p. 443¶Fiirst {aside to MELCHTHAL , who can scarcely restrain his indig~
¶nation). Command yourself,—be calm, I beg of you!Bertha (to the Governor). Let this suffice you, sir! It is inhumanTo trifle with a father's anguish thus.Although this wretched man had forfeitedBoth life and limb for such a slight offence,Already has he suffer'd tenfold death.Send him away uninjured to his home;He'll know thee well in future; and this hourHe and his children's children will remember.Gessl. Open a way there—quick! Why this delay?Thy life is forfeited; I might dispatch thee, •And see, I graciously repose thy fateUpon the skill of thine own practised hand.No cause has he to say his doom is harsh,Who's made the master of his destiny.Thou boastest thine unerring aim. 'Tis well!Now is the fitting time to show thy skill;The mark is worthy and the prize is great.To hit the bull's eye in the target;—thatCan many another do as well as thou;But he, methinks, is master of his craft,Who can at all times on his skill rely,Nor lets his heart disturb or eye or hand.Fiirst. My lord, we bow to your authority;But oh, let justice yield to mercy here.Take half my property, nay, take it all,But spare a father this unnatural doom!Walt. Grandfather, do not kneel to that bad man!Say, where am I to stand? I do not fear;[444]My father strikes the bird upon the wing,And will not miss now when 'twould harm his boy!Stauff. Does the child's innocence not touch your heart?Rossel. Bethink you, sir, there is a God in heaven,To whom you must account for all your deeds.Gessl. (pointing to the boy). Bind him to yonder lime tree!Walter. What! Bind me?No, I will not be bound! I will be still.Still as a lamb—nor even draw my breath!But if you bind me, I can not be still.Then I shall writhe and struggle with my bonds.Har. But let your eyes at least be bandaged, boy!Walt. And why my eyes? No! Do you think I fearAn arrow from my father's hand? Not I!I'll wait it firmly, nor so much as wink!Quick, father, show them what thy bow can do.He doubts thy skill—he thinks to ruin us.Shoot then and hit, though but to spite the tyrant!
¶[He goes to the lime tree, and an apple is placed on his head.
¶Melch. (to the country.people). What! Is this outrage to be perpetratedBefore our very eyes? Where is our oath?Stauff. Resist we cannot! Weapons we have none.And see the wood of lances round us! See!Melch. Oh! would to heaven that we had struck at once!God pardon those who counsell'd the delay!
¶Gessl. (to TELL ) . NOW to your task! Men bear not arms for
¶naught.To carry deadly tools is dangerous,And on the archer oft his shaft recoils.This right, these haughty peasant churls assume,Trenches upon their master's privileges:None should be armed, but those who bear command.It pleases you to carry bow and bolt;—Well,—be it so. I will prescribe the mark.Tell, (bends the bow, and fixes the arrow). A lane there! Room!Stauff. What, Tell? You would—no, no![445]You shake—your hand's unsteady—your knees tremble.Tell (letting the bow sink down). There's something swimsbefore mine eyes!Women. Great Heaven!Tell. Release me from this shot! Here is my heart!
¶[Tears open his breast.
¶Summon your troopers—let them strike me down!Gessl. 'Tis not thy life I want—I want the shot.Thy talent's universal! Nothing daunts thee!The rudder thou canst handle like the bow!No storms affright thee, when a life's at stake.Now, saviour, help thyself,—thou savest all!
¶[ TELL stands fearfully agitated by contending emotions, his
¶hands moving convulsively, and his eyes turning alternately to the Governor and Heaven. Suddenly he takes
¶a second arrow from his quiver, and sticks it in his belt. The Governor notes all he does.
¶[Collects himself and levels the bow. Rud. (who all the while has been standing in a state of violent ex
¶citement, and has with difficulty restrained himself, advances).My lord, you will not urge this matter further;You will not. It was surely but a test.You've gained your object. Rigour push'd too farIs sure to miss its aim, however good,As snaps the bow that's all too straitly bent.Gessl. Peace, till your counsel's ask'd for!Rud. I will speak!Ay, and I dare! I reverence my King;But acts like these must make his name abhorr'd.He sanctions not this cruelty. I dareAvouch the fact. And you outstep your powersIn handling thus my harmless countrymen.Gessl. Ha! thou grow'st bold, methinks!Rud. I have been dumbTo all the oppressions I was doomed to see.[446]I've closed mine eyes to shut them from my view,Bade my rebellious, swelling heart be still,And pent its struggles down within my breast.But to be silent longer, were to beA traitor to my King and country both.
¶Berth, {casting herself between him and the Governor).
¶Oh, Heavens! you but exasperate his rage!Rud. My people I forsook—renounced my kindred—Broke all the ties of nature, that I mightAttach myself to you. I madly thoughtThat I should best advance the general wealBy adding sinews to the Emperor's power.The scales have fallen from mine eyes—I seeThe fearful precipice on which I stand.You've led my youthful judgment far astray,—Deceived my honest heart. With best intent,I had well-nigh achiev'd my country's ruin.Gessl. Audacious boy, this language to thy lord ?Rud. The Emperor is my lord, not you! I'm free.As you by birth, and I can cope with youIn every virtue that beseems a knight.And if you stood not here in that King's name,Which I respect e'en where 'tis most abused,I'd throw my gauntlet down, and you should giveAn answer to my gage in knightly sort.Ay, beckon to your troopers! Here I stand;But not like these [Pointing to the people,—unarmed. I have a sword,And he that stirs one step—Stauff. (exclaims). The apple's down!
¶[While the attention of the crowd has been directed to the spot where BERTHA had cast herself between RUDENZ and GESSLER , TELL has shot.
¶[ WALTER FURST staggers and is about to fall. BERTHA sup
¶ports him.
p. 447¶Gessl. (astonished). How? Has he shot? The madman!Berth. Worthy father!Pray you, compose yourself. The boy's alive.Walter (runs in with the apple). Here is the apple, father! WellI knewYou would not harm your boy.
¶[ TELL stands with his body bent forwards, as if still following the arrow. His bow drops from his hand. When he sees the boy advancing, he hastens to meet him with open arms, and, embracing him passionately, sin\s down with him quite exhausted. All crowd round them deeply affected.
¶Berth. Oh, ye kind Heavens!Furst (to father and son). My children, my dear children!Stauff. God be praised!Leuth. Almighty powers! That was a shot indeed!It will be talked of to the end of time.Har. This feat of Tell, the archer, will be toldLong as these mountains stand upon their base.
¶[Hands the apple to GESSLER .
¶Gessl. By Heaven! the apple's cleft right through the core.It was a master shot, I must allow.Rossel. The shot was good. But woe to him who droveThe man to tempt his God by such a feat!Stauff. Cheer up, Tell, rise! You've nobly freed yourself,And now may go in quiet to your home.Rossel. Come, to the mother let us bear her son!
¶[They are about to lead him off.
¶Gessl. A word, Tell.Tell. Sir, your pleasure ?Gessl. Thou didst placeA second arrow in thy belt—nay, nay!I saw it well. Thy purpose with it? Speak!Tell (confused). It is a custom with all archers, sir.Gessl. No, Tell, I cannot let that answer pass.There was some other motive, well I know.Frankly and cheerfully confess the truth;—[448]Whate'er it be, I promise thee thy life.Wherefore the second arrow ?Tell. Well, my lord,Since you have promised not to take my life,I will, without reserve, declare the truth.
¶[He draws the arrow from his belt, and fixes his eyes sternly
¶upon the governor.
¶If that my hand had struck my darling child,This second arrow I had aimed at you,And, be assured, I should not then have miss'd.Gessl. Well, Tell, I promised thou shouldst have thy life;I gave my knightly word, and I will keep it.Yet, as I know the malice of thy thoughts,I'll have thee carried hence, and safely penn'd,Where neither sun nor moon shall reach thine eyes.Thus from thy arrows I shall be secure.Seize on him, guards, and bind him! [They bind him.Stauff. How, my lord—How can you treat in such a way a manOn whom God's hand has plainly been reveal'd?Gessl. Well, let us see if it will save him twice!Remove him to my ship; I'll follow straight,At Kiissnacht I will see him safely lodged.Rossel. You dare not do't. Nor durst the Emperor's selfSo violate our dearest chartered rights.Gessl.Where are they? Has the Emp'ror confirm'd them?He never has. And only by obedienceMay you that favour hope to win from him.You are all rebels 'gainst the Emp'ror's power,—And bear a desperate and rebellious spirit.I know you all—I see you through and through.Him do I single from amongst you now,But in his guilt you all participate.If you are wise, be silent and obey!
