Part 6

STAUFFACHER. Hast thou no message, Tell, to send your wife?

TELL (clasping the boy passionately to his breast). The boy's uninjured; God will succor me!

[Tears himself suddenly away, and follows the soldiers of the guard.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Eastern shore of the Lake of Lucerne; rugged and singularly shaped rocks close the prospect to the west. The lake 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.

FISHERMAN. Tell, made a prisoner, and borne off to Kuessnacht? The best man in the land, the bravest arm, Had we resolved to strike for liberty!

KUNZ. The Viceroy takes him up the lake in person: They were about to go on board, as I Left Flueelen; but still the gathering storm, That drove me here to land so suddenly, Perchance has hindered their abrupt departure.

FISHERMAN. Our Tell in chains, and in the viceroy's power! Oh, trust me, Gessler will entomb him where He never more shall see the light of day; For, Tell once free, the tyrant well may dread The just revenge of one so deep incensed.

KUNZ. The old Landamman, too--von Attinghaus-- They say, is lying at the point of death.

FISHERMAN. Then the last anchor of our hopes gives way! He was the only man who dared to raise His voice in favor 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.

[Exit.

FISHERMAN. Tell dragged to prison, and the baron dead! Now, tyranny, exalt thy insolent front-- Throw shame aside! The voice of truth is silenced, The eye that watched for us in darkness closed, The arm that should have struck thee down in chains!

BOY. 'Tis hailing hard--come, let us to the cottage This is no weather to be out in, father!

FISHERMAN. Rage on, ye winds! Ye lightnings, flash your fires! Burst, ye swollen clouds! Ye cataracts of heaven, Descend, and drown the country! In the germ, Destroy the generations yet unborn! Ye savage elements, be lords of all! Return, ye bears; ye ancient wolves, return To 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!

FISHERMAN. 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, 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 whelm Beneath 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 rock.

FISHERMAN. Woe to the bark that now pursues its course, Rocked in the cradle of these storm-tossed waves. Nor helm nor steersman here can aught avail; The storm is master. Man is like a ball, Tossed 'twixt the winds and billows. Far, or near, No haven offers him its friendly shelter! Without one ledge to grasp, the sheer, smooth rocks Look down inhospitably on his despair, And only tender him their flinty breasts.

BOY (calling from above). Father, a ship; and bearing down from Flueelen.

FISHERMAN. Heaven pity the poor wretches! When the storm Is 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 pass 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.

FISHERMAN. Judgments of Heaven! Yes, it is he himself. It is the governor! Yonder he sails, And with him bears the burden of his crimes! Soon has the arm of the avenger found him; Now over him he knows a mightier lord. These waves yield no obedience to his voice, 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 pray For Tell, who is on board the ship with him.

FISHERMAN. Alas, ye blind, unreasoning elements! Must ye, in punishing one guilty head, Destroy the vessel and the pilot too?

BOY. See, see, they've cleared the Buggisgrat [20]; but now The blast, rebounding from the Devil's Minster [21], Has driven them back on the Great Axenberg. [22] I cannot see them now.

FISHERMAN. The Hakmesser [23] Is there, that's foundered 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. They have on board the very best of pilots; If any man can save them, Tell is he; But he is manacled, both hand and foot.

[Enter WILLIAM TELL, with his crossbow. He enters precipitately, looks 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! Who is that man, kneeling yonder?

FISHERMAN. He clutches at the earth with both his hands, And looks as though he were beside himself.

BOY (advancing). What do I see? Father, come here, and look!

FISHERMAN (approaches). Who is it? God in heaven! What! William Tell, How came you hither? Speak, Tell!

BOY. Were you not In yonder ship, a prisoner, and in chains?

FISHERMAN. Were they not bearing you away to Kuessnacht?

TELL (rising). I am released.

FISHERMAN and BOY. Released, oh miracle!

BOY. Whence came you here?

TELL. From yonder vessel!

FISHERMAN. What?

BOY. Where is the viceroy?

TELL. Drifting on the waves.

FISHERMAN. 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.

FISHERMAN and BOY. Say on, say on!

TELL. You know what passed at Altdorf?

FISHERMAN. I do--say on!

