Wilhelm Tell - Friedrich Schiller (reading a book .txt) 📗

be free, as were our sires, And sooner die than live in slavery!

[All repeat as before.

We swear to put our trust in God Most High, And not to quail before the might of man!

[All repeat as before, and embrace each other.

STAUFFACHER. Now every man pursue his several way Back to his friends his kindred, and his home. Let the herd winter up his flock and gain In silence, friends, for our confederacy! What for a time must be endured, endure. And let the reckoning of the tyrants grow, Till the great day arrive, when they shall pay The general and particular debt at once. Let every man control his own just rage, And nurse his vengeance for the public wrongs; For he whom selfish interest now engage Defrauds the general weal of what to it belongs.

[As they are going off in profound silence, in three different
directions, the orchestra plays a solemn air. The empty scene
remains open for some time, showing the rays of the sun rising
over the glaciers.


ACT III.

SCENE I.

Court before TELL'S house. TELL with an axe. HEDWIG engaged
in her domestic duties. WALTER and WILHELM in the background
playing with a little cross-bow.

WALTER (sings).

With his cross-bow and his quiver
The huntsman speeds his way,
Over mountain, dale, and river
At the dawning of the day.

As the eagle, on wild pinion,
Is the king in realms of air;
So the hunter claims dominion
Over crag and forest lair.

Far as ever bow can carry
Through the trackless, airy space,
All he sees he makes his quarry,
Soaring bird and beast of chase.

WILHELM (runs forward). My string has snapped! Wilt mend it for me, father?

TELL. Not I; a true-born archer helps himself.

[Boys retire.

HEDWIG. The boys begin to use the bow betimes.

TELL. 'Tis early practice only makes the master.

HEDWIG. Ah! Would to heaven they never learnt the art!

TELL. But they shall learn it, wife, in all its points. Whoe'er would carve an independent way Through life must learn to ward or plant a blow.

HEDWIG. Alas, alas! and they will never rest Contentedly at home.

TELL.
No more can I! I was not framed by nature for a shepherd. Restless I must pursue a changing course; I only feel the flush and joy of life In starting some fresh quarry every day.

HEDWIG. Heedless the while of all your wife's alarms As she sits watching through long hours at home. For my soul sinks with terror at the tales The servants tell about your wild adventures. Whene'er we part my trembling heart forebodes That you will ne'er come back to me again. I see you on the frozen mountain steeps, Missing, perchance, your leap from cliff to cliff; I see the chamois, with a wild rebound, Drag you down with him o'er the precipice. I see the avalanche close o'er your head, The treacherous ice give way, and you sink down Entombed alive within its hideous gulf. Ah! in a hundred varying forms does death Pursue the Alpine huntsman on his course. That way of life can surely ne'er be blessed, Where life and limb are perilled every hour.

TELL. The man that bears a quick and steady eye, And trusts to God and his own lusty sinews, Passes, with scarce a scar, through every danger. The mountain cannot awe the mountain child.

[Having finished his work, he lays aside his tools.

And now, methinks, the door will hold awhile. The axe at home oft saves the carpenter.

HEDWIG. Whither away!

[Takes his cap.

TELL. To Altdorf, to your father.

HEDWIG. You have some dangerous enterprise in view? Confess!

TELL. Why think you so?

HEDWIG.
Some scheme's on foot, Against the governors. There was a Diet Held on the Rootli - that I know - and you Are one of the confederacy I'm sure.

TELL. I was not there. Yet will I not hold back Whene'er my country calls me to her aid.

HEDWIG. Wherever danger is, will you be placed. On you, as ever, will the burden fall.

TELL. Each man shall have the post that fits his powers.

HEDWIG. You took - ay, 'mid the thickest of the storm - The man of Unterwald across the lake. 'Tis a marvel you escaped. Had you no thought Of wife and children then?

TELL.
Dear wife, I bad; And therefore saved the father for his children.

HEDWIG. To brave the lake in all its wrath; 'Twas not To put your trust in God! 'Twas tempting him.

TELL. The man that's over-cautious will do little.

HEDWIG. Yes, you've a kind and helping hand for all; But be in straits and who will lend you aid?

TELL. God grant I ne'er may stand in need of it!

[Takes up his crossbow and arrows.

HEDWIG. Why take your crossbow with you? Leave it here.

TELL. I want my right hand when I want my bow.

[The boys return.

