University of Virginia Library

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 happened all precisely as I've said.

FISHERMAN.
Tell made a prisoner and borne off to Küssnacht?
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 Flüelen; but still the gathering storm,
That drove me hence to land so suddenly,
Perchance has hindered their abrupt departure.

FISHERMAN.
Our Tell in chains, and in the Viceroy's power!
O, trust me, Gessler will entomb him, where
He never more shall see the light of day;
For, Tell once free, the tyrant well might 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 that 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 wave 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 Flüelen.

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 ; but now
The blast, rebounding from the Devil's Minster,
Has driven them back on the Great Axenberg.
I cannot see them now.

FISHERMAN.
The Hakmesser
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 toward the earth, then toward 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 Küssnacht?

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 Küssnacht.

FISHERMAN.
And how with you at Flüelen 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, 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 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 dreamt
'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 Küssnacht?

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 Bürglen—
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?

BAUMGARTEN
(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 feelings 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 he fall 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 bog 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 illumined
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's 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 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 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
Lies shivered '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 mailèd 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.
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,—for ever 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 counseling 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 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 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!

MELCHTHAL.
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 defenseless breast.

RUDENZ.
Then you shall shield my breast, and I will yours;
Thus each be strengthened by the other's 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 e'er 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 hands!

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

RUDENZ.
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 the tyrant has concealed her,
Or with what outrages his ruffian crew
May force her into nuptials she detests?
Farsake me not!—O help me to her rescue.
She loves you! Well, oh well, has she deserved,
That all should rush to arms in her behalf!

STAUFFACHER.
What course do you propose?

RUDENZ.
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 leveled! every one,
Ere we can pierce into her gloomy prison.

MELCHTHAL.
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 law:
Who such a coward as to waver still?

RUDENZ
(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 victory;
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 Küssnacht, sloping down from behind, with rocks on either side. The travelers 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).
[Travelers pass over the stage.
[Sits down.
[Rises.

[A marriage train 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 bridal party of the steward
Of Mörlischachen's cloister. He is rich!
And has some ten good pastures on the Alps.
He goes to fetch his bride from Imisee,
There will be revelry to-night at Küssnacht.
Come with us—every honest man's invited.

TELL.
A gloomy guest fits not a wedding feast.

STUSSI.
If grief oppress you, dash it from your heart!
Bear with your lot. The times are heavy now,
And we must snatch at pleasure while we can.
Here 'tis a bridal, there a burial.

TELL.
And oft the one treads close upon the other.

STUSSI.
So runs the world at present. Everywhere
We meet with woe and misery enough.
There's been a slide of earth in Glarus, and
A whole side of the Glarnisch has fallen in.

TELL.
Strange! And do even the hills begin to totter?
There is stability for nought on earth.

STUSSI.
Strange tidings, too, we hear from other parts.
I spoke with one but now, that came from Baden,
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.
Even the weak are furnished 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 country,—
Some horrid deed against the course of nature.

TELL.
Why, every day brings forth such fearful deeds;
There needs no miracle to tell their coming.

STUSSI.
Too true! He's blessed, who tills his field in peace,
And sits untroubled by his own fireside.

TELL.
The very meekest cannot rest in quiet,
Unless it suits with his ill neighbor's humor.

[Tell looks frequently with restless expectation toward the top of the pass.
STUSSI.
So fare you well! You're waiting some one here?

TELL.
I am.

STUSSI.
A pleasant meeting with your friends!
You are from Uri, are you not? His grace
The governor's expected thence to-day.

TRAVELER
(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.
ARMGART
(coming forward).
The Viceroy not arrived?

STUSSI.
And do you seek him?

ARMGART.
Alas, I do!

STUSSI.
But why thus place yourself
Where you obstruct his passage down the pass?

ARMGART.
Here he cannot escape me. He must hear me.

FRIESSHARDT
(coming hastily down the pass, and calls upon the stage).
Make way, make way! My lord, the governor,
Is coming down on horseback close behind me.

[Exit Tell.
ARMGART
(with animation).
The Viceroy comes!

[She goes toward the pass with her children. Gessler and Rudolp der Harras appear upon the heights on horseback.
STUSSI
(to Friesshardt).
How got ye through the stream,
When all the bridges have been carried down?

FRIESSHARDT.
We've battled with the billows; and, my friend,
An Alpine torrent's nothing after that.

STUSSI.
How! Were you out, then, in that dreadful storm?

FRIESSHARDT.
Ay, that we were! I shall not soon forget it.

STUSSI.
Stay, speak—

FRIESSHARDT.
I cannot. I must to the castle,
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 horseback.
GESSLER.
Say what you please; I am the Emperor's servant,
And my first care must be to do his pleasure.
He did not send me here to fawn and cringe
And coax these boors into good humor. No!
Obedience he must have. We soon shall see,
If king or peasant is to lord it here.

ARMGART.
Now is the moment! Now for my petition!

GESSLER.
'Twas not in sport that I set up the cap
In Altdorf—or to try the people's hearts—
All this I knew before. I set it up
That they might learn to bend those stubborn necks
They carry far too proudly—and I placed
What well I knew their eyes could never brook
Full in the road, which they perforce must pass,
That, when their eye fell on it, they might call
That lord to mind whom they too much forget.

HARRAS.
But surely, sir, the people have some rights—

GESSLER.
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 sire
Has gloriously begun, the son will end.
This petty nation is a stumbling-block—
One way or other, it must be subjected.

[They are about to pass on. Armgart throws herself down before Gessler.
ARMGART.
Mercy, lord governor! O pardon! pardon!

GESSLER.
Why do you cross me on the public road?
Stand back, I say.