¶[Exit, followed by BERTHA , RUDENZ , HARRAS , and attendants.
¶FRIESSHARDT and LEUTH OLD remain.
p. 449¶Furst (in violent anguish). All's over now! He is resolved tobringDestruction on myself and all my house.Stauff. (to TELL ) . Oh, why did you provoke the tyrant's rage?Tell. Let him be calm who feels the pangs I felt.Stauff. Alas! alas! Our every hope is gone.With you we all are fettered and enchain'd.Country People (surrounding TELL ) . Our last remaining comfortgoes with you!Leuth. (approaching him). I'm sorry for you, Tell, but mustobey.Tell. Farewell!Walter Tell (clinging to him in great agony). Oh, father, father,father dear!Tell (pointing to Heaven). Thy father is on high—appeal to Him!Stauff. Have you no message, Tell, to send your wife ?Tell, (clasping the boy passionately to his breast). The boy's uninjured; God will succour me![Tears himself suddenly away, and follows the soldiers ofthe guard.
Act IV
¶SCENE I.—Eastern shore of the La\e of Lucerne; rugged and singularly
¶shaped roc\s close the prospect to the west. The la\e is agitated, violent roaring and rushing of wind, with thunder and lightning at intervals.
¶KUNZ OF GERSAU , Fisherman and Boy
¶Kunz. I saw it with these eyes! Believe me, friend,It happen'd all precisely as I've said.Fisher. How! Tell a prisoner, and to Kiissnacht borne?The best man in the land, the bravest arm,Had we for liberty to strike a blow!Kunz. The Viceroy takes him up the lake in person:They were about to go on board, as IStarted from Fliielen; but the gathering storm,[450]That drove me here to land so suddenly,May well have hindered them from setting out.Fisher. Our Tell in chains, and in the Viceroy's power!O, trust me, Gessler will entomb him, whereHe never more shall see the light of day;For Tell once free, the tyrant well might dreadThe just revenge of one so deeply wrong'd.Kunz. The old Landamman, too—von Attinghaus—They say, is lying at the point of death.Fisher. Then the last anchor of our hopes gives way!He was the only man that dared to raiseHis voice in favour of the people's rights.Kunz. The storm grows worse and worse. So, fare ye well!I'll go and seek out quarters in the village.There's not a chance of getting off to-day. [EFisher. Tell dragg'd to prison, and the Baron dead!Now, tyranny, exalt thy brazen front,—Throw every shame aside! Truth's voice is dumb!The eye that watch'd for us, in darkness closed,The arm that should have stuck thee down, in chains!Boy. 'Tis hailing hard—come, let us to the hut!This is no weather to be out in, father!Fisher. Rage on, ye winds! Ye lightnings, flash your fires!Burst, ye swollen clouds! Ye cataracts of HeavenDescend, and drown the country! In the germDestroy the generations yet unborn!Ye savage elements, be lords of all!Return, ye bears: ye ancient wolves, returnTo this wide howling waste! The land is yours.Who would live here, when liberty is gone?Boy. Hark! How the wind whistles, and the whirlpool roars.I never saw a storm so fierce as this!Fisher. To level at the head of his own child!Never had father such command before.And shall not Nature, rising in wild wrath,Revolt against the deed? I should not marvel,Though to the lake these rocks should bow their heads,[451]Though yonder pinnacles, yon towers of ice,That, since creation's dawn, have known no thaw,Should, from their lofty summits, melt away,—Though yonder mountains, yon primeval cliffs,Should topple down, and a new deluge whelmBeneath its waves all living men's abodes!
¶[Bells heard.
¶Boy. Hark, they are ringing on the mountain, yonder!They surely see some vessel in distress.And toll the bell that we may pray for it. [Ascends a roc\.Fisher. Woe to the bark that now pursues its course,Rock'd in the cradle of these storm-tost waves!Nor helm nor steersman here can aught avail;The storm is master. Man is like a ball,Toss'd 'twixt the winds and billows. Far or near,No haven offers him its friendly shelter!Without one ledge to grasp, the sheer smooth rocksLook down inhospitably on his despair,And only tender him their flinty breasts.Boy (calling from above). Father, a ship: from Fliielen bearingdown.Fisher. Heaven pity the poor wretches! When the stormIs once entangled in this strait of ours,It rages like some savage beast of prey,Struggling against its cage's iron bars!Howling, it seeks an outlet—all in vain;For the rocks hedge it round on every side,Walling the narrow gorge as high as Heaven.
¶[He ascends a cliff.
¶Boy. It is the Governor of Uri's ship;By its red poop I know it, and the flag.Fisher. Judgments of Heaven! Yes, it is he himself,It is the Governor! Yonder he sails,And with him bears the burden of his crimes.The avenger's arm has not been slow to strike!Now over him he knows a mightier lord.These waves yield no obedience to his voice.[452]These rocks bow not their heads before his cap.Boy, do not pray; stay not the Judge's arm!Boy. I pray not for the Governor, I prayFor Tell, who's with him there on board the ship.Fisher. Alas, ye blind, unreasoning elements!Must ye, in punishing one guilty head,Destroy the vessel and the pilot too ?Boy. See, see, they've clear'd the Buggisgrat; 20 but nowThe blast, rebounding from the Devil's Minster, 20Has driven them back on the Great Axenberg. 20I cannot see them now.Fisher. The Hakmesser 20Is there, that's founder'd many a gallant ship.If they should fail to double that with skill,Their bark will go to pieces on the rocks,That hide their jagged peaks below the lake.The best of pilots, boy, they have on board.If man could save them, Tell is just the man,But he is manacled both hand and foot.
¶[Enter WILLIAM TELL , with his cross-bow. He enters precipitately, loofts wildly round, and testifies the most violent agitation. When he reaches the centre of the stage, he throws himself upon his knees, and stretches out his hands, first towards the earth, then towards Heaven.
¶Boy (observing him). See, father! A man on's knees; who canit be?Fisher. He clutches at the earth with both his hands,And looks as though he were beside himself.Boy (advancing). What do I see? Come father, come and look!Fisher, (approaches). Who is it? God in Heaven! What! WilliamTell!How came you hither? Speak, Tell!Boy. Were you notIn yonder ship, a prisoner, and in chains ?Fisher. Were they not carrying you to Kussnacht, Tell?[453]Tell {rising). I am released.Fisher, and Boy. Released, oh miracle!Boy. Whence came you here ?Tell. From yonder vessel!Fisher. What ?Boy. Where is the Viceroy?Tell. Drifting on the waves.Fisher. Is't possible? But you! How are you here?How 'scaped you from your fetters and the storm ?Tell. By God's most gracious providence. Attend.
p. 453¶Fisher, and Boy. Say on, say on!
