Wilhelm Tell (Act 4 Scene 3)

The pass near Kuessnacht, 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).
Here through this deep defile he needs must pass;
There leads no other road to Kuessnacht; here
I'll do it; the opportunity is good.
Yon alder tree stands well for my concealment,
Thence my avenging shaft will surely reach him.
The straitness of the path forbids pursuit.
Now, Gessler, balance thine account with Heaven!
Thou must away from earth, thy sand is run.
I led a peaceful, inoffensive life;
My bow was bent on forest game alone,
And my pure soul was free from thoughts of murder.
But thou hast scared me from my dream of peace;
The milk of human kindness thou hast turned
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 children dear, my loved and faithful wife,
Must be protected, tyrant, from thy fury!
When last I drew my bow, with trembling hand,
And thou, with murderous joy, a father forced
To level at his child; when, all in vain,
Writhing before thee, I implored thy mercy,
Then in the agony of my soul I vowed
A fearful oath, which met God's ear alone,
That when my bow next winged 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 stretched his power
So far as thou. He sent thee to these Cantons
To deal forth law, stern law, for he is angered;
But not to wanton with unbridled will
In every cruelty, with fiendlike joy:
There is 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
Has served me faithfully in sportive scenes,
Desert me not in this most serious hour—
Only be true this once, my own good cord,
That has so often winged 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 wayworn traveller's brief repose—
For here there is no home. Each hurries by
The other, with quick step and careless look,
Nor stays to question of his grief. Here goes
The merchant, full of care—the pilgrim next,
With slender scrip—and then 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 hailed your father's safe return to home
From his long mountain toils; for when he came
He ever brought some little present with him.
A lovely Alpine flower—a curious bird—
Or elf-boat found by wanderers on the hills.
But now he goes in quest of other game:
In the wild pass he sits, and broods on murder;
And watches for the life-blood of his foe,
But still his thoughts are fixed on you alone,
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 severest toil,
Roam for whole days amid the winter's cold,
Leap with a daring bound from rock to rock,—
And climb the jagged, slippery steeps, to which
His limbs are glued by his own streaming blood;
And all this but to gain a wretched chamois.
A far more precious prize is now my aim—
The heart of that dire foe who would destroy me.

[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,
Won in the games of skill. This day I'll make
My master-shot, and win the highest prize
Within the whole circumference of the mountains.

[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 Moerlischachen'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 Kuessnacht.
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 Glaernisch has fallen in.

TELL.
Strange! And do even the hills begin to totter?
There is stability for naught 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
towards 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.

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.

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 towards the pass with her children.
GESSLER and RUDOLPH 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 eyes 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 conquests, 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. ARMMGART throws herself
down before GESSLER.

ARMGART.
Mercy, lord governor! Oh, 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 offence 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 stirrest 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 thine 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 grovelling 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.

Oh God, have mercy on my soul!

HARRAS.
My lord! my lord! Oh 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! Oh 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 knowest 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 Kuessnacht? 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 gather 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 Kuessnacht,
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 MISERICCRDIAE 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.