Egmont: Act IV

Act IV

SCENE I.--A Street

Jetter, Carpenter

Jetter. Hist! neighbour,--a word!

Carpenter. Go your way and be quiet.

Jetter. Only one word. Is there nothing new?

Carpenter. Nothing, except that we are anew forbidden to speak.

Jetter. How?

Carpenter. Step here, close to this house. Take heed! Immediately on his
arrival, the Duke of Alva published a decree, by which two or three, found
conversing together in the streets, are without trial, declared guilty of high
treason.

Jetter. Alas!

Carpenter. To speak of state affairs is prohibited on pain of perpetual
imprisonment.

Jetter. Alas for our liberty!

Carpenter. And no one, on pain of death, shall censure the measures of
government.

Jetter. Alas, for our heads!

Carpenter. And fathers, Mothers, children, kindred, friends, and servants,
are invited, by the promise of large rewards, to disclose what passes in the
privacy of our homes, before an expressly appointed tribunal.

Jetter. Let us go home.

Carpenter. And the obedient are promised that they shall suffer no injury,
either in person or estate.

Jetter. How gracious!---I felt ill at ease the moment the duke entered the
town. Since then, it has seemed to me, as though the heavens were covered
with black crape, which hangs so low, that one must stoop down to avoid
knocking one's head against it.

Carpenter. And how do you like his soldiers? They are a different sort of
crabs from those we have been used to.

Jetter. Faugh! It gives one the cramp at one's heart to see such a troop
march down the street. As straight as tapers, with fixed look, only one
step, however many there may be; and when they stand sentinel, and you
pass one of them, it seems as though he would look you through and
through; and he looks so stiff and morose, that you fancy you see a task-
master at every corner. They offend my sight. Our militia were merry
fellows; they took liberties, stood their legs astride, their hats over their
ears, they lived and let live; these fellows are like machines with a devil
inside them.

Carpenter. Were such an one to cry, "Halt!" and level his musket, think
you one would stand?

Jetter. I should fall dead upon the spot.

Carpenter. Let us go home!

Jetter No good can come of it. Farewell.

[Enter Soest.

Soest. Friends! Neighbours! Carpenter. Hush! Let us go.

Soest. Have you heard?

Jetter. Only too much!

Soest. The Regent is gone.

Jetter. Then Heaven help us.

Carpenter. She was some stay to us.

Soest. Her departure was sudden and secret. She could not agree with the
duke; she has sent word to the nobles that she intends to return. No one
believes it, however.

Carpenter. God pardon the nobles for letting this new yoke be laid upon
our necks. They might have prevented it. Our privileges are gone.

Jetter. For Heaven's sake not a word about privileges. I already scent an
execution; the sun will not come forth; the fogs are rank.

Soest. Orange, too, is gone.

Carpenter. Then are we quite deserted!

Soest, Count Egmont is still here.

Jetter. God be thanked! Strengthen him, all ye saints, to do his utmost; he
is the only one who can help us.

[Enter Vansen.

Vansen. Have I at length found a few brave citizens who have not crept
out of sight?

Jetter. Do us the favour to pass on.

Vansen. You are not civil.

Jetter. This is no time for compliments. Does your back itch again? are
your wounds already healed?

Vansen. Ask a soldier about his wounds? Had I cared for blows, nothing
good would have come of me.

Jetter. Matters may grow more serious.

Vansen. You feel from the gathering storm a pitiful weakness in your
limbs, it seems.

Carpenter. Your limbs will soon be in motion elsewhere, if you do not
keep quiet.

Vansen. Poor mice! The master of the house procures a new cat, and ye
are straight in despair! The difference is very trifling; we shall get on as
we did before, only be quiet.

Carpenter. You are an insolent knave.

Vansen. Gossip! Let the duke alone. The old cat looks as though he had
swallowed devils, instead of mice, and could not now digest them. Let him
alone, I say; he must eat, drink, and sleep, like other men. I am not afraid
if we only watch our opportunity, At first he makes quick work Of it; by-
and-by, however, he too will find that it is pleasanter to live in the larder,
among flitches of bacon, and to rest by night, than to entrap a few solitary
mice in the granary. Go to! I know the stadtholders.

Carpenter. What such a fellow can say with impunity! Had I said such a
thing, I should not hold myself safe a moment.

