Winkelried, at the battle of Sempach [9th July, 1386], who broke
the Austrian phalanx by rushing on their lances, grasping as many
of them as he could reach, and concentrating them upon his breast.
The confederates rushed forward through the gap thus opened by the
sacrifice of their comrade, broke and cut down their enemy's
ranks, and soon became the masters of the field. "Dear and
faithful confederates, I will open you a passage. Protect my wife
and children," were the words of Winkelried, as he rushed to
death.
[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 league May
answer league, when comes the hour to strike. Be one-be one-be one-
[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?
FURST. (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 hand
Do 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!
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 land
Is 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,-I
Know this,-know all that was transacted there;
And though not trusted with your secret, I
Have 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.
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.
FURST.
Your nearest and holiest duty is
Within the earth to lay these dear remains.
RUD.
When we have set the country free, we'll place
Our 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 dared
Against 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 crew
May 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 power
Alone can she be rescued from the grave.
Their strongholds must be levell'd, every one,
Ere we can penetrate her dungeon walls.
MELCH.
Come, lead us on! We follow! Why defer
Until to-morrow, what to-day may do?
Tell'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 readiness.
The fiery signal on the mountain tops!
For swifter than a boat can scour the lake
Shall you have tidings of our victo
ry;
And when you see the welcome flames ascend
Then, 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 needs must come. There is
No 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'd
To rankling poison in my breast; and made
Appalling deeds familiar to my soul.
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 glee
Forced 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'd
A 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 here
To deal forth law-stern law-for he is wroth;
But not to wanton with unbridled will
In 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 chiefest treasure-
A mark I'll set thee, which the cry of grief
Could never penetrate,-but thou shalt pierce it,-
And thou, my trusty bowstring, that so oft
For 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.]
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 past
Each other, with quick step and careless look,
Nor stay to question of their grief. Here goes
The 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 intent
On his own several business-mine is murder!
[Sits down.]
Time was, my dearest children, when with joy
You hail'd your father's safe return to home
From 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 which
His 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.
[Sprightly music heard in the distance, which comes gradually nearer.]
From my first years of boyhood I have used
The 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 home
From competitions. But this day I'll make
My master-shot, and win what's best to win
In 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 train
Of 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. Everywhere
Mischance befalls and misery enough.
In Glarus there has been a landslip, and
A 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 wasps
Surrounded him, and settling on his horse,
So fiercely stung the beast, that it fell dead,
And he proceeded to the court on foot.
TELL.
The weak are also furnish'd with a sting.
[Armgart 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.
If 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 grace
The 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 yourself
Where you obstruct his passage down the pass?
ARM.
Here he cannot escape me. He must hear me.
Wilhelm Tell Page 12