SOURCE: Larkin, Edward T. “Goethe's Egmont: Political Revolution and Personal Transformation.” Michigan Germanic Studies 17, no. 1 (spring 1991): 28-50.

[In the following essay, Larkin explores the significance of political revolution in Egmont, deeming it a “means toward societal transformation and political self-determination.”]

One of the central issues in Goethe's Egmont, as indicated by the author's recollection in 1825 of the revolutionary events in the Netherlands in 1786, concerns the desirability of revolution as a means toward societal transformation and political self-determination.¹ One can distinguish the play's characters by their distinctive responses to the question of the legitimacy of rebellion. The most ardent proponent of the republican, pro-revolutionary stance is the aptly named Vansen (one may wonder whether Goethe had “Wahnsinn” in mind), while Philip II and his surrogate Alba remain the most staunch advocates of the prevailing centrally administered, absolutist regime. Even the regent, Margarethe von Parma, is prepared to compromise with the bourgeoisie on the question of political power. Indeed, such willingness leads to her dismissal. Various middle positions between support for the status quo and overthrow of the government are enunciated by Oranien, the burghers and Egmont himself. The text seems finally to affirm the desirability of the use of force when in his closing soliloquy Egmont encourages the envisioned Netherlandic people to rise up and cast off the oppressive yoke of the Spanish regime: “Schützt eure Güter! Und euer Liebstes zu erretten, fallt freudig, wie ich euch ein Beispiel gebe”² But Egmont's exhortation contradicts his earlier rejection of violence as a legitimate vehicle for social and political change. Egmont had previously denounced Oranien's suggestion for passive resistance to Alba: “Und der Krieg ist erklärt, und wir sind die Rebellen.” (405) He seems determined to avoid open confrontation with the king and his representative. Consequently, he has admonished the burghers of Brussels not to follow the destructive example of the peasants in Flanders: “… geht an euer Gewerbe” (394) and “… glaubt nicht, durch Aufruhr befestige man Privilegien.” (395)³

In light of Egmont's previous support for non-violent confrontation, how is the reader of this play to understand the hero's final words of encouragement? Has Egmont in fact undergone a fundamental transformation? Are his words and the freedom vision merely insignificant appendages of a text gone mad?⁴ Are the perceived incongruities the result of the author's own existential insecurity⁵ or of the text's complicated period of gestation?⁶ In the following I maintain that both the extensive representation of Egmont's ambiguity and the pervasive expressions of individual powerlessness suggest that the concluding envisioned revolution occurs without the absolute support of the principal character. The ending should therefore be understood as a carefully orchestrated encomium to the ideal of freedom, in which revolution, the violent overthrow of a tyrannical government, is at best begrudgingly conceded as necessary for “real” political change. For Egmont's dichotomous nature, which can admit of no undivided purposefulness, reflects the conflicting uncertainties of real existence and illustrates the difficulty, if not the impossibility, of self-directed change. The repeated instances of helplessness and intimations of determinism further reinforce the limitations of autonomous transformation. The drama demonstrates that true change results only when individual volition is aligned with the prevailing historical and transcendental forces. Only through the envelopment of the real by the ideal, of nature by spirit, of Egmont's ambiguity by Klärchen's love, can individual transformation, that is, Egmont's newfound exhortation of revolution, and hence historical change become possible.

In evaluating Egmont's call for revolt it may be useful to consider the drama in light of Goethe's work on Götz von Berlichingen. While the exact origins of Egmont are still subject to some dispute, the author did in hindsight associate his interest in the uprisings in the Netherlands with the completion of Götz von Berlichingen: “Nachdem ich in Götz von Berlichingen das Symbol einer bedeutenden Weltepoche nach meiner Art abgespiegelt hatte, sah ich mich nach einem ähnlichen Wendepunkt der Staatengeschichte sorgfältig um. Der Aufstand der Niederlande gewann meine Aufmerksamkeit.” (HA, IV, 595)⁷ The parallels between the two plays, both intellectually and stylistically, may have motivated Goethe to publish them together in the Ausgabe letzter Hand. Fell has detailed the influence of Justus Möser's political thinking on Goethe's Götz. She concludes that Goethe, like Möser, favored a “conservative-evolutionary attitude” in which “no radical changes in society are advocated for dealing with the unsatisfactory conditions of their own times.”⁸ Sudhof comes to similar finding on Möser's political thinking. He writes:

Möser war zwar der Ansicht, daß die alte ständische Ordnung überlebt habe, daß sie in der alten Form nicht weiterbestehen konnte; doch hat er nie den Gedanken einer gewaltsamen Änderung, einer Revolution geäußert oder gar vertreten. Sein Prinzip war das der kontinuierlichen Änderung auf dem Wege der Evolution, der Lockerung oder Lösung der festen sozialen Strukturen.⁹

It is known that Goethe, while he apparently never met Möser, maintained relations with him, even sending him a copy of Egmont in 1782. Goethe's high esteem for Möser's Patriotische Phantasien and his continued contact with the Osnabrück statesman lead one to suspect that the same organic conception of society which in Götz prefers particularism and home rule to bureaucratic centralism should be likewise affirmed in Egmont. Indeed, it is. Machiavell asks rhetorically: “Will ein Volk nicht lieber nach seiner Art von den Seinigen regieret werden als von Fremden, die erste im Lande sich viele Besitztümer auf Unkosten aller zu erwerben suchen, die einen fremden Maßstab mitbringen und unfreundlich und ohne Teilnahme herrschen?” (380) Similarly, Egmont tells Alba: “Und ebenso natürlich ist's, daß der Bürger von dem regiert sein will, der mit ihm geboren und erzogen ist.”(431)¹⁰ Goethe does not seem to have altered his position on the desirability of particularistic home rule. It is equally improbable that he would have newly embraced revolution as a means for political self-determination while at the same time adhering to the fundamental content of Möser's thought. The insistence on national character (in this case rule of the Netherlands by the Netherlandic people), which is no doubt present in Egmont, does not necessarily entail the espousal of the use of force to that end. The Peasants' Revolt in Götz von Berlichingen, which is undertaken at least in part to attain political self-determination, is rejected by the author because of its indiscriminate violence. And while Goethe recognized the thorough corruption of the ancien règime in Paris, he nevertheless clearly opposed the overthrow of that government in such later works as Der Groß-Cophta (1791), Die Aufgeregten (1793), Der Bürgergeneral (1793), Die Natürliche Tochter (1803), Unterhaltungen deutscher Ausgewanderten (1795) and Hermann und Dorothea (1797). Even the depiction of the chaos of the carnival in “Das Römische Karneval” (1788) suggests the author's discomfort with disorder and violence. One may then justifiably question whether Egmont's final call for revolution is to be taken at face value.

But it is primarily in the figure of Egmont that the singularly pro-revolutionary interpretation of the play's ending is called into question. There is no doubt that Egmont, relative to the other characters, appears larger than life, as Klärchen's description of the wood carving of Gravelingen implies. He is the predominant topic of conversation and also exudes the greatest energy. His life-affirming nature, spontaneity and magnanimous spirit have been repeatedly emphasized. Yet throughout the drama the reader encounters a character who is marked by a fundamental ambiguity. Scholarship has duly noted Egmont's contradictoriness. Sammons, for example, notes: “Even more disharmonious is the juxtaposition of Egmont's sudden revolutionary fervor … with his earlier distaste for the same eventuality.”¹¹ Ellis writes: “What we have heard so far is already somewhat contradictory, but the circumstances of his appearance in Act II seem dominated by paradoxes and surprises, and seem in fact to be almost calculated to clash with what we have already heard.”¹² Bennett is perhaps most forceful in communicating Egmont's dichotomous nature when he attributes to Egmont a hidden desire to become Regent: “There is a good deal of evidence in action and in dialogue that Egmont's character and thinking are not nearly so simple, so naturally unfettered, as he himself wishes to believe.”¹³ On Goethe's deep-seated inclination toward ambiguity and his understanding of tragedy, Gray writes: “for Goethe … contradictoriness was at the heart of things, and he welcomed it.”¹⁴ The complexity or duality of Egmont's character should not surprise us, for Goethe had often conceived his characters in polar terms. One thinks immediately of the complementary character configurations of Tasso/Antonio and Faust/Mephistopheles. While Oranien's deliberateness contrasts with Egmont's spontaneity, I believe that the competing poles or contradicting characteristics in Egmont are primarily subsumed within the title figure himself. The complex of clashing attributes which defines Egmont finds expression in the descriptions of the protagonist offered by other characters as well as in his own actions. This ambiguity is more widespread than has heretofore been recognized and its acknowledgment suggests a different understanding of the play's import.