¶Tell. You know what passed at Altdorf.Fisher. I do—say on!Tell. How I was seized and bound,And order'd by the governor to Kiissnacht.Fisher. And how at Fliielen he embarked with you.All this we know. Say, how have you escaped ?Tell. I lay on deck, fast bound with cords, disarm'd,In utter hopelessness. I did not thinkAgain to see the gladsome light of day,Nor the dear faces of my wife and boys,And eyed disconsolate the waste of waters.—Fisher. Oh, wretched man!Tell. Then we put forth; the Viceroy,Rudolph der Harras, and their suite. My bowAnd quiver lay astern beside the helm;And just as we had reached the corner, nearThe little Axen, 21 Heaven ordain'd it so,That from the Gotthardt's gorge, a hurricaneSwept down upon us with such headlong force,That every oarsman's heart within him sank,And all on board look'd for a watery grave.Then heard I one of the attendant train,Turning to Gessler, in this wise accost him:"You see our danger, and your own, my lord,[454]And that we hover on the verge of death.The boatmen there are powerless from fear,Nor are they confident what course to take;—Now, here is Tell, a stout and fearless man,And knows to steer with more than common skill,How if we should avail ourselves of himIn this emergency?" The Viceroy thenAddress'd me thus: "If thou wilt undertakeTo bring us through this tempest safely, Tell,I might consent to free thee from thy bonds."I answer'd, "Yes, my lord; so help me God,I'll see what can be done." On this they loosedThe cords that bound me, and I took my placeBeside the helm, and steered as best I could,Yet ever eyed my shooting gear askance,And kept a watchful eye upon the shore,To find some point where I might leap to land;And when I had descried a shelving crag,That jutted, smooth atop, into the lake—Fisher. I know it. At the foot of the Great Axen;So steep it looks, I never could have dreamtThat from a boat a man could leap to it.Tell. I bade the men to row with all their forceUntil we came before the shelving ledge.For there, I said, the danger will be past!Stoutly they pull'd, and soon we near'd the point;One prayer to God for His assisting grace,And, straining every muscle, I brought roundThe vessel's stern close to the rocky wall;Then snatching up my weapons, with a boundI swung myself upon the flattened shelf,And with my feet thrust off, with all my might,The puny bark into the watery hell.There left it drift about, as Heaven ordains!Thus am I here, deliver'd from the mightOf the dread storm, and man's more dreadful still.[455]Fisher. Tell, Tell, the Lord has manifestly wroughtA miracle in thy behalf! I scarceCan credit my own eyes. But tell me, now,Whither you purpose to betake yourself?For you will be in peril, should perchanceThe Viceroy 'scape this tempest with his life.Tell. I heard him say, as I lay bound on board,At Brunnen he proposed to disembark,And, crossing Schwytz, convey me to his castle.Fisher. Means he to go by land ?Tell. So he intends.Fisher. Oh, then conceal yourself without delay!Not twice will Heaven release you from his grasp.Tell. Which is the nearest way to Arth and Kiissnacht ?Fisher. The public road leads by the way of Steinen,But there's a nearer road, and more retired,That goes by Lowerz, which my boy can show you.Tell (gives him his hand). May Heaven reward your kindness!Fare ye well. [As he is going, he comes bac\.Did not you also take the oath at Rootli ?I heard your name, methinks.Fisher. Yes, I was there,And took the oath of the confederacy.Tell. Then do me this one favour; speed to Biirglen—My wife is anxious at my absence—tell herThat I am free, and in secure concealment.Fisher. But whither shall I tell her you have fled ?Tell. You'll find her father with her, and some more,Who took the oath with you upon the Rootli;Bid them be resolute, and strong of heart,—For Tell is free and master of his arm;They shall hear further news of me ere long.Fisher. What have you, then, in view? Come, tell me frankly!Tell. When once 'tis done, 'twill be in every mouth. [Exit.Fisher. Show him the way, boy. Heaven be his support!Whate'er he has resolved, he'll execute. [Exit.
p. 456¶SCENE II.—Baronial mansion of Attinghausen. The BARON upon a couch dying. WALTER FURST , STAUFFACHER , MELCHTHAL , and BAUMGARTEN attending round him. WALTER TELL \neeling before the dying man.
¶Fiirst. All now is over with him. He is gone.Stauff. He lies not like one dead. The feather, see,Moves on his lips! His sleep is very calm,And on his features plays a placid smile.
¶[ BAUMGARTEN goes to the door and spea\s with some one.
¶Fiirst. Who's there?Baum. (returning). Tell's wife, your daughter, she insistsThat she must speak with you, and see her boy.
¶[ WALTER TELL rises.
¶Fiirst. I who need comfort—can I comfort her ?Does every sorrow centre on my head ?Hedw. (forcing her way in). Where is my child? unhand me!I must see him.Stauff. Be calm! Reflect, you're in the house of death!
¶Hedw. (falling upon her boy's necfQ. My Walter! Oh, he yet
¶[Gazing at him with anxious tenderness.
¶And is it possible he aim'd at thee?How could he do it ? Oh, he has no heart—And he could wing an arrow at his child!Fiirst. His soul was rack'd with anguish when he did it.No choice was left him, but to shoot or die!Hedw. Oh, if he had a father's heart, he wouldHave sooner perish'd by a thousand deaths!Stauff. You should be grateful for God's gracious care,That ordered things so well.Hedw. Can I forgetWhat might have been the issue ? God of Heaven,Were I to live for centuries, I stillShould see my boy tied up,—his father's mark,-And still the shaft would quiver in my heart.[457]Melch. You know not how the Viceroy taunted him!Hedw. Oh, ruthless heart of man! Offend his pride,And reason in his breast forsakes her seat;In his blind wrath he'll stake upon a castA child's existence, and a mother's heart!Baum. Is then your husband's fate not hard enough,That you embitter it by such reproaches ?Have you not feeling for his sufferings ?
¶Hedw. {turning to him and gazing full upon him).
¶Hast thou tears only for thy friend's distress ?Say, where were you when he—my noble Tell—Was bound in chains? Where was your friendship then?The shameful wrong was done before your eyes;Patient you stood, and let your friend be dragg'd,Ay, from your very hands. Did ever TellAct thus to you ? Did he stand whining by,When on your heels the Viceroy's horsemen press'd,And full before you roared the storm-toss'd lake?Oh, not with idle tears his pity show'd;Into the boat he sprang, forgot his home,His wife, his children, and delivered thee!Furst. It had been madness to attempt his rescue,Unarm'd and few in numbers as we were!
¶Hedw. (casting herself upon his bosom).
¶Oh, father, and thou, too, hast lost my Tell!The country—all have lost him! All lamentHis loss; and, oh, how he must pine for us!Heaven keep his soul from sinking to despair!No friend's consoling voice can penetrateHis dreary dungeon walls. Should he fall sick!Ah! In the vapours of the murky vaultHe must fall sick. Even as the Alpine roseGrows pale and withers in the swampy air,There is no life for him, but in the sun,And in the breath of Heaven's fresh-blowing airs.Imprison'd! Liberty to him is breath;He cannot live in the rank dungeon air![458]Stauff. Pray you be calm! And hand in hand we'll allCombine to burst his prison doors.Hedw. He gone,What have you power to do ? While Tell was free,There still, indeed, was hope—weak innocenceHad still a friend, and the oppress'd a stay.Tell saved you all! You cannot all combinedRelease him from his cruel prison bonds.
¶[The BARON wakes.
¶Baum. Hush, hush! He starts!
¶Atting. (sitting up). Where is he?
¶Stauff. Who?Atting. He leaves me,—In my last moments he abandons me.Stauff. He means his nephew. Have they sent for him ?Fiirst. He has been summoned. Cheerly, sir! Take comfort!He has found his heart at last, and is our own.Atting. Say, has he spoken for his native land?Stauff. Ay, like a hero!Atting. Wherefore comes he not,That he may take my blessing ere I die ?I feel my life fast ebbing to a close.Stauff. Nay, talk not thus, dear sir! This last short sleepHas much refresh'd you, and your eye is bright.Atting. Life is but pain, and that has left me now;My sufferings, like my hopes, have pass'd away.
¶[Observing the boy.
¶[ HEDWIG k nee^ s with the boy before the dying man.
¶Atting. And fatherless—I leave you all, ay, all!Oh wretched fate, that these old eyes should seeMy country's ruin, as they close in death!Must I attain the utmost verge of life,To feel my hopes go with me to the grave ?Stauff. (to FURST ) . Shall he depart 'mid grief and gloom like this?[459]Shall not his parting moments be illumedBy hope's inspiring beams ? My noble lord,Raise up your drooping spirit! We are notForsaken quite—past all deliverance.Atting. Who shall deliver you?Fiirst. Ourselves. For know,The Cantons three are to each other pledged,To hunt the tyrants from the land. The leagueHas been concluded, and a sacred oathConfirms our union. Ere another yearBegins its circling course—the blow shall fall.In a free land your ashes shall repose.Atting. The league concluded! Is it really so?Melch. On one day shall the Cantons rise together.All is prepared to strike—and to this hourThe secret closely kept, though hundreds share it;The ground is hollow 'neath the tyrants' feet;Their days of rule are number'd, and ere longNo trace will of their hateful sway be left.Atting. Ay, but their castles, how to master them ?Melch. On the same day they, too, are doom'd to fall.Atting. And are the nobles parties to this league?Stauff. We trust to their assistance, should we need it;As yet the peasantry alone have sworn.
¶Atting. (raising himself up in great astonishment). And have the
¶peasantry dared such a deedOn their own charge, without the nobles' aid—Relied so much on their own proper strength ?Nay then, indeed, they want our help no more;We may go down to death cheer'd by the thought,That after us the majesty of manWill live, and be maintain'd by other hands.
¶[He lays his hand upon the head of the child who is kneeling
¶before him.
¶From this boy's head, whereon the apple lay,Your new and better liberty shall spring;The old is crumbling down—the times are changing—[460]And from the ruins blooms a fairer life.Stauff. (to Furst). See, see, what splendour streams around hiseye!This is not Nature's last expiring flame,It is the beam of renovated life.Atting. From their old towers the nobles are descending,And swearing in the towns the civic oath.In Uechtland and Thurgau the work's begun;The noble Berne lifts her commanding head,And Freyburg is a stronghold of the free;The stirring Zurich calls her guilds to arms;—And now, behold!—the ancient might of kingsIs shiver'd 'gainst her everlasting walls.