Vansen. Do not make yourselves uneasy! God in heaven does not trouble
himself about you, poor worms, much less the Regent.

Jetter. Slanderer!

Vansen. I know some for whom it would be better if, instead of their own
high spirits, they had a little tailor's blood in their veins.

Carpenter. What mean you by that?

Vansen. Hum! I mean the count.

Jetter. Egmont! What has he to fear?

Vansen. I'm a poor devil, and could live a whole year round on what he
loses in a single night; yet he would do well to give me his revenue for a
twelvemonth, to have my head upon his shoulders for one quarter of an
hour.

Jetter. You think yourself very clever; yet there is more sense in the hairs
of Egmont's head, than in your brains.

Vansen. Perhaps so! Not more shrewdness, however. These gentry are the
most apt to deceive themselves. He should be more chary of his
confidence.

Jetter. How his tongue wags! Such a gentleman!

Vansen. Just because he is not a tailor.

Jetter. You audacious scoundrel!

Vansen. I only wish he had your courage in his limbs for an hour to make
him uneasy, and plague and torment him, till he were compelled to leave
the town.

Jetter. What nonsense you talk; why he's as safe as a star in heaven.

Vansen. Have you ever seen one snuff itself out? Off it went!

Carpenter. Who would dare to meddle with him?

Vansen. Will you interfere to prevent it? Will you stir up an insurrection if
he is arrested?

Jetter. Ah!

Vansen. Will you risk your ribs for his sake?

Soest. Eh!

Vansen (mimicking them). Eh! Oh! Ah! Run through the alphabet in your
wonderment. So it is, and so it will remain. Heaven help him!

Jetter. Confound your impudence. Can such a noble, upright man have
anything to fear?

Vansen. In this world the rogue has everywhere the advantage. At the bar,
he makes a fool of the judge; on the bench, he takes pleasure in convicting
the accused. I have had to copy out a protocol, where the commissary was
handsomely rewarded by the court, both with praise and money, because
through his cross-examination, an honest devil, against whom they had a
grudge, was made out to be a rogue.

Carpenter. Why, that again is a downright lie. What can they want to get
out of a man if he is innocent?

Vansen. Oh, you blockhead! When nothing can be worked out of a man by
cross-examination, they work it into him. Honesty is rash and withal
somewhat presumptuous; at first they question quietly enough, and the
prisoner, proud of his innocence, as they call it, comes out with much that
a sensible man would keep back! then, from these answers the inquisitor
proceeds to put new questions, and is on the watch for the slightest
contradiction; there he fastens his line; and, let the poor devil lose his self-
possession, say too much here, or too little there, or, Heaven knows from
what whim or other, let him withhold some trifling circumstance, or at any
moment give way to fear--then we're on the right track, and, I assure you,
no beggar-woman seeks for rags among the rubbish with more care than
such a fabricator of rogues, from trifling, crooked, disjointed, misplaced,
misprinted, and concealed facts and information, acknowledged or denied,
endeavours at length to patch up a scarecrow, by means of which he may
at least hang his victim in effigy; and the poor devil may thank Heaven if
he is in a condition to see himself hanged.

Jetter. He has a ready tongue of his own.

Carpenter. This may serve well enough with flies. Wasps laugh at your
cunning web.

Vansen. According to the kind of spider. The tall duke, now, has just the
look of your garden spider; not the large-bellied kind, they are less
dangerous; but your long-footed, meagre-bodied gentleman, that does not
fatten on his diet, and whose threads are slender indeed, but not the less
tenacious.

Jetter. Egmont is knight of the Golden Fleece, who dare lay hands on him?
He can be tried only by his peers, by the assembled knights of his order.
Your own foul tongue and evil conscience betray you into this nonsense.

Vansen. Think you that I wish him ill? I would you were in the right. He is
an excellent gentleman. He once let off, with a sound drubbing, some
good friends of mine, who would else have been hanged. Now take
yourselves off! begone, I advise you! Yonder I see the patrol again
commencing their round. They do not look as if they would be willing to
fraternize with us over a glass. We must wait, and bide our time. I have a
couple of nieces and a gossip of a tapster; if after enjoying themselves in
their company, they are not tamed, they are regular wolves.

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 market-place;
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 from 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 goodwill 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
offence 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 co-operation 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 dearly 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 thoughts, 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! It 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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