Egmont is first and foremost lauded for his bravery and military prowess. Goethe himself claimed: “Die persönliche Tapferkeit, die den Helden auszeichnet, ist die Base, auf der sein ganzes Wesen ruht, der Grund und Boden, aus dem es hervorsprosst.” (Gräf, 254)¹⁵ Throughout the drama Egmont's military exploits are repeatedly accentuated. At the shooting contest Egmont is characterized as a strong and effective military leader whom soldiers are eager to serve. Among the soldiers Buyck remarks that it is impossible not to learn something from Egmont while serving under him. As noted above, Klärchen makes mention of the wood carving commemorating Egmont's achievements at Gravelingen, and her “Soldatenlied” reflects a keen desire to serve under his leadership. The reader is, however, simultaneously made aware of Egmont's desire for peace. Even in the first scene his participation in military actions is linked to the establishment of peace: “Um den Frieden seid ihr uns schuldig, dem großen Egmont schuldig.” (373) Egmont's love of soldiering then is balanced by a desire for political stability; his military exploits are not carried out for their own sake. In this regard Egmont distinguishes himself clearly and significantly from the single-minded Alba, of whom he later notes: “Um sein selbst willen hat er Krieg geraten, daß der Krieger im Kriege gelte.” (446) Egmont's view seems to accord with the author's own position, as a letter to Karl August reveals: “… da eigentlich der Zweck des Krieges nur der Friede seyn kann, so geziemt es einem Krieger gar wohl, wenn er ohne Krieg Friede machen und erhalten kann.”¹⁶ Egmont's preference for non-aggressive resolutions is again clearly demonstrated when he quells the incipient uprising brought about by Vansen's agitation. Indeed, his first words in the play reflect his interest in peace: “Ruhig! Ruhig, Leute!” (394) Egmont's earnest desire for peace is finally confirmed when in his dialogue with Oranien he expresses his fear that innocent victims may be the result of an open rebellion against the Spanish regime: “Denk an die Städte, die Edeln, das Volk, an die Handlung, den Feldbau, die Gewerbe! und denke die Verwüstung, den Mord! … den Fluß herunter werden die Leichen der Bürger, der Kinder, der Jungfrauen entgegenschwimmen …” (405) For Goethe, Egmont remains a leader who hovers between the excitement of war and the desire for tranquility. He must accommodate not only his own disparate desires but also the competing interests of his constituents—the soldiers and the burghers—who demand “Sicherheit und Ruhe” (377) and “Freiheit und Privilegien.” (393)

The regent, Margarethe von Parma, is also cognizant of Egmont's essential duality, as, for example, when she characterizes Egmont with the oxymoronic construction (not unusual for Goethe): “Er nimmt das Ernstliche scherzhaft.” (382) The regent is most attentive of Egmont's ambiguity in the political arena. In her opinion Egmont fails to recognize the gravity of the developing political situation; he displays in his dealings with the world a misplaced lightheartedness. The regent correctly notes that Egmont's professed allegiance to the king seems to contrast with his unspoken wish to be free of interference from the royal house. But while Egmont speaks of his loyalty to the king, he does not object to Oranien's assessment of their relationship to the king: “Wir dienen ihm auf unsre Art; und untereinander können wir gestehen, daß wir des Königs Rechte und die unsrigen wohl abzuwägen wissen.” (403) Furthermore, the reader learns from the regent that Egmont's title, perhaps the single most telling indication of his inconsistent political perception, also reflects his essential lack of wholeness: whereas he prefers to be known as “Graf Egmont,” his title is actually “Prinz von Gaure.”

The contradictions which are apparent in the wonderful exposition of Egmont's character in the first act persist when Egmont has entered the play. Egmont has rightfully been characterized as the epitome of freedom.¹⁷ But this champion of liberty fosters a very restricted concept of freedom. As has been indicated, Egmont contends that the burghers, if they remain “ordentlich,” already enjoy sufficient political and personal freedom. The inference is unmistakably clear: while his own personal sphere of influence is to remain unrestricted, the burghers may act only within very limited parameters. Like Werther and Faust, Egmont, conceived around the same time, is marked by an exaggerated sense of personal autonomy which ignores the legitimate demands of society. Egmont's disdain for “Sicherheit,” made clear in the conversation with the secretary, seems to contradict his belief that the “Volk” should act in a prescribed, i.e. submissive manner. But if this distinction between ruler and subject may have political legitimacy,¹⁸ the ambiguous remarks regarding the populace provide striking evidence of Egmont's fundamentally ambivalent stance. To Oranien Egmont has proclaimed his trust in the “Volk,” should he or Oranien, the primary leaders of the Netherlands, be captured. (404) And in his conversation with Alba, Egmont forcefully defends his countrymen: “Es sind Männer, wert, Gottes Boden zu betreten; ein jeder rund für sich, ein kleiner König, fest, rührig, fähig, treu, an alten Sitten hängend.” (430) Yet elsewhere he is less sanguine about the reliability and integrity of the Netherlandic people, referring to them in one instance as a “Menge, mit der nichts anzufangen ist.” (415) These conflicting views stand side by side; they both reflect Egmont's political thinking and are not reconciled. They illustrate Egmont's essentially passive disposition, one which responds rather than initiates, and hence is more inclined toward ambiguity. Similar to his views on freedom is his attitude toward religious tolerance. In the opening scene Buyck reports of Egmont's view: “In unsrer Provinz singen wir was wir wollen.” (374) Yet Egmont's first public appearance reveals a far less open-minded or tolerant ruler. In fact, he warns the burghers: “Steht fest gegen die fremde Lehre.” (395) The contradictoriness of Egmont's character is neatly summarized in this scene when Jetter observes that Graf Egmont, the Prince of Gaure, is attired “nach spanischem Schnitt.” (395)

If not contradiction then at least inconsistency characterizes Egmont's administrative and political decisions. The critical literature has dwelled extensively on the question of Egmont's political responsibility. Ellis, for instance, maintains that Egmont is a very responsible politician who “grasps political reality better than anyone.”¹⁹ Bennett too accentuates Egmont's political astuteness.²⁰ In emphasizing Egmont's conversation with Alba, Hobson concludes that Egmont displays his responsibility by altering his position from one founded on personal criteria to one founded on objective criteria.²¹ On the other hand, Wells insists on Egmont's “lack of political insight.”²² Similarly, Swales asserts “that Egmont's response to the political realities around him is largely irrational.”²³ Egmont's administrative dilemma develops from the conflict between his open and frank nature and his need as an administrator for information. Thus, one senses his embarrassment when he asks his secretary Richard to find out surreptitiously the political positions of the palace on his visit to his lover Donna Elvira there. In addition, one recalls Egmont's reply to Oranien's question about how much of the regent's position he had understood during their conversation with her. Egmont replies: “Nicht alles; ich dachte unterdessen an was anders.” (402) But even within the realm of administrative judgments one is hard-pressed to detect an even application of belief or principle underlying Egmont's seemingly impulsive decisions. Emulating the political wisdom of Lessing's Prince of Guastalla in Emilia Galotti or perhaps that of the young Duke Karl August, Egmont is not at all absorbed with the administrative concerns which confront him. As his disdain for writing implies an unwillingness or inability to deliberate, so does his behavior in general suggest that he is more interested in putting the administrative issues behind him than in developing and implementing appropriate social strategies. It is not that Egmont does not care about his duty or his subjects. Rather, his multifarious talents and interests, including his relationship with Klärchen, command his energy and render him unfocused. Thus his modus operandi: “Sag an, das Nötigste.”—“Eins nach dem andern, nur geschwind.” (396) In dispensing his administrative duties Egmont at first appears to act in a lenient, one might say, conscientious manner: he opposes the hanging of the rebels, makes clear his sympathy for the woman who was mistreated by two of his underlings, and refuses to behead the captured protestant minister. Yet this spirit of moderation and generosity stands in juxtaposition to his excessive excitability in the matter of raising money. Virtually beside himself, he exclaims: “Das Geld muß herbei!” (397) Of his administrator he makes the unreasonable demand: “Er soll Vorschläge tun, die annehmlich sind, und vor allem soll er das Geld schaffen.” (398) As in other activities, Egmont does not recognize apparent discrepancies: in this case between the demand for money and the means to obtain that money.