¶[He speaks what follows with a prophetic tone; his utterance
¶rising into enthusiasm.
¶I see the princes and their haughty peers,Clad all in steel, come striding on to crushA harmless shepherd race with mailed hand.Desp'rate the conflict; 'tis for life or death;And many a pass will tell to after yearsOf glorious victories sealed in foeman's blood. 22The peasant throws himself with naked breast,A willing victim on their serried spears;They yield—the flower of chivalry's cut down,And Freedom waves her conquering banner high.
¶[Grasps the hands of WALTER FURST and STAUFFACHER .
¶Hold fast together, then,—forever fast!Let freedom's haunts be one in heart and mind!Set watches on your mountain tops, that leagueMay answer league, when comes the hour to strike.Be one—be one—be one—
p. 461¶[He falls back upon the cushion. His lifeless hands continue to grasp those of FURST and STAUFFACHER , who regard him for some moments in silence, and then retire, overcome with sorrow. Meanwhile the servants have quietly pressed into the chamber, testifying different degrees of grief. Some kneel down beside him and weep on his body: while this scene is passing, the castle bell tolls.
¶Rud. (entering hurriedly). Lives he? Oh say, can he still hear
¶my voice?
¶Fiirst. (averting his face). You are our seignior and protector
¶now;
¶Henceforth this castle bears another name.
¶Rud. (gazing at the body with deep emotion). Oh, God! Is my
¶repentance, then, too late?Could he not live some few brief moments more,To see the change that has come o'er my heart ?Oh, I was deaf to his true counselling voice,While yet he walked on earth. Now he is gone,—Gone, and forever,—leaving me the debt—The heavy debt I owe him—undischarged!Oh, tell me! did he part in anger with me?Stauff. When dying, he was told what you had done,And bless'd the valour that inspired your words!
¶Rud. (kneeling down beside the dead body). Yes, sacred relics
¶of a man beloved!Thou lifeless corpse! Here, on thy death-cold handDo I abjure all foreign ties for ever!And to my country's cause devote myself.I am a Switzer, and will act as one,With my whole heart and soul. [Rises.Mourn for our friend,Our common parent, yet be not dismay'd!'Tis not alone his lands that I inherit,—His heart—his spirit have devolved on me;And my young arm shall execute the task,Which in his hoary age he could not pay.Give me your hands, ye venerable sires![462]Thine, Melchthal, too! Nay, do not hesitate,Nor from me turn distrustfully away.Accept my plighted vow—my knightly oath!Furst. Give him your hands, my friends! A heart like his,That sees and owns its error, claims our trust.Melch. You ever held the peasantry in scorn,What surety have we, that you mean us fair?Rud. Oh, think not of the error of my youth!
¶Stauff. (to MELCH . ) . Be one! They were our father's latest words.
¶See they be not forgotten!Melch. Take my hand,—A peasant's hand,—and with it, noble sir,The gage and the assurance of a man!Without us, sir, what would the nobles be?Our order is more ancient, too, than yours!Rud. I honour it—will shield it with my sword!Melch. The arm, my lord, that tames the stubborn earth,And makes its bosom blossom with increase,Can also shield its owner's breast at need.Rud. Then you shall shield my breast, and I will yours,Thus each be strengthen'd by the other's strength.Yet wherefore talk ye, while our native landIs still to alien tyranny a prey ?First let us sweep the foemen from the soil,Then reconcile our difference in peace!
¶[After a moment's pause.
¶How! You are silent! Not a word for me?And have I yet no title to your trust?—Then must I force my way, despite your will,Into the League you secretly have form'd.You've held a Diet on the Rootli,—IKnow this,—know all that was transacted there;And though not trusted with your secret, IHave kept it closely like a sacred pledge.Trust me—I never was my country's foe,Nor would I ever have against you stood!Yet you did wrong—to put your rising off.[463]Time presses! We must strike, and swiftly too!Already Tell is lost through your delay.Stauff. We swore that we should wait till Christmastide.Rud. I was not there,—I did not take the oath.If you delay, I will not!Melch. What! You would—Rud. I count me now among the country's chiefs,And my first duty is to guard your rights.Fiirst. Your nearest and holiest duty isWithin the earth to lay these dear remains.Rud. When we have set the country free, we'll placeOur fresh victorious wreaths upon his bier.Oh, my dear friends, 'tis not your cause alone!—I with the tyrants have a cause to fight,That more concerns myself. My Bertha's gone,Has disappear'd,—been carried off by stealth,—Stolen from amongst us by their ruffian hands!Stauff. So fell an outrage has the tyrant daredAgainst a lady free and nobly born!Rud. Alas! my friends, I promised help to you,And I must first implore it for myself!She that I love, is stolen—is forced away,And who knows where she's by the tyrant hid,Or with what outrages his ruffian crewMay force her into nuptials she detests?Forsake me not!—Oh, help me to her rescue!She loves you! Well, oh well, has she deserved,That all should rush to arms in her behalf!Stauff. What course do you propose?Rud. Alas! I know not.In the dark mystery that shrouds her fate,—In the dread agony of this suspense,—Where I can grasp at nought of certainty,—One single ray of comfort beams upon me.From out the ruins of the tyrant's powerAlone can she be rescued from the grave.Their strongholds must be levell'd, every one,[464]Ere we can penetrate her dungeon walls.Melch. Come, lead us on! We follow! Why deferUntil to-morrow, what to-day may do ?Teh's arm was free when we at Rootli swore.This foul enormity was yet undone.And change of circumstance brings change of vow;Who such a coward as to waver still?
¶Rud. (to WALTER FURST ) . Meanwhile to arms, and wait in readi
¶nessThe fiery signal on the mountain tops!For swifter than a boat can scour the lakeShall you have tidings of our victory;And when you see the welcome flames ascendThen, like the lightning, swoop upon the foe,And lay the despots and their creatures low!
¶SCENE III.—The pass near Kussnacht, sloping down from behind, with rocks on either side. The travellers are visible upon the heights, before they appear on the stage. Rocks all round the stage. Upon one of the foremost a projecting cliff overgrown with brushwood.
¶Tell, (enters with his crossbow). Through this ravine he needsmust come. There isNo other way to Kussnacht. Here I'll do it!The ground is everything I could desire.Yon elder bush will hide me from his view,And from that point my shaft is sure to hit.The straitness of the gorge forbids pursuit.Now, Gessler, balance thine account with Heaven!Thou must away from earth,—thy sand is run.
¶Quiet and harmless was the life I led,My bow was bent on forest game alone;No thoughts of murder rested on my soul.But thou hast scared me from my dream of peace;The milk of human kindness thou hast turn'dTo rankling poison in my breast; and madeAppalling deeds familiar to my soul.[465]He who could make his own child's head his mark,Can speed his arrow to his foeman's heart.
¶My boys, poor innocents, my loyal wife,Must be protected, tyrant, from thy rage!When last I drew my bow—with trembling hand—And thou, with fiendishly remorseless gleeForced me to level at my own boy's head,When I, imploring pity, writhed before thee,Then in the anguish of my soul, I vow'dA fearful oath, which met God's ear alone,That when my bow next wing'd an arrow's flight,Its aim should be thy heart. The vow I made,Amid the hellish torments of that moment,I hold a sacred debt, and I will pay it.
¶Thou art my lord, my Emperor's delegate;Yet would the Emperor not have stretch'd his power,So far as thou hast done. He sent thee hereTo deal forth law—stern law—for he is wroth;But not to wanton with unbridled willIn every cruelty, with fiend-like joy:—There lives a God to punish and avenge.
¶Come forth, thou bringer once of bitter pangs,My precious jewel now,—my chief est treasure—A mark I'll set thee, which the cry of griefCould never penetrate,—but thou shalt pierce it,—And thou, my trusty bowstring, that so oftFor sport has served me faithfully and well,Desert me not in this dread hour of need,—Only be true this once, my own good cord,That hast so often wing'd the biting shaft:—For shouldst thou fly successless from my hand,I have no second to send after thee.
¶[Travellers pass over the stage.
p. 466¶I'll sit me down upon this bench of stone,Hewn for the way-worn traveller's brief repose—For here there is no home. Men hurry pastEach other, with quick step and careless look,Nor stay to question of their grief. Here goesThe merchant, all anxiety,—the pilgrim,With scanty furnished scrip,—the pious monk,The scowling robber, and the jovial player,The carrier with his heavy-laden horse,That comes to us from the far haunts of men;For every road conducts to the world's end.They all push onwards—every man intentOn his own several business—mine is murder! [Sits down.
