jest. Thus one urges on the other; and what we are
endeavouring to avert is actually brought to pass. He is more dangerous than
the acknowledged head of a conspiracy; and I am much mistaken if it is not all
remembered against him at court. I cannot deny that scarcely a day passes in
which he does not wound me - deeply wound me.
Machiavel. He appears to me to act on all occasions, according to the
dictates of his conscience.
Regent. His conscience has a convenient mirror. His demeanour is often
offensive. He carries himself as if he felt he were the master here, and were
withheld by courtesy alone from making us feel his supremacy; as if he would
not exactly drive us out of the country; there`ll be no need for that.
Machiavel. I entreat you, put not too harsh a construction upon his frank
and joyous temper, which treats lightly matters of serious moment. You but
injure yourself and him.
Regent. I interpret nothing. I speak only of inevitable consequences, and
I know him. His patent of nobility and the Golden Fleece upon his breast
strengthen his confidence, his audacity. Both can protect him against any
sudden outbreak of royal displeasure. Consider the matter closely, and he is
alone responsible for the whole mischief that has broken out in Flanders. From
the first, he connived at the proceedings of the foreign teachers, avoided
stringent measures, and perhaps rejoiced in secret that they gave us so much
to do. Let me alone; on this occasion, I will give utterance to that which
weighs upon my heart; I will not shoot my arrow in vain. I know where he is
vulnerable. For he is vulnerable.
Machiavel. Have you summoned the council? Will Orange attend?
Regent. I have sent for him to Antwerp. I will lay upon their shoulders
the burden of responsibility; they shall either strenuously co-operate with
me in quelling the evil, or at once declare themselves rebels. Let the letters
be completed without delay, and bring them for my signature. Then hasten to
despatch the trusty Vasca to Madrid, he is faithful and indefatigable; let him
use all diligence, that he may not be anticipated by common report, that my
brother may receive the intelligence first through him. I will myself speak
with him ere he departs.
Machiavel. Your orders shall be promptly and punctually obeyed.
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