This emotional outburst about finances undermines Soest's earlier praise of Egmont's generosity (372) and is followed by another display of emotion. Egmont is angered by his secretary's reminder that Count Oliva's avuncular concern for his welfare deserves a response. Egmont perceives Oliva's advice as a threat to his being: just as a “Nachtwandler” (399) should not be disturbed when he is roaming the roof of a house, so too does he (Egmont) not tolerate interference in his affairs. This image of the “Nachtwandler” perfectly captures Egmont's essentially dichotomous nature. The “Nachtwandler” is at odds with and cannot accommodate the cyclical rhythms of nature. Insisting on his own reality, of which he no doubt feels certain, he ultimately fails to distinguish between objective opposites—activities of the day and of the night—and holds them equally valid. This state of estrangement hinders the natural development of his being. Egmont, the “Nachtwandler,” is similarly torn between duty and pleasure, between war and peace, between personal freedom and public responsibility and between Netherlandic customs and Spanish culture.

This exchange with the secretary is also important because it focuses attention on the problematic relationship between freedom and determinism and consequently on the possibility of fundamental (personal or political) change. In a most poignant image Egmont describes to his secretary the powerful impact of his destiny: “Wie von unsichtbaren Geistern gepeitscht, gehen die Sonnenpferde der Zeit mit unsers Schicksals leichtem Wagen durch; und uns bleibt nichts, als mutig gefaßt die Zügel festzuhalten, und bald rechts, bald links, vom Steine hier, vom Sturze da, die Räder wegzulenken. Wohin es geht, wer weiß es?”²⁴ (400-401) Given these restrictive parameters, one must wonder whether the kind of transformation, which concludes the drama, namely, Egmont's embrace of revolution, is at all possible. This image suggests that individual human agency may be only minimally efficacious. While it does not preclude the possibility of transformation, it does intimate that change, the self-willed deviation from a prescribed path, is not easily achieved. It may occur when individual volition and transcendental purpose coincide. Transformation then presupposes consciousness of one's position within the world. Egmont is indeed conscious of himself: he can speak of his dichotomous nature. But the necessary unity of his understanding of himself with a larger, objective context, the existence of which may be inferred from his remark, is not yet present. The Egmont whom we observe supposes the existence of a harmonious totality of experience but lacks sufficient insight into its structure. The concluding dream vision, about which more will be said later, confirms the correctness of his (and Goethe's) suspicion of a greater context or transcendent world in which one's actions might be evaluated. But it remains to be seen how the dream/vision effects an alteration of his consciousness.

It is important to observe that Egmont is not the only character who is associated with this sentiment of relative individual powerlessness. It is also a constitutive element in the characterization of virtually all the other principal figures of the drama. This pervasiveness implies its importance to the intellectual content of the drama. It forms a counterpart to the naive assumption that individual transformation is the result of personal volition. Klärchen, who is unable to give up Brackenburg despite her lack of love for him, says of her treatment of him: “Kann ich's doch nicht ändern!” (384) Her behavior toward him is not the result of a conscious decision (or so she believes): “Ich kann es auch nicht lassen, ich muß ihm freundlich begegnen.” (384) The regent has also intimated a similar fatalism about her ability to effect political change when she expresses her frustration: “Ich sehe kein Mittel, weder strenges noch gelindes, dem Übel zu steuern. O was sind wir Großen auf der Woge der Menschheit?” (377) Like her father before her, she, perhaps inevitably, considers abdication. Similarly, in reference to Alba's plan to capture Egmont, Silva speaks of the incalculable “Eigensinn des Schicksals.” (423) Indeed, Alba himself laments his lack of control: “Und wie in ein Lostopf greifst du in die dunkle Zukunft.” (426) After reflecting on what to do in light of Oranien's absence, he affirms his own sense of constraint: “Und mir bleibt keine Wahl.” (426) The drama clearly exudes a sense of individual limitation. One might be averse to employing the vague language of Goethe's thoughts on the “Daimon” and “das Dämonische,” but one must recognize that with the possible exception of Oranien all the major characters in the play experience a sense of individual powerlessness.²⁵ While these expression of helplessness are understandable within the development of the plot, on a conceptual level they may reflect Goethe's belief that individual autonomy is not endlessly expansive. Thus the muddled concept of the “Dämonische” is perhaps best understood as a metaphor for the limitations of human agency. Absolute freedom is not given to man. Man is limited in his sphere of influence, but nevertheless free to act in accordance with those limitations. Transformation occurs when the desired change is undertaken within the limitations imposed by the transcendent totality.

Further expression of Egmont's sense of powerlessness becomes evident in the course of his conversation with Oranien. The latter is doubtless aware of Egmont's subjective titanism. To Egmont's assertion that he must view the world with his own eyes, Oranien exclaims: “O sähest du diesmal nur mit meinigen! Freund, weil du sie offen hast, glaubst du, du siehst.” (406) Oranien notes that Egmont's positions—political and otherwise—are based on an implicit trust in his own being and are incommensurate with objective principles of consistency. It is generally accepted that Egmont's frequent association with the swift movements of the horse reflects his affirmative nature and inherent potency. But it also may intimate psychical commotion. By contrast, Oranien is described by Jetter as “ein rechter Wall.” (376) He is steadfast, deliberate; his political positions as well as his plan of action are firm, unambiguous, well-considered and appropriate of the situation (even if lacking in imagination and spontaneity). In affirming his belief in his own power and energy, Egmont has admonished the burghers: “Vernünftige Leute können viel tun.” (395) His affirmative, yet driven nature and what Wilkinson labels his “rigid … adherence to flexibility”²⁶ suggest the efficacy of human action and imply that unacceptable political conditions can be changed. Yet in discussing the political situation with Oranien, the ever-flexible Egmont is unable to admit that the current situation may call of an alternative response or a new perspective. Thus, he repeatedly denies the validity of Oranien's claims. When made aware that the king might send a new, less favorably disposed regent, Egmont somewhat fatalistically responds: “Der würde kommen, und würde eben auch zu tun finden. … Auch ihm wird die Zeit vergehen, der Kopf schwindeln, und die Dinge wie zuvor ihren Gang halten, daß er, statt weite Meere nach einer vorgezognen Linie zu durchsegeln, Gott danken mag, wenn er sein Schiff in diesem Sturme vom Felsen hält.”²⁷ (402-403) Egmont projects a virtual umbrella of intransigence which seemingly precludes the possibility of transformation. He thereby suggests that the political status quo cannot be made otherwise simply through human activity: “Wenn man alt wird und hat so viel versucht, und es will in der Welt nie zur Ordnung kommen, muß man es endlich wohl genug haben.” (403) The drama repeatedly offers an Egmont who espouses contradictory positions.

Egmont's essential ambiguity is most aptly captured in his relationship with Klärchen,²⁸ in whom he seeks refuge from his political responsibilities and Sorglichkeit. In the strategically placed dialogue with her at the end of the third act Egmont reveals his awareness of his double-directed nature:

Jener Egmont ist ein verdrießlicher, steifer, kalter Egmont, der an sich halten, bald dieses, bald jenes Gesicht machen muß; geplagt, verkannt, verwickelt ist, wenn ihn die Leute für froh, und fröhlich halten; geliebt von einem Volke, das nicht weiß, was es will; geehrt und in die Höhe getragen von einer Menge, mit der nichts anzufangen ist; umgeben von Freunden, denen er sich nicht überlassen darf; beobachtet von Menschen, die ihm auf alle Weise beikommen möchten; arbeitend und sich bemühend, oft ohne Zweck, meist ohne Lohn—O laß mich schweigen, wie es dem ergeht, wie es dem zumute ist! Aber dieser, Klärchen, der ist ruhig, offen, glücklich, beliebt und gekannt von dem besten Herzen, das auch er ganz kennt und mit voller Liebe und Zutrauen an das seine drückt. Das ist dein Egmont.