¶Time was, my dearest children, when with joyYou hail'd your father's safe return to homeFrom his long mountain toils; for, when he came,He ever brought with him some little gift,—A lovely Alpine flower—a curious bird—Or elf-bolt such as on the hills are found.But now he goes in quest of other game,Sits in this gorge, with murder in his thoughts,And for his enemy's life-blood lies in wait.But still it is of you alone he thinks,Dear children. 'Tis to guard your innocence,To shield you from the tyrant's fell revenge,He bends his bow to do a deed of blood! [Rises.
¶Well—I am watching for a noble prey—Does not the huntsman, with unflinching heart,Roam for whole days, when winter frosts are keen,Leap at the risk of death from rock to rock,—And climb the jagged, slippery steeps, to whichHis limbs are glued by his own streaming blood—And all to hunt a wretched chamois down?A far more precious prize is now my aim—The heart of that dire foe, who seeks my life.
p. 467¶[Sprightly music heard in the distance, which comes grad
¶ually nearer.
¶From my first years of boyhood I have usedThe bow—been practised in the archer's feats;The bull's eye many a time my shafts have hit,And many a goodly prize have I brought homeFrom competitions. But this day I'll makeMy master-shot, and win what's best to winIn the whole circuit of our mountain range.
¶[A bridal party passes over the stage, and goes up the pass. TELL gazes at it, leaning on his bow. He is joined by STUSSI , the Ranger.
¶Stussi. There goes the cloister bailiff's bridal trainOf Morlischachen. A rich fellow he!And has some half score pastures on the Alps.He goes to fetch his bride from Imisee.At Kussnacht there will be high feast to-night—Come with us—ev'ry honest man is asked..Tell. A gloomy guest fits not a wedding feast.Stussi. If you've a trouble, dash it from your heart!Take what Heaven sends! The times are heavy now,And we must snatch at pleasure as it flies.Here 'tis a bridal, there a burial.Tell. And oft the one close on the other treads.Stussi. So runs the world we live in. EverywhereMischance befalls and misery enough.In Glarus there has been a landslip, andA whole side of the Glarnisch has fallen in.Tell. How! Do the very hills begin to quake?There is stability for nought on earth.Stussi. Of strange things, too, we hear from other parts.I spoke with one but now, from Baden come,Who said a knight was on his way to court,And, as he rode along, a swarm of waspsSurrounded him, and settling on his horse,So fiercely stung the beast, that it fell dead,[468]And he proceeded to the court on foot.Tell. The weak are also furnish'd with a sting.
¶( ARM G ART enters with several children, and places herself at the
¶entrance of the pass.)
¶Stussi. 'Tis thought to bode disaster to the land,—Some horrid deeds against the course of nature.Tell. Why, every day brings forth such fearful deeds;There needs no prodigy to herald them.Stussi. Ay, happy he who tills his field in peace,And sits at home untroubled with his kin.Tell. The very meekest cannot be at peaceIf his ill neighbour will not let him rest.
¶[ TELL looks frequently with restless expectation towards the
¶top of the pass.
¶Stussi. So fare you well! You're waiting some one here?
¶Tell. I am.
¶Stussi. God speed you safely to your home!You are from Uri, are you not ? His graceThe Governor's expected thence to-day.Traveller (entering). Look not to see the Governor to-day.The streams are flooded by the heavy rains,And all the bridges have been swept away. [ TELL rises.Arm. (coming forward). Gessler not coming?Stussi. Want you aught with him?Arm. Alas, I do!Stussi. Why, then, thus place yourselfWhere you obstruct his passage down the pass?Arm. Here he cannot escape me. He must hear me.
¶Friess. (coming hastily down the pass and calls upon the stage).
¶Make way, make way! My lord, the Governor,
¶Is close behind me, riding down the pass. [Exit TELL .
¶Arm. (excitedly). The Viceroy comes!
¶[She goes towards the pass with her children, GESSLER and RUDOLPH DER HARRAS appear on horseback, at the upper
¶end of the pass.
¶Stussi. (to FRIESS . ) . How got ye through the stream,
¶When all the bridges have been carried down?
p. 469¶Friess. We've fought, friend, with the tempest on the lake;An Alpine torrent's nothing after that.Stussi. How! Were you out, then, in that dreadful storm?Friess. We were! I'll not forget it while I live.Stussi. Stay, speak—Friess. I can't—must to the castle haste,And tell them, that the Governor's at hand. [Exit.Stussi. If honest men, now, had been in the ship,It had gone down with every soul on board:—Some folks are proof 'gainst fire and water both. [Looking round.Where has the huntsman gone with whom I spoke ? [Exit.
¶Enter GESSLER and RUDOLPH DER HARRAS on horsebac\.
¶Gessl. Say what you will; I am the Emperor's liege,And how to please him my first thought must be.He did not send me here to fawn and cringe,And coax these boors into good humour. No!Obedience he must have. The struggle's this:Is king or peasant to be sovereign here ?Arm. Now is the moment! Now for my petition!Gessl. 'Twas not in sport that I set up the capIn Altdorf—or to try the people's hearts—All this I knew before. I set it upThat they might learn to bend those stubborn necksThey carry far too proudly—and I placedWhat well I knew their pride could never brookFull in the road, which they perforce must pass,That, when their eye fell on it, they might callThat lord to mind whom they too much forget.Har. But surely, sir, the people have some rights—Gessl. This is no time to settle what they are.Great projects are at work, and hatching now.The imperial house seeks to extend its power.Those vast designs of conquest which the sireHas gloriously begun, the son will end.This petty nation is a stumbling-block—One way or other, it must be put down.
p. 470¶[They are about to pass on. ARM G ART throws herself down
¶before GESSLER .
¶Arm. Mercy, Lord Governor! Oh, pardon, pardon!Gessl. Why do you cross me on the public road ?Stand back, I say.Arm. My husband lies in prison;My wretched orphans cry for bread. Have pity,Pity, my lord, upon our sore distress!Har. Who are you? and your husband, what is he?Arm. A poor wild hay-man of the Rigiberg,Kind sir, who on the brow of the abyss,Mows the unowner'd grass from craggy shelves,To which the very cattle dare not climb.
¶Har. (to GESSL . ) .
¶By Heaven! a sad and pitiable life!I pray you set the wretched fellow free.How great soever may be his offence,His horrid trade is punishment enough.
[To ARM G ART.
¶You shall have justice. To the castle bringYour suit. This is no place to deal with it.Arm. No, no, I will not stir from where I stand,Until your grace gives me my husband back.Six months already has he been shut up,And waits the sentence of a judge in vain.Gessl. How! would you force me, woman? Hence! Begone!Arm. Justice, my lord! Ay, justice! Thou art judge:Vice-regent of the Emperor—of Heaven.Then do thy duty,—as thou hopest for justiceFrom Him who rules above, show it to us!Gessl. Hence! Drive this insolent rabble from my sight!
¶Arm. (seizing his horse's reins).
¶No, no, by Heaven, I've nothing more to lose—Thou stir'st not, Viceroy, from this spot, untilThou dost me fullest justice. Knit thy brows,And roll thine eyes—I fear not. Our distressIs so extreme, so boundless, that we care[471]No longer for thine anger.Gessl. Woman, hence!Give way, or else my horse shall ride you down.Arm. Well, let it!—there—
¶[Throws her children and herself upon the ground before him.
¶Here on the ground I lie,I and my children. Let the wretched orphansBe trodden by thy horse into the dust!It will not be the worst that thou hast done.Har. Are you mad, woman?Arm. (continuing with vehemence). Many a day thou hastTrampled the Emperor's lands beneath thy feet.Oh, I am but a woman! Were I man,I'd find some better thing to do, than hereLie grovelling in the dust.
¶[The music of the bridal party is again heard from the top
¶of the pass, but more softly.
¶Gessl. Where are my knaves?Drag her away, lest I forget myself,And do some deed I may repent me of.Har. My lord, the servants cannot force their way;The pass is block'd up by a bridal train.Gessl. Too mild a ruler am I to this people,Their tongues are all too bold—nor have they yetBeen tamed to due submission, as they shall be.I must take order for the remedy;I will subdue this stubborn mood of theirs,This braggart spirit of freedom I will crush,I will proclaim a new law through the land;I will-
¶[An arrow pierces him,—he puts his hand on his heart and
¶is about to sin\—with a feeble voice.
¶Oh God, have mercy on my soul!
¶Har. My lord! my lord! Oh God! What's this? Whence came it? Arm. (starts up). Dead, dead! He reels, he falls! 'Tis in his heart! Har. (springs from his horse). Horror of horrors! Heavenly
¶powers! Sir Knight,
¶[He slides from his horse into the arms of RUDOLPH DER HARRAS , who lays him down upon the bench. TELL appears above upon the roc\s.