ARMGART.
My husband lies in prison;
My wretched orphans cry for bread. Have pity!
Pity, my lord, upon our sore distress!

HARRAS.
Who are you, woman; and who is your husband?

ARMGART.
A poor wild-hay-man of the Rigiberg,
Kind sir, who on the brow of the abyss,
Mows down the grass from steep and craggy shelves,
To which the very cattle dare not climb.

HARRAS
(to Gessler).
By Heaven! a sad and miserable life!
I prithee, give the wretched man his freedom!
How great soever his offense may be,
His horrid trade is punishment enough.
[To Armgart.
You shall have justice. To the castle bring
Your suit. This is no place to deal with it.

ARMGART.
No, no, I will not stir from where I stand,
Until your grace restore my husband to me.
Six months already has he been in prison,
And waits the sentence of a judge in vain.

GESSLER.
How! would you force me, woman? Hence! Begone!

ARMGART.
Justice, my lord! Ay, justice! Thou art judge:
The deputy of the Emperor—of Heaven.
Then do thy duty,—as thou hopest for justice
From Him who rules above, show it to us!

GESSLER.
Hence, drive this daring rabble from my sight!

ARMGART
(seizing his horse's reins).
No, no, by Heaven, I've nothing more to lose.—
Thou stirr'st not, Viceroy, from this spot, until
Thou dost me fullest justice. Knit thy brows,
And roll thy eyes—I fear not. Our distress
Is so extreme, so boundless, that we care
No longer for thy anger.

GESSLER.
Woman, hence!
Give way, I say, or I will ride thee down.

ARMGART.
Well, do so—there—
[Throws her children and herself upon the ground before him.
Here on the ground I lie,
I and my children. Let the wretched orphans
Be trodden by thy horse into the dust!
It will not be the worst, that thou hast done.

HARRAS.
Are you mad, woman?

ARMGART
(continuing with vehemence).
Many a day thou hast
Trampled 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 here
Lie groveling in the dust.

[The music of the wedding party is again heard from the top of the pass, but more softly.
GESSLER.
Where are my knaves?
Drag her away, lest I forget myself,
And do some deed I may repent hereafter.

HARRAS.
My lord the servants cannot force a passage;
The pass is blocked up by a marriage party.

GESSLER.
Too mild a ruler am I to this people,
Their tongues are all too bold—nor have they yet
Been tamed to due submission, as they shall be.
I must take order for the remedy;
I will subdue this stubborn mood of theirs,
And crush the Soul of Liberty within them.
I'll publish a new law throughout the land:
I will—
[An arrow pierces him,—he puts his hand on his heart, and is about to sink—with a feeble voice.
O God, have mercy on my soul!

HARRAS.
My lord! my lord! O God! What's this? Whence came it?

ARMGART
(starts up).
Dead, dead! He reels, he falls! 'Tis in his heart!

HARRAS
(springs from his horse).
This is most horrible. O Heavens! sir knight,
Address yourself to God and pray for mercy,—
You are a dying man.

GESSLER.
That shot was Tell's.

[He slides from his horse into the arms of Rudolph der Harras, who lays him down upon the bench. Tell appears above upon the rocks.
TELL.
Thou know'st the archer, seek no other hand.
Our cottages are free, and innocence
Secure from thee; thou'lt be our curse no more.

[Tell disappears. People rush in.
STUSSI.
What is the matter? Tell me what has happened?

ARMGART.
The Governor is shot,—killed by an arrow!

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.
HARRAS.
He's bleeding fast to death.
Away, for help—pursue the murderer!
Unhappy man, is't thus that thou must die?
Thou wouldst not heed the warnings that I gave thee!

STUSSI.
By Heaven, his cheek is pale! His life ebbs fast.

MANY VOICES.
Who did the deed?

HARRAS.
What! Are the people mad,
That they make music to a murder? Silence!
[Music breaks off suddenly. People continue to flock in.
Speak, if thou canst, my lord. Hast thou no charge
To intrust me with?
[Gessler makes signs with his hand, which he repeats with vehemence, when he finds they are not understood.
What would you have me do?
Shall I to Küssnacht? I can't guess your meaning.
Do not give way to this impatience. Leave
All thoughts of earth, and make your peace with Heaven.

[The whole marriage party gathers round the dying man.
STUSSI.
See there! how pale he grows! Death's gathering now
About his heart;—his eyes grow dim and glazed.

ARMGART
(holds up a child).
Look, children, how a tyrant dies!

HARRAS.
Mad hag!
Have you no touch of feeling that you look
On horrors such as these, without a shudder?
Help me—take hold. What, will not one assist
To pull the torturing arrow from his breast?

WOMEN.
We touch the man whom God's own hand has struck!

HARRAS.
All curses light on you!

[Draws his sword.
STUSSI
(seizes his arm).
Gently, sir knight!
Your power is at an end. 'Twere best forbear.
Our country's foe is fallen. We will brook
No further violence. We are free men.

ALL.
The country's free!

HARRAS.
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 work
They've acted here. 'Tis now too late for help,
And to pursue the murderer were vain.
New duties claim our care. Set on to Küssnacht,
And let us save that fortress for the king!
For in an hour like this, all ties of order,
Fealty and faith, are scattered to the winds.
No man's fidelity is to be trusted.

[As he is going out with the soldiers, six Fratres Misericordiæ appear.
ARMGART.
Here come 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).
With hasty step death presses on,
Nor grants to man a moment's stay,
He falls ere half his race be run,
In manhood's pride is swept away:
Prepared, or unprepared, to die,
He stands before his Judge on high.

[While they are repeating the last two lines, the curtain falls.