(415)

It is quite clear from this remark that Egmont is not merely a naive nature which affirms life. In admitting to Klärchen his need to be “falsch” (414) in the political arena in order to attain his goals, he again demonstrates consciousness of his duality and of the difficulties in trying to order or unify his individuality. The passage encourages the reader to see two different Egmonts standing side by side. Although they represent one being, they are not in the process of fundamentally transforming into each other as for example the butterfly metaphor in Faust indicates.²⁹ Efforts toward a unification of his being, e.g. by taking refuge in Klärchen, remain at best temporary. He is unable to find permanent, constructive strategies to resolve his ambiguities.

Prior to Egmont's meeting with Alba, the reader is informed that Egmont's behavior has remained constant even after the Spanish leader had instituted his harsh, repressive measures, i.e. the prohibition of public meetings, the imposition of a curfew, etc. Silva observes: “Er ist der einzige, der seit du hier bist, sein Betragen nicht geändert hat.” (423) If the merchants and townspeople have capitulated to Alba's intimidation, Egmont does not appear to have succumbed to these pressures. He continues to visit Klärchen and to entertain guests. Egmont meets with Alba because he does not want to be viewed as a transgressor of the king's law even as he continues to maintain his own autonomy. Egmont has previously argued with Oranien against the desirability of rebellion. With Alba, however, Egmont is provoked to assert that the Netherlanders are entitled to some degree of political self-determination.³⁰ On close inspection it appears that Alba's extreme position elicits radical, unconsidered if intuitively patriotic rejoinders from Egmont. As Alba's soldiers function like “Maschinen” (416), consistent with the Spanish leader's single-minded purposefulness and with his intolerance of change, the politically and existentially unsettled Egmont is virtually compelled to contradict him. Egmont immediately und instinctively defends the inner core—“den innern Kern der Eigenheit” (432)—of the Netherlandic people. Lacking a groundedness himself, Egmont projects with great forcefulness a counterposition.

It is highly significant that Egmont's fundamental duality dominates his action even in the final, controversial scenes of the tragedy. In the first prison scene Egmont is initially unable to sleep because of the Sorgen about his future. He understandably seeks consolation by recalling the more pleasant aspects of his life. But unreflective adherence to an unalterable past renders one a captive of the past. Desired change is only effective when the past is seen in conjunction with a future vision. This is not yet the case. Prominent in Egmont's ruminations during this scene is again the image of the horse: “Da eilt ich fort, sobald es möglich war, und rasch aufs Pferd mit tiefem Atemzuge! Und frisch hinaus, da wo wir hingehören! ins Feld … wo wir die Menschheit ganz, und die menschliche Begier in allen Adern fühlen.” (438-439) Egmont's well-noted impetuosity and spontaneity, communicated by the identification with the horse, reflect his continued psychical turbulence. Stability and peace of mind are still absent. In a like manner, Egmont reiterates his affection for military life: “wo der Soldat sein angebornes Recht auf alle Welt mit raschem Schritt sich anmaßt, und in fürchterlicher Freiheit wie ein Hagelwetter durch Wiese, Feld und Wald verderbend streicht, und keine Grenzen kennt, die Menschenhand gezogen.” (439) Egmont continues to be determined by the titanic claims which reveal his denial of external authority.

It is, nevertheless, clear from the stage directions of the second prison scene—“Egmont fährt aus dem Schlaf auf.” (445)—that Egmont has in fact slept and presumably alleviated his excessive excitation. As Orest and Faust both find renewal in sleep, so it is with Egmont: the “gute Natur” (407), which had previously cast off the “Sorglichkeit” imputed to Oranien, releases Egmont from his present fitful unease. Brief respites from his tormenting ambiguity, as for example his time with Klärchen, are possible. Fundamental reorientations, however, are as yet beyond his reach. After hearing of his death sentence and of the unfeasibility of a rescue attempt, Egmont stamps his feet in a familiar outburst of emotion (it recalls his demand for appropriate recommendations to have money collected) and laments that he will not have the chance to die in battle. Having admitted to Ferdinand that he had indeed been forewarned of the possibility of Alba's trap, Egmont expresses somewhat more philosophically a familiar metaphysical fatalism: “Es glaubt der Mensch, sein Leben zu leiten, sich selbst zu führen; und sein innerstes wird unwiderstehlich nach seinem Schicksale gezogen.” (451) I do not mean to ignore the contours of Egmont's character, but merely to draw attention to those aspects which recur and hence characterize him. His continued inclination both toward determinism and toward titanism defines his ambiguous nature and suggests that he has in fact not undergone a transformation. This perception is further reinforced when in the conversation with Ferdinand Egmont's “attrativa” is once again in evidence. Egmont's endearing manner had captivated the regent and the “Volk” alike and now so fascinates Ferdinand that the latter is prepared to carry out his last wishes. Egmont likewise reaffirms the intensity with which he has lived his life: “aber ich habe gelebt.” (451) But even this claim lacks finality. For in the self-consolation that his death might bring peace—“Kann mein Blut für viele fließen, meinem Volk Friede bringen, so fließt es willig,” (451) Egmont expresses a fatalistic counterposition: “Leider wird's nicht so werden.” (451)

As if in summation of his dilemma Egmont then draws attention to the fundamental dichotomy between spirit and nature. Egmont's problematic ambiguity may be characterized as a vacillation between an overemphasis of nature, i.e. determinism, and of spirit, i.e. freedom from authority. The Egmont of the Sturm and Drang insists that nature as an irresistible force demands its due despite the activity of the human spirit: “Was auch den Geist gewaltsam beschäftigt, fordert die Natur zuletzt doch unwiderstehlich ihre Rechte.” (451-52)³¹ But the hero's current assent of determinism (“Natur”) is countered by the subsequent dream vision, a product of “Geist.” The vision makes clear Goethe's acceptance of the equality of the activities of the spirit with those of nature. Freedom, a precondition for transformation, can coexist with determinism.

Beginning with Schiller's seemingly inescapable and notorious assessment of the “Erscheinung” as “einen Salto mortale in die Opernwelt,”³² scholarship has been divided on the appropriateness of the vision. Sammons insists that the final scene “can [not] be interpreted in any other way than as an attempt to modify that on which the rest of the play operates.”³³ Swales contends: “… this vision of Egmont's political significance would seem to conflict not only with the facts of his behavior up to this point, but also with the present realities of the political situation.”³⁴ Others have nevertheless argued for the appropriateness of the vision on a variety of grounds. Kayser points to the inclusion of the music in the interludes (something which Goethe himself preferred), the symbolic use of gestures, e.g. Klärchen's lamp, and Egmont's previous association of Klärchen with a victory wreath to suggest that the vision is not merely an insignificant appendage.³⁵ Reinhardt too argues that the scene is appropriate on artistic grounds: “Sie sollte in ihrer Einmaligkeit nicht allzu unbedenklich abgetan werden.”³⁶ We must unfortunately acknowledge that the author himself was not particularly helpful in offering an assessment of the vision. He claimed at one time “dass er das Stück auch nicht ohne die Erscheinung sehen möchte.” (Gräf, 235) Yet years later he conceded that Schiller's criticism of the final vision may have indeed been justified: “Das hat unser grosser Freund [Schiller] besser verstanden, als wir.”³⁷ (Gräf, 274) I do not claim to observe in Egmont long-sought evidence for the play's coherence, for the establishment of dramatic unity is not the intention of this essay. Rather, I note how the consistent ambiguity of the main character offers itself to the reader as a point through which the question of change—political revolution and personal transformation—might be addressed.