¶Tell. Thou know'st the marksman—I, and I alone.Now are our homesteads free, and innocenceFrom thee is safe: thou'lt be our curse no more.
¶[ TELL disappears. People rush in.
¶Stussi. What is the matter? Tell me what has happen'd?Arm. The Viceroy's shot,—pierced by a crossbow bolt!People (running in). Who has been shot?
¶[ While the foremost of the marriage party are coming on the stage, the hindmost are still upon the heights. The music continues.
¶Har. He's bleeding fast to death.Away, for help—pursue the murderer!Unhappy man, is this to be your end ?You would not listen to my warning words.Stussi. By Heaven, his cheek is pale! Life's ebbing fast.Many Voices. Who did the deed?Har. What! Are the people mad,That they make music to a murder? Silence!
¶[Music breaks off suddenly. People continue to flock
¶[ GESSLER makes signs with his hand, which he repeats with
¶vehemence, when he finds they are not understood.
¶Where shall I take you to?To Kiissnacht? What you say I can't make out.Oh, do not grow impatient! Leave all thoughtOf earthly things and make your peace with Heaven.
¶[The whole marriage party gather round the dying man.
¶Stussi. See there! how pale he grows! Death's gathering nowAbout his heart;—his eyes grow dim and glazed.Arm. (holds up a child). Look, children, how a tyrant dies![473]Har. Mad hag!Have you no touch of feeling, that your eyesGloat on a sight so horrible as this ?Help me—take hold. What, will not one assistTo pull the torturing arrow from his breast?Women. What! touch the man whom God's own hand hasstruck!Har. All curses light on you! [Draws his sword.Stussi (seizes his arm). Gently, Sir Knight!Your power is at end. 'Twere best forbear.Our country's foe has fallen. We will brookNo further violence. We are free men.All. The country's free.Har. And is it come to this?Fear and obedience at an end so soon?
¶[To the soldiers of the guard who are thronging in.
¶You see, my friends, the bloody piece of workHas here been done. 'Tis now too late for help,And to pursue the murderer were vain.We've other things to think of. On to Kussnacht.And let us save that fortress for the King!For in a moment such as this, all tiesOf order, fealty and faith, are rent.And we can trust to no man's loyalty.
¶[As he is going out with the soldiers, six FRATRES MISER I CORDS
¶appear.
¶Arm. Here comes the brotherhood of mercy. Room!Stussi. The victim's slain, and now the ravens stoop.
¶Brothers of Mercy (form a semicircle round the body, and sing in
¶solemn tones).
¶Death hurries on with hasty stride,No respite man from him may gain,He cuts him down, when life's full tideIs throbbing strong in every vein.Prepared or not the call to hear,He must before his Judge appear.
¶[While they are repeating the two last lines, the curtain falls.
Act V
¶SCENE I.—A common near Altdorj. In the background to the right the keep of Uri, with the scaffold still standing, as in the third scene of the first Act. To the left, the view opens upon numerous mountains, on all of which signal fires are burning. Day is breaking, and distant bells are heard ringing in several directions.
¶RUODI , KUONI , WERNI , MASTER MASON , and many other
¶country people, also women and children.
¶Ruodi. See there! The beacons on the mountain heights!Mason. Hark how the bells above the forest toll!Ruodi. The enemy's routed.Mason. And the forts are storm'd.Ruodi. And we of Uri, do we still endureUpon our native soil the tyrant's keep?Are we the last to strike for liberty?Mason. Shall the yoke stand, that was to curb our necks?Up! Tear it to the ground!All. Down, down with it!Ruodi. Where is the Stier of Uri?Uri. Here. What would ye?Ruodi. Up to your tower, and wind us such a blast,As shall resound afar, from peak to peak;Rousing the echoes of each glen and hill,To rally swiftly all the mountain men!
[Exit S TIE R OF URI—Enter WALTER FURST.
¶Fiirst. Stay, stay, my friends! As yet we have not learn'dWhat has been done in Unterwald and Schwytz.Let's wait till we receive intelligence!Ruodi. Wait, wait for what ? The accursed tyrant's deadAnd on us freedom's glorious day has dawn'd!Mason. How! Are these flaming signals not enough,That blaze on every mountain-top around?Ruodi. Come all, fall to—come, men and women, all!Destroy the scaffold! Burst the arches! Down,Down with the walls, let not a stone remain![475]Mason. Come, comrades, come! We built it, and we knowHow best to hurl it down.All. Come! Down with it!
¶[They fall upon the building on every side.
¶Furst. The floodgate's burst. They're not to be restrained.
[Enter MELCHTHAL and BAUMGARTEN.
¶Melch. What! Stands the fortress still, when Sarnen liesIn ashes, and the Rossberg's in our hands ?Furst. You, Melchthal, here ? D'ye bring us liberty ?Are all the Cantons from our tyrants freed?Melch. We've swept them from the soil. Rejoice, my friend,Now, at this very moment, while we speak,There's not one tyrant left in Switzerland!Furst. How did you get the forts into your power?Melch. Rudenz it was who by a bold assaultWith manly valour mastered Sarnen's keep.The Rossberg I had storm'd the night before.But hear, what chanced. Scarce had we driven the foeForth from the keep, and given it to the flames,That now rose crackling upwards to the skies,When from the blaze rush'd Diethelm, Gessler's page,Exclaiming, "Lady Bertha will be burnt!"Furst. Good heavens!
¶[The beams of the scaffold are heard falling.
¶Melch. 'Twas she herself. Here had she beenBy Gessler's orders secretly immured.Up sprang Rudenz in frenzy. For even nowThe beams and massive posts were crashing down,And through the stifling smoke the piteous shrieksOf the unhappy lady.Furst. Is she saved?Melch. 'Twas not a time to hesitate or pauselHad he been but our baron, and no more,We should have been most chary of our lives;But he was our confederate, and BerthaHonour'd the people. So, without a thought,We risk'd the worst, and rush'd into the flames.[476]Fiirst. But is she saved?Melch. She is. Rudenz and IBore her between us from the blazing pile.With crashing timbers toppling all around.And when she had revived, the danger past,And raised her eyes to look upon the sun,The baron fell upon my breast; and thenA silent vow between us two was sworn,A vow that, welded in yon furnace heat,Will last through ev'ry shock of time and fate.Fiirst. Where is the Landenberg?Melch. Across the Briinig.'Twas not my fault he bore his sight away;He who had robb'd my father of his eyes!He fled—I followed—overtook him soon,And dragg'd him to my father's feet. The swordAlready quiver'd o'er the caitiff's head,When from the pity of the blind old man,He wrung the life which, craven-like, he begged.
¶He swore U R P HEDE ,1 3 never to return:
¶He'll keep his oath, for he has felt our arm.Fiirst. Oh, well for you, you have not stain'd with bloodOur spotless victory!
¶Children {running across the stage with fragments of wood).
¶We're free! we're free!Fiirst. Oh! what a joyous scene! These children willRemember it when all their heads are grey.
¶[Girls bring in the cap upon a pole. The whole stage is filled
¶with people.
¶Ruodi. Here is the cap, to which we were to bow!Baum. What shall we do with it? Do you decide!Fiirst. Heavens! 'Twas beneath this cap my grandson stood!Several Voices. Destroy the emblem of the tyrant's power!Let it be burnt![477]Furst. No. Rather be preserved;'Twas once the instrument of despots—now'Twill of our freedom be a lasting sign.
p. 477¶[Peasants, men, women, and children, some standing, others sitting upon the beams of the shattered scaffold, all picturesquely grouped, in a large semicircle.
¶Melch. Thus now, my friends, with light and merry hearts,We stand upon the wreck of tyranny;And gloriously the work has been fulfilled,Which we at Rootli pledged ourselves to do.Furst. No, not fulfilled. The work is but begun:Courage and concord firm, we need them both;For, be assured, the king will make all speed,To avenge his Viceroy's death, and reinstate,By force of arms, the tyrant we've expelled.Melch. Why let him come, with all his armaments!The foe's expelled, that press'd us from within.The foe without we are prepared to meet!Ruodi. The passes to our Cantons are but few;These with our bodies we will block, we will!Baum. Knit are we by a league will ne'er be rent,And all his armies shall not make us quail.
[Enter ROSSELMANN and STAUFFACHER.