TELL. How I was seized and bound, And ordered by the governor to Kuessnacht.

FISHERMAN. And how with you at Flueelen he embarked. All this we know. Say, how have you escaped?

TELL. I lay on deck, fast bound with cords, disarmed, In utter hopelessness. I did not think Again to see the gladsome light of day, Nor the dear faces of my wife and children; And eyed disconsolate the waste of waters----

FISHERMAN. 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 [24], heaven ordained it so, That from the Gotthardt's gorge, a hurricane Swept down upon us with such headlong force, That every rower's heart within him sank, And all on board looked for a watery grave. Then heard I one of the attendant train, Turning to Gessler, in this strain 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 Addressed me thus: "If thou wilt undertake To bring us through this tempest safely, Tell, I might consent to free thee from thy bonds." I answered, "Yes, my lord, with God's assistance, I'll see what can be done, and help us heaven!" On this they loosed me from my bonds, and I Stood by the helm and fairly steered along; 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----

FISHERMAN. I know it. 'Tis at foot of the Great Axen; But looks so steep, I never could have dreamed 'Twere possible to leap it from the boat.

TELL. I bade the men put forth their utmost might, Until we came before the shelving crag. For there, I said, the danger will be past! Stoutly they pulled, and soon we neared 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 hell of waters. There let it drift about, as heaven ordains! Thus am I here, delivered from the might Of the dread storm, and man, more dreadful still.

FISHERMAN. 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 the viceroy Chance to escape this tempest with his life.

TELL. I heard him say, as I lay bound on board, His purpose was to disembark at Brunnen; And, crossing Schwytz, convey me to his castle.

FISHERMAN. Means he to go by land?

TELL. So he intends.

FISHERMAN. Oh, then, conceal yourself without delay! Not twice will heaven release you from his grasp.

TELL. Which is the nearest way to Arth and Kuessnacht?

FISHERMAN. 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.

FISHERMAN. Yes, I was there, And took the oath of the confederacy;

TELL. Then do me this one favor; speed to Buerglen My wife is anxious at my absence--tell her That I am free, and in secure concealment.

FISHERMAN. 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.

FISHERMAN. What have you, then, in view? Come, tell me frankly!

TELL. When once 'tis done 'twill be in every mouth.

[Exit.

FISHERMAN. 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.

STAUFFACHER. 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?

BAUGMARTEN (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?

HEDWIG (forcing her way in). Where is my child? Unhand me! I must see him.

STAUFFACHER. Be calm! Reflect you're in the house of death!

HEDWIG (falling upon her boy's neck). My Walter! Oh, he yet is mine!

WALTER. Dear mother!

HEDWIG. And is it surely so? Art thou unhurt?

[Gazing at him with anxious tenderness.

And is it possible he aimed 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 racked with anguish when he did it. No choice was left him, but to shoot or die!

HEDWIG. Oh, if he had a father's heart, he would Have sooner perished by a thousand deaths!

STAUFFACHER. You should be grateful for God's gracious care, That ordered things so well.

HEDWIG. 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!

MELCHTHAL. You know not how the viceroy taunted him!

HEDWIG. 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!

BAUMGARTEN. Is then your husband's fate not hard enough, That you embitter it by such reproaches? Have you no feeling for his sufferings?

HEDWIG (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 dragged, 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 pressed, And full before you roared the storm-tossed lake? Oh, not with idle tears he showed his pity; Into the boat he sprung, forgot his home, His wife, his children, and delivered thee!

FURST. It had been madness to attempt his rescue, Unarmed, and few in numbers as we were.

HEDWIG (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 befall sick! Ah! In the vapors 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 balm of heaven's refreshing breeze. Imprisoned? Liberty to him is breath; He cannot live in the rank dungeon air!

STAUFFACHER. Pray you be calm! And, hand in hand, we'll all Combine to burst his prison doors.

HEDWIG. Without him, What have you power to do? While Tell was free, There still, indeed, was hope--weak innocence Had still a friend, and the oppressed a stay. Tell saved you all! You cannot all combined Release him from his cruel prison bonds.

[The BARON wakes.

BAUMGARTEN. Hush, hush! He starts!

ATTINGHAUSEN (sitting up). Where is he?

STAUFFACHER. Who?