How is one to understand the dream vision? As good drama, the final scene elicits from the reader a strong emotional response to the primary concept under consideration, namely freedom. The reader is moved to identify with the suffering Egmont and to embrace freedom as a personal value. The vision further functions to indicate to the uninformed reader that the Netherlanders do ultimately engage their Spanish oppressors in a battle for their independence. To be sure, Goethe did not have the greatest respect for history. Among the host of derogatory remarks about history, let one suffice: “Alles Geschichte ist misslich und schwankend.”³⁸ But while the character Egmont, like Götz before him, is altered from his documented history, a revision of the actual historical outcome seems to have been intellectually illicit in Goethe's view. In this sense Swales can refer to the vision as a “valid harbinger of what the future must eventually hold in store for the Netherlanders.”³⁹

Most importantly, however, the dream vision in its accouterments, the music and hymn-like language, celebrates the freedom which Egmont has affirmed.⁴⁰ But the scene is constructed in such a way as to call into question an absolute affirmation of revolution as a means toward political freedom. The perceptive reader can observe a dramatist carefully constructing his play. For as the “Erscheinung” approaches Egmont with the laurel wreath, something peculiar happens: “Wie sie sich mit dem Kranze dem Haupte nahet, macht Egmont eine Bewegung, dergestalt daß er mit dem Gesichte aufwärts liegt.” (453) Why the sudden movement? To receive the wreath? Perhaps. Or is it because Egmont is still a “Nachtwandler?” Is this not rather further evidence of Egmont's ambiguity? While promoting, even desiring freedom, Egmont, a seasoned warrior, expresses some reluctance to become a proponent of revolution. Moreover, at the point where Egmont is to be crowned, military music is heard and the “Erscheinung” quickly vanishes. The attainment of political freedom seems incompatible with the violence which would be necessary to overthrow a repressive regime. Indeed, no military action is presented on stage. The victory which Goethe insinuates in Egmont only finds its realization in Beethoven's music.⁴¹ Goethe was doubtless aware of the injustices of tyrannical governments, and in a comment to Eckermann regarding the French Revolution he attributed the reasons for revolutions to corrupt leadership: “irgendeine große Revolution ist nie Schuld des Volkes, sondern der Regierung.”⁴² The author was, however, equally conscious of the horrors which accompany military action: “Es ist wahr, ich konnte kein Freund der Französischen Revolution sein, denn ihre Greuel standen mir zu nahe und empörten mich täglich und stündlich.”⁴³ Similarly, the depictions of destruction in the Campagne in Frankreich make clear Goethe's aversion to violence. Furthermore, his activities as a member of the War Commission in the 1780s reflect his low estimation of military achievements. Goethe remained extremely skeptical about the long-term success of military force in the service of freedom. He did not believe that war and violence could secure lasting peace, for they undermine natural, political development: “Der Krieg ist in Wahrheit eine Krankheit, wo die Säfte, die zur Gesundheit und Erhaltung dienen, nur verwendet werden, um ein Fremdes, der Natur Ungemäßes, zu nähren.”⁴⁴ Only in Des Epimenides Erwachen, a festive play written to mark the triumphant arrival of King Friedrich Wilhelm III and Czar Alexander, does Goethe appear willing to accept military action in the cause of freedom. The victory over the foreign forces, accomplished through acknowledgement of an intersection of the transcendental order and human volition—“‘Nachgiebigkeit bei großem Willen’” (HA, 917)—presents an opportunity for a fundamental, social transformation as expressed by Epimenides—“Wir sind alle neugeboren.”⁴⁵

Egmont's vision then should not be considered an unqualified affirmation of revolution, i.e. the violent rejection of an existing political structure.⁴⁶ His consistent ambiguity even into this final vision relativizes the celebration of revolution. While his unaltered, demonic ambiguity, representing the problematic nature of real human existence, persists, it is finally enveloped, but not nullified, by Klärchen's love, the ideal. The vision thus illustrates the inextricable, dialectical relationship which exists between the real and the ineffable (Spinoza), between determinism and freedom, between the temporal and the eternal, between the historical and transcendent.⁴⁷ The portrayal suggests that these concepts cannot be understood one without the other. The wrapping around of the ambiguous real (nature) by the pure ideal (spirit) reflects Goethe's optimism about the orderliness of the universe. Indeed, the author imagined the Dämonische as an enveloping power: the Dämonische is said to be “eine der moralischen Weltordnung, wo nicht entgegengesetzte, doch sie durchkreuzende Macht, so dass man die eine für den Zettel, die andere für den Einschlag könnte gelten lassen.”⁴⁸ (Gräf, 255) The result of the union of the real and the ideal brings the recognition of one's conditional freedom within the whole and enables transformation. In a comment on Egmont Goethe speaks of the emergence of “ein Drittes, … das dem Wunsch aller Menschen entsprechen werde, diese ist es wohl, was dem Stücke, freilich nicht gleich bei seiner Erscheinung, aber doch später und zur rechten Zeit die Gunst verschafft hat, deren es noch jetzt geniesst.” (Gräf, 254) It may be that this “Drittes” is the harmonious interplay between the individual and that which transcends him. Egmont's dream-vision confirms the possibility of individual transformation which results not solely from volition but from the recognition of the demands of the whole. Based on a new vision for the future, the effect of his contact with the ideal, and not on an arbitrary call for freedom, Egmont demonstrates his support for the Netherlanders in their efforts toward liberation from Spanish oppression. Thus, Egmont can offer his words of encouragement to the burghers to resist the Spanish tyranny.

Egmont's lengthy path toward this transformation suggests the tentative and languorous nature of individual transformation. It parallels Goethe's belief in the evolutionary process of nature and its “Gesetzmäßigkeit,” according to which the ultimate transformation of the human personality (and of the social configuration) does not proceed in a linear, uninhibited fashion. This is not the ecstatic Schillerian transformation which characterizes Maria Stuart. Similarly, Egmont calls into question the Enlightenment's presupposition about the inevitability of the process of human perfectibility. Individuals remain organisms of great complexity and their proper path of development often requires, as Faust would later confirm, more than volition and insight.⁴⁹ A recognition, however slight, of the larger, transcendent context in which one's action takes place, facilitated in Egmont's case by the concept of the “Dämonische,” seems to be of equal importance to the successful completion of one's development.⁵⁰ Moreover, while it is true that Egmont must die, he nevertheless enjoys a kind of redemption. Michelsen speaks, for example, of a “Triumph über den Tod”⁵¹ which results from the allegorical fulfillment of the ideal. Goethe was quite aware that power would disarm ambiguity. Both Alba and Oranien, representatives of unambiguous force, triumph over Egmont. But Egmont's expansive, life-affirming and less restrictive “Weltanschauung,” one which is hesitant to employ force, is rewarded by the vision of freedom.

The author of Egmont is no longer the dramatist who seeks to portray, as the essay “Zum Shakespeares-Tag” affirmed, an absolute conflict in which “das Eigentümliche unsres Ichs, die prätendierte Freiheit unsres Wollens, mit dem notwendigen Gang des Ganzen zusammenstößt.”⁵² Götz's personal opposition to the Bamberg court approached an inevitable clash between a seemingly free individual and the inexorable unfolding of historical necessity. In his political aspirations Götz was virtually doomed to failure. In Egmont Goethe is already becoming a more conciliatory poet who has been able to ascertain the orderliness and evolutionary nature of the universe, one in which tragedy may in the final analysis be preventable.⁵³ The source of tragedy in Egmont can be fixed in the real, but reconcilable rupture within himself and in the perhaps less immediately reparable conflict between him and his surroundings. Egmont's tragedy results from a misalignment of the self with history which may be corrected through a connection to the transcendent. But while Egmont's personal ambiguity may find resolution through an acknowledgment of an ideal, the prospects for non-violent political change are less obvious. The text presents no clear representation of the belief in a peaceful foundation of personal and societal relations, as for example honest dialogue in Iphigenie auf Tauris or in art in the Novelle. Perhaps only in Egmont's ambiguous commitment to the application of force toward political change, which is to be seen within the framework of an ordered universe, can an alternative to violence be inferred. The hero's final call to arms then is more a concession to political expediency than a principled endorsement of violent, revolutionary action in the service of political freedom. As Egmont's own painfully slow, individual transformation proceeds from an intersection of his real ambiguity with the ideal, so political transformation requires not only the real, willful use of force, but also the recognition of a larger framework in which such social transformation may occur more naturally and less violently.

Notes

1. To Eckermann he relates: “Ich schrieb den Egmont im Jahre 1775, also vor fünfzig Jahren. Ich hielt mich sehr treu an die Geschichte und strebte nach möglichster Wahrheit. Als ich darauf zehn Jahre später in Rom war, las ich in den Zeitungen, dass die geschilderten revolutionären Scenen in den Niederlanden sich buchstäblich wiederholten. Ich sah daraus, dass die Welt immer dieselbige bleibt, und dass meine Darstellung einiges Leben haben musste.” See Hans Gerhard Gräf, Goethe über seine Dichtungen (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1968) Part Two, Vol. 1, p. 271. Subsequently this text will be cited as Gräf followed by the appropriate page number. The events to which Goethe referred were the disturbances in the Netherlands in the Fall of 1786 and Spring of the following year in opposition to the policies of Emperor Joseph II. According to Renato Saviane this unrest was well-reported in Germany. See Renato Saviane, “Egmont, ein politischer Held,” Goethe Jahrbuch, 104 (1987): 65ff.

2. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Werke Hamburger Ausgabe (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1981), ed. Wolfgang Kayser, Vol. 4, p. 454. Subsequent reference to this volume will be cited by page number. Particularly forceful in arguing for Egmont's conversion to the pro-revolutionary position and consequently of Goethe's stance is Horst Hartmann in “Goethe's Egmont: eine Analyse,” WB [Weimarer Beiträge: Zeitschrift für Literaturwissenschaft, Ästhetik und Kulturtheorie] 13 (1967): 48-75. Hartmann writes: “… es kulminiert in der Erkenntnis, daß diese Ziele sich nicht ohne revolutionäre Gewalt verwirklichen lassen.” (p. 75) For an impassioned rebuttal of this position see Peter Michelsen, “Egmonts Freiheit,” Euphorion, 65 (1971): 274-297.

3. Egmont's attitude here is not unlike the admonition of the Nobleman in Goethe's post-revolutionary farce Der Bürgergeneral (1793) who exclaims: “Kinder, liebt euch, bestellt euren Acker wohl und haltet gut Haus.” See Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Der Bürgergeneral in Goethe Poetische Werke. Dramatische Dichtungen II (Berlin & Weimar: Aufbau, 1964), Vol. 6, p. 156. It is likewise reminiscent of Goethe's remark to Eckermann: “Meine Hauptlehre ist aber vorläufig diese: der Vater sorge für sein Haus, der Handwerker für seine Kunden, der Geistliche für gegenseitige Liebe, und die Polizei störe die Freude nicht.” See Johann Peter Eckermann, Gespräche mit Goethe in den letzten Jahren seines Lebens, Vol. 24 of the Gedenkausgabe der Werke, Briefe und Gespräche, ed. Ernst Beutler (Zürich: Artemis-Verlag, 1948), p. 753.

4. The allegedly inorganic structure of the play has been the object of much criticism. Schiller objected: “Hier ist keine hervorstechende Begebenheit, keine vorwaltende Leidenschaft, keine Verwickelung, kein dramatischer Plan, nichts von alledem;—eine bloße Aneinanderstellung mehrerer einzelnen Handlungen und Gemälde, die beinahe durch nichts als durch den Charakter zusammengehalten werden, der an allen Anteil nimmt und auf den sich alle beziehen.” Friedrich Schiller, Friedrich Schiller. Werke in drei Bänden, ed. Gerhard Fricke und Herbert G. Göpfert (Munich: Carl Hanser Verlag, 1966), Vol. II, p. 619-620. For an informative study of Schiller's response to Egmont, see Lesley Sharpe, “Schiller and Goethe's Egmont,” MLR, [Modern Language Review] 77 (1982): 629-645. Among others, Sammons claims (in my opinion incorrectly) that the inclusion of the vision destroys the overall structure of the tragedy: “The genuine tragic conflict in the drama remains basically unaffected; the vision merely gives a new perspective. This new perspective is achieved, however, at the cost of structural unity; we are provided, as it were, with a new vantage point from outside the play. This great gap in the inner structure stands in interesting contrast to the detailed symmetry of the external elements, which in fact serves to compensate for and even perhaps ameliorate the incongruity of the final scene.” See Jeffrey Sammons, “On the Structure of Goethe's Egmont,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 62 (1963): 251.

5. Friedenthal for example ascribes Egmont's “Schwanken” to the author's own uncertainty: “Das Schwanken des unheldischen Helden ist sein eignes Schwanken …” See Richard Friedenthal, Goethe. Sein Leben und seine Zeit (Munich: R. Piper & Co. Verlag, 1964), p. 343.

6. An overview of the secondary literature pertaining to the origins of the drama is presented in Heinrich Henel, “Goethe's Egmont: Original and Revised,” Germanic Review 37 (1963): 7-26. H. G. Haile also provides useful information on the chronology of Egmont. See his “Goethe's Political Thinking and Egmont” Germanic Review 42 (1967): 96-107.

7. Jürgen Schröder presents a helpful summary of the many similarities between Götz and Egmont. He writes: “Beide sind Helden des 16. Jahrhunderts, der entstehenden Wende der Neuzeit, aber noch ‘im Charakter der schöneren Ritterzeit’ (Schiller), beide erhalten ihre Größe mehr durch ihre attraktive Menschlichkeit als durch erhabene Leidenschaften und Taten, beide sind Lieblinge des Volkes, beide passionierte Reiter, am liebsten in der freien Natur und langen Beratungen und planmäßigem Handeln abhold, … beide fallen durch hinterlistigen Verrat ihrer politischen Feinde, beide glauben ihre Loyalität gegenüber ihrem höchsten Herrn, dem Kaiser, bzw. König, niemals verletzt zu haben, beide werden vom Volk, dort von den Bauern, hier von den Bürgern im Stich gelassen, und beide werden am Ende als Todgeweihte in einen höheren Raum entrückt, der im Götz noch sehr verhalten Freiheit und Wiedergeburt, im Egmont in allegorischer Wirklichkeit Freiheit und Sieg verhaßt.” See his “Poetische Erlösung der Geschichte—Goethes Egmont,” in Geschichte als Schauspiel. Deutsche Geschichtsdramen. Interpretationen, ed. Walter Hinck (Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1981), p. 101.

8. Christa Fell, “Justus Möser's Social Ideas as Mirrored in Goethe's Götz von Berlichingen,” Germanic Review, 54 (1979): 101. Wolff is unconvincing when he argues that Goethe seeks to distance himself from Möser's position in Egmont. See Hans Wolff, Goethes Weg zur Humanität (Salzburg: Das Bergland Buch, 1951), p. 105.

9. See Nachwort, Siegfried Sudhof, ed. Justus Möser. Patriotische Phantasien (Stuttgart: Reclam, 1970), p. 240.

10. As H. G. Haile has observed, Egmont (and I think this is also Goethe's position) argued for a form of political organic traditionalism against Alba's rational meliorism. See his “Goethe's Political Thinking and Egmont,” Germanic Review, 42 (1963): 106.

11. Sammons, 250.

12. John M. Ellis, “The Vexed Question of Egmont's Political Judgement,” in Tradition and Creation. Essays in Honour of Mary Elizabeth Wilkinson, ed. C. P. Magill et al. (Leeds: W. S. Maney and Sons, Ltd., 1978), p. 118.

13. Benjamin Bennett, “Goethe's Egmont as a Politician,” Eighteenth-Century Studies, 10 (1977): 354.

14. See Ronald Gray, “Goethe and Tragedy,” PEGS [Publications of the English Goethe Society], 56 (1987): 26. As I will demonstrate, I do not agree with Gray's final interpretation of the play according to which the music “ignores the unexplained way in which Egmont, instead of facing the bankruptcy of his policy, suddenly speaks as though he had been on the side of William of Orange from the beginning.” (p. 29) I see the final scenario as emerging logically out of the characterization of Egmont. Friedenthal also alludes to Goethe's ambivalent nature: “Denn Goethe vemischt die Gestalten, teilt sie, er teilt sich, seiner Doppelnature gemäß, zum Beispiel in Faust und Mephisto, die beide Goethe sind.” See Friedenthal, p. 257.

15. Aside from his military prowess Goethe sought to arouse the reader's sympathy for Egmont by endowing him with the following characteristics which he himself found endearing:

    die ungemessene Lebenslust, das gränzenlose Zutrauen zu sich selbst, die Gabe, alle Menschen an sich zu ziehen (attrativa) und so die Gunst des Volks, die stille Neigung einer Fürstin, die ausgesprochene eines Naturmädchens, die Theilnahme eines Staatsklugen zu gewinnen, ja selbst den Sohn seines grössten Widersachers für sich einzunehmen.