WALTER. Where, father, are you going?

TELL.
To grand-dad, boy - To Altdorf. Will you go?

WALTER.
Ay, that I will!

HEDWIG. The viceroy's there just now. Go not to Altdorf.

TELL. He leaves to-day.

HEDWIG.
Then let him first be gone, Cross not his path. You know he bears us grudge.

TELL. His ill-will cannot greatly injure me. I do what's right, and care for no man's hate.

HEDWIG. 'Tis those who do what's right whom he most hates.

TELL. Because he cannot reach them. Me, I ween, His knightship will be glad to leave in peace.

HEDWIG. Ay! Are you sure of that?

TELL.
Not long ago, As I was hunting through the wild ravines Of Shechenthal, untrod by mortal foot, - There, as I took my solitary way Along a shelving ledge of rocks, where 'twas Impossible to step on either side; For high above rose, like a giant wall, The precipice's side, and far below The Shechen thundered o'er its rifted bed; -

[The boys press towards him, looking upon him
with excited curiosity.

There, face to face, I met the viceroy. He Alone with me - and I myself alone - Mere man to man, and near us the abyss. And when his lordship had perused my face, And knew the man he had severely fined On some most trivial ground not long before; And saw me, with my sturdy bow in hand, Come striding towards him, then his cheek grew pale, His knees refused their office, and I thought He would have sunk against the mountain side. Then, touched with pity for him, I advanced, Respectfully, and said, "'Tis I, my lord." But ne'er a sound could he compel his lips To frame an answer. Only with his hand He beckoned me in silence to proceed. So I passed on, and sent his train to seek him.

HEDWIG. He trembled then before you? Woe the while You saw his weakness; that he'll not forgive.

TELL. I shun him, therefore, and he'll not seek me.

HEDWIG. But stay away to day. Go hunting rather!

TELL. What do you fear?

HEDWIG.
I am uneasy. Stay.

TELL. Why thus distress yourself without a cause?

HEDWIG. Because there is no cause. Tell, Tell! stay here!

TELL. Dear wife, I gave my promise I would go.

HEDWIG. Must you, - then go. But leave the boys with me.

WALTER. No, mother dear, I'm going with my father.

HEDWIG. How, Walter! Will you leave your mother then?

WALTER. I'll bring you pretty things from grandpapa.

[Exit with his father.

WILHELM. Mother, I'll stay with you!

HEDWIG (embracing him).
Yes, yes! thou art My own dear child. Thou'rt all that's left to me.

[She goes to the gate of the court, and looks anxiously
after TELL and her son for a considerable time.


SCENE II.

A retired part of the Forest. Brooks dashing in spray
over the rocks.

Enter BERTHA in a hunting dress. Immediately afterwards RUDENZ.

BERTHA. He follows me. Now to explain myself!

RUDENZ (entering hastily). At length, dear lady, we have met alone In this wild dell, with rocks on every side, No jealous eye can watch our interview. Now let my heart throw off this weary silence.

BERTHA. But are you sure they will not follow us?

RUDENZ. See, yonder goes the chase. Now, then, or never! I must avail me of the precious moment, - Must hear my doom decided by thy lips, Though it should part me from thy side forever. Oh, do not arm that gentle face of thine With looks so stern and harsh! Who - who am I, That dare aspire so high as unto thee? Fame hath not stamped me yet; nor may I take My place amid the courtly throng of knights, That, crowned with glory's lustre, woo thy smiles. Nothing have I to offer but a heart That overflows with truth and love for thee.

BERTHA (sternly and with severity). And dare you speak to me of love - of truth? You, that are faithless to your nearest ties! You, that are Austria's slave - bartered and sold To her - an alien, and your country's tyrant!

RUDENZ. How! This reproach from thee! Whom do I seek On Austria's side, my own beloved, but thee?

BERTHA. Think you to find me in the traitor's ranks? Now, as I live, I'd rather give my hand To Gessler's self, all despot though he be, Than to the Switzer who forgets his birth, And stoops to be the minion of a tyrant.

RUDENZ. Oh heaven, what must I hear!

BERTHA.
Say! what can lie Nearer the good man's heart than friends and kindred? What dearer duty to a noble soul Than to protect weak, suffering innocence, And vindicate the rights of the oppressed? My very soul bleeds for your countrymen; I suffer with them, for I needs must love them; They are so gentle, yet so full of