ATTINGHAUSEN. He leaves me,-- In my last moments he abandons me.

STAUFFACHER. He means his nephew. Have they sent for him?

FURST. He has been summoned. Cheerily, Sir! Take comfort! He has found his heart at last, and is our own.

ATTINGHAUSEN. Say, has he spoken for his native land?

STAUFFACHER. Ay, like a hero!

ATTINGHAUSEN. Wherefore comes he not, That he may take my blessing ere I die? I feel my life fast ebbing to a close.

STAUFFACHER. Nay, talk not thus, dear Sir! This last short sleep Has much refreshed you, and your eye is bright.

ATTINGHAUSEN. Life is but pain, and even that has left me; My sufferings, like my hopes, have passed 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.

ATTINGHAUSEN. 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.

STAUFFACHER (to FURST). Shall he depart 'mid grief and gloom like this? Shall not his parting moments be illumed By hope's delightful beams? My noble lord, Raise up your drooping spirit! We are not Forsaken quite--past all deliverance.

ATTINGHAUSEN. 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.

ATTINGHAUSEN. The league concluded! Is it really so?

MELCHTHAL. 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 tyrant's feet; Their days of rule are numbered, and ere long No trace of their dominion shall remain.

ATTINGHAUSEN. Ay, but their castles, how to master them?

MELCHTHAL. On the same day they, too, are doomed to fall.

ATTINGHAUSEN. And are the nobles parties to this league?

STAUFFACHER. We trust to their assistance should we need it; As yet the peasantry alone have sworn.

ATTINGHAUSEN (raising himself up in great astonishment). And have the peasantry dared such a deed On their own charge without their 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 cheered by the thought That after us the majesty of man Will live, and be maintained 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.

STAUFFACHER (to FURST). See, see, what splendor streams around his eye! This is not nature's last expiring flame, It is the beam of renovated life.

ATTINGHAUSEN. 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 Bern 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 shivered against 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. Desperate the conflict: 'tis for life or death; And many a pass will tell to after years Of glorious victories sealed in foemen's blood. [25] The peasant throws himself with naked breast, A willing victim on their serried lances. 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 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.

RUDENZ (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.

RUDENZ (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?

STAUFFACHER. When dying he was told what you had done, And blessed the valor that inspired your words!

RUDENZ (kneeling downs 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 forever! 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 dismayed! 'Tis not alone his lands that I inherit,-- His heart--his spirit have devolved on me; And my young arm shall execute the task For which his hoary age remained your debtor. Give me your hands, ye venerable fathers! 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.

MELCHTHAL. You ever held the peasantry in scorn; What surety have we that you mean us fair?

RUDENZ. Oh, think not of the error of my youth!

STAUFFACHER (to MELCHTHAL). Be one! They were our father's latest words. See they be not forgotten! 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!

RUDENZ. I honor it, and with my sword will shield it!

MELCHTHAL. The arm, my lord, that tames the stubborn earth, And makes its bosom blossom with increase, Can also shield a man's defenceless breast.

RUDENZ. Then you shall shield my breast and I will yours; Thus each be strengthened by the others' aid! Yet wherefore talk we while our native land Is still to alien tyranny a prey? First let us sweep the foeman 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 formed. You've held a Diet on the Rootli,--I Know this,--know all that was transacted there! And though I was not trusted with your secret, I still have kept it like a sacred pledge. Trust me, I never was my country's foe, Nor would I ever have ranged myself against you! Yet you did wrong to put your rising off. Time presses! We must strike, and swiftly, too! Already Tell has fallen a sacrifice To your delay.

STAUFFACHER. We swore to wait till Christmas.

RUDENZ. I was not there,--I did not take the oath. If you delay I will not!

MELCHTHAL. What! You would----

RUDENZ. I count me now among the country's fathers, And to protect you is my foremost duty.

FURST. Within the earth to lay these dear remains, That is your nearest and most sacred duty.

RUDENZ. 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 have a cause to battle with the tyrants That more concerns myself. Know, that my Bertha Has disappeared,--been carried off by stealth, Stolen from amongst us by their ruffian bands!

STAUFFACHER. And has the tyrant dared so fell an outrage Against a lady free and nobly born?