    (Gräf, 253-54)

16. See Goethe's letter to Karl August of 6 February 1790 as quoted by Ekkehart Krippendorff in “Wie die Großen mit den Menschen spielen:” Goethes Politik (Frankfurt am Main: Edition Suhrkamp, 1988), p. 72. Krippendorff presents a by and large illuminating analysis of Goethe's political thinking. While he occasionally overstates his case, I agree with his fundamental assessment that “Die Anwendung physischer Gewalt als eines Mittels zu höheren Zwecken hat er [Goethe] … grundsätzlich abgelehnt.” (p. 111) This disdain for violence, which runs contrary to Egmont's call for revolution, is evident in another letter to Karl August written from Italy (28 September 1787) while he was still working on Egmont: “Hier wird das Pulver gar löblich nur zu Feuerwerken und Freundschüssen an Festtagen verbraucht, der Soldat hütet sich ebenso arg fürm Regen als fürm Feuer. Leben und leben lassen ist das allgemeine Losungswort.” Cited in Edward M. Batley, “Das Römische Carneval oder Gesellschaft und Geschichte,” Goethe Jahrbuch, 105 (1988), 140-141.

17. Wilkinson maintains that Goethe offers “an apotheosis of the value (freedom) which has had to suffer in the service of life.” See E. M. Wilkinson, “The Relation of Form and Meaning in Goethe's Egmont,” PEGS, N.S. 18 (1949): 181.

18. See Renato Saviane, “Egmont, ein politischer Held,” in Goethe Jahrbuch, 104 (1987): 47-71 for an account of the conservative nature of the political philosophy proposed by Egmont in light of the political writings of Justus Möser, Friedrich Karl von Moser, August Wilhelm Schlözer, Johann Georg Schlosser, Edmund Burke, and others. Saviane is correct to see Goethe proposing in Egmont a compromise between the aristocracy and the bourgeoisie: “Hier haben die beiden Klassen, die zählen, die Aristokratie und das Bürgertum, einen Modus gefunden, zusammenzuarbeiten und sich der Willkür des Königs zu widersetzen und gleichzeitig die unteren Klassen auszuschalten.” (68) And “[Goethe] findet es richtig und erforderlich, daß das Bürgertum in den ‘Ständen’ vertreten ist und Kontrolle ausübt, aber es sollte nicht—zumindest zum damaligen Zeitpunkt oder solange es nicht über sein damaliges, unbefriedigendes Niveau in Deutschland hinausgewachsen war—die Regierungsgewalt übernehmen, die der politisch erfahreneren Klasse, d.h. dem Adel zustand.” (70) In his attempt to demonstrate the political content of the play, however, Saviane fails to account sufficiently for other dimensions of the drama, especially the conclusion. How, for example, the “Erscheinung” affects his view of the politics is, unfortunately, not discussed.

19. Ellis, p. 122.

20. Bennett, 351-366.

21. See Irmgard Hobson, “Oranien and Alba: The Two Political Dialogues in Goethe's Egmont,” Germanic Review, 50 (1975): 274.

22. See G. A. Wells, “Critical Issues Concerning Goethe's Egmont, German Life and Letters 32 (1979): 301.

23. See Martin Swales, “A Questionable Politician: A Discussion of the Ending of Goethe's Egmont,” Modern Language Review, 66 (1971): 835.

24. On the imagery of the horse in Egmont see L. A. Willoughby, “The Image of the Horse and the Charioteer in Goethe's Poetry,” PEGS, N.S. 15 (1946): 47-70. See also a correction of Willoughby's position in Edward M. Batley, “Reflections of Italy in the Equine Imagery of Goethe's Egmont,” German Life and Letters, 43 (1989): 1-17. See additionally Sander L. Gilman, “The Uncontrollable Steed: A Study in the Metamorphosis of a Literary Image,” Euphorion, 66 (1972): 32-54.

25. Among those who approach the play from the perspective of Goethe's remarks on “das Dämonische” are Benno von Wiese, Die deutsche Tragödie von Lessing bis Hebbel (Hamburg: Hoffmann & Campe, 1948), pp. 112-118; Konrad Schaum, “Dämonie und Schicksal in Goethe's Egmont,” GRM [Germanisch-Romanische Monatsschrift], 41 (1960); 139-157; Edith Braemer, “Goethe's Egmont: die Konzeption des Dämonischen,” WB, [Weimarer Beiträge: Zeitschrift für Literaturwissenschaft, Ästhetik und Kulturtheorie] 6 (1960): 1011-1028. Reinhardt warns of the inappropriateness of Goethe's comments about the “Daimon” to Egmont. See Hartmut Reinhardt, “Egmont,” in Goethes Dramen. Neue Interpretationen, ed. Walter Hinderer (Stuttgart: Reclam, 1980), pp. 122-143. Of particular interest is the comment of G. A. Wells when he maintains that Goethe's understanding of the “Dämonische” entails a “quasi-religious and metaphysical view,” the mysteriousness of which could be understood scientifically today. It appears to be viewed as a significant unknown which impacts human activity, the knowledge of which could enhance human existence.” See G. A. Wells, “Egmont and ‘das Dämonische’,” GLL [American University Studies I: Germanic Languages and Literature], N.S. 24 (1970): 58. Werner Schwan provides a helpful synopsis of the many views on Goethe's understanding of “das Dämonische” in “Egmonts Glückphantasien und Verblendung. Eine Studie zu Goethes Drama Egmont” in Jahrbuch des freien Deutschen Hochstifts (1986): 81-84. Walter K. Stewart also asserts (to the neglect of the interests of the unified whole) the power of the “Daimon” when he writes “Indeed, Egmont is the same individual at all times; he cannot be otherwise, because his Daimon determines his actions.” How then does one account for the call for revolution? See his Time and Structure in Drama: Goethe's Sturm und Drang Plays (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1978), p. 227.

26. See Wilkinson, 173.

27. Goethe himself drew attention to Egmont's penchant for deterministic thinking and considered it deleterious to political rule. In a letter to Karl August from Rome (which refers to Egmont), Goethe suggests the danger that such thinking has for real, not just fictional, leaders (“auf dem Punkte der Existenz”) (28 March 1788):

    Gewiss auch konnte kein gefährlicherer Leser für das Stück sein als Sie. Wer selbst auf dem Puncte der Existenz steht, um welchen der Dichter sich spielend dreht, dem können die Gaukeleien der Poesie, welche aus dem Gebiet der Wahrheit in's Gebiet der Lüge schwankt, weder genug thun, weil er es besser weiss, noch können sie ihn ergötzen, weil er zu nah steht und es vor seinem Auge kein Ganzes wird.

    (Gräf, 222)

28. For a fuller examination of the significance of Klärchen see M.-L. Waldeck, “Klärchen. An Examination of her Role in Goethe's Egmont,” PEGS, N.S. 35 (1965): 68-91 and Robert T. Ittner, “Klärchen in Goethe's Egmont,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 62 (1963): 252-261. Ittner maintains (incorrectly I think) that Klärchen is lacking in warmth and tenderness and seems only desirous of Egmont for the prestige which she gains. Some contemporary responses reflected an interest in the love relationship and the artistic dimensions (and not the political aspects) of the play. Typical of this response is the highly effusive letter of 30 January 1808 in which Bettina Brentano writes: “Wir lesen im Egmont, und sagen: Herrlich, und unter tausenden versteht einer, daß du die Liebe erkanntest, wie sie selbst selten den Menschen erkennt.” See Briefe an Goethe I, ed. Karl Robert Mandelkow (Hamburg: Christian Wegner, 1965), p. 499. See also the interpretation rendered by Angelika Kaufmann which likewise accentuates the erotic over the political in note 37.

29. On the role of the butterfly as a being which undergoes a process of transformation, see also Ilse Graham, “Mephisto's Zoo,” GLL, N.S. 34 (1980-81): 17-38.

30. Werner Schwan notes correctly: “Es ist die tragische Ironie dieser Szene und des ganzen Dramas, daß Egmont die bewußteste und wirkungsfähigste verbale Verteidigung der eigenen und niederländischen Lebensart zu einem Zeitpunkt gelingt, wo im Handlungssinne bereits alles vergeblich und zu spät ist.” (Schwan, 88)

31. Wilkinson writes of Egmont: “What he is by nature, he confirms by choice, giving the assent of his mind to the way he must go.” (171) She seems to affirm the duality of Egmont's character and of the Goethean vision. Yet I think she underestimates the conflict, as revealed in the ambiguity, within Egmont.