¶Rossel. (speaking as he enters). These are the awful judgmentsof the Lord!Peas. What is the matter?Rossel. In what times we live!Furst. Say on, what is't? Ha, Werner, is it you?What tidings?Peas. What's the matter?Rossel. Hear and wonder!Stauff. We are released from one great cause of dread.Rossel. The Emperor is murdered.Furst. Gracious Heaven!
¶[ PEASANTS rise up and throng round STAUFFACHER .
¶All. Murder'd!—the Emp'ror? What! The Emp'ror! Hear!Melch. Impossible! How came you by the news?[478]Stauff. 'Tis true! Near Bruck, by the assassin's hand,King Albert fell. A most trustworthy man,John Muller, from Schaffhausen, brought the news.Fiirst. Who dared commit so horrible a deed?Stauff. The doer makes the deed more dreadful still:It was his nephew, his own brother's son,Duke John of Austria, who struck the blow.Melch. What drove him to so dire a parricide?Stauff. The Emp'ror kept his patrimony back,Despite his urgent importunities;'Twas said, he meant to keep it for himself,And with a mitre to appease the duke.However this may be, the duke gave earTo the ill counsel of his friends in arms:And with the noble lords, Von Eschenbach,Von Tegerfeld, Von Wart and Palm, resolved,Since his demands for justice were despised,With his own hands to take revenge at least.Fiirst. But say—the dreadful deed, how was it done?Stauff. The king was riding down from Stein to Baden,Upon his way to join the court at Rheinfeld,—With him a train of high-born gentlemen,And the young Princes John and Leopold;And when they'd reach'd the ferry of the Reuss,The assassins forced their way into the boat,To separate the Emperor from his suite.His highness landed, and was riding onAcross a fresh plough'd field—where once, they say,A mighty city stood in Pagan times—With Hapsburg's ancient turrets full in sight,That was the cradle of his princely race.When Duke John plunged a dagger in his throat,Palm ran him thro' the body with his lance,And Eschenbach, to end him, clove his skull;So down he sank, all weltering in his blood,On his own soil, by his own kinsmen slain.Those on the opposite bank beheld the deed,[479]But, parted by the stream, could only raiseAn unavailing cry of loud lament.A poor old woman, sitting by the way,Raised him, and on her breast he bled to death.Melch. Thus has he dug his own untimely grave,Who sought insatiably to grasp it all.Stauff. The country round is fill'd with dire alarm,The passes are blockaded everywhere,And sentinels on ev'ry frontier set;E'en ancient Zurich barricades her gates,That have stood open for these thirty years,Dreading the murd'rers and th' avengers more.For cruel Agnes comes, the Hungarian Queen,By all her sex's tenderness untouch'd,Arm'd with the thunders of the ban, to wreakDire vengeance for her parent's royal blood,On the whole race of those that murder'd him,—Their servants, children, children's children,—yea,Upon the stones that built their castle walls.Deep has she sworn a vow to immolateWhole generations on her father's tomb,And bathe in blood as in the dew of May.Melch. Is't known which way the murderers have fled ?Stauff. No sooner had they done the deed, than theyTook flight, each following a different route,And parted ne'er to see each other more.Duke John must still be wand'ring in the mountains.Furst. And thus their crime has borne no fruit for them.Revenge bears never fruit. Itself, it isThe dreadful food it feeds on; its delightIs murder—its satiety despair.Stauff. The assassins reap no profit by their crime;But we shall pluck with unpolluted handsThe teeming fruits of their most bloody deed.For we are ransomed from our heaviest fear;The direst foe of liberty has fallen,And, 'tis reported, that the crown will pass[480]From Hapsburg's house into another line;The Empire is determined to assertIts old prerogative of choice, I hear.
¶Furst (and several others). Is any named ?
¶Stauff. The Count of Luxembourg'sAlready chosen by the general voice.Furst. 'Tis well we stood so staunchly by the Empire!Now we may hope for justice, and with cause.Stauff. The Emperor will need some valiant friends.He will 'gainst Austria's vengeance be our shield.
¶Sacris. Here are the worthy chiefs of Switzerland!Rossel. (and several others). Sacrist, what news?Sacris. A courier brings this letter.
¶Of Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwald, the QueenElizabeth sends grace and all good wishes."Many Voices. What wants the queen with us? Her reign is done.Furst (reading). "In the great grief and doleful widowhood,In which the bloody exit of her lordHas plunged the queen, still in her mind she bearsThe ancient faith and love of Switzerland."Melch. She ne'er did that in her prosperity.Rossel. Hush, let us hear!Furst (reading). "And she is well assured,Her people will in due abhorrence holdThe perpetrators of this damned deed.On the three Cantons, therefore, she relies,That they in nowise lend the murderers aid;But rather, that they loyally assist,To give them up to the avenger's hand,Remembering the love and grace which theyOf old received from Rudolph's royal house."
¶[Symptoms of dissatisfaction among the peasantry.
¶Many Voices. The love and grace!
p. 481¶Stauff. Grace from the father we, indeed, received,But what have we to boast of from the son?Did he confirm the charter of our freedom,As all preceding emperors had done?Did he judge righteous judgment, or affordShelter, or stay, to innocence oppress'd?Nay, did he e'en give audience to the menWe sent to lay our grievances before him ?Not one of all these things did the king do,And had we not ourselves achieved our rightsBy our own stalwart hands, the wrongs we boreHad never touch'd him. Gratitude to him!Within these vales he sowed no seeds of that;He stood upon an eminence—he mightHave been a very father to his people,But all his aim and pleasure was to raiseHimself and his own house: and now may thoseWhom he has aggrandized, lament for him.Fiirst. We will not triumph in his fall, nor nowRecall to mind the wrongs that we endured.Far be't from us! Yet, that we should avengeThe sovereign's death, who never did us good,And hunt down those who ne'er molested us,Becomes us not, nor is our duty. LoveMust be a tribute free, and unconstrain'd;From all enforced duties death absolves,And unto him we owe no further debt.Melch. And if the queen laments within her bower,Accusing Heaven in sorrow's wild despair;Here see a people, from its anguish freed,To that same Heav'n send up its thankful praise.Who would reap tears, must sow the seeds of love.
¶[Exit the Imperial courier.
¶Stauff. {to the people). But where is Tell ? Shall he, our freedom'sfounder,Alone be absent from our festival?He did the most—endured the worst of all.[482]Come—to his dwelling let us all repair,And bid the Saviour of our country hail! [Exeunt omnes.
¶SCENE II.—Interior of TELL ' S cottage. A fire burning on the hearth.
¶The open door shows the scene outside
HEDWIG, WALTER, and WILLIAM
¶Hedw. My own dear boys! your father comes to-day;He lives, is free, and we and all are free;The country owes its liberty to him!Walt. And I, too, mother, bore my part in it!I must be named with him. My father's shaftRan my life close, but yet I never flinch'd.Hedw. (embracing him). Yes, yes, thou art restored to me again!Twice have I seen thee given to my sad eyes,Twice suffered all a mother's pangs for thee!But this is past—I have you both, boys, both!And your dear father will be back to-day.
¶[A monl^ appears at the door.
¶Will. See, mother, yonder stands a holy friar;He comes for alms, no doubt.Hedw. Go lead him in,That we may give him cheer, and make him feelThat he has come into the house of joy.
¶[Exit, and returns immediately with a cup.
¶Will, (to the monk). Come in, good man. Mother will give
¶you food!
¶Walt. Come in and rest, then go refresh'd away!
¶Monk (glancing round in terror, with unquiet looks).
¶Where am I ? In what country ? Tell me.
¶Walt. How!
¶Are you bewildered, that you know not where?You are at Burglen, in the land of Uri,Just at the entrance of the Shechenthal.
¶Monk ( to HEDWIG ) . Are you alone? Your husband, is he here?
¶Hedw. I am expecting him. But what ails you, man?There's something in your looks, that omens ill![483]Whoe'er you be, you are in want—take that.[Offers him the cup.Mon\. Howe'er my sinking heart may yearn for food,Nought will I taste till you have promised first—Hedw. Touch not my garments, come not near me, monk!You must stand farther back, if I'm to hear you.Mon\. Oh, by this hearth's bright, hospitable blaze,By your dear children's heads, which I embrace—
¶[Grasps the boys.
¶Hedw. Stand back, I say! What is your purpose, man?Back from my boys! You are no monk,—no, no,Beneath the robe you wear peace should abide,But peace abides not in such looks as yours.Monft. I am the wretchedest of living men.Hedw. The heart is never deaf to wretchedness;But your look freezes up my inmost soul.Walt, (springs up). Mother, here's father!
¶Hedw. Oh, my God!
¶[Is about to follow, trembles and stops. Will, (running after his brother). My father!
