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.
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 Kussnacht.
FISHER.
And how at Fluelen 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 think
Again 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 bow
And quiver lay astern beside the helm;
And just as we had reached the corner, near
The little Axen,[*] Heaven ordain'd it so,
That from the Gotthardt's gorge, a hurricane
Swept 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,
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 him
In this emergency?" The Viceroy then
Address'd me thus: "If thou wilt undertake
To 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 loosed
The cords that bound me, and I took my place
Beside 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-
[*] A rock on the shore of the Lake of Lucerne.
FISHER.
I know it. At the foot of the Great Axen;
So steep it looks, I never could have dreamt
That from a boat a man could leap to it.
TELL.
I bade the men to row with all their force
Until 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 round
The vessel's stern close to the rocky wall;
Then snatching up my weapons, with a bound
I 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 might
Of the dread storm, and man's more dreadful still.
FISHER.
Tell, Tell, the Lord has manifestly wrought
A miracle in thy behalf! I scarce
Can credit my own eyes. But tell me, now,
Whither you purpose to betake yourself?
For you will be in peril, should perchance
The 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 Kussnacht?
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 back.]
Did not you also take the oath at Rootli?
I heard your name, methinks.
FISHER.
Yes, I was there,
And took the oath of confederacy.
TELL.
Then do me this one favour; speed to Burglen-
My wife is anxious at my absence-tell her
That 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.]
SCENE II.
Baronial mansion of Attinghausen. The Baron upon a couch dying . Walter
Furst, Stauffacher, Melchthal, and Baumgarten attending round him.
Walter Tell kneeling before the dying man.
FURST.
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 speaks with some one.]
FURST.
Who's there?
BAUM. (returning).
Tell's wife, your daughter, she insists
That she must speak with you, and see her boy.
[Walter Tell rises.]
FURST.
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 neck).
My Walter! Oh, he yet is mine!
WALT.
Dear mother!
HEDW.
And is it surely so? Art thou unhurt?
[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!
FURST.
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 would
Have 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 forget
What might have been the issue? God of Heaven,
Were I to live for centuries, I still
Should see my boy tied up,-his father's mark,-
And still the shaft would quiver in my heart.
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 cast
A 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 Tell
Act 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 lament
His loss; and, oh, how he must pine for us!
Heaven keep his soul from sinking to despair!
No friend's consoling voice can penetrate
His dreary dungeon walls. Should he fall sick!
Ah! In the vapours of the murky vault
He must fall sick. Even as the Alpine rose
Grows 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!
STAUFF.
Pray you be calm! And hand in hand we'll all
Combine to burst his prison doors.
HEDW.
He gone,
What have you power to do? While Tell was free,
There still, indeed, was hope-weak innocence
Had still a friend, and the oppress'd a stay.
Tell saved you all! You cannot all combined
Release 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?
FURST.
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 sleep
Has 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.]
What boy is that?
FURST.
Bless him. Oh, good my lord!
He is my grandson, and is fatherless.
[Hedwig kneels with the boy before the dying man.]
ATTING.
And fatherless-I leave you all, ay, all!
Oh wretched fate, that these old eyes should see
My 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?
Shall not his parting moments be illumed
By hope's inspiring beams? My noble lord,
Raise up your drooping spirit! We are not
Forsaken quite-past all deliverance.
ATTING.
Who shall deliver you?
FURST.
Ourselves. For know,
The Cantons three are to each other pledged,
To hunt the tyrants from the land. The league
Has been concluded, and a sacred oath
Confirms our union. Ere another year
Begins 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 hour
The secret closely kept, though hundreds share it;
The ground is hollow 'neath the tyrants' feet;
Their days of rule are number'd, and ere long
No 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 deed
On 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 man
Will 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-
And from the ruins blooms a fairer life.
STAUFF. (to Furst).
See, see, what splendour streams around his eye!
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 kings
Is 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 crush
A harmless shepherd race with mailed hand.
Desp'r
ate the conflict; 'tis for life or death;
And many a pass will tell to after years
Of glorious victories sealed in foeman's blood.[*]
The 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.
[*] An allusion to the gallant self-devotion of Arnold Struthan of
Wilhelm Tell Page 11