32. Friedrich Schiller, Friedrich Schiller. Werke in drei Bänden, ed. Gerhard Fricke and Herbert G. Göpfert (Munich: Carl Hanser Verlag, 1966) II, p. 626

33. Sammons, 251.

34. Swales, 832.

35. While Kayser is correct to note the incidents and emblems which act as a prelude to the final vision, I fail to see how they support his further contention that “der Schluß [bringt] etwas völlig Neues.” (HA, [Handēs Amsōreay: Zeitschrift für Armenische Philologie] 4, 606)

36. Reinhardt, p. 135.

37. Goethe seems to have favored the interpretation offered by Angelika Kaufmann:

    da die Erscheinung nur vorstelle, was in dem Gemüthe des schlafenden Helden vorgehe, so könne er mit keinen Worten stärker ausdrücken, wie sehr er sie liebe und schätze, als es dieser Traum thue, der das liebenswürdige Geschöpf nicht zu ihm herauf, sondern über ihn hinauf hebe. Ja, es wolle ihr wohl gefallen, dass er, welcher durch sein ganzes Leben gleichsam wachend geträumt, Leben und Liebe mehr als geschätzt, oder vielmehr nur durch den Genuss geschätzt, dass dieser zuletzt noch gleichsam träumend wache, und uns still gesagt werde, wie tief die Geliebte in seinem Herzen wohne, und welche vornehme und hohe Stelle sie drin einnehme.

    (Gräf, 219-220)

    Kaufmann too notes the consistency of Egmont's noctambulational character when she equates the “wachend geträumt” with the “träumend wache.”

38. GA, [Germanistische Abhandlungen] 23, 50. Despite his admiration for the Italian poet Alessandro Manzoni Goethe was critical of the latter's all to reverent style of composition: “Er hat gar zu viel Respect vor der Geschichte und fügt aus diesem Grunde seinen Stücken immer gern einige Auseinandersetzungen hinzu, in denen er nachweist, wie treu er den Einzelheiten der Geschichte geblieben war.” (Gräf, 272-273) Goethe views history as an intellectual construction: the discrepancy between the mind and complexities of history must result in an incompleteness. History thus could not aspire to the whole truth. Accordingly, the historian “wird niemals ein vollkommenes Werk liefern können.” (GA, 22, 407) Moreover, Goethe expressly denied the exclusivity of purely historical truth claims to the young historian Heinrich Luden (19 August 1806): “was the Historiker nach solcher Plage für Wahrheit hält, ist immer nur für ihn, ist subjektive Wahrheit, unbestreitbare, objektive Wahrheit ist es nicht.” (GA, 22, 405) While Goethe as a pragmatic administrator on the one hand valued history and the truths which it can communicate, he also seems to have believed that the historical condition of mankind takes place in the foreground of greater, eternal truths. Correctly perceived, history could illuminate the superhistorical universality of human experience: “Die Geschichte wie das Universum, das sie repräsentieren soll, hat einen realen und idealen Teil.” (HA, 12, 396)

39. Swales, 839.

40. Basing his penetrating analysis of the influence of the classical image of the horse on Goethe's conception, Batley concludes: “Egmont's nonchalant apoliticism has given way to a politically committed vision of the future. … The daemon of Egmont's fatalism is exorcised.” See Batley, p. 16.

41. Martha Calhoun notes: “The Overture has an irrevocable, decisive end. Beethoven actually realizes what Goethe only put in a dream.” See Martha Calhoun, “Music as Subversive Text: Beethoven, Goethe and the Overture to Egmont,” Mosaic 20 (1988): 54.

42. GA, 24, p. 550. (Eckermann, 4 January 1824)

43. GA, 24, p. 548. (Eckermann, 4 January 1824)

44. GA, 22, 429-430.

45. HA, 5, 928.

46. In assessing Goethe's position on the desirability of revolution as expressed in Egmont it may be valuable to call to mind the author's remarks about the Wartburg Festival of 1817 as recounted by Kanzler Friedrich von Müller: “Gegen Voigt habe ihm [Goethe] die Missbilligung der Erlaubniss zur Wartburgfeier schon auf den Lippen gesessen, er habe sie verschluckt, um sich (Gräf, p. 267 has mich) nicht zu compromittiren ohne Erfolg … ‘Ich habe im 22. Jahre den Egmont geschrieben und bin seitdem nicht stille gestanden, sondern diese Ansichten über Volksbewegung immer fort mit mir sich durchleben lassen. Nun weiss ich wohl, woran ich bin; meint Ihr, der Egmont sei nur ein … gewesen, der mir entschlüpft, oder man müsse mich erst trepaniren, um den Splitter aus dem Gehirn zu ziehen’.” (GA, 23, p. 24) Goethe suggests here that even as early as in Egmont he feared and consequently opposed mass movements of prorevolutionary sentiments. He indicates this view in Egmont's hesitancy (like Götz's) to accept the position of leadership.

47. Michelsen also views the final scene as a portrayal of the interaction between the ideal and the real (although he emphasizes the ideal): “Daß der Untergang Egmonts seine Verklärung ist, wird möglich, weil ihm die Freiheit, die ihm, ein Geschenk, im Schlafe, in der Preisgabe an ihn überwältigende Mächte, erscheint, zugleich aus dem Eigenen erwächst und dem Kreis seiner—dem politischen Kalkül entzogenen—Wirksamkeit zugehört.” See Michelsen, 297. Likewise, Nicholls underscores Egmont's capacity to be open to forces greater than himself: “Egmont's freedom lies in his independency of theory. Convinced that life is good, he is open to forces within him more profound, more fundamental to the nature of man, than his political allies or enemies can imagine.” (196) See Roger A. Nicholls, “Egmont and the Vision of Freedom,” German Quarterly, 43 (1970): 188-198. It is, however, in the vision that the reconciliation of his own forces with those of the transcendent can become productive.

48. This is the same “moralische Weltordnung” which is tolerant of individual error but intolerant of those who overstep the “Grenzen der Individualität.” Goethe cites Kotzebue, whose assassination is viewed as “eine gewisse notwendige Folge einer höhern Weltordnung,” as one who transgressed against the limits of his individuality. Egmont on the other hand remained within his limits and hence through the ideal vision finds himself in harmony with the “Weltordnung.” See Goethe's comments to Kanzler von Müller on 28 March 1819 in GA, XXII, p. 49-50.

49. Helmut Rehder has written of the parallels between Egmont and Faust in “Egmont and Faust,” Monatshefte, 55 (1963): 203-215. Indeed, Goethe's characterization of Faust as “diese sehr ernsthaften Scherze” is not too far removed from his comment on Egmont: “Kein Stück hab' ich mit mehr Freiheit des Gemüths und mit mehr Gewissenhaftigkeit vollbracht als dieses.” (Gräf, 215) Both comments suggest Goethe's continued interest in ambiguities, which I would argue portray the conflicting aspects of human existence and which are not resolved without consideration of or contact with that which allows for the universe's order.

50. In assessing Egmont as a product of both the Sturm und Drang and the Klassik phases of Goethe's literary production, Werner Schwan correctly points to the need to see oneself in a larger context as a condition for transformation and growth: “Egmonts Selbstbewußtsein und Ichgefühl, das Streben nach fortwährendem Wachstum ist dem genialzeitlichen Lebensrhythmus, dem unbedingten Vorwärtsdrängen der großen Täter-Gestalten dieser Epoche eng verwandt. Der latente Bruch, der sich im Inneren Egmonts bemerkbar macht, vor allem die Einbindung der Gestalt in einen größeren sozialen Kontext verdeutlicht, daß der klassische Goethe das Lebensgefühl seiner Jugendzeit kritisch relativiert und problematisiert.” (Schwan, 76)

51. Michelsen, 284.

52. HA, 12, 226.

53. To Karl Friedrich Zelter (31 October 1831) Goethe wrote:

    Ich bin nicht zum tragischen Dichter geboren, da meine Natur konziliant ist; daher kann der rein-tragische Fall mich nicht interessieren, welcher eigentlich von Haus aus unversöhnlich sein muß, und in dieser übrigens so äußerst platten Welt kommt mir das Unversöhnliche ganz absurd vor.

    (GA, 21, 1016)