¶Walt, (without). Here, here once more!Will, (without). My father, my dear father!Tell (without). Yes, here once more! Where is yourmother, boys? [They enter.Walt. There at the door she stands, and can no further,She trembles so with terror and with joy.Tell. Oh Hedwig, Hedwig, mother of my children!God has been kind and helpful in our woes.No tyrant's hand shall e'er divide us more.Hedw. (falling on his neck). Oh, Tell,what anguish have I borne
¶for thee! [Monk becomes attentive.
¶Tell. Forget it, now, and live for joy alone!I'm here again with you! This is my cot!I stand again upon mine own hearthstone!Will. But, father, where's your crossbow? Not with you?Tell. Thou shalt not ever see it more, my boy.Within a holy shrine it has been placed,
p. 484¶And in the chase shall ne'er be used again.
¶Hedw. Oh, Tell! Tell! [Steps back, dropping his hand.
¶Tell. What alarms thee, dearest wife?
¶Hedw. How—how doest thou return to me? This hand—
¶Dare I take hold of it? This hand—Oh, God!
¶Tell (with firmness and animation). Has shielded you and set
¶\Monl{ gi ves a sudden start—he loo\sat him.
¶Who is this friar here? 'Hedw. Ah, I forgot him;Speak thou with him; I shudder at his presence.Monft (stepping nearer). Are you the Tell who slew the Governor ?Tell. Yes, I am he. I hide the fact from no man.Monft. And you are Tell! Ah! it is God's own hand,That hath conducted me beneath your roof.
¶Tell (examining him closely).
¶You are no monk. Who are you?Monk- You have slainThe Governor, who did you wrong. I, too,Have slain a foe, who robb'd me of my rights.He was no less your enemy than mine.I've rid the land of him.Tell (drawing back). You are—oh, horror!In—children, children—in, without a word,Go, my dear wife! Go! Go! Unhappy man,You should be—Hedw. Heav'ns, who is it ?
¶Tell. Do not ask.
¶Away! away! the children must not hear it.Out of the house—away! You must not rest'Neath the same roof with this unhappy man!Hedw. Alas! What is it? Come. [Exit with the children.
¶Tell (to the MONK ) . You are the Duke
p. 485¶John. He robb'd me of my patrimony.
¶Tell. How!
¶Slain him—your King, your uncle! And the earthStill bears you! And the sun still shines on you!John. Tell, hear me; are you—Tell. Reeking, with the bloodOf him that was your Emperor, your kinsman,Dare you set foot within my spotless house,Dare to an honest man to show your face,And claim the rights of hospitality?John. I hoped to find compassion at your hands.You took, like me, revenge upon your foe!Tell. Unhappy man! Dare you confound the crimeOf blood-imbrued ambition with the actForced on a father in mere self-defence?Had you to shield your children's darling heads,To guard your fireside's sanctuary—ward offThe last, the direst doom from all you loved ?To Heaven I raise my unpolluted hands,-To curse your act and you! I have avengedThat holy nature which you have profaned.I have no part with you. You murdered, IHave shielded all that was most dear to me.John. You cast me off to comfortless despair!Tell. I shrink with horror while I talk with you.Hence, on the dread career you have begun!Cease to pollute the home of innocence!
¶[ JOHN turns to depart.
¶John. I cannot and I will not live this life!Tell. And yet my soul bleeds for you. Gracious Heaven,So young, of such a noble line, the grandsonOf Rudolph, once my lord and Emperor,An outcast—murderer—standing at my door,The poor man's door—a suppliant, in despair! [Covers his face.John. If you have power to weep, oh let my fateMove your compassion—it is horrible!I am—say, rather was—a prince. I might[486]Have been most happy, had I only curb'dThe impatience of my passionate desires:But envy gnaw'd my heart—I saw the youthOf mine own cousin Leopold endow'dWith honour, and enrich'd with broad domains,The while myself, of equal age with him,In abject slavish nonage was kept back.Tell. Unhappy man, your uncle knew you well,When from you land and subjects he withheld!You, by your mad and desperate act have setA fearful seal upon his wise resolve.Where are the bloody partners of your crime?John. Where'er the avenging furies may have borne them;I have not seen them since the luckless deed.Tell. Know you the Empire's ban is out,—that youAre interdicted to your friends, and givenAn outlaw'd victim to your enemies!John. Therefore I shun all public thoroughfares,And venture not to knock at any door—I turn my footsteps to the wilds, and throughThe mountains roam, a terror to myself!From mine own self I shrink with horror back,If in a brook I see my ill-starr'd form!If you have pity or a human heart—
¶[Falls down before him.
¶Tell. Stand up, stand up! I say.John. Not till you giveYour hand in promise of assistance to me.Tell. Can I assist you? Can a sinful man?Yet get ye up—how black soe'er your crime—You are a man. I, too, am one. From TellShall no one part uncomforted. I willDo all that lies within my power.
¶John (springs up and grasps him ardently by the hand). Oh, Tell,
¶You save me from the terrors of despair.Tell. Let go my hand! You must away. You can notRemain here undiscover'd, and, discover'd,[487]You cannot count on succour. Which way, then,Would you be going? Where do you hope to findA place of rest?John. Alas! I know not where.Tell. Hear, then, what Heaven unto my heart suggests.You must to Italy,—to Saint Peter's City—There cast yourself at the Pope's feet,—confessYour guilt to him, and ease your laden soul!John. Will he not to the avengers yield me up?Tell. Whate'er he does, accept it as from God.John. But how am I to reach that unknown land?I have no knowledge of the way, and dare notAttach myself to other travellers.Tell. I will describe the road, so mark me well!You must ascend, keeping along the Reuss,Which from the mountains dashes wildly down.John (in alarm). What! See the Reuss? The witness of my deed!Tell. The road you take lies through the river's gorge,And many a cross proclaims where travellersHave been by avalanches done to death.John. I have no fear for nature's terrors, soI can appease the torments of my soul.Tell. At every cross, kneel down and expiateYour crime with burning penitential tears—And if you 'scape the perils of the pass,And are not whelm'd beneath the drifted snows,That from the frozen peaks come sweeping down,You'll reach the bridge that's drench'd with drizzling spray.Then if it give not way beneath your guilt,When you have left it safely in your rear,Before you frowns the gloomy Gate of Rocks,Where never sun did shine. Proceed through this,And you will reach a bright and gladsome vale.Yet must you hurry on with hasty steps,You must not linger in the haunts of peace.John. O, Rudolph, Rudolph, royal grandsire! ThusThy grandson first sets foot within thy realms!
Tell. Ascending still, you gain the Gotthardt's heights,
¶Where are the tarns, the everlasting tarns,That from the streams of Heaven itself are fed,There to the German soil you bid farewell;And thence, with swift descent, another streamLeads you to Italy, your promised land.[Ranz des Vaches sounded on Alp-horns is heard without.But I hear voices! Hence!Hedw. {hurrying in). Where art thou, Tell?My father comes, and in exulting bandsAll the confederates approach.Duke John (covering himself). Woe's me!I dare not tarry 'mong these happy men!Tell. Go, dearest wife, and give this man to eat.Spare not your bounty; for his road is long.And one where shelter will be hard to find.Quick—they approach!Hedw. Who is he?Tell. Do not ask!And when he quits you, turn your eyes away,So that you do not see which way he goes.
¶[ DUKE JOHN advances hastily towards TELL , but he beckons
¶him aside and exit. When both have left the stage, the scene changes, and discloses in
¶SCENE III.—The whole valley before TELL ' S house, the heights which
¶enclose it occupied by peasants, grouped into tableaux. Some are seen
¶crossing a lofty bridge, which crosses the Shechen. WALTER FURST with the two boys. WALTER FURST with the two boys, WERNER , and STAUFFACHER come forward. Others throng after them. When TELL
¶appears, all receive him with loud cheers.All. Long live brave Tell, our shield, our saviour![While those in front are crowding round TELL , and embrac
¶ing him, RUDENZ and BERTHA appear. The former salutes
¶the peasantry, the latter embraces HEDWIG . The music from the mountains continues to play. When it has stopped, BERTHA steps into the centre of the crowd.
p. 489¶Berth. Peasants! Confederates! Into your leagueReceive me, who was happily the firstThat found deliverance in the land of freedom.To your brave hands I now entrust my rights.Will you protect me as your citizen ?Peas. Ay, that we will, with life and goods!Berth. 'Tis well!And now to him (turning to RUDENZ ) . I frankly give my hand,A free Swiss maiden to a free Swiss man!Rud. And from this moment all my serfs are free![Music, and